#gremlin writing

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 17: Quin

This image was created with Picrew’s “[BAYDEWS' avatar maker!!] V2“!!  https://picrew.me/share?cd=XaLeZMqubv #Picrew #BAYDEWS_avatar_maker_V2

Quintheral Rattivan.

Fourth Galactic Imperial Prince, Sun of the Third House, and Holder of the Second Seal.

[everydaygremlin]

Faithless

By everydaygremlin

Written in March 2023

my mutauls told me to post this

———————————-———————————-

“…And I mean, have you seen them? They're like nature’s little- Hey, are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am.” I replied.

I don’t know why he chooses me of all people to talk to about bees. I’m barely interested. Still, it’s nice to hear him talk so passionately about something, especially while on the job.

Us Greens don’t end up in many fights, but when we do, we often lose. It’s honestly ridiculous that we ended up part of The Alliance. We would’ve been a far easier target than the Blues, but who am I to judge. I'm not really supposed to be on gate duty with my little brother, but I’m filling in for one of his teammates, who went missing a couple days ago, and we have yet to find.

The last place her tracker was seen was on the edge of the Red territory, and no one has the guts to go look for her. The Red are fierce soldiers, and we’d probably find her dead. Gruesomely, at the least. Last time someone was found, their eyeballs had been gouged out, and their teeth put in their eye sockets. I think they have fun with the corpses of their enemies, even though they aren’t really supposed to kill us as part of the Alliance. It’s on the verge of collapsing though, as the Gods are getting sick of it. After a long time of waiting around with, to nobody’s surprise, nothing happening, someone took over gate duty and me and my brother went to dinner. It was almost all vegetables, but they were cooked really well, almost as if there was a new-

“COOK! You look different. Really different. Wait a second, i didn’t think we were getting a new-“

“Are you enjoying the food? Is it good?” The new cook was tall, like really tall, with blonde medium length hair. I had never seen her before, except for maybe…

“Hey,” I leant over to whisper to my brother, “doesn’t she look a bit like one of the Red fighters? a bit like Char-“ 

“Well, enjoy the food!” She quickly left, and moved to the next table. No idea why she was doing that.

“What were you saying?” My brother turned to me.

“I was saying, the cook looks a little bit like Charlotte. You know, that Red soldier who we caught last month.” She was inside our grounds. She ended up escaping our prisons when someone was sloppy.

“Well, yeah, a bit. And I don’t recognise her. Maybe we should talk to our superiors about it.”

“You know how hard it is to raise concerns with them. They don’t listen to anyone.”

“I guess you’re right.”

We left the cafeteria, and went to get some sleep before our next shift.

About halfway through our shift, I had an idea.

I turned to my brother. “What if we took off our uniforms, and changed into our normal clothes, and went out onto the field to start our OWN team?” 

“Why would we- Hey maybe you have a point. Management for us is so strict, maybe it’s strict for everyone else too. And we wouldn’t have to bow to the gods, OH OH AND WE COULD GO LOOK AT THE BEES! Yeah, this is a great idea! But when should we start…” 

“Tomorrow. They have the least people on at 9 in the morning. We could sneak out.” I knew the schedules from when there were more or less people coming in for repairs. Technicians also would occasionally get access to the cameras.

“Right. This is an awesome plan!” He looked… really, really happy. The last time he looked like this was when I got him a pass into the library. He spends almost all his free time in the library since then. Sometimes he would drag me along. I didn't mind. We were lucky to be able to walk among the towers of books.

The next morning, we were almost caught by one of our teammates.

“And where do you think you're going?” Her short stature didn't make her any less intimidating.

“Crap-“ 

“And why are you headed to the gate?”

“Oh- Uhm- Hi Alice! We were just uhh-“ 

“And most importantly, can I come with you?” She grinned at us. She wanted to leave as well! Soon, we ended up with her following us. Three of us, all leaving. The gate staff also joined us. Now we had no reason to be sceptical of our plan. Our awesome plan was working.

———————————-———————————-

After a couple months of being out on the field, we had a well-established fort in the forest; the no-man's land, and began calling ourselves the Faithless. The fort was made of old machinery and found resources. The structure resembled that of a castle, and was, in my opinion, far better than the main teams forts, just like our team! We ate at one big table, all, well, 30 of us. A sizable number of members, all fed up with their management, just looking for a reason to leave. No-one missed them, we think. We were steadily gaining members, not just through word of mouth, but we occasionally sent out scouts to the gates and front lines. Scouting had proved to have no issues thus far, and it was my responsibility today. I had to head to the Yellow team. Not really a threat. 

What was usually a long and treacherous journey turned into a short walk through the desert with some found technology I personally had assembled into a flying machine. The propellers surprisingly worked on the hot desert sands. At the gate, I was surprised to see the guards staffed with nets. They’d be useless, unless they knew what happened to their staff. The staff that joined us. 

“Still, I refuse to believe they weren’t killed. Maybe they died of heatstroke?” I overheard the guard's discussion.

“Nope, they definitely ran away. Management says there’s camera footage.”

That’s impossible. We made sure to kill all the cameras nearby. And it was a planned ordeal. They would run to us within the next week, not that night.

“Hey, is there someone there?”

“Where?”

“Just there, behind that pillar,” The guard pointed at the pillar I was hiding behind. I had been spotted. I tried my hardest to run, but their new nets caught me.

“Hah, gotcha, filthy runaway!” The taller guard said.

“Nonono, you’ve got it all wrong! You see, I’m just a delivery scout! Out to ensure that uh, your gate is up to our gate-using standards!” Drat! Of all the times for me to be bad at lying!

“Silence, criminal! We know of your evil plans! And we have our own, even evil-er plans!”

