#four corners of the earth so help me god

[mediumgayitalian]

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———

Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

next

[peachhcs]

she's not her.

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will thinks the combine will help him get his mind off samy, but that completely backfires when he realizes she's everywhere with him.

3.2k words

hiii here's the first (new) installment of the new breakup timeline of the au!! (also so long wow) i'm writing four of the major points of the breakup into fics, but if you guys wnat smaller blurbs about any of it, send them to the inbox. cassidy is a completely fake character here, but zeev and james are real people! (i don't know the other boys too well, sorry!!)

au masterlist

“yeah, mom. it’s going great,” will hummed as he shuffled around his room searching for his keycard despite him already being ten minutes late. 

the boy could never keep his belongings straight whenever he stayed in a hotel room by himself. how did he even manage before? the answer hit will before he could even really think about it because you know who was always with him on these things? 

he knew who and he was not going to say her name. will promised himself he’d use this week to just forget about all of his problems and just enjoy getting to know the other guys here and that meant he was not going to say—

“samy’s mom called me earlier. she asked about you,” damn it. whatever his mom was saying before didn’t process in his brain because he snapped right back into reality as soon as the name left his mom’s lips. 

and why on earth was she referring to ellen as “samy’s mom.” will knew his mom always, always called her ellen. she probably read his mind or something knowing he was trying (and failing) to not think about her this week. 

“oh. okay,” will didn’t know what to say, so he continued searching for the stupid keycard. 

“i told her you were at the combine having fun. she told me samy’s at her sleepaway camp for the week too,” mrs. smith continued even though she knew will didn’t want to talk about samy at all. 

“mom, can you not?” the boy mumbled. 

“can i not what, will? she’s still a part of this family, so i am gonna ask about her and tell you because i know you still care,” colleen had a point and the blonde hated it because she was right. 

he did care. of course, he cared no matter how much he didn’t want to. that was the hardest part about all of this. 

“i gotta go. i’m already running a bit late. i’ll talk to you later, mom. love you,” they exchanged their goodbyes as soon as will found what he wanted under a pile of clothes in the corner. 

“thank god,” the boy mumbled as raced out of his room to where some of the guys he met were waiting down in the lobby. 

will felt so new to all of this—the media, the sudden popularity, the press. these guys seemed so used to it all yet he was so lost in it all still. he spotted his new friends in some of the chairs awaiting his presence, so he mustered up his best smile as he approached them. 

“there you are, smitty. where were you?” zeev spots the blonde first, his legs hung over the armrest of the chair. 

“sorry, i lost my keycard. i had to find it before i left,” will explained a bit embarrassingly. the other guys laughed him off though and that’s when the blonde noticed a few girls mixed into the group now. a few of them sent eyes his way, whispering things to one another which made will’s cheeks flush a slight pink color, but not in the blushing kind of way. 

“come on, i’m starving. those lines got me wanting anything,” cole muttered as the group pushed themselves to the door. the five of them plus the three new girls walked down the sidewalk chatting about anything in hopes of taking their minds off food until they found something. 

“hey, you’re will, right?” the new voice caught the blonde off guard. 

to his right was one of the new girls in the group he didn’t really know. her name was along the lines of cassidy, but he wasn’t 100% sure. “yeah, that’s me,” he laughed lightly. 

“nice to finally meet you. i’m cassidy, but everyone calls me cass,” she held her hand out with a big smile. will stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his mind running in circles. 

this could be his chance to finally forget about samy. he said he needed an distraction and this seemed like the perfect one. plus, what was the harm in a little flirting? he took her hand a moment later. 

“nice to meet you, too. you play for minnesota, right?” will wondered, watching cass’s eyes light up that he even knew that about her. 

“yeah, i do!” 

“you guys had a real good season. i was impressed,” her smile continued growing with will’s words. 

“yeah, we did. i mean, you guys were incredible, too. you dominated the ice,” she gushed a little making will flush. he knew people watched his games from all over the place, but he never paid much attention to all of that. 

not when he was always thinking about samy watching the livestream from her dorm room while cheering him on. wait. no. 

no. there was no samy. 

“thanks. it wasn’t always easy, but the fans made it worth it,” the boy hummed. cass grinned again, letting their conversation die into comfortable silence as they followed their group into a restaurant someone chose. 

the young hockey player spotted rutger and some of his buddies at a nearby table making him stop in his tracks for a second. he knew rut would be here, but he just hoped he’d manage to avoid him because he knew the older boy probably hated him knowing what happened between him and samy. 

some of the guys behind him pushed will forward again. his eyes glued themselves to where rutger sat in a laughing fit over what someone at his table said. the older boy held his chest, violently shaking from laughter and finally looked in will’s direction. the two met each other’s gazes and in a surprise gesture, rutger nodded toward the younger boy. 

that threw will off guard. he studied rut for a second longer until someone pushed him forward again and he landed in his seat. 

“woah, careful smitty. you okay?” james laughed a little as he walked around to his seat. the others glanced will’s way. 

“yeah, sorry. got a little distracted,” the blonde excused himself, eyes diverting to the menu to get the attention off of him. the others shrugged, returning to their conversation while will’s eyes stayed right on his menu. 

“what’s your favorite food?” cass’s voice filled will’s ears again. he looked up, her eyes already on him where she sat in the seat next to his. 

“anything, really. i tend to eat anything,” the boy mumbled with an awkward smile. 

“hey, i’m the same way. i’ve never been too picky about my food,” she returned his smile. 

“my sister’s a big picky eater. our mom was always making three different meals for the family because we were all eating different things,” the blonde chuckled as some of the nerves he had earlier started subsiding. 

the two quickly hit it off, having their own little conversations throughout lunch. will’s smile was big when cass laughed at the things he said and he laughed right back at her own corny jokes. it felt refreshing for the blonde. he suddenly didn’t have this heavy feeling in his chest anymore that he’s had since the end of may. this felt really good. 

but what did they say about good things? they never lasted long? something like that. 

will’s gaze would bounce over to where rutger still was every so often. the older boy was never looking in his direction when will looked, too occupied with his own conversations, but rut did glance over at the younger blonde when he wasn’t looking too. 

rut only heard bits and pieces about the breakup, but he knew samy was really hurt from all of it and while the older hockey player wasn’t one to involve himself in things that he wasn’t a part of, he couldn’t but watch what looked like will laugh a little too hard with that girl. 

sure, will could do whatever he wanted and rutger didn’t care. the boy did care, however, about the fact that it looked like will was trying to talk up a new girl not even two weeks after breaking up with samy. that bothered rutger because he knew if ethan or mark were here, they wouldn’t be afraid to go over and bitch at will. 

rutger’s subtle glances finally caught will’s. the blonde was in the middle of a conversation with cass when he caught the glance from the corner of his eye. rut was looking right a him with a look on his face that will knew wasn’t good. 

“you good?” cass wondered when she noticed will’s attention shift. 

the boy’s attention immediately snapped back to hers, “yeah, sorry. my bad. what was i saying?” his words rushed out together making him come off a bit nervous. 

“something about…sumer on a boat or something?” cass reminded him. 

“right, yes. yeah. so, as i was saying,” will’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about rutger’s look. it felt like a warning or..disapproval? disappointment? 

why could he never escape samy no matter how hard he tried? it was like she was everywhere. 

“every summer my family and i go to this lakehouse in michigan. my best friend and i—well, used to be best best friend would always stay up super late to see how many planets we could count. whoever counted the most by the end of the summer would buy one another something the other really wanted,” will hummed, somehow always finding ways to talk about samy without even realizing it. a small smile was on his lips at that memory because he was the one buying samy things by the end of the summer every time. 

“huh, that sounds interesting. aren’t the same planets always coming out at night though so how does that work?” cass’s expression became puzzled. 

will’s gaze snapped to hers, his face flushing again. “i mean, yeah, but different ones will come out and go away as the summer goes on. it was just some little thing..” the boy’s voice trailed off as he slowly realized that game only really made sense to him and samy because they were the ones who came up with it when they were younger. 

cass didn’t look too impressed though. the blonde’s eyes swept over to rutger again who wasn’t looking at him this time, but will still couldn’t get that look out of his head nor the fact that he talked about samy without even trying after trying so hard to forget about her this week. 

it seemed like everything will did or said led him straight back to samy. shit. 

who was he kidding? he couldn’t flirt with someone. he didn’t even know how to flirt because he never really had to with samy. 

cass’s attention drifted away from the boy and no one else was really looking at him, so will took that as his chance to excuse himself. he needed air or something to just get out of his fucking head. the boy scrambled out of his seat in a rushed goodbye, hurrying off to the bathroom before anyone could really bat an eye. 

rutger’s gaze fell on the younger boy as he retreated further back into the restaurant. he saw will’s friends glancing around for a moment before letting him be. the older brunette gazed one more time before saying fuck it and going after will. 

the blonde stumbled into the bathroom suddenly feeling hot. his hand clutched his chest where his heart wouldn’t stop pounding a bruise on the spot while his other hand grabbed ahold of the edge of the counter, bending over the sink as if he was going to puke. will squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would slow his heart rate down, but it only heightened as his breathing picked up into heavy pants. 

“fuck, pull yourself together,” will mumbled to mostly himself. 

she’s not her. she’s not her. she’s not her. the stupid phrase replayed itself over and over in will’s mind. 

the bathroom door swung open with rutger rushing to will’s side when he saw the kid bent over the sink while panting. “jesus christ, will? are you okay?” the older brunette bent down to will’s level, trying to meet his eyes. 

“i can’t breathe,” will managed through his hyperventilating. 

rutger looked around, realizing no one else was in the bathroom with them. he wasn’t really an expert in this, never really having dealt with panic attacks before. 

“hey, yes you can. it’s okay. i’m here,” rutger tried his best, his attention back on will. 

“she’s not her,” now the blonde was crying. 

“what are you talking about?” the older hockey player grew confused. the heavy pants and now tears didn’t make it easy for him to understand what was being said. 

“she won’t ever be her. i fucked up, rut,” will got out a bit clearer this time. 

rutger quickly understood. 

“do you want me to call her? i can call her?” rut eased his tone, finishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“no, no. don’t,” will shook his head. he couldn’t call samy like this. plus, she didn’t want to speak to him ever again, making it very clear after blocking him on nearly everything. 

“will, i gotta call someone. you’re freaking me out,” the older boy said. 

“call gabe or ryan. i need to talk to them,” so rutger listened and searched his contacts until he landed on ryan’s number first. 

the phone rang three times until ryan finally answered. “rutger? what’s up?” the younger brunette sounded confused that the michigan hockey player was randomly calling him. 

“hey, sorry for the call. i-i’m with will. he’s..he’s having a panic attack i think. he wanted to talk to you,” rutger explained the situation, eyes on will who’s breathing began slowing down. 

“shit, is he okay?” ryan urged. 

“i-i think so? i don’t know. i’m not an expert in this,” rut held the phone out for will to take. 

the blonde’s shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear, “hey leno,” he managed weakly. 

“will? are you okay?” ryan’s voice was laced with concern. he never called will by his first name unless there was something serious going on. 

the guilt and shame quickly settled into will’s body. his eyes glanced to rutger standing beside him still and then his head fell. “i fucked up, ryan. i realize i fucked up now.” 

“what are you talking about?” ryan didn’t get it. 

“everything brings me back to her. no can be her no matter how hard i think they are or want them to be,” the blonde frowned deeply, especially because he was admitting this in front of one of samy’s closest guy friends. 

ryan didn’t need to ask twice who his friend was talking about while a pause came from his end as he digested will’s admission. rutger realized this seemed like a conversation he wasn’t a part of, so he just squeezed the blonde’s shoulder and nodded towards the door saying to just find him when will was done with his phone. 

“i’m gonna add gabe to the call, okay?” ryan finally said as will sunk down onto the ground. he didn’t care that the bathroom floor was incredibly disgusting because he could not go back out and face his friends out there without muttering some lame excuse about leaving. 

“uh, hey?” gabe connected a moment later, confused about why he was on a call with ryan and rutger mcgroarty. 

“hey, it’s me. will’s on the call with rutger’s phone,” ryan explained. 

“oh. is everything okay?” gabe wondered, still confused on what was happening. 

“i fucked up really bad. i know that now,” will said and gabe also didn’t have to ask twice about what his friend was talking about. 

“what made you finally come to this conclusion?” ryan asked, trying not to sound bitter. he knew will was having a hard time, but he would not forget samy showing up to his house in tears after their breakup. 

“i really, really thought i could just forget about her at the combine and just enjoy myself, but everytime i talk to someone, i always end up talking about her no matter how hard i try not to. she’s everywhere in my mind. i thought i could stupidly talk to this girl..be a distraction? i don’t know, but i think i just really wanted her to be samy instead,” will admitted sheepishly. 

“yeah..that happens after having such a history with someone,” gabe said. 

“i know i fucked up. you don’t need to keep telling me that. i feel like shit about it,” will scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit. 

“as much as i hate you for doing what you did and never wanting to see samy that hurt again, maybe you should talk to her,” ryan finally said, tone softening out. 

“i can’t talk to her even if i wanted to. she blocked me on everything almost immediately,” the blonde frowned. 

“look, we all make mistakes. it’s human nature. are you an asshole for hurting her? yes. am i still mad at you for it? yes. do i think you fucked up completely though? no. maybe give it some more time and then reach out. things are still fresh, emotions are still high. we all know samy and we know she doesn’t hold a grudge for that long,” gabe gave his two cents about it as well. 

“i wouldn’t blame her if she did hold a grudge for a while though,” ryan cut in. 

“jesus, shut up, leno. i get it,” the blonde rolled his eyes. 

“look, we’re always here for you, will. I’ll be in boston next, so i’ll see you and we can talk more, yeah?” gabe spoke again before ryan and will started fighting or something. 

“yeah, thanks. sorry for bothering you guys,” will frowned a bit. 

“don’t sweat it. love ya, smitty,” that made will smile again. 

“yeah, love you i guess. just try to have a good time for the rest of the week,” ryan said and will nodded even though they couldn’t see him. 

“thanks, love you guys too. talk later,” they hung up after that. 

will pushed himself back to his feet, splashing water on his face to hopefully get rid of his red and flushed cheeks. he carefully pushed the bathroom door back open, surveying the restaurant for rutger’s table. 

the boy made his way over, nudging rutger’s arm when he was closer. the older boy looked over, “thanks,” will said. 

“of course. you okay, now?” 

the blonde nodded. he glanced to his table where a few of the guys met his gaze, waving him over. he walked towards them, already having decided he wasn’t all that hungry anymore and just wanted to be alone for a bit. 

“there you are! you good?” zeev asked seeing his friend. 

“yeah, not feeling too well. i think i’m gonna head back. sorry,” will muttered out his excuse. 

“oh, okay. feel better man. text me,” zeev said and will nodded before making his exit. 

he didn’t even look cassidy’s way. the only girl on his mind was samy and it was gonna stay like that for a long time. 

[tofumixp]

┊PASILYO┊˚✧

┊ONE SHOT┊DAZAI OSAMU X GN!READER┊

words: 1,941

unrequested

additional/warnings: ooc (?), cringe, nausea, mentions of throwing up (light), minor swearing typical Dazai suicide mentions (light), public display of affection, and uhh kising

Happy birthday to my glorious princess, y'all 🗣️‼️

Rays of sunshine outlined the furniture of the Armed Detective Agency. Dazai was at his desk, folding origami when he was supposed to be doing a report. It was one of those quieter days in the office, a rare day where there weren’t many cases to finish.

A buzz from his pocket. Dazai checked the notification, reading a message from none other than you.

|[Nickname]: sneak outside 🙏|

And they say he’s a bad influence…

———

Standing outside the building, you wait for him. It was the perfect weather, the sun decided to be warm—and not in the way where it’s painfully hot to the point that just a short walk would leave someone sweating.

“[Name]!” you easily spot the familiar caramel coat through the small crowd, Dazai happily escaping work to join you. “I got your message,” he remarked, walking until he’s right next to you.

“Happy birthday,”

A beautiful bouquet of flowers entered his field of view, forget-me-nots wrapped in a beautiful light blue. A silk white ribbon tied the thing together, a gift looking alike to the summer sky.

What’s next was a pretty sight, flushed cheeks and a surprised detective. Dazai couldn’t help but go speechless, not one to be used to affection. You almost wanted to tease him about it, but decided not to, showing a twinge of mercy upon the man.

“Hey… Earth to Osamu?” he snapped out of his daze, feeling you tug on his sleeve.

“Ah– uhm,” he makes a poor attempt to cover his embarrassing reaction, covering his face with a hand. It was fun to make him flustered, a feeling you rarely see him have. “Thank you…?”

You scoff at that dry reply, placing the bouquet on his hands before tugging his sleeve again, starting to pull him somewhere. “Come on, I’m spoiling you today, so we better start early if you wanna make the most of it.”

Dazai followed after you, letting you drag him on. It took a while, but he came back to his senses, a soft expression gracing his face at your words. “Really?” he asked, almost tauntingly as he tried to get a specific answer out from you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered, walking slower so that you’re side by side. “Whatever you want,” you say, looking at the pathway ahead as you barely conceal the smile on your lips.

“Whatever I want?” a cheeky grin. “Even a double suic–?”

“Anything but that,” you cut him off, turning your head just to see him laughing softly, slightly covering his face with the blue flowers.

The soft appearance of genuine happiness is a great look on your lover.

———

“Let’s try that one again!”

The sheer look of horror on your face was picture worthy. Dazai decided that the perfect way to spend his birthday was to try the roller coasters having motion sickness written all over it. “God, no.”

Sure, you did suggest going to the amusement park, but these aren’t the rides you expected to go to. Dazai was milking everything out of this opportunity, trying out every single attraction in the park but the calm ones.

How many times have you gone to the same roller coaster, now? Thrice? Four times? That drop still gets you. “How the fuck are you not even dizzy…?” you ask, sitting down on a bench to collect yourself

Dazai was laughing at your predicament, earning a glare from you. “Fine, fine, we’ll take a break from the rides,” finally some mercy on your nauseous self.

You sigh, before hunching over slowly, seeing black in the corners of your vision. “Fuck, I think I’m throwing up.” a pat on your back, but the brunet’s not very discreet giggles made it feel like it didn’t help at all.

Luckily, you didn’t start vomiting. You ended up buying him lunch despite his claims of not being hungry, making him sit down on a shaded table to eat. The park had a few food stalls around, so you two had plenty of choices to pick from.

His eyes scanned the selection of food stalls before his gaze landed on one. He perks up a little, tugging on your hand to get your attention. “Hey, let’s get takoyaki.”

You nodded, holding his hand as you went to the food stall, buying him the food he wanted before buying food for yourself. Dazai of course just had to steal your food, taking bits and bites here and there. You didn’t mind… mostly.

“... If you’re gonna end up eating my fries anyway, why didn’t you just buy some?” you ask, as he stole another bite with a shrug. You could only brush it off, wanting to get it over with so you could make most of your time here.

“Because stealing yours tastes better,” he replied, a terrible excuse. A mischievous glint can be seen shining in his brown eyes as his fingers stole another one, not even hiding it at this point now that you pointed it out.

You gave a sigh of defeat, letting him steal as much food as he desires. It was a quick snack break, before you two continued your little birthday celebration, so you just let it pass.

The sun was already shining right above you when you finally got back on your feet, fully recovered to try more attractions. His hand had found yours, as you looked for more things to try out. Dazai’s eyes found themselves following the path of the ferris wheel, the sight of it catching his eye.

Slow, scenic, peaceful—the complete opposite of the previous rides you two have gone on. A grin appeared on Dazai’s face, and he tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the entrance to the ride. “Let’s go on that one,” he says, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

You couldn't help but let out a breath of relief, seeing that he finally chose a calmer ride. The procedure to enter was short, buying a ticket, going in line, before entering the ride.

The gondola was simple, the sleek white car fitting the both of you on one side perfectly. It was slow and gentle, moving bit by bit as it got turned higher into the sky. “Much better than those adrenaline-fuelling ones, huh?” he mentioned, looking at you through his peripherals.

“Yes, actually. At least we can actually converse instead of screaming our lungs out,” you retort, turning from looking out the large windows to him, meeting his gaze with your own.

Dazai held in the laugh settling in his throat, shamelessly seeking your hand to hold again. He loved the contact. “You’re the one screaming out of fear, though,” he pointed out, pulling himself closer to you.

You roll your eyes, allowing him to be as close as he wants—as close as he needs. It took a while, but your capsule eventually reached the top of the circle, getting the highest view.

The brunet decided that you were a headrest at the moment, leaning his head on you before turning to the window on his side, slowly falling silent.

This was what you hoped you could distract him from. That faraway look was in his brown eyes as he looked at something long gone. It was another year. Another year without him, another year he'll slowly grow older than he could ever get.

Another year, and this time, he'll remember him longer than he's known him.

The view outside the windows was breathtakingly beautiful. Yokohama in clear view to both of you. From high-rising buildings to the crystal lake near the park, everything was graced with the warm afternoon light. Yet those brown eyes couldn't find the same warmth you could.

That solemn longing was a look you didn't want to see him make today. You wished his mind wouldn't have to think like this just for a day. Just for a moment. Just for now.

So, you nudge his leg with yours, earning his attention. “You wanna get crab later?” you ask when he turned to look at you, hands on his to hold. You'll distract him for as long as needed. You'll keep him away from those thoughts and bring the warmth he needed on a day he would otherwise hate.

Dazai turned around, snapping out of his train of thought at hearing your question. A smile stretched on his face, grip lightly tightening on your hand. “Of course the answer is yes,” he answered.

At least he doesn't look so solemn now. You subconsciously bring a hand up, brushing a strand of his dark brown hair behind his ear, your touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Way longer, actually.

“...touchy today, hm?” he teased, a cover up to him growing flustered under your affection. “What, can't keep your hands to yourself?”

“Don’t even start,” you reply with a threatening edge. Dazai raised his hand in surrender, keeping his silence with a cheeky smirk.

———

Crisp wind blew on your hair, you closed the door behind you in a rush. “Slow down, we just ran up a bunch of stairs–” you gasp out, out of breath as Dazai dragged you to a rooftop. The Agency building's rooftop.

The brunet only chuckled at your reaction, stopping to let you catch your breath. “Alright, alright! We're here anyway.”

You take a deep breath in, the air finally getting in your lungs properly. “We’re here early, you didn't have to– you did not have to drag me and run all the way up,” you groan, wheezing in suffering.

The sun was almost setting, hanging just above the horizon. You two wanted to catch the sunset, deciding that this is the best spot to watch as it settles down the city skyline.

Dazai held your hand, tugging you along to the edge of the building. “This would be a romantic time to die,” *he remarked, making you deadpan.

“Nuh uh,” you retorted, looking at his steps just a little more cautiously in case he decided to swan dive over the edge. “Would be a great time to watch the sunset though.”

As you said that, Dazai looked up, catching the way the skies were painted in pink and orange hues. It was an ethereal scene—one that should be painted to preserve.

You glance to the man beside you, seeing him gaze off into the sunset. It wasn't a lie that he was pretty, with how the sun outlined every feature on his face, basking him in a warm light.

“You’re staring,” he hummed, brown eyes glancing at you, already prepared to send a barrage of teases for catching you in the act.

Confessing you were was the only way out, then. You let out a scoff, the sound half a chuckle. “Yeah,” he turned to you, the sun leaving its last trails of warmth before letting the moon reign in the sky. “Happy birthday.”

Dazai smiled, a soft look on him. “Shouldn’t I get a present?” he asked, leaning towards you with a hint of what he wants. The brunet reached for your hand, pulling them to cup his cheeks.

A fleeting kiss, before another, dragging him closer to press your lips on his. You could feel how the warmth spreads to his face under your touch, feel how he smiles against each kiss.

You hear him giggle, leaning back just enough to speak, still holding his face. “More?”

“More,” he nodded, feeling giddy with each touch. Just for the moment, he felt that life was worth living. You pull him closer, resting your forehead on his.

“Whatever you want.”

[rikiws]

꩜ sweet nothings. (literally)

non-idol!riki x gn!reader ┆ mutual (and very oblivious) pining [fluff] .ᐟ feat. eunchae of lsrfm and danielle of nwjns!!!

꩜ When you find a pack of your favourite gummies on your desk and a sticky-note with a little heart on it, relentless teasing from your friends is probably about to be the end of you. But a certain someone seems to be making it much, much worse.

. . . under the cut ⊹ (0.5k - words)

"These reminded me of you, I hope you like them Ps: I think you're really cute :) Love, ᰔ" A heart. They put a heart too. And you have no idea who it even is.

Standing at the corner of your desk, your eyes transfixed and re-reading the small blue post-it-note stuck to your table, and right beside was a small packet of your favourite gummies. The person even went through the trouble to get your favourite flavour: strawberry. You had a pack of those nearly every day, for sustenance, quick energy, moral support, it was pretty multipurpose. But the fact that this time it wasn't you who bought them, but someone else- a someone else that you specifically didn't even know, that was crazy.

Safe to say, you were so caught up in your own thoughts, you failed to notice your two friends frantically waving their hands right in your face.

"Earth to Y/N? You've been standing there for like 5- OHMYGOSHWHATISTHATDOYOUHAVEANADMIRER?!"

"Eunchae, you're lucky I could understand that." Danielle spoke up, and the two almost immediately started bickering. Thank god you didn't have to explain yourself anymore- nope. Nevermind. They went right back to staring at you, and they looked pretty expectant.

"Listen, I have no idea who it is-" "Ooo~ it's a mystery guy huh?" "It's not like that-" "Yes the hell it is?" You didn't bother to respond. Your friends were beyond help: giggling and pointing at you like 7th graders. You were just about ready to start fighting them 2-on-1 until you heard a voice that most definitely did not belong to any of the three of you. "What happened?"

You turned yourself around and Oh good god. It was Nishimura Riki. The giggles only grew louder behind you once your friends noticed too, and you could feel your cheeks grow warm all of a sudden. God was he cute, and he's in front of you right now, like talking to you, he even asked you a question! Wait- he asked you a question. "Well, er-" "Y/N over here got some sweets from her secret admirer~" "God, they even picked out Y/N's favourite flavour! It's 'kinda thoughtful" Your friends spoke over your stammering, going on-and-on about how cute the gesture was. How the admirer must be such a cute guy. In all honesty, you agreed too. It was really cute. Something you failed to notice however, was the sudden nervousness in Riki's demeanour. His hand bashfully went up to the back of his neck, and he blurted out, "Oh It's nothing, really. I just walked by the store and-" The four of you went quiet. Riki stopped, you could see the gears turn in his head until he realised what he just said. And you could most definitely hear the sirens blaring in his head when his eyes suddenly widened. "Oh no... I left my homework in...the...bathroom. I'll see you guys later! Bye Y/N!" Riki disappeared nearly as quickly as he appeared, and you swore your cheeks were on fire or something now. You stood there in silence, eyes now glued to the door the boy had just sprinted out of. Quietly, a voice, nearly a whisper sounded from behind you: Danielle's. "Oh wow..." You couldn't have said it any better.

A/N : please ignore how I added extra stuff, I literally pulled out this blurb in like 30 minutes and am way too indecisive to just leave it be (҂◡_◡)

꩜ want to read more? check out my masterlist

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

Result of the DB/Z/Super Poll:

Tie for first place:

DBS Beerus x f!reader

“You don’t say?” Bulma’s eyebrows furrowed with interest as Jaco brandished a holographic flyer. “And this pop star is taking the galaxy by storm through music? Sorry, that doesn’t seem really like our kind of thing.”

The Galaxy Patrolman scoffed, acting wounded while taking back the device. “That right there shows that you have no idea! She’s dubbed Goddess of Music for a reason and you are just too thick to realize why.”

“Come again?” She growled menacingly with steadily growing embers within her gaze.

“I’m just saying that if you of all people on Earth haven’t the slightest understanding that having her grace this planet with a performance is heavenly then you clearly do not wish to know that I’ve heard rumors she’s looking for a place to lay low for a while.”

Rumbling earned their curious gazes to rise in time to spot a dust storm worthy of classic writing lore a moment before nearly being billowed by the wind following a figure who appeared from its core with golden eyes wide and ears standing at attention, a slim tail lashing behind them. Purple-gray hued skin, not a single strand of hair to be seen, large ears and manicured paws for hands, the God of Destruction himself was barely recognizable courtesy of the glimmering stars threatening to give away the hidden emotions swirling within. “Run that by me once again, little man.”

Amused, Bulma couldn’t help but poke light fun when spotting Whis appearing a moment later with several bowls of whipped parfaits wearing a shocked expression. “Oh, there you are. I forgot you were hanging around somewhere nearby.” One of the suspended bowls slipped underneath Beerus’ nose and earned their raised brows when he paid it no mind. “Okay, spill it. For you to ignore food means that something is special about this girl.”

“You just don’t know the music of Calliope and even if you heard it I doubt you’d appreciate it.” Jaco’s hands rose when noticing a certain glare from the feared entity, beginning to sweat profusely. “A-all I’ve heard is that she may be taking a break from tour and is currently in search of somewhere to recuperate! One of the guys at work knows someone who knows someone—”

“Get to the point.”

“—from the sounds of it she’s expressed an interest in Earth but she isn’t sure if this corner of the cosmos is ready for her music!”

Almost in the same manner of a rocket, the mighty God of Destruction appeared inches from Jaco’s face. “Tell me you’re not joking or I swear I’ll destroy you now.”

“It’s the truth! I swear it on my life and I would never lie to Bul—I mean to you!”

Tension hung heavily in the air as the slanted golden eyes bore into the small patrolman until he straightened stiffer than a ruler. “If what you are saying is true, and I’m not saying I believe you, then there is much work to be done.”

Bulma shared a questioning look with Whis who looked just as lost as the Earthling woman.

….

Golden eyes narrowed with disgust while regarding the stage. “Wrong, it’s all wrong. Start again.”

A unified exclamation rose from the people who had been working diligently since appointed beneath his guidance. “That makes seven redesigns in the last four days!”

“Well, then, make it eight and stop wasting my time by doing it right the first time I asked!” Beerus snapped, visibly deflating while settling into a nearby chair resting beneath its umbrella. “I can hear your condescending snickers from here, Whis, so you better shut up before I destroy you along with those ingrates.”

Beside him appeared a tall fair blue skinned individual who cooed softly to the rich chocolate desert within his hold. “Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean offense.” Between his lips disappeared the spoon laced with thick fudge, powdered sugar, tart cherry, and fluffy cake that earned his bright smile and wiggle of the spine. “Oh, Almighty, this is truly divine!” He momentarily grew serious when no interest was shown by the God of Destruction. They’ve come to know each other very well in the past several centuries, he boasted to practically know the cat-like deity better than a dragon its own scales, however these last few days have been truly interesting to behold. As if something had come over the once stoic, cold, indifferent being. The desert was placed off to the side, with regret, before he fixed his gaze upon Beerus. “Come now, is it truly worth getting all excited over something so silly?” If he noticed the sudden heavy pressure within the air Whis chose to ignore it. “That musician was looking for a place to relax, not put on a show. Wouldn’t it be rude to shove something like this into her face and practically demand a performance when she’s utterly exhausted from traveling or worse?” So sooner had his words faded to silence did the chair become vacant. “My lord?”

Wordlessly, he stalked towards the incomplete stage as the workers quickly retreated upon seeing his approaching form. They were left speechless and highly frustrated when with a tap of a claw the entire structure was rendered to piles of ash. “What are you fools going on about now? I just saved you several more days of complaining so show a little gratitude.” Beerus fixed each in turn with narrowed eyes. “Or perhaps you wished to be entombed within your failed production.”

Both of his ears perked when telltale pings sounded from the scepter his Angel used.

Whis, taken by surprise, stood and peered into the sphere. “Would you look at that, an unmarked ship is approaching Earth as we speak.”

Disappointment permeated the air as Beerus returned to his seat. “Don’t get my hopes up like that.” Swiping the desert, he began eating with vigor and gusto worthy of a God of Feast rather than a God of Destruction.

“Would you like another?” A soft voice came from the side, earning Whis’ pout before it turned into a grin as several similar dishes were placed carefully across the table. You cast a smile, and a wink, from over your shoulder when Beerus took a moment to take in your appearance. “I made those specifically for you by my own hands so I can’t wait to hear how you like them.”

Almost too faintly for you to hear came a unified gasp from the pair before near identical croons of happiness.

Bulma brightened when you stepped into the kitchen, hands clasping your own. “You’re truly a lifesaver, seriously. When our chef that they’ve attached to became ill I wasn’t sure what I was going to do! Then dad said you were looking for work and had recommended you for the position! I hope they weren’t too rude.”

“Trust me when I say I’ve encountered much worse.” You grinned brightly. “It’s nice to be doing something like this with my hands. I better get back to work though to make sure our guests stay satisfied.”

“Too true,” the blue haired genius waved while walking towards the entrance, “but be sure to take as many breaks as you need!”

“Will do!”

It wasn’t until the door closed with a hiss that you released a sigh of relief. A pair of headphones were procured as if from thin air that you secured upon your head and faint notes of music could be heard as you went about the kitchen. What should you make this time?

….

Alarms blared wildly as Bulma sat upright in bed, blinking wildly when spotting her Saiyan husband by the window staring down as flashing lights. “What’s going on?! Is it the media again?” Her arms crossed. “What did you do?”

“Quiet, woman, I’m trying to listen.” His narrowed eyes slanted farther. “Appears that the authorities who wear blue are preventing someone from entering.”

A glance at the clock earned her groan before swinging her legs over the bed’s side. “It’s four in the morning, it’s probably (Y/n) trying to come to work. Guess dad forgot to add her to the directory.”

“Don’t move.”

“And why the hell not?”

Vegeta’s lip curled. “Your interference is not needed since they have turned from detaining to entertained.”

Blinking, she crossed the room to peer out of the window alongside her Prince and felt her jaw hit the floor before a face breaking grin lifted her lips.

….

“How were those deserts?” You asked with a smile, clearing away the dirty platters and dishes to place them upon the cart you’d brought. “I hope they were to your liking.”

“Truly amazing, my compliments to the baker!” Whis hummed.

Beerus made to ignore your question if not for the nudge of a food. Clearing his throat, his golden gaze met yours, earning a warm ember to nestle within your gut. “They were perfectly adequate and acceptable.”

No sting of disappointment came at his words, only appreciation, earning his blink of shock when you genuinely smiled instead of withered beneath his gaze. “I’ll make the next ones even better, you just wait! I want to hear from your own lips that my food is delicious. Then I’ll share with you my super-delicious-ultra-special desert.”

“Perhaps you should make it instead of hyping it up.” A smirk appeared upon his face. “Why boast when you can flaunt?”

Whis’ lips parted to reprimand the God of Destruction’s jab but they pursed, eyes widening, when you cocked a hip and lowered your face to be inches away from the deity.

“And when was the last time you made anything with those hands, hm?” There was no mistaking the challenge within your tone as a slow blooming smirk raised your lips the longer silence filled the air.

With a huff, he turned his head. “I’ve done things with these hands you couldn’t scarcely imagine, human, so I suggest you mosey on back to the kitchen for our next course. Besides, I am a God of Destruction not of confections.”

A bell was struck, ringing clearly through the air as the surrounding outer backyard that belonged to the Brief family.

“Thanks for joining me! We can start off easy with a simple meringue.” You clapped your hands, internally relishing when Whis smirked at the scepter he quickly hid when anger filled golden eyes locked upon him. The outside had vanished to be replaced by the all too familiar kitchen you’ve come to call home.

“What the hell are you playing at?!”

“Lord, would you mind cracking a few eggs?”

The glare was fixated upon you as a carton passed from your hands to sit before him. For a moment you surmised that he would still fight but for some reason, after his gaze meeting yours, he picked up one of the fragile shelled items. It almost immediately shattered between his claws. This earned his great displeasure once noticing a certain Angel suppressing a chuckle.

“No worries,” you soothed, placing another within his hand, “let’s try again.”

“Treating me like a child will earn you my wrath if you’re not careful, human,” he growled lowly. Despite his own words, Beerus indeed handled the egg with a bit more care as you showcased how he should rightfully crack.

Yolk and whites were separated with each egg he successfully freed from its shell. Sugar was added to the whites, which were made into fluffy clouds courtesy of a handheld whisk procured from a drawer. It was then that you revealed a pretzel pie crust that had been cooling in the refrigerator along with a bowl of previously prepared cream cheese. Both Destroyer and his Angel watched with fascination as you helped them to fold the meringue into the mixture, farther earning their wide eyed expressions when you lightly smacked reaching purple-gray hued fingers.

“Ah-ah, no snitching until its done.” A dollop of whipped cream appeared upon Beerus’ nose. “You can munch on that until I say its done. If you’d like, you can pick what toppings should go with it.”

Upon his forehead appeared a growingly frustrated tick mark while Whis happily disappeared into the nearby pantry. Surely this female knew just what he was capable of and to not irk him farther. His assumption was completely thrown out the window when you took a moment to fix him with a serious expression. The need to snap and question you was stifled when noticing something that made him pause. “That earring. It looks familiar.” Beerus eased himself closer, eyes narrowing to get a better look at the lone piece of jewelry you wore.

Panic made your heart begin to pound harder as his breath wafted your face. “O-oh, this? It used to be a necklace but the chain broke and thought that—”

“It suits you.”

Shock and awe filled you at his tone of sincerity. Did he, the God of Destruction, just compliment you? “Thank you very much,” you managed once he retreated far enough for you to breathe fresh air, “that’s kind of you to say.”

“I simply can’t decide! Lord Beerus, shall we go with sweet or savory?”

Like a glow stick, the fragile atmosphere cracked audibly when the deity huffed. Though that did make an idea come to him when you hurried to help the Angel carry in possible options. “I think we should be a bit adventurous and try something combining both. What do you say with including chunky salt and a sauce?”

“I like where this is going.” You smiled, searching the cabinets until brandishing a sea salt shaker then selecting both caramel and white chocolate chips. The entirety of your attention fixated upon the pair when they voiced doubtful objections, your gaze meeting gold. “Do you trust me?”

What an odd question. In the many years of being in his position, Beerus had never hears such an inquiry made of him. Such things meant little to beings such as himself because it was unnecessary. Yet the way you were looking at him, with those eyes and the unique air about you, set his mind, possibly very soul, at ease. “I suppose I can indulge you. Yes, for now, I shall.” Deep within his being something warmed as your cheeks lightly dusted pink.

“I promise to not betray it.”

And he believed you.

….

A frustrated growl filled the air when Destructor and Angel returned to their original seats beneath a large umbrella. “Seriously? Why do I have to wait two hours?” Beerus scowled, nostrils flaring slightly while stretching then settling. “What a bore. Just what are we supposed to do to pass the time?”

“And just where have the two of you been?”

He didn’t have to open his eyes which had closed. “None of your business, Bulma, move along.” Indignation filled him when a finger swiped across his skin, fangs shining brightly as he revealed them with a venomous hiss. “How dare you!”

Bulma blinked while inspecting the residue upon her skin. “Is that powdered sugar?”

“And what business is it of yours?”

“We were helping a certain young female create a desert within the kitchen not too long ago. Now we simply have to find some way of entertaining ourselves until its ready.” Whis’ bottom lip protruded in a pout. “I’m simply dying to taste it but I’ll hold out because of her assurances it would be to die for!”

Blinking, the blue haired woman blanked then brightened. “Oh, you’re talking about (Y/n), right?” Bulma bit her lip as Beerus confessed to not asking for your name. This was almost too good! “Well I have some good and bad news for you.”

Both sat upright with stiff spines, eyes widened once she finished speaking. “What do you mean she left?! What about our desert?!”

“Something came up for her and she had no choice—”

“Find her now.” Beerus’ growl earned their partial amusement when he failed to notice a figure who appeared from behind.

The tap of your finger upon his shoulder earned a sideways glare before it melted into something akin to admiration. Gone were your rudimentary clothes to be replaced by spectacular clothes that swayed with each movement of your body. There was no denying that he instantly knew who you really were. “I’ve been looking for you both. I should’ve known to start here first.” A decorated container was procured with a wave of your hand that slipped itself into his hold. “I hope you’re satisfied with tasting something you’ve made with the people you care for most. Cooking is one of my fave pastimes and I had a lot of fun! Let’s be sure to do this again sometime!”

Incomplete words leapt from between his quivering lips as you pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

“Be sure to take good care of Earth, okay? I definitely want to come back the next time I need to recharge!” With a wave and bow, you disappeared in a flurry of sparkles.

Bulma and Whis failed to contain their grins when the God of Destruction practically melted into a puddle with an equally goofy smile. How odd to see such a being as himself in such a state. Their amusement, however, was short lived as he carefully placed the desert upon the chair he’d vacated then faced the two of them with steadily growing malice.

“How long have you two known that she was Calliope this entire time?”

[roguerambles]

Options

Record of Ragnarok - Male!Reader

Warnings - Mentions of Adult Situations. Jerkass Gods being Jerkasses.18+ Only.

Image from Google.

So, I may have started Record of Ragnarok yesterday. It’s a bit of slow start, but I find the concept and character designs fascinating, so I’m pretty intrigued!

I’ve also wanted to write Male!Reader for a while, but muse has been pretty low for me lately. I think this helped, because I’ve got some ~ideas~ kicking around in my brain box haha. This is kind of a prologue of sorts for future shenanigans (Most of which involve a son of Aphrodite sleeping his way through Ragnarok, oops-) Enjoy this blasphemy!

-

The Einherjar were delicious.

Oh, you were certain that was not why Brunhilde had selected the champions of humanity, but it hadn’t escaped your notice the men were gorgeous. Some of the most beautiful men in existence, the most skilled, virile warriors to have ever walked the earth were all gathered in one spot, adrenaline in their veins as they prepared for the battle that would decide humanity’s fate.

And there you were. Stuck on the Heavens side of the Arena, where Mother Aphrodite had insisted you remain, completely unable to interact with any of them.

It was so unfair.

“Do stop pouting, darling.” Aphrodite sipped at her chalice of wine, glancing at you over the head of one of her servants. “You’re bringing down the mood somewhat.”

Round One was over, decided in the gods favour. Lu Bu, the Flying General, the Strongest Warrior in the Three Kingdoms, had been defeated, his soul now gone from the Gods Realm. An absolutely glorious specimen of mortal manhood you would now never share a bed with.

Of course you were pouting.

“Am I being punished for something?” You asked glumly, watching as Thor fought his way through the fallen Lu Bu’s army, charging in to avenge their general, or share his fate. The God of Thunder’s muscled body rippled with power as he tore through his attackers like wet paper, and you bit your lower lip, crossing your legs, heat flaring low in your gut, imagining that strength turned to more pleasurable uses.

“Nonsense, darling.” Aphrodite waved her hand dismissively, a smile playing on her lips. “If I was punishing you, I would have told you about the human “incarnation of desire” currently bedding his way through half the arena.”

You liked this man already, and gave your mother a betrayed look. “What did I do?!”

Aphrodite simply smiled, and turned her attention back to the arena. “Consider the options, dear, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

You slumped back in you seat, glowering.

It was not as if there was a lack of options on the Heavens side. Aside from Thor himself, Lord Shiva had sat near you and Aphrodite throughout Round One, his naked torso showing off a flawless physique. His biceps were exquisite and practically begged to be caressed, and his four arms and their possible bedroom applications sent your imagination reeling. Heracles was somewhere around, and you had always wanted the opportunity to fully test the God of Fortitude’s stamina…

But everyone was fixated on the damn fighting that all your attempts at flirtation were largely unnoticed.  

So unfair…

But Thor would be celebrating his victory, his blood hot and passions inflamed. Surely Aphrodite wouldn’t object to you going to congratulate him...?

“Mother—”

“Ares, what did you think about the battle?”

You huffed and slumped in your chair as Ares approached, his grumpy expression brightening at your mother’s attention.

You settled for watching the muscles move under Thor’s skin as he began to leave the arena, the bodies of his foes dissolving at his feet. He glanced up into the stands, and you went still as his gaze met yours. For a (only slightly) embarrassing moment you feared he had somehow sensed your thoughts. You caught the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his stoic mouth, the faintest tilt of his head in acknowledgment, before turning and continuing on his way, quickly disappearing from sight.

Maybe if I’m quiet nobody will notice me sneak away…

You glanced around. Aphrodite was distracted talking with Ares, who at this moment only had eyes for her. Lord Zeus and Hermes were curiously absent from the King’s balcony, and Lord Shiva was gone too. You knew he was meant for Round Two, so you assumed he must have went to prepare.

Perhaps I should wish him good luck…

You slid out of your seat, casting one more look over your shoulder, then slowly crept towards the exit, careful not to make any noise.

Almost…almost…

Your fingers grazed the cool stone doors. You froze in place, waiting for a scolding, but you heard nothing but the murmur of the crowd, of gods chatting eagerly about the upcoming match.

You pushed the door open slowly, just a enough to slip through. It then closed behind you, leaving you in the dim light of the corridor outside.

Yes.

Elation flared within you, and you barely resisted dancing on the spot, your mind already whirling with possibilities. Biting down a grin, you started walking, glad you had decided to wear your most appealing outfit. There was time before the next Round, and plenty of people to spend time with…

It was, after all, good to consider one’s options.

[raainy-daze]

Hi, here again

Second request!

Leo x female!reader who is very muscly and just... scoops Leo up bridal-style. Bonus if Leo short-circuits with the most flabbergasted look on his face 😂 ~🌺👸

(note: I saw you don't usually write for female inserts, but I thought it would get extra fluster points if reader was female. Your call though)

What Happens In The Hidden City

rottmnt leo x strong!female!reader

summary: how is it that every nice outing ends in some sort of chaos? time to bail your boyfriend out of trouble - again.

word count: 832

a/n: i may or may not have taken this and ran. not sure how this mini-plot developed, but it did, so here we are. this may be a little ooc, the last few days i’ve been writing in a sleep deprived frenzy and a sleep deprived frenzy only.

also! to the lovely people who’ve commented on my previous posts, i’ve found there’s a glitch in my tumblr that’s giving me an error message whenever i try to respond to anything. i’ll say thank you here, and hope you see it! have a lovely day, everyone!

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Sometimes, you wondered just what was going on in the guys’ brains that convinced them that any of what they did was a good idea.

The Hidden City was amazing. You’d known that the moment you stepped foot in it. Filled with yokai, and with this magic that you only ever dreamed of as a child. You’d thought you were in for a nice, peaceful day for once, exploring.

At some point, you and April had split off from the group. You could’ve sworn you didn’t even leave their sight, but when you turned around, the turtles were gone.

You decided to meet up with them again later, and went on about your sightseeing. It had been maybe fifteen minutes - only fifteen minutes - when you heard April’s phone ring.

“Hey, Mikey.” You knelt down to examine the plaque of a statue while she picked up the call, noting it was meant to be of some historic figure.

“What did you guys do this time.”

That certainly wasn’t an encouraging statement. “What did they do?” You quickly looked back at her.

April took the phone from her ear and put it on speaker. None other than Michelangelo was on the other end. “So, uh, funny story…” He spoke in a panicked whisper. Definitely not a good sign.

“So Donnie-“

“Oh, so it’s MY fault now, is it!”

“Would you two be quiet?” On the other end, Raph took the phone. “We were just minding our business, and I’m-Not-Naming-Names-Donnie ran into this yokai.”

“Oh?” You could hear faint bickering in the background, accompanied by Raph trying to hush his brothers. Well, two of them, at least. “Where’s Leo?”

“Mob.”

“Excuse me?”

“There is a mob.”

Now that the word ‘mob’ was mentioned, you couldn’t help but notice the sounds of rage coming from somewhere in the distance.

“WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU SAY TO THEM?” As April yelled into the phone, you began making your way towards the racket.

About five streets down, you found the previously mentioned mob. And it truly was a mob, with pitchforks and everything. Above the crowd, on the rooftops of what you took to be a restaurant of some kind, you could see three of the four brothers hiding somewhat poorly behind a stack of boxes. Your boyfriend, notably, was missing.

“Look, I didn’t mean to take that little girl’s teddy bear, okay? I didn’t know!” There he was, at the front of the crowd, quickly being backed into a corner.

“God damn it, Leo…” Pushing through the horde wasn’t easy, especially a horde of yokai, who occasionally had spikes and other such appendages, but you made it through.

“HEY, HEY, PEOPLE, CALM DOWN!” Your yells quickly brought attention to you, which may or may not have been a mistake.

“Oh hey, y’don’t see humans every day ‘round here…”

“Who’s that lady?”

You laughed nervously. “Now look, I don’t know what happened here, but I can assure you all, whatever my boyfriend and his brothers may have said, or done, they apologize deeply and hope you can forgive them, and/or whatever they smashed can hopefully be fixed with super glue.”

Silence had fallen over the mob. Was that a good sign? The pitchforks were still up.

“… So now that that’s been said and done we’re going to take our leave now goodbye!”

You turned away from the crowd and hastily scooped Leo up bridal style. “OH-“ You barely had time to register his red face before you were running from a mob of angry yokai.

You’re not really sure how you got out of there without being burned at the stake. You had absolutely no plan, and the majority of your success was definitely due to pure luck. At some point, you managed to duck into an alleyway without being noticed, breathing heavily. Running who knows how far at who knows how fast wasn’t an easy feat.

Speaking of, Leo was still in your arms.

“I’m gonna put you down now.”

“Okay.”

You set him down gently before leaning back against the wall behind you, trying to catch your breath. “Think they’re gone? … Leo?”

You hadn’t previously been aware that turtles could blush just as red as humans, but here Leo was.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Aw, did I catch you off guard?”

“Off guard? Me, the great Leonardo, off guard? Never!”

“Your face says different.”

“Pff-“ Leo crossed his arms. “You didn’t HAVE to pick me up. What, (y/n), trying to impress me?”

“Maybe.” You were on a roll today. It wasn’t every day Leo got flustered like this. “Guess you’re just that lucky to have a big, strong girlfriend like me.”

Leo did that awkward laugh - you know the one - as he covered his face with a hand. “Oh, I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Yeah, sure, pretty boy.” You grabbed his hand, and led the way out of the alley. “Come on, let’s find the others before those yokai come back. What did you do, anyways…?”

[the-song-of-avernus]

Family (Re)Union

Summary: With Wyll's father rescued from the Iron Throne, tension lingers as Ulder Ravengard has been remarkably quiet about the woman who rescued him, the woman he saw over and over again in Wyll's mind these past months.

(Word Count: 3500) Devil Wyll (Tiefling Form) x Cambion-turned-tiefling Tav Read on AO3

“Wyll, he hasn’t said a dozen words to me since we got back.  He just chills out in the corner, doing paperwork, taking visits from Florrick and like four trusted Fist, and occasionally petting the owlbear.” Standing in the now-emptied chambers of the former Bhaalist tribunal, stone-silent except for the occasional crackle of the torches not yet extinguished, stood the self-styled Blade of Avernus, Wyll Ravengard, and the newly-minted Song of Avernus, Furiella.

It had been a whirlwind four months. From a life of luxury hiding out in the city, a cambion with not a care in the world, to captured and tadpoled aboard an Illithid ship, crashing to earth. Mindflayers, gods and goddesses. Avatars of the Dead Three.  The loss of her powers and wings. Mortality.

And Wyll.

-----------

The son of the Duke. He’d disappeared without so much a word from the city nearing a decade ago, and any attempts to find out where he had gone had led to stonewalling. No comment. An embarrassing secret that she or her big sisters could use?

The truth itself had been far more straightforward. He’d been pacted to a Mizora, whose reputation preceded her in Infernal circles. She’d felt it the moment Wyll had confronted Karlach in camp that night. Worse still…she’d interfered.  She had been the one to talk Wyll out of fulfilling his contract with Mizora that night. She was the one who had kept Zariel’s lost warrior alive; no, befriended her. She was the one helping every single lost soul encountered on the Sword Coast with no expectation of gain.  The nerve.

That night, Wyll had paid a price. Gone was the human-looking Blade of Frontiers. Pointed ears. A tail. Horns and claws, sharpened teeth and his good eye turned black. Infernal and tiefling features abounded, and as Mizora made sure to make quickly known, very permanent. With it had come a warning from Mizora for her.  Interfere again, little one, and she’d share a similar fate. 

As the two had grown closer, and their travels continued onwards, eventually Mizora's warning would come to pass. They had just discovered the sanctuary in the shadow-cursed lands near the one-time Reithwin Town. Harpers and Flaming Fist and the tieflings from the grove!  Joy and relief had quickly turned to horror, however, when she noticed the tiefling girl Mol seated across a lanceboard table from..him.  Raphael, the son of the archdevil Mephistopheles.

He had been tempting them since the day after they had escaped the Illithid ship. Teasing a solution to their “tadpole” issue only to pull out the carpet for a later day.  Mol had made some questionable choices, left largely to her own and with the unquestioned adoration of the other tiefling children, and now here was Raphael. She knew his intent. He’d sensed her potential to, and had planned to entrap her.  Absolutely not. Her own protectiveness of the tieflings and especially the children and desire to shield them from the horrors of the Hells overrode her judgement. What had started with a cordial conversation led to a bumped lanceboard set, and a fury that illuminated the outpost even more than the Selunite cleric’s light.  Promising his revenge, a hellish laugh filled the room as Raphael glibly noted “Third strike, little one.”

Flames engulfed her body as she seared with agony. Her wings dissolved in a blaze of heat. Her magic was dissolving by the second with a ferocity not even a sussur flower could manage. The creeping shuffle of mortality made its’ way into her form. “Since you’re so interested in the tieflings, this seems particularly fitting. Be grateful, the way you were going you would have probably become celestial were it not for our guiding hand. At least this way you’ll hold on to some semblance of yourself. Who knows, perhaps you’ll even rediscover yourself one day. I’ll be watching. That’s a promise.”

Perhaps it was the cutting of the final tether that reminded Wyll of Mizora and his own loss, perhaps it was the similarity of their predicaments.  Maybe it was just her. But Wyll had grown used to the new reflection, and was there for her in the way she’d been there for him. The spurs on her back where wings had once grown. The very subtle lines on her face that hadn’t been there the day they met. The first time she awoke from her bedroll with the slight pop of a bone joint and a small groan of soreness. This had been new for her, just as the horns had been new for him.

In wanting to be there for her in the same way that she had helped him slowly grow to not hate his new features, Wyll had wanted to be there for her too. In that moment, it hit him with a wave of perfect crystal clarity.

Earlier in their travels, she had teased him about dancing. It took some work to get used to his altered center of gravity.  Wyll practiced for days, when everyone was asleep. He wanted to get this right. To let go of his own self-doubt and self-loathing and to show the woman who had so recently been there for him that he was starting to find peace, and that he wanted to share that peace and that...love..with her.

There was that word. He loved her. And you know what, if Wyll had to wager a pouch of gold on it, he suspected she felt the same. Resolute, the practice continued on under the cloak of darkness and shadow, until one night she’d awoken, unable to rest, her shoulders once again sore enough to keep her restless. Furiella needed some balm for the irritation, and a GOOD stretch. Wyll, nearby, couldn't help but hear her muttering about the damnable spurs on her shoulder blades, the last remnants of the wings that she had sported proudly until recently. The same vestigal holdover that most other tieflings also carried. 

Their absence was clearly the biggest adjustment for her. He had seen her playing the Lyre – first a wooden one she’d gotten from the druids. Later an exquisite and ornate spider-themed one that they had recovered from the body of the dead Drow, Minthara, in the raid of the goblin camp. He had to figure the shoulder movements were causing irritation. Thoughts of mechanics quickly turned into wondering how did she managed to use these damnable claws to so effortlessly work the strings without breaking them?  So tenderly. With such beautiful music.

He had planned to ask her to play a song while showing off his steps. Instead, that night he found himself stood before her, mid-rehearsal, her with a cheesy grin with only the slightest glance of soreness."Don't stop on my account." .

"I figured it was time to brush up on my skills," he grinned back. "I wouldn't want to disappoint my new partner."

Taking the opportunity, he asked to see her own dance movements. The bard had already seen his, after all.  She’d managed a fairly graceful leap but it was clear she was still getting used to the balance changes that must come with the lack of wings and the way mortality creeps into your muscles and joints. Working with her, the dance had grown closer and closer – and then a kiss. Which begat another. And over the course of their journeys, notes had become songs, and steps into more dance, and shared affection and kisses into love most deep.

As they'd grown to love each other they'd also grown to re-love themselves. Ironically, having become a tiefling had given her a level of humanity that she had never known. Lives were so fleeting, so brief. Love and joy. Duty and courage. Grief and sorrw. Every feeling mattered that much more, every moment of time all the more valuable. Helping people, that mattered too. Furiella came to know why Wyll had dedicated himself to traveling the Sword Coast as a hero.

Heroes would be needed to liberate their home.

While they were away, Bane's Chosen, Enver Gortash, had used Wyll’s father as a pawn in his ascent to power and had, upon the adventurers' arrival in the city, had himself declared Grand Duke by Ulder Ravengard, then discarded him in his underwater prison. Mizora herself had re-emerged and offered Wyll a way to rescue him, but refusing to be her pawn one moment later, had told her no. They managed to determine the location of the prison almost by accident (thanks to some devotees of Umberlee and a submersible) but had mounted a rescue, which Mizora herself tried to stop (and had failed).

Ulder had been deeply unhappy at the rescue. His son had become a devil. The woman who had ensnared him those seven years ago stood just meters away in their room at the Elfsong Tavern. And the woman he had notice his son’s attentions continuously drift towards had an aura similar to that of the blue cambion, Mizora, that had ensnared a young Wyll. Her appearance said tiefling, but no, there was more there, Ulder knew it.

The confrontation had come a short time later. Ulder was disgusted with his son and his continued infernal dealings. Was this some sort of sexual thing? A plan to oust him and take over the Gate? Personal riches? What could drive HIS son to forget the pillars and to seek out the influence of the Nine Hells themselves.

The Illithid tadpole that Enver Gortash had used to control Ulder Ravengard would provide the answer. Wyll and Furiella, having decided that if Ulder were going to hate Wyll (never even mind her), he should at least know the whole truth. Then, if he still hated his son, still loathed the woman who, she was beginning to suspect might become his daughter-in-law in the years to come, then at least they would know that he had hated them with all information revealed. Once nothing was hidden, if he still hated them, that was beyond their regard, and they could live with that.

In the matter of minutes, the tadpole had given Ulder Ravengard access to years of memories. The childhood bonds. His work saving the tieflings and saving the sword coast. Mizora’s many, many lies. And that fateful day seven years ago when Wyll had accepted her first offer in order to protect the city from the cultists of Tiamat who had amassed in secret to lay siege to the city. That Wyll had tried to tell him about but couldn’t – because of her.

THAT apology came simply. In a moment, he had understood his son. How he had kept to the four pillars. Learned and internalised every lesson Ulder had ever tried to pass on. The way he cherished the things about his mother that Ulder had passed on. That Wyll had never regretted his choice for a moment, not because of its’ consequences, but simply because it had meant that everyone else was cared for. Everyone else was safe.  The reunion had been swift, had been sincere.

But Ulder Ravengard had also seen her memories. The years of training by her sisters and extended family to one day step into the family business. Adventures in the hells. The way she herself had once seen Wyll, seen him, seen the city, seen the people of the Gate. Felt what she was.  But also what she had lost. Had given up. Immortality. Flight. Almost all of her powers save for her abilities as a bard and a small amount of wizarding talent that had come largely at the tutoring of the wizard Gale, of Waterdeep, that had been in their company.  The pain and the agony.  She was a cambion, a daughter of the hells.  He’d heard stories of their kind having the potential to change, to be less evil – but usually that meant ascension, an inversion into becoming celestial.  Not a tiefling. Not truly. He had also seen the moment that Mizora tried to tempt her again to spite Wyll, and she had only just held resolve. Whatever had been done to her, Ulder's training with the Flaming Fist and access to her unfiltered memories through that damnable parasite allowed him to still detect a trace of something...more.  In the same way that whatever had transformed Wyll had left a residual trace of his former humanity, the tiniest ember of who and what she had been before still smoldered.

He was petrified at the idea that this was somehow a game. A plot. A ruse.  What WAS her true intention here?, had thought Duke Ravengard, distrustfully mulling over the nature and plans of the woman who had saved him, of who her son so clearly loved deeply. He just got his son back, he will NOT let him get hurt by another devil.

-----

In the halls of the Bhaal Tribunal, Wyll and Furiella wondered what Ulder was going to do, what he would say. Because Ulder had seen his mind, knew he was going to propose to her. Seen her mind and already knew the answer.  Knew who she had been. Knew who he had become. They, meanwhile, had seen him. Seen his mind and heart through the tadpole, and the reactions on his face. He clearly felt reconcillatory towards his son, but what about her? Wyll had already had an idea for a proposal that his father must now know about, and she had basically turned him into a walking jewelry story, having recently put him in charge of carrying the assorted rings and gems that the adventurers had found. It was not a subtle hint, but the response of Wyll’s father loomed over things like a sword held overhead.

Arriving back at the Elfsong a short time later, the pair were intercepted by Lakrissa.  “Hey, you two.” Changing to a whisper the tiefling remarked, “Duke Ravengard wants to meet you both in the cellar.  That large study you told Alfira about with the great acoustics.”

Thanking her, the two trekked through the kitchen – with a quick nod to the chef – and down into the cellar. Moving through the passage, they arrived at the Emperor’s old haunt. Only a few knew about this place.  Including, apparently Ulder Ravengard, seated facing away from them at a table.

The room was still coated with a fine layer of ash following the disposal of several Githyanki bodies a tenday earlier. The pair made their way across the room, the flickering candles and lanterns creating a mosaic of shadows.

As the two sat, an unearthly silence filled the large stone room.  The faint sound of a rat could be heard chittering away a short distance nearby.  No doubt Chef Roveer would need their services again soon.

Staring daggers at the cambion-turned-tiefling, breaking his gaze only to look at his son with nearly the same steely intensity, Ulder clearly pondered which set of words would leave his mouth.

Finally, the silence broke with an exhale. His gaze softened.

“I am not a man that is good with these sorts of things…”

The tension was broken by the echoing sound of footsteps. A small child’s footsteps.

“Mr. Wyll! Ms. Red!  Miss Alfira says you came down here?”

The slightly concerned voice was unmistakable. Yenna, the small child that the pair and their friends had found on the outskirts of Rivington; whose mother was clearly gone and in the interim had become their ward.

“I was trying to get the chef man to let me help in the kitchen but he chased me away!” the child said, somewhat dejectedly.

Cutting off the stare down with Wyll’s father for a moment, the bard rose from her chair and went to intercept the young girl.  “Yenna, there you are!” Furiella knelt to the girl’s level.  “I know you want to help so bad – and the food you made for us was SO good! But I know we’ve been living here while we help everyone, but right now the Chef is having to run a restaurant to help out and feed all those people in the Elfsong. Remember?”

The girl looked at the bard, absorbing the lesson. “Tell you what?  You know Jaheira?”

Interrupting Furiella, Yenna piped up cheerfully with her best, most childish impression. “Nature’s servant awaits.”

Cracking up both Wyll and Furiella – and with even a small grin crossing Ulder’s face – the girl looked towards the couple once more.

“Well, Jaheira’s family has a house in the city. I tell you what. If you promise to be good tonight, and if Gale says you completed the spelling and math lessons I asked him to make for you, tomorrow we’ll go to her kids house – her kids are adults already, she’s SO grown up – and you and Wyll and I will cook for everyone!”

With delight, the child erupted with glee! Jaheira’s garden was ready to provide some absolutely delicious fruit and vegetables, and it would be a good chance to learn outside of a tavern and in a real home and real kitchen.

Looking across the table, Ulder saw Furiella with new eyes. The way she looked at the small human girl with an almost maternal look. He saw the gears turning in Wyll’s eyes as well. A thought process he himself knew well. He had been holding her not just to the standards of a demon but holding her responsible for the actions of others. That wasn’t justice.

Choosing this moment to step in, Duke Ravengard piped up. “I believe I’ve seen enough.”

The mood in the room once more grew tense, with even Yenna noticing the change. Noticing her apprehension, Furiella pulled the child in closer; if Wyll’s father picked this moment, with Yenna present, to hurt Wyll or Yenna or even herself – her tolerance for Ulder’s adjustment period would end.  For the first time, the thought of family crossed the bard’s mind. This had become her’s, and no one, not even Wyll’s father, was going to hurt them or show this poor child that’s already lost so much more pain.

“Furiella…When I was in your mind. Saw my son through your eyes. And I saw the way you are with her..”, gesturing towards Yenna, “…just now.  You really ARE unlike her, aren’t you?” referencing Mizora.

The bard was unusually quiet, glancing at Wyll and Yenna before returning the duke’s question with a small nod.

Turning towards Wyll, the elder Ravengard continued. “When I was a younger man, during the time I knew your mother, I was privy to seeing the way she looked at me.  When this woman looks at you, son, she looks at you with those same eyes. And when we talked about our future together; when she was expecting you. I saw her again in Furiella’s eyes when she was talking with the girl…Yenna, I believe it is.”.

The younger Ravengard’s jaw loosened and his eyes widened.

“I do not agree with your having signed a deal with Mizora to save our city, although had I been in your shoes in the time I believe I might have done the same thing. Another day, another time, and without this worm in my head, we still need to discuss that. But I’ve seen you through her eyes, and I’ve seen her through yours.”

“If the day should come when the two of you decide you wish to make a life together; make a family together” Ulder noted with an almost knowing twist on the ‘if’, “please know that you have my blessing.”

Now her jaw and mouth had gone slightly agape. Blessing?

“I have always talked about wanting to build a Baldur’s Gate for all.  I’ve seen the way that Enver Gortash attempts to weaponize hatred and prejudice to control, and I cannot allow my own fears and my own history to cause me to make the same mistakes. I’ve seen the things you’ve given up, the things you’ve embraced, and the courage you’ve shown. If I’m to rebuild it, then that MUST start with my son and his love and all that they call into their lives.” Standing up and walking over towards the others, he placed a hand on Yenna’s shoulder while looking down towards his son and the woman he suspected he would one day soon know as his daughter-in-law. “Remember the four pillars, and remember your love for each other, and nothing on this plane or any other can stand against you – and know that as long as there is breath in my lungs that you are both welcome home in Baldur’s Gate. Yenna, you are always welcome as well. ”

Starting to turn away from the stunned couple and the child in their care, the Duke paused. “Son…I kept a couple of your mother’s recipe books. If you would like, I could have someone back at home who I know to be loyal retrieve them and have them brought here. For the three of you.  Perhaps bring a couple of your things as well.”

“I would love that, Father.” Wyll was nearly overcome. 

Glancing at the young lovers and their charge one more time, the duke left for upstairs, leaving both adults on the verge of tears and even the young child aware of the emotion of the moment.

Rising to begin to leave the former home base of Balduran himself, the young lovers took hold of one another. Not wanting to make a particularly grown-up display in front of Yenna, the two embraced with him giving her a peck on the cheek. 

Pulling away, Furiella stared at Wyll.

“Blessing? Wyll, blessing for what?”

“Don’t worry about it, my love.” Responded back the Blade of Avernus.

As they made to leave, Wyll from the front turned back towards the love of his life.

“Have you ever seen the Wilden Oak?  Perhaps we could go there after dinner tomorrow night?”

[genevievemd]

Your Midnights

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 1996 Rating: G Category: fluff, Ethan POV Trope(s):

Summary: Two New Years, four years apart. 

Warnings: none

A/N: No, I will never stop naming fics after Taylor Swift lyrics. I am who I am, besties lol Enjoy the fluff. 

Also another entry for @choicesficwriterscreations​ Holiday Event!

December 31, 2018

Dr. Ethan Ramsey hated most, if not all, holidays. The pomp and circumstance, the commercialism, the fakes niceties, none of it appealed to him. 

And New Years Eve was no different. In fact, it may be the one he has the greatest disdain for. Simply for the existence of New Years resolutions. 

They were completely pointless, most forgotten by February and if not, came with disappointment when the year ends and expectations were not met. 

He’d given up the silly tradition decades ago and hasn’t even celebrated the holiday since his med school days. Now, Ethan does what he has for every other holiday…

He works. 

And this year, with his mentor and dearest friend fighting for his life in a hidden corner of the hospital, Ethan had even less desire to party and celebrate. 

Though, it seems the interns are still planning to. Their laughter and cheers echoing down the halls, as if they were at a bar and not the most prestigious hospital on the East Coast. He rolls his eyes, quickening his pace towards Naveen’s room. He had no desire to be around the group of cackling hyenas any longer than necessary. 

Soon enough, he makes his way to the construction zone. Pushing back the plastic curtains and avoiding the forgotten power tools and piles of supplies. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the piece and quiet. 

Until a delightful little laugh dances down the hall. 

He’d recognize it anywhere, the sound now imprinted in his mind. 

His stomach swoops involuntarily every time he hears it, even more so when he’s the cause of it and that fact alone make Ethan want to flee to the most remote place on Earth. 

But, run towards the woman who owns that laugh at the very same time. 

He straightens his white coat and takes a deep breath before opening the door to Naveen’s room. He makes it no more than a foot inside when he stops, staring blankly at his mentor and intern. 

“What in God’s name is on your head, Rookie?” 

The petite blonde turns to face him, her smile so bright its almost blinding.

“My New Year’s Eve hat, duh.” Genevieve laughs, taking a second to adjust the pointed monstrosity. “Don’t tell me you’re a scrooge about New Year’s, too?” 

“Scrooge is Christmas, Dr. McClure. Which has, thankfully, come and gone.” Ethan rolls his eyes, then closes the door. Walking over to Naveen’s bedside. “Please tell me you’re not interrupting Dr. Banerji’s rest.” 

“Of course she’s not! I was up when she came to check on me.” Naveen smiles at the intern and it was clear that her presence had cheered the old man up. 

And effect Genevieve seems to have on most people. 

“We’re making resolutions and discussing our plans for the new year.” Gen offers Ethan a hat from the stack on the bedside table, to which he declines. 

He still has zero desire to partake in the festivities, no matter how adorable she looks in the party hat. 

“You need to loosen up, Dr. Ramsey.” 

“I do not.” 

“You do.” She laughs again, and his insides melt like they had in the hall only minutes ago. 

He feels like a fool; getting butterflies like some prepubescent teen, having a crush on an intern in his charge. And there was nothing he could do to quell the fire that was slowly growing for her. He needed her help with Naveen, he oversaw majority of her cases, and despite his best efforts, she was becoming his friend, as well. 

He enjoyed her company and hated the idea of losing it. So, he was determined to keep his crush at just that, a meaningless little crush. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Even if his wayward heart had other ideas. 

“Well, will I make it to the new year?” Naveen quips, breaking Ethan out of his thoughts. 

He looks down at his watch, and shakes his head. “With three minutes to twelve, I’d think so.” 

“Good. Now, you two should get out of here and go ring in the new year properly.” Naveen nestles down in his hospital bed, pulling up the blankets. “This old man is going to attempt to get some sleep.” 

“As you should.” Ethan smiles down at his friend, patting his shoulder gently then walking to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning, Naveen.” 

“Goodnight, Dr. Banerji.” Gen squeezes the older man’s hand. “Happy New Year.” 

“The same to you, my dear.” 

They share another smile before she joins Ethan at the door. The pair taking one more look at their sickening friend then leaving. 

“Any plans for tonight?” Gen breaks the silence as they walk down the hall, looking up at him. 

Even in the dim lighting, he can see how green her eyes are. Like two emeralds sparkling in a dark cave. Enchanting. 

“Home. To a glass of scotch.” 

“That’s so boring.” She shakes her pretty head at him, though she smiles playfully. 

“On the contrary, Dr. McClure, its–” He stops when he sees her about to trip on a pile of tiles, quickly reaching out to grab her arms. “Watch your step.” 

He pulls her away, and inevitably into his space. The air around them suddenly gone when their eyes meet, faces inches apart. 

Time stops and the world fades away, neither doing any more than breathing. It’s like something out of one of the myriad of romantic comedies Harper used to make him watch. Something so fantastical it couldn’t possibly be possible or real. But, clearly, it was. 

“I…” She’s the first to speak, a fractured word between breaths. “Thank you.” 

The small embers have now turned into a raging fire and its consuming every inch of him the longer they stand so close. 

He was truly playing with fire now, and, for the first time in a long time, Ethan found he didn’t care. 

“You’re welcome.” He offers her a small smile, forcing his eyes to stay connected with hers and not travel down to her lips . 

The moment is interrupted by cheers coming from beyond the plastic door to the secluded wing. Finally pulling them both out of the fog.

Ethan steps away, clearing his throat and fixing his coat. “It would appear that it���s midnight.” 

“Yeah.” She’s quiet, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes still focused on his face. 

“We should go.” 

“We should.” Gen nods, then takes a breath. 

She steps back into his space, quickly but with determination. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she ever so gently kisses his cheek. It barely lasts a second, but the action still has him frozen. 

It was a bold move by an intern, and he was impressed by her gall. But, she wasn’t just an intern. Something they both clearly knew. 

“Happy New Year, Dr. Ramsey.” Gen smiles and without looking back, she leaves him there. 

His cheek still tingling from her kiss, and his heart beating rapidly. Thundering against his ribcage. 

Struck with on singular thought, he wanted more. 

Four Years Later; January 1, 2023

The sunlight slowly begins to creep in from between the closed curtains. The soft rays dancing across the floor and the king sized bed. But he’s been awake long before the sun began to rise. Even on a mini vacation to Dagger Mountain, and after a night of festivities, his body is unable to sleep in past his usual wake up time. 

Though, he doesn’t mind, instead using the time to catch up on emails and, of course, stare longingly and lovingly at the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. Amazed at where life has taken them. 

Four years ago, he’d woken up on New Year’s Day, alone, thinking about the unexpected kiss he’d received the night before from an intern who he had an unwanted crush on. How he wanted her to do it again. How he wanted it to be a real kiss, and not just a quick peck on the cheek. 

How damaging and dangerous his ever growing feelings where. And now…

Now he’s woken up on New Year’s Day, happier than he’s ever been with that very same intern. Only now Genevieve isn’t just an intern, she’s his wife and his equal in every way. 

So much had happened in those four years, but the one constant through it all was their love for each other. Even when Ethan didn’t know it, or tried to deny it. It was always there, behind every action he took with her, and every ounce of patience she had with him. Like an eternal flame that could never and would never be extinguished. 

He turns on his side to face her, gingerly brushing the hair from her face. She was so beautiful, even with last nights mascara smudged under her eyes. It took his breath away. Has his heart skipping a beat. 

She stirs, shuffling closer and reaching out to ensure he’s still there beside her– like she does every morning. 

Ethan grabs her hand with a smile, kissing it gently. “Good morning, sweetheart.” 

“Morning.” Her reply is nothing more than a sleep drenched murmur. Eyes still closed as she burrows into his chest. “More sleeping.” 

“Unfortunately for me, I’m wide awake.” He leans down, kissing her head. “But you’re more than welcome to go back to sleep, we don’t need to check out until noon.” 

“No, just cuddling is good.” Gen drapes an arm around his waist, her fingers lightly scratching his back. “Did you sleep good?” 

“I always do with you next to me, my love.” 

“You’re very romantic this morning, Chief Ramsey.” She leans back, face scrunched with suspicion as she looks up at him. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing. I was merely thinking of you and us before you woke up. That’s all.”

“What about?” 

Ethan sits up against the headboard, pulling her to sit with him. His arm wrapped securely around her shoulder as she settles. “Our first New Year’s Eve together.” 

“First, like our first as a couple or first as in my intern year.” 

“The latter.” 

“Oh, when I kissed your cheek like a crazy person.” 

“Yes.” 

“I still can’t believe I did that.” She laughs, “Like, I have no idea what came over me that night. I just knew it was midnight and I wanted you to be my New Year’s kiss.” 

“Hm.” Ethan nods.

He wasn’t blind back then, he could see she had feelings for him, as well. He had assumed it was just a crush like him, brought on by the amount of time they’d spent together. As he said would happen months prior during the fMRI. Of course he was wrong, it wasn’t just a fleeting crush, and their first real kiss three weeks later in Miami was the proof. 

Not to mention all the things that happened after that.

She was always meant to be the love of his life. 

“You know what I just realized.” Gen sits up to face him, her hand moving to rest over his heart. “You’ve been my New Year’s kiss every year since.” 

“Have I really?” He covers her hand with his own, thumb running across her soft skin. 

“Yeah. We were secretly dating unofficially the following year, and then dating for real the year after that, engaged last year and now this year we’re married.”  

“And what about next year?” 

He already knows what comes next, what will be for the rest of his life. But he’ll never tire of hearing her say it. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll have a baby, but,” She changes positions again, this time moving sit in his lap. One leg on either side and her arms wrapped around his neck. “We’ll still be husband and wife, and be each other’s midnights forever.” 

“Sounds amazing, G.” He smiles, then pulls her into him. 

Sharing their first kiss of the year, one with the promise of a million more to come.

A/N: I might do one more NYE themed fic but we’ll see. Either way, Happy New Year peanuts! 

(tagging separately)

[scullysexual]

Spooky Mulder's UFO Club.

After losing a bet, Scully is forced to join Spooky Mulder’s UFO Club. (actually it’s called The Study of Unexplained Phenomena Project, and it’s a class not a club, but whatever) Ridiculed throughout the school by students and staff alike, Scully wants to get it over with as soon as she can and come “back down to earth” when a class trip up to Alaska, to do their own investigations into the mysterious deaths of four hikers, finds them stranded with an unknown virus wreaking havoc and a woods that becomes its own entity at night, Scully realises this dumb little class packs a lot more horror than she bargained for.

---

Fuck it, we're going in for chapter 2 tonight. I've got 5 chapters written so far and I'm feeling really good about this fic, it's giving Jewel in the sense of feeling like I can write and complete this. So long as the momentum isn't dropped and I don't hit a wall we should be good to go.

Chapter One | AO3 | @today-in-fic

Chapter Two: Mrs Spooky.

Her Biology test had gone terribly. So much so her teacher had brought it up at the end of the lesson.

“Is there something else on your mind, Dana?” Mr Waterston had asked.

“No,” Dana had answered. “I’m just having a bad day.”

A bad day was an understatement. Despite only just having lost her bet with Mulder on the Friday, by Monday everyone knew she would be the newest member of his UFO club.

“Seen any flying saucers today, Mrs Spooky?” Tom Colton had asked the moment she sat down for English. The joke had erupted laughter from that corner of the classroom. Even Ethan, when slapped on the arm by Todd, let out an uncomfortable chuckle. The look he gave her after was…unreadable but deep down Dana knew he what is look was: anger. At her.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asked the moment the class had ended. Dana’s eyes moved to the people staring at them and Ethan’s followed. Realising, he grabbed her arm pulling her into an alcove, shielding them from view.

“That class is a fucking joke,” he tells her as if she didn’t already know. “The fuck are you doing? And what’s this I keep hearing about losing a bet?”

“I doesn’t matter. I just said I’d go in and help him out a few things.”

“Help him…” He seems like he’s about to say something then he stops suddenly, switching, eyebrows frowning. “Is that who you went home with Friday night?”

Dana doesn’t miss the word choice. “He gave me a lift home,” she says. “Something you were unable to do. I mean, you told me to find someone to take me home.” The anger she felt that night was stirring up again.

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want us to crash into a fucking tree. I was drunk, Dana. You should’ve just stayed like I told you to, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“What mess? It’s a stupid class, Ethan.”

“No Art is a stupid class, Dana. Spooky Mulder’s fucking UFO Club- that’s a mess.”

Dana glares at him, silent.

“You might want to be Mrs Spooky but I don’t want to be Mr Spooky so you go in there and you tell Mulder that the deals off, you won’t be joining.” Ethan left after that, marching off through the doors towards his journalism club. Dana adjusts her bag on her shoulders, heading the opposite way towards TSOUP.

Despite it being a class it often took place after school hours and there weren’t many people in it. Aside from Mulder there were three other people that Dana assumed were his friends who went by the collective name of The Lone Gunmen- something to do with JFK’s assentation. Despite of their use of incorrect grammar they did run a school magazine called The Magic Bullet. Nobody read it. Dana did once, just out of curiosity, hidden away in the library behind her science textbook where nobody could see it. Their ideas were ridiculous, of course, but god did Dana have fun debating with herself and the contents of the magazine.

On the other side of the room sat the only two girls in the class; Monica Reyes and Leyla Harrison either of who Dana particularly knew very well to say anything about them. She stares at her classmates with a mix of dread and intrigue.

In truth, this class did hold some curiosity for her. Unexplained phenomena went deeper than just flying saucers after all. A lot of what was encountered often questioned the laws of science, made science fight for its opinion on the matter rather than assuming it was immediately right. While logically, Dana would have to refuse its credibility, part of her couldn’t help but wonder the what if…If this class had a better rep, if the people in it weren’t total nutjobs, then there wouldn’t have been a need for a bet to put her here, she’d have joined all by herself.

“You’re here,” says a voice of surprise.

Dana turns to find Mulder standing next to her, a look of surprise on his face.

“The bet…” Dana says as way of explanation.

Mulder smiles and Dana realises just how much she missed it.

“That was just a stupid thing…You don’t need to be here if you don’t want to.” There’s a hint of guilt in his voice as he says that last part.

Dana takes another glance inside at all the characters. They haven’t noticed her yet, too busy chatting about whatever. The front wall catches her attention; between the teacher’s desk sits a cork board, all manner of newspaper clippings, pictures, articles pinned onto it. Near the far left corner is a poster- a UFO flying above the trees, the words I Want To Believe written above it. She looks back at Mulder, sees him looking at her in earnest, waiting for her response.

“I think I’ll stay,” she says.

Her response earns her another Mulder smile. He extends his hand out.

“Welcome to the club, Scully.”

Dana shakes it back.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Carlos & Bailey: An Interactive Whump Story #10

Masterlist | Previous

Content: PTSD/trauma, false accusations, vampire whumpee, multiple whumpees, defiant whumpee, reader's POV, [implied] past pet whump.  

You chose to: Compromise (tell them you’ll leave while they settle in).

“I’m sorry,” you apologise. You truly are, for what it’s worth. “This is new to all of us. Just as you don’t feel safe going in there before me, I don’t feel all that safe going in there before you. However, I would be more than happy to leave while you do your thing? I’ll just be in my room across the hall, most likely sleeping. I haven’t exactly gotten much sleep over the past twenty-four hours.”

“The hell were you doing on the road in the middle of the night anyway?” Bailey immediately asks. You can hear how hard he’s trying to calm his own voice down, trembling fingers digging into Carlos’ palm so hard his knuckles are turning pale. “Where you looking for a wild vampire to take home with you? Is that it? Is our species some kind of pet to you as well?”

Your eyes start to bulge. “What?”

“You heard me. What were you doing?”

It feels wrong to give in to his jarring accusations, but you can’t help it. Why on earth would you be doing that? Can he not tell that you barely even have the room to house one, let alone two fully grown vampires? You can feel yourself getting more and more irritated by the minute, and yet you force yourself to take a deep breath before speaking another word to him. It’s best not to agitate him further. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you eventually respond. You shove your hands into the pockets of your bottoms and lean against the wall for a moment. “If I was out to hurt you, don’t you think I would have made you sleep on the floor rather than in a nicely furnished bedroom? I am not going to hurt you, Bailey. I don’t know how else to show you that I mean it.”

Much to your surprise, Carlos cuts in before Bailey can say another word. The vampire is silently seething again, breaths coming out in heaving, angry rasps. Carlos' goal seems to be to avoid whatever Bailey plans to say next from coming out of his mouth.

“Our previous master found Bailey out in the woods one evening,” he admits shakily, shifting his position a little so he’s slightly in front of the smaller vampire. “He was lost and our master feigned kindness to lure him back to his home without Bailey’s knowledge. He gave his trust to someone who abused it more times than I could count. So- so It’s not his fault. Please… please, find it in your heart to be patient with us. We are both healing from scars you cannot see.”

"That bastard is not my fucking master," Bailey mutters through gritted teeth, though he doesn't protest against anything else Carlos has said. Instead, for the first time since you found him, he shrinks into himself a little and clenches his jaw, practically pressing his front into Carlos' back.

Taglist: @alexkolax @ardebatis @bones-arent-real @choppedflowermuffinchild @doodlepoodle154 @florissimps @littlefaefeather @neurodivergentcyborg @pepperonyscience @pigeonwhumps @road-trip-to-jupiter @we-were-so-beautiful @whumpingwithclara @whump-it @whumpsday @whump-queen @whumpshaped @whumptier @whumpycries @whumpzone @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @zillastar13

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #325 - "Maximum Security"

Originally posted on January 5th, 2009

Story, Art - Iván Mas

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005 | BotTalk

wada sez: God, lot going on here. In the West, Fortress Maximus’ head was formed by the human Spike Witwicky. In The Headmasters, Fortress Maximus’ head mode just sorta chilled inside his city mode. In IDW continuity, Fortress Maximus was a prison warden, with Spike Witwicky having at the point of this strip’s writing having been introduced as a soldier on Earth. Cog was a little Transformer originally included with Fortress Maximus, formed from the drones Gasket and Grommet; weirdly, Cog’s vehicle mode appears separately in the first panel, implying there are many of him here. All of these separate influences combine to form the basis of this strip. Notice how Fortress Maximus speaks with a normal, round, human speech bubble. The red robot is a generic who just happens to bear a resemblance to Inferno. See below for behind-the-scenes material, and my massaged machine translation of Mas’ commentary.

Well... here is a simple mosaic.

The idea sprang from Spotlight: Arcee, in which Fortress Maximus appeared as some sort of warden of Garrus.

I thought the idea seemed good, however the fact that it saps Maximus of his importance, both in terms of his size and the rank he held in previous series, didn’t sit well with me.

So I thought, to respect that scale and give Fortress the importance it deserves, without straying too far from the IDW spirit... why not turn the entire character into the same prison?

But, I think I didn’t know how to mix those ideas, or the general public didn’t understand that strange mix, so why not explain those concepts?

Indeed, we have three or four concepts at the same time, on the one hand, we have that Garrus's prison, from the IDW universe, has gone to waste, and on the other that it is Spike, a human character from g.1, who has taken over Cerebros and occupied the body and mind of Fortress, this concept appears as such in the Masterforce series, not Headmasters.

So in the final scene, we have Fortress inside his own body transformed into a base, in the central control room, hence that kind of helmet around Maximus's head.

So many people might miss this intent.

The truth is that... with a few more pages I could have developed the argument better, but as I have already said on occasion, one page gives an idea.

I decided to choose Cog because he's a little character that there's hardly anything about, and since he's one of Fortress's add-ons, (along with the minivehicle in the lower right corner of the first panel) it's understandable that he shows complete confidence that the human who occupies the place of "warden" had plenty of experience in these matters, after all Spike has known the decepticons for a long time.

The other robot, it's generic, reminiscent of Inferno, it came out like this, but it helped me to show another way of thinking and so that somehow we could see that... not all autobots trust humans blindly, like Optimus does.

At the script level, from what we can derive from the conversation, Garrus's security systems have failed and there has been a massive escape, a few have been arrested and are transferred to this new prison (fortress maximus) with new and more modern security measures... that’s all, but as I have stated, I think that the main character is more and better used here than in the IDW universe, or at least he is closer to the original intent from the time for the character in the animation and as a toy.

I hope that all this has served so that people who are not very convinced see the mosaic in another way, however, other strips that are to come will be better.

[onceapirateprincess]

.Nika, the God of Sun and Freedom. A Genshin Impact x One Piece Crossover Legend.

Bit of a long post, but basically, the legend of Nika the Sun God as I would put it into Genshin. Hope you enjoy!

.NIKA, GOD OF THE SUN AND FREEDOM.

His name has been whispered many times over the centuries, all in different forms. Nika, the one who sets things right. Nika, the breaker of chains. Nika, the punisher of the unjust. Nika, the berserker. Nika, the wild god. 

Nika, the lost child of humanity. 

Once upon a time, far, far in the past, humanity faced its greatest threat - each other. People enslaved other people, kept others in terror, imprisoned people not just with bars but with their own minds. That’s not to say it doesn’t happen now - but back then, it was a horror show.

And the people cried and twisted under the fearful, flaming whip of their enslavers, and they screamed to the heavens, “Celestia, why have you forsaken us?” But Celestia was silent. And so the people suffered, and those in power grew more powerful. 

But as we all know, humans are resilient when need be. And when their gods abandoned them, they learned to take care of their own. And they created a path to freedom, a path to escape those who kept them in chains. And the way forward was dictated to them in a drumming song tapped out on wherever they could do so without arousing suspicion. A rousing, drumming beat, that was meant to inspire and give power to those ready for the next leg of the journey to freedom. 

And it was called the Drums of Liberation. 

One day, the cruel overlords discovered this path, and grew furious. How dare they not have the control they had enjoyed for so long! So they set out to raze it, and the safe settlement, to the ground. 

The others were not going to sit by while their hard - won freedom burned. So all who were able picked up weapons and stood at the ready. And when the two sides met, they were two opposing ocean tides, clashing with earth - shaking vigor. The battle lasted for five days and five nights, but slowly, slowly, the free people’s forces were whittled away. And it seemed there was no hope. Until one day, on the bloody, scorched battlefield, a young, injured boy raised his hand, and began tapping the rhythm he knew so well. And he was joined by another, a woman, dying of her injuries, but trying to inspire the warriors on the front. And another - a veteran, leaning on his crutch to tap out the rhythm with his good leg. And another. And another. And another. Until the air was filled with the rumble of the Drums of Liberation. Both armies paused. And the air hung still, for five seconds. And then the sun seemed to crash into the battlefield. And the sound of loud, boyish laughter filled the air, as the rhythm grew louder. But some were confused, as no one was tapping after the shockwave stunned them all. From the great shining light, came the silhouette of a boyish figure, clouds floating all around him and a wide, bright smile on his face. His eyes were full of stars, an endless galaxy contained within He looked upon the beaten down troops and said, 

“As you have given me my heartbeat, so I will fight for you until the very end.”

And then the free people’s forces watched in awe as he tore through the overlord’s forces as if they were paper, bouncing and jumping and stretching around the battlefield in ways human bodies were not supposed to move.

When it was over the god turned and knelt next to the young boy who had begun the whole thing and helped him to his feet. 

“You have allowed me life. But…I am still incomplete. What…would you name me?”

And the boy thought for a moment before saying, “Nika. After my younger brother lost to the evil. 

And so the god was named Nika. News of Nika spread through all four corners of Tevyat. A God not born of Celestia…an unknown. And the slavers and fearmongers came to fear him, for he devastated the very ground they walked on. And slowly, the shadow of oppression was driven back across the land, to the tune of Nika’s heartbeat, the Drums of Liberation. And Tevyat was peaceful for a while. 

Until the Archon War. 

When the heavens split open, Nika protected his people from the thunderstorms. When the ground rumbled and cracked, Nika caught the fallen from the crevices and carved out a space for his people. When the seas raged and roared, Nika threw up walls. When the wind howled, Nika made sure his people’s houses didn’t blow away. 

And Nika grew angry. The power of Celestia was so tempting, it was causing the very gods that swore to protect the people to turn on them and harm them, directly and indirectly. He could see it now. No matter who won, humanity, his people, would be handed over to just another overlord who wouldn’t care about them. 

He had to stop them. And so he went on his own crusade - against the Archons and Gods themselves. And maybe he would have succeeded, had his first target not been one of the most powerful of the fighters - Rex Lapis of Liuye. Nika was always one to go after the big fish. 

Their battle raged across the mountains and plains of Liuye. Nika threw bolts containing fire hotter than the sun itself, landed powerful punches on the Prime Adeptus and his other adept forces. Nika fought hand to hand with Marshal Soaring Snake, Bosacious. He lit the plains up during his battle with General Fire Rat, Musatas. His battle with General Curled Snail, Bonanus, tore the sea down to its very seabed. The very earth shook when he fought with General Mind - Monkey, Menogias.

And in his biggest battle, he fought the Prime Adeptus himself - Rex Lapis - and his faithful servant, the Conqueror of Demons, Alatus, without blinking. It was said that this was the only battle he did not have a smile on his face - but a scowl, a snarl of anger that seemed to scream he would win at any cost, for his people. 

The battle lasted seven days and seven nights. Mountains were torn up as Rex Lapis hurled them like spears at the god, and Nika retaliated with white - hot, glowing blasts of pure energy that left deep gouges in the earth. Alatus aimed his spear at the young god’s heart, and in return Nika struck back with punches that were so full of energy his fist glowed. 

But even the god of the sun must set, and with his power finally depleted, Nika was defeated, laying face down at the bottom of a gorge. And with a final swing of his polearm, Rex Lapis shattered the spirit of the boyish god, and the Drums of Liberation fell silent. 

Another casualty of the Archon war. 

But all is not lost, or so the followers of Nika said. For the spirit of freedom cannot ever be killed…and the sun will always rise the next day. And so they wait for Nika’s return, and they have been for centuries, the story of the God passed down all through Teyvat through memories. And maybe someday, a child will open their eyes and you will see the depths of the galaxy within them, or the wisps of cloud surrounding their head, or the ever present, bright smile of a God who symbolizes freedom itself.

And if you listen closely…the Drums of Liberation reside in every human’s heart - perhaps that was Nika’s last gift to humanity, before he faded.

The desire for freedom - and the drive to do good.

And so the God sleeps - but who knows for how long.

[rosesandalfazemas]

Oblivion

ENGPORT - Drabble - Forgotten AU. Based on this.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-five minutes.

“Stop!”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-six minutes.

“Wait!”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes.

"Hey!”

“Excuse me, I'm sorry...”

He got up and ran again at full speed, not stopping to help whoever had crashed at the next corner. He received some insults and indignant looks in a foreign language, but he kept his head up, his eyes fixed and unblinking.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.

There were a lot of people at that hour in the center of Prague, but he would not fail, not this time. Even if he was run over by traffic; even if the police took him to jail for riots before the stupefied eyes of tourists and locals.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.

Granted, he was crazy. Granted, he had already lost all the manners that always distinguished him among his own. But what matters?

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes.

He must not lose sight of that head, that hair.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and thirty seconds.

He swore, he felt, that this time he was not wrong.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and fifty seconds.

A red light gave him the only opportunity in a long time.

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and forty minutes.

“Gabriel!!”

Time stopped, like his destroyed body from running so many kilometers. He had trotted through half the city; but he didn't care about that, or the burning in his muscles, or his burst sternum crying out for oxygen.

Only eyes the color of the sea that turned to see him, curious, upon hearing his name.

“Oh God... it's you... I knew it... “ he whispered with a half smile, without taking his eyes off him  “Finally... finally...”

The aforementioned turned around completely, moving away from the cluster of people to see him better. There was almost half a block between them, but neither of them would advance.

"Hmn, hello," the boy said sheepishly, holding his travel backpack and adjusting his half-tied brown hair, falling to his shoulders. English was not his native language, but he knew how to pronounce it well.

"I... hello," the Brit continued more calmly. He straightened up and sighed, finishing accommodating the air in his lungs and slowly walking towards the other “ I can't believe it. I don't understand what happened, where were you? What happened to you?”

“... What?”

"Yeah, it's confusing. One day the earth simply swallowed you and no one knew anything about you anymore. I looked for you everywhere, including in the Oniric World; I owe favors to half the magical population” he said mockingly, and continued walking “But it doesn't matter, because I finally found you after all this time, Gabe, and I...”

“Woah!” the dark-haired man made a stop gesture for him to stop approaching. The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“I know, I know. I'm talking a lot, but I'm nervous” he scratched his head, suppressing the desire to press him against him, cry and kiss him in public “; you already know how I am.”

"No, actually I have no idea.”

The answer caused an awkward silence between the two, while people seemed to not walk near those two.

“... You have no idea?”

"Uhm... I don't know who you are," he clarified slowly, looking at him prudently. “ You called me by name and said all these things; but I really don't know you, senhor.”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours.

“What... ?” the blonde half smiled. "You're kidding, right? It's not a nice joke now, Gabe. I was very worried...”

"It's not my funny face," he pointed out, seriously. “And I don't know if you're playing a trick on me. I don't know who he is or what you want from me”.

No, it wasn't a joke. Not at all. Gabriel's eyes were honest.

It couldn't be.

"...I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland” pointed to his chest taking another step, in shock “The United Kingdom, England”

"Yeah you’re clearly from there” he answered, holding the backpack by the handles. “But I don't know any Arthur.”

“No... no...”

The britain hands began to shake and he had to hold them to avoid making a show. He stammered unconnected things, biting his mouth to silence the sob of tears falling down his cheeks, his pupils wide open.

“I'm sorry I'm not that Gabriel, I can see you’re suffering a lot” the dark-haired man then narrowed down, feeling guilty when he noticed the anguish “Do you want us to notify the police? Maybe they can help you.”

England didn't know whether to split the sky with lightning and strike down all the humans there, out of sheer spite; fall to their knees and scream, or start laughing wildly. Or all at once.

It wasn't happening, it wasn't happening.

“...”

“Sir?”

“... Just...” he took a breath to speak “...forgive me. I have no bad intentions” he said then, spinning the words to sound coherent “. I was looking for my husband for years, because he disappeared.”

"Oh Deus, I'm so sorry!" The other took a step towards him. “It must be terrifying.”

"You have no idea... Gabriel" he whispered, his reality falling apart in front of him without remedy. Because not only Portugal didn’t remember who he was, but it seemed that he had no idea what he was as well. “I'm really sorry.” He wiped away the tears.

“No, it's okay... erm... do you want me to go with you somewhere?”

“Haha, no,” he replied. “I don't want to scare you anymore. I just have one question.”

“Yes?”

Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours and twenty minutes.

“... Are you happy?”

Gabriel blinked in confusion, because none of this encounter made any sense. Why was about such a precise person? Maybe...

“Yes.”

Arthur bit his tongue.

“All right. It's the only thing that relieves me now” he smiled forcibly, avoiding his gaze. Would he have made a new life, far from everything they were? How was that even possible? “. Sorry to intrude you, Gabriel. Thanks.”

"If there's anything I can do...”

“Not anymore.”

That answer was colder than he had calculated, but he couldn't help it. Now he was sad and angry; not with him, but with his damn Fate. He turned his back on him, finishing accepting what had happened and began to walk, rigid, away from him. Thinking and not thinking. Thinking and not thinking.

"Arthur!" Gabriel ventured to call him by name; he took a few steps towards him, but the blonde didn't turn around again “Wait!”

He was confused and in some way that he did not understand why, hurt. Like an old pain without explanation.

Zero hour, forty minutes.

The multitude separated them again, losing them in the crowd of Prague.

Zero hour, forty-one minutes.

Zero hour, forty-two minutes...

[middleearthpixie]

Wanted Man ~ Chapter Four

Summary: A price on his head, Loki of Asgard finds himself stranded on Earth and in need of one woman's help in order to free himself from the bounty and try to reclaim what he sees as his rightful throne in Asgard.

McKenna Carlin just wanted to put a horrible day behind her. She had no idea that things would get worse before they get better…

Pairings:  Loki Laufeyson x ofc McKenna Carlin

Characters:McKenna, Loki  

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag List: @fizzyxcustard @court-jobi @guardianofrivendell @piggledy-higgledy @evenstaredits

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here! 

The first pale rays of sunlight had just begun sneaking in through the slits in the curtains when McKenna opened her eyes and stretched. Cinder was long gone, no doubt curled up on the sofa or under the coffee table.

The sofa.

She frowned as she stared up at the ceiling. In the far corner, by her closet, a dark water stain made a yellowish mark that bled through no matter how many coats of paint she applied. But that wasn’t what had her frowning.

Did she dream everything that happened last night?

It would make sense. Since really, why would some Asgardian god crash land in her apartment and ask to bunk with her for a while? It was silly. Her mother always chided her for her vivid imagination, for seeing things that really weren’t there, no matter how much she insisted otherwise.

So that had to be what happened. She went for a run. Overheated herself. Came home and didn’t have time to eat, so when she fell asleep, her imagination went into overdrive. That explained everything. Besides, gods didn’t come to Earth in real life. That only happened in books and movies.

She threw back the covers and got up. “Coffee. I need coffee. Then everything will be right in the world.”

Yawning, she padded down the hallway, and came to a dead stop at the kitchen. 

Loki was sound asleep on the sofa, with Cinder curled up on him as if he belonged there.

“Damn.” She sagged against the doorway and rubbed her eyes to make sure she was really and honestly awake. When she finished, and the Asgardian was still on her sofa, she swore under her breath. “I need more than coffee.”

He looked very comfortable, even with a twenty-pound bag of gray fur sound asleep on him, and not quite as pale as he had in the darkness last night. But, in the daylight, the fading bruises and cuts in various stages of healing on his face were much more visible. The Hulk certainly had done a number on him. 

McKenna glanced up at the ceiling just above the front door, where she suspected Loki fell through. “I just hope no one else does the same,” she muttered, shaking her head as she continued into the kitchen.

At the coffeepot, she frowned. Did Asgardians drink coffee? Should she wake Loki and ask him? And really, was it a good idea to wake any sleeping god, never mind the sleeping god of mischief?

Probably not.

But…

“You’ve lost it,” she muttered, slapping her hand to her forehead. “Just make enough damn coffee and if he wants it, he’s welcome to it.”

So, she scooped coffee into the filter, added water, and pressed the switch and a few minutes later, the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. She poured herself a mug, doctored it with half-and-half and two sugars, and went to see if the paper had been delivered.

The door no longer glowed green, but she paused before touching the doorknob. What would happen if she breached the green glow? Would she be blown back into the room? Or would she be vaporized on contact?

Cinder hopped off his bed and curled his way about her ankles, his motor running like mad. He was ready for his breakfast. If she was going to test the fates, she’d better just get it over with and touch the damn door handle already.

One… two… three…

Nothing happened.

The door opened easily and the paper was right where it should be, on the small welcome mat. She picked it up and closed the door before Cinder could make a break for it, and the cat purred his way behind her as she went back into the kitchen.

She sipped her coffee and skimmed the front page. The usual depressing news. War. Suicide bombings. Shootings. Gang violence. Usually she skipped the front section and went to the comics first. Made the crappy news so much more bearable.

But an item on the inside of the front page caught her eye. There was a small blurb about a meteorite that hit somewhere in Brunswick. No one was entirely sure how large a meteor, or where it landed, but they all knew it definitely hit.

“I’d say it was about six foot, maybe six-two,” she muttered, sipping from the mug. “With black hair and dressed like a refugee from ‘Rock of Ages.’ And it landed in my living room.”

She was halfway through the rest of the paper when the floor creaked and Loki sniffed his way into the kitchen. “What smells so good?”

“Coffee. Mugs are in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Sugar’s next to the pot. Half and half is in the fridge. Help yourself.” 

She peered over the edge of the newspaper, smiling at the sight of the all-powerful god rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand while he reached into the mug cabinet with the other. His dark hair was tangled and tossed from sleep, not nearly as smooth as it had been the night before but far wavier. 

“How did you sleep?” she asked, taking in the creased, wrinkled leather getup he wore. Sleeping in leather couldn’t have been comfortable, no matter how cool the apartment was.

“The sleep of the dead,” he replied, taking down the biggest mug she owned. It could easily hold half the pot and she rarely drank from it, unless it was Cup of Soup and she was sick.

“Really? You didn’t sweat too badly?”

“Why would I?” He moved to the coffeepot and she tried not to wince as he proceeded to empty the pot into it. 

“Because that’s leather.” She pointed to him, gesturing from top to bottom. “And it can’t be comfortable.”

“I was fine and I thank you for the blanket.” He joined her at the table, sitting across from her and took a tentative sip. His nose wrinkled. “Bitter.”

“Try some sugar. Or some half-and-half. Or both, if you’re feeling squirrelly.” She closed the sports section and held it out. “Do you want this?”

He lowered the cup. “Why would I? Your sports don’t interest me.”

“Really? Just wait. If you stick around for football season, you might change your mind.”

“I doubt it.” He took another swallow and winced again. “Where did you say the sugar was?”

McKenna sighed as she got up to retrieve the sugar, the carton of half-and-half, and a spoon. “Here, but don’t go crazy. Too sweet isn’t any better. And I’m sorry. I don’t really make great coffee. I keep meaning to get a Keurig, but just never seem to have the extra cash lying around, you know.”

“A Keurig?” He dumped a teaspoon of sugar into the cup, added a splash of half-and-half, and stirred.

“You know, a single-serve coffeemaker. You buy coffee in little pods and it brews one cup at a time. Just the right coffee-water ratio.” She switched off the coffeepot and pulled out the gold filter to dump the grounds in the trash. As a fresh pot brewed, she turned back to him, leaning against the counter. “How long do you think you’re going to need my help?”

“I don’t know.” He took another tentative sip and this time, smiled. “I like this.”

“Well, what did you do? I mean, aside from destroying half of New York, that is? I mean, that was probably enough to begin with, but was there anything else?”

He sat back in his chair and gave her a long, if sleepy-eyed, look. The bruises looked a little more faded than they had last night—now they had a faint yellowish tinge to them as well. “I made a bargain that, in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done. And now—”

“It’s time to pay the piper?”

“There was no piper involved.”

“No, it’s just a saying. You know, the bill came due. Time to face the music. Pay up.” She shook her head as he just stared at her. “Do any of those make sense to you?”

“No.”

“I mean, you’re regretting making the deal because you owe someone something and they aren’t too shy about demanding it, right?”

“Something like that, yes.” He lifted the cup to his lips for another swallow. 

“And all I have to do is let you sleep on my sofa for a while.”

“That’s it.”

“And they won’t come looking for you here?”

“How would they know where to find me?”

“Well, someone knows you’re here. Sort of. I mean, they just don’t know it’s you, or else I’m pretty sure someone would be knocking my door down to get to you, but they know something weird crash landed around her last night.” She walked back to the table and opened the front section of the newspaper to show him the snippet about the meteorite. “They think you’re a space rock, though.”

His slight smile faded as he read the article, but when he looked up, he still didn’t seem all that concerned. “I highly doubt the Chitauri are reading any Midgardian newspapers.”

“The Chitauri?” She sank into her chair and reached for her cup. “That’s who’s after you? Who are they?”

“No one you need concern yourself with.” He lifted the front section and turned the page.

At first, it annoyed her that he wouldn’t tell her, but as she watched him peruse the rest of the paper, she realized it was probably for the best. The less she knew, the happier she’d be. At least, she hoped that was how it would work.

The silence that descended was a somewhat comfortable one. The paper crinkled when he turned a page, the coffeepot beeped to let them both know it was done brewing, and she studied him as he kept his head bent over the news. 

Finally, she broke the silence. “If you’re going to stay here, we need to find you something other than that to wear and getting that—” she gestured to his clothes—“cleaned will probably cost a fortune.” She leaned forward and squinted. “Is that gold?”

“I am a king,” he told her. “Or, I was, anyway. And I will be again.”

“Somehow, I think we’re going to have problems finding a dry cleaner who specializes in leather and gold.”

“Don’t you have a laundress?”

“Yeah. Me. I’m the laundress and I take leather to the dry cleaner.” She finished her coffee and moved to pour another cup. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Then you need to change into something a little less… conspicuous. I used up the last of the eggs yesterday, so if you want to eat, we have to go out.”

“Perhaps you didn’t notice, but I didn’t exactly land with a change of clothes.”

“I might have something that will fit you. Come on.”  

He followed her down the hallway to her room, where she pushed open the door and said, “Don’t judge me by the mess. It’s been a long week.”

He smiled as he crossed the threshold. “It goes a little beyond mess.”

“I told you not to judge.” She winced as she looked around at the pile of clothes almost spilling out of the laundry basket on the floor by the dresser, and the stack of clean clothes on the vanity bench still waiting to be put away. Of course, it had to be a pile of underwear and bras right there on top.

Her hopes that maybe he wouldn’t notice—or if he did, that he’d have no idea what it was he looked at—were dashed as he turned to her with a grin. “Lace. I’d never have guessed.”

“Yeah, well… I’m full of surprises that way.” Shut up! She had to fight to keep from doing a face palm as she scooped up the offending lacy things and shoved them in her already overcrowded underwear drawer. It took three tries to get the drawer shut, and when she turned back, his grin had morphed into a full-on smile.

She cleared her throat. “Over here.” She walked over to the low dresser across from hers and pulled open the top drawer. There wasn’t much in it, a few pairs of old, faded Levis. A pair of socks. A couple of faded tee shirts. “Um… I don’t have any guy underwear. You’re on your own for that. We can go shopping after breakfast, I guess.

“But, for now,” she yanked out a pair of jeans worn to velvety softness and the least faded tee shirt she could find, “these should fit you. You look like you’re about the same size as Joe.”

“Joe?” He took the clothes. “Who’s Joe?”

“He was my boyfriend. Now he’s just someone I used to know.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “You can get dressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’m just going to jump into the shower here and then we can go.”

He looked at the pile of clothes and then up at her. “Thank you.”

She hadn’t expected thanks, not when he seemed so arrogant at first. But perhaps there was a little more to him than met the eye. “You’re welcome.”

He left and she closed the door and locked it, then padded into the bathroom to start the shower. When the water was hot enough, she climbed in and groaned with appreciation as the hot water washed away the last of the sleep.

“Where might I find a towel?”

McKenna froze, mid-shampoo, as the steam carried Loki's voice into the shower. What the—? She stuck her face into the spray to blast any shampoo from her eyes. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the door.”

“I locked it.”

He chuckled. “I know, but I needed a towel. And I might find one where?” 

“Are you kidding?” The shower curtain wasn’t exactly clear, but wasn’t opaque enough for her liking as she poked her head around it. “Get out!”

“I will. If you’ll tell me—” 

She pointed to the organizer. “Take your towel and go away. Now.”

His grin brought heat to her face that had nothing to do with the water temperature and she had the sickening feeling the curtain wasn't opaque at all to him. Furiously she rinsed and conditioned and finished her shower in record time, and then wrapped herself in a bath sheet and stormed her way into the main bathroom. 

It was like walking into a rainforest. The steam was so thick, she could only barely make out the fixtures and shower, and it made the air almost unbreathable. Loki stood at the sink, squinting at the rapidly fogging mirror, and he slowly peered at her over one shoulder as she marched over to thrust her hand into the shower. The water was scalding. He ran only the hot tap.

The tap squeaked as she turned it off. “We need to set some ground rules here.”

“Midgardian fashion is interesting,” he replied, giving her a slow up and down perusal. “I think I like it.”

“Very funny.” She tightened her grip on the bath sheet. Just in case. “One, if a door is locked, you don’t use magic to open it. I locked it for a reason. Two; I pay for water, so don’t waste it. And three, for the love of God, are you trying to scald the skin from your back? Use the cold water as well. And turn it off when you’re finished.”

“Do you have more of that ibuprofen?” he asked.

She just stared at him for a moment. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I agree to all of your ground rules. Although, you have nothing to fear. I only saw your silhouette.” As she breathed a sigh of relief, he added, “And it was lovely.”

“Argh.” She glared at him. “And you’ll forget what you saw. Got it?”

“Of course.” 

He said it with a smirk, and she didn’t believe him for a moment. “There’s some in the medicine cabinet. Do you need me to open it for you?”

“I think I might manage on my own, now that I know about childproof caps.”

“Good. Hurry up. I’m starving.”

With that, she left him to his shower, although she did debate about walking in on him. Fair was fair, wasn’t it? She even went so far as to try the doorknob, but he was a quick study. The door was locked. 

Of course it was. She went back to get dressed in jean shorts and a New York Yankees baseball tee shirt with three-quarter length sleeves. She blasted her hair with the dryer, and then pulled the mess up into a ponytail. A little makeup and she was ready to greet the world.

As she passed the bathroom in the hallway, the door opened and Loki stepped out in a billow of fog. He blocked her. “What form of torture is this?” he demanded with a scowl.

This was the fly of the jeans and she swallowed hard, both trying not to laugh at his look of outrage and not to faint at the sight of him, shirtless, in the jeans. Not easy. Not easy at all. After all, he was a god.

“Sorry. I thought… Just be careful of the zipper. And go slow. I cannot emphasize that enough. Slow.”

“Are they supposed to be this tight?” He took a couple of awkward steps away from her.

Oh. Dear. God. The Levis looked just as impressive going. “They should loosen up a little as you move around. We can look for new jeans for you as well.”

“Jeans.” He fidgeted with the waistband, grimacing as he turned and strolled toward her. “I don’t think I like them much.”

“Give them a chance. They’re one of the best things about Earth.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She looked up at him. Damn, she hadn’t realized how gorgeous he was, and the leather and gold outfit absolute hid his amazing physique all too well. Gods apparently stayed in great shape. Bands of muscle roped his upper arms, across his shoulders, and she could probably scrub her laundry on his abs. Not good. Not good at all.

His hair dripped onto the towel he had draped about his shoulders. His amazingly broad shoulders—stop it!

The tee shirt she’d given him lay folded on the vanity, and she reached around him to snatch it up and thrust it at him. “We need to go before I pass out from hunger.”

He offered up a curious look, but tossed the towel aside and tugged on the tee shirt, which fit him as perfectly as the jeans. And she thought he’d blend in with everyone else. Not likely. Women at least would notice him everywhere they went.

Tall. Dark. Handsome. 

Damn.

“We should go,” she said, her mouth strangely dry. “Now.”

“As you wish. Lead the way.”

She threw down some dry food for Cinder, made sure his water bowl was full, grabbed her purse from the kitchen table, and then swiped up her keys from the small dish on the table just inside the front door. 

[tanadrin]

A short timeline of the dawn of worlds game so far

To catch myself up, I put together as best I could a timeline of the Dawn of Worlds game so far, with a list of races, avatars, and orders at the end. Fellow-players, if you see this, please correct me if I got anything wrong, or help me fill in any missing details if you can.

Turn 1

The dead skin of the former world gives rise to Naakrsh, the Forgotten Scales.

Zaaz-Ghvash, an orphan from another plane, arrives.

Velarië is born from starlight on the waves. She creates the Isle of Velarië as her home.

Laneth… exists, a chalk mountain in the midst of an otherworldly plain called the Process of Dying.

Haebarik the Rootless awakens. He creates the continent called Haebrach, and a chain of islands betwen Haebrach and Velarie’s isle.

Turn 2

Fiery Erland is born from primordial embers deep beneath the world. He makes a series of volcanic islands.

Naakrsh cuts the Abyss into the Isle of Velarie and the sea around it.

Dark, secretive Omeara wakes; she shapes an extensive underground labyrinth, populated with cavern-dwelling flora and fauna.

Velarie does her best to mend Naakrsh’s violence; she creates the land of Incarien to the northwest.

Haebarik creates Baled, the Home of Monsters, and spreads some of Naakrsh’s abyssal life to it.

Laneth makes a lifeless realm of ice in the north.

Naakrsh creates a spark of his own essence that may engender something later.

Turn 3

Omeara creates a second underground layer beneath the first.

Erland works to rectify some of the underground flooding caused by the creation of the Abyss; he scatters volcanic vents and channels across Baled; he creates living creatures out of stone, and uses some of them to scattered seeds to the four corners of the world to encourage life to take root elsewhere.

Zaag-Ghvash creates two locations of eldritch power with alien glyphs at their center, and an unusual continent in the southwest.

Velarie creates the Ataila, whose first home outside her isle is Tehwatzin aka Etevassin.

Haebarik delves into the Abyss, and returns with the first human beings, snakelike humanoids born of Naakrsh’s spark.

Corobel, the personification of the sky, creates the Mirrorvaults beneath the oceans of the Moon.

Laneth creates the barren south polar region.

Tepponilamek names itself out of the cold wind of the north. It creates twin landmasses east of Baled.

Omeara creates the land of Morne, northeast of Incarien.

Turn 4

Corobel fills the Moon with life.

Omeara creates the avatar Ohm, The First of Worms, the Finger Pale, the Beast of Morne.

Laneth creates Kuollut Kulma, the Wandering Isle, beyond the reach of all the gods, even Laneth itself.

Naakrsh creats the Ebon Priesthood of the Flayed Skin, an order which attracts both human and atai members.

Erland creats the Potter’s Guild, the Keepers of the Secrets of Fire and Earth, to teach the humans the arts of civilization.

Velarie fills southeast Incarien with thick jungles to protect Tehwatzin/Etevassin, and to the south creates the land called Tuula.

(IS) Saarimuuta, one of the seven maidens appointed by Velarie to watch over the waters of Tuula,  hoards the waters of Saarima, in southern Tuula, for herself.

Haebarik spreads more life along the coast of Incarien, and creates the land of Laerel adjoining Laneth.

Corobel raises a continent to the west of Incarien and Tuula.

(IS) Mohäimä escapes Laneth’s domain and takes up residence in Saarima.

Tepponilamek creates a new landmass southwest of the two it made earlier, and surrounds it with helpful prevailing winds.

Omeara uses shape climate to make a temperate coastal region around Morne and Incarien; creates a more boreal area in the north of both, and fills the region in between with thick coniferous forests. Ohm is busy eating things out of existence.

Turn 5

Erland floods the barren interior of Incarien in the northwest using magma; after being washed with water, an enormous lake whose bed is glass and basalt forms.

(IS) Rav, the glancing light, takes up residence in Saarima.

Erland calls a conference of the gods.

Zaag-Ghvash creates an Eldritch Orrery on her island from which horrible secrets can be divined from the stars. She fills the region with a huge wealth of natural resources, both organic and mineral, before setting off for the divine conference.

Naakrsh bleeds a lake of blood on the moon.

Haebarik makes a bridge to the Moon that opens during a total eclipse, providing a way for mortals to travel back and forth.

Corobel fills the sky with 29 planets and moons to track the cycles of time.

Turn 6

Corobel reshapes the flooded portion of Incarien into the Glass Steppes

(IS) Rav creates a magical oasis in Saarima.

Omeara crates the Sea of Spires, a dense fogbound archipelago between Haebrach, Lekesh, and Rasira.

Naakrsh creates the Hatestar, doom of the world.

Laneth creates the Order of the Last Hearth, which teaches that mortals must prepare themselves well for death. Under its influence the human towns in eastern Incarien become preeminent in the funerary arts.

Corobel uses Shape Climate on the Occident (the land west of Incarien and Tuula).

Tepponilamek creates the Windwhisperers, introducing writing to humans and weather-magic to the world.

The First Age ends with the conference of the gods, at which diverse topics are discussed.

Turn 7

Something very disturbing involving a tree on the Moon happens at Corobel’s instigation?

Tepponilamek creates the Messonir and Eppethikuja, mantalike wind-dragons that can control the weather and the sea.

Haebarik creates the Tarbra on Haebrach, five-limbed beings who live via herding.

The Ebon Priesthood construct shafts all over the world, and on the moon, to aid in the potential passage of the Hatestar.

(IS) Saarimuuta gifts a snowflake to Mohäimä, Rav, and Rav’s oasis, and buries another in a secret place.

Erland invites some of the Ataila underground; under his tutelage, these become the chthonic Kautaila. He also creates the Tiktik, who build the city of Chivik.

Haebarik creates an avatar, Maretik, the Void Whale. Maretik abducts a bunch of humans and a few ataila, and deposits them on Lekesh, founding a new civilization there.

Erland makes the Queen of Chivik immortal, at the price of turning her to stone. A group of dissident Tiktik found the city of Neskot.

Corobel uses command avatar on the Great Flowering Tree to create the Sun-Divers. They build the city Azimuth around the tree; beneath the city in the Omphalos, an entrance dug into the underworld.

Laneth creates the Den-Seekers among the Tiktik.

Turn 8? (not sure exactly where turn 8 began)

Tepponilamek creates the Qurri, arthropoidal creates of the equatorial isles. The Kukan, a flightless offshoot of the Messonir, settle in the mountains of Tuula.

Laneth inspires humans to build Aesinhauta in eastern Incarien.

The Azure Reach becomes home to the world’s foremost sailors and navigators. Humans expand eastward, establishing the city of Palk.

Erland creates the Págar, shell-bearing crustaceans, on Morne. The Tiktik of Chivik build the city of Vennesnes.

Omeara extends the underworld to underneath Azimuth, and fills this new region with appropriately-adapted flora and fauna.

The Order of the Last Hearth creates the city of Vorond; this becomes home to the Hewn, or Memnarks, a human subrace.

Laneth creates a new land in the north of the world.

The Messonir found a city (name?) that develops advanced magical smithing techniques.

Explorers from Azimuth venture to the Moon, where they are transformed into a new race, the vampiric, amphibious Calyptra that live in the lake of blood.

Corobel creates an avatar in the form of the False-Lights that emanate from the Sun; he commands the avatar to create the race called the Aphotics; he also commands the Great Flowering Tree, unleashing a golden age among the Sun-Divers.

The worm Ohm comes to Tehwatzin/Etevassin, and seizes it, intending to hold it hostage. Rather than let the worm eat his fill, and totally erase the legacy of the Ataila who labored there, Velarie destroys the city by calling down a burning star from the heavens (Turn 9); from the fallen star the avatar Ängiläimö is created (Turn 10).

Turn 9? (not sure where turn 9 began either)

Tepponilamek creates the algaekin.

Omeara creates an order called the Wardens of the Earthen Oath, dedicated to protection, community, and agriculture, who have a kind of magic called Oathbinding.

Corobel creates an avatar, Coryphaeus, the Beast of Faces; Coryphaeus in turn creates the Night-Singers, amphibioid marshdwellers prone to unusual mutations. Occidentals (?) colonize the northeastern coast of the Occident, and grow preeminent in divination and prophecy.

Págar society on Morne develops the Seven Schools.

(?) creates an order (name?) among the Tarbra (?). The Tiktik of Chivik build a city (name? location?).

Tepponilamek creates the Titans.

Omeara uses command avatar to have Ohm create the deplorable Ohmlings.

Haebarik creates the order of Those Who Walk Beside God among the Titans.

Turn 10 (so far)

Laneth teaches First-Bell the Arts of Release, which involves knowledge of poisons, magic of semiotic dissolution, and euthanasia.

Omeara creates an avatar, The Omens, and uses this collection of dreams and visions to direct Hulat of the Hewn to found the city of Tondor.

(IS) A tribe of Ataila called the Ruohaina come to Saarima, fleeing the ruin of Tehwatzin/Etevassin. Mohäimä prophesies they will one day build a great city, Tehwatzin’s equal.

Major gods and their avatars:

Naakrsh

Zaaz-Ghvash

Velarie: Ängiläimö

Erland

Haebarik: Maretik

Laneth

Tepponilamek

Omeara: Ohm, The Omens

Corobel: Great Flowering Tree, False-Lights, Coryphaeus

Orders and their founders

Ebon Priesthood of the Flayed Skin (Naakrsh)

Potter's Guild (Erland)

Order of the Last Hearth (Laneth)

Windwhispherers (Tepponilamek)

Wardens of the Earthen Oath (Omeara)

Uncertain Tarbra order (Erland)

Those Who Walk Beside God (Haebarik)

Den Seekers (Laneth)

Races and their creators (or avatar’s creator, if created via avatar)

Ataila (Vel.)

Humans (Hae.)

Messonir (Tep.)

Eppethikuja (Tep.)

Tarbra (Hae.)

Kautaila (Erl.)

Tiktik (Erl.)

Sundivers (Cor.)

Qurri (Tep.)

Kukan (Tep.)

Págar (Erl.)

Memnarks/Hewn (Ome.)

Calyptra (Hae.)

Aphotics (Cor.)

Algaekin (Tep.)

Night-Singers (Cor.)

Titans (Tep.)

Ohmlings (Ome.)