“Archibald and Alvin, celebrated as the heroes of the Yellow team! Recruiting the runaways' most sneaky spies, and forcing them to join us!” 

He kept talking for probably the next ten minutes, maybe more. His voice was so boring. I reached for the knife in my back pocket, hoping to cut the net I was trapped in. The ropes were sharp, and if I didn't get out of here soon, I would end up cut. As I tried to manoeuvre my arm around far enough to cut the rope, the two guards, who I had now gathered to be Archibald and Alvin, brought me through the gate. Any chance of a quiet escape went out the window. 

“... and no, you can’t escape, no, you can’t build a bomb, and most importantly, you don’t get to go to the gate. You have to stay within your bounds.” Archibald, or maybe Alvin, was trying to point out everything on our tour of the grounds. Eventually, we reached the board room. The office of the leadership. They would decide what would happen to me. I looked back at the hallway, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

———————————-———————————-

The leadership issued a guard to take me back to where I would be staying. I surely hoped that it would not be some kind of prison cell, but was pleasantly surprised. It was small, but there was wardrobe space, a desk, and a bathroom.  My first shift back as a technician was tomorrow, at 9:45. I just had to hope, hope that they’d realise I was missing.

———————————-———————————-

The next morning, people were starting to notice I was gone. These missions usually never took more than 12 hours, and I had been gone for almost a full day. My brother was asking anyone if they’d seen me. all of them had the same answer. “No, sorry. Last I heard she was at the yellow base.” and he was dreading coming to break me out. But it was necessary. I WAS his sister, after all.

Rescue missions are ill-advised in the main teams, but in a team like ours, the loyalty to one another is immeasurable. 

When he tried to assemble a team, almost everybody showed up. “Well, guess we’re all going.” he said to the small crowd.

Everyone here was all different, but they all have one thing in common. “You all ready to beat up some corrupt leaders and get our friends out?“ 

The group began cheering.

They were definitely ready to beat up some corrupt leaders. And also get their friend and leader out, but beating up corrupt leaders had more enthusiasm.

———————————-———————————-

My cell, more similar to a hotel room than a prison cell, was on a lower floor. It had some outside access, but the window didn’t open further than a couple inches. 

The food was okay, as was work.

I had to work as a technician, fixing things. All of the other technicians knew seemingly nothing about the tech. No wonder repairs here took over a month, even with all of the high tech equipment in this dimly lit room, with the walls covered in a mess of pipes and wires, similar to the inside of some massive machine. Every time I tried talking to the other technicians, even just about the weather, they would mutter something quietly, and not wait for a response.

One time, I asked them why they were so quiet. One of them lent over to me, and whispered; “They used to be able to hear us, so we made things to communicate with one another without them hearing.” They handed me an earpiece, and when I put it on, there was a buzzing conversation.

They sounded like they were planning an escape. Except, they knew nothing of the Faithless. From what I heard, the only thing sitting between them and freedom was numbers. They couldn’t escape, all because of their numbers. 

But knowledge of people on the outside was just the push they needed

———————————-———————————-

The plan that the yellow tech team came up with was an amazing idea. With the knowledge that they had a place to get to on the other side, it was perfect. Cause an electrical fault with the gate, the biggest piece of equipment, bringing all of the technicians there, broadcasting their message, and then running. Running and running and running. Running until finally…

———————————-———————————-

Halfway to the yellow gate, the Faithless saw a large group of yellow workers, running like their lives depended on it. Which they did, kind of. But they had reached a safe point, and they were out. They burst into the fort of the Faithless, relieved to finally have escaped.

———————————-———————————-

We had made it. We were all free.

With our numbers nearly doubled, we recruited far more people, eventually dwindling the numbers of the main teams to a small team of those in charge and some incredibly loyal staff. The rest were all those who were so sick and tired of fighting. We had all run from the battlegrounds, much to the dismay of management.

We were on our way to a new, far brighter, future.

[justaweirdogremlin]

Vulnerability

My first fic of this kind of stuff. Actually this is my first fic overall.

This was a struggle to finish, I’m also terrified that this would appear to the wrong audience 😭

This is self indulgent and putting my own spin to this with adding my oc: Jonas (villain/vigilante). Imagine his appearance however you want because I will not describe much

@anxiety-pocket this is for you pookie 😉/p

NSFW/KINK DNI

⚠️WARNING⚠️ pred!K/ira Y/oshikage, teasing observer!Oc + oc lore (because, villains 😍)

Soft vore, fatal vore (non-descriptive), dehumanization, fear (?), mention of minor character death, humor, comfort, tummy rubs + noises.

*OC Lore* (skip if you’d like)

Wandering in a small town sure gets boring once memorized every street, having an entire map ingrained in your mind. But the recent series of events that happened has been the highest entertainment for Jonas. The infamous Kira Yoshikage that has been murdering people —mostly women…— for fifteen years was almost caught. How exciting it was for Jonas, like he was watching an action movie.

Jonas also being a murderous stalker, but nothing much is known about him to figure out what his reasoning could be for his behavior, since he everts topics about himself in any way. Taking enjoyment in finding information down to any detail about a person that peaks his interest and obsesses over that said person —no romances of course.— Especially the surprisingly many killers in Morioh like they’re rare collectible cards. So obviously, Kira is on that list. Though his record’s of murders are unclear since stalking other killers for a long period of time has it’s benefits of copying them too, essentially adding more kill counts on them than him. The amount of blackmail he can find from one person is unbelievable, he’d be a great spy or detective if he wanted, but chose not to. He likes being in the background, pulling strings, wreaking havoc (occasionally), it’s his highest entertainment.

If anyone would pose a threat to him or his files on other people in any way —be it civilian or criminal — they’ll be rid of or framed as soon as he can. And some alternative ways.

Basically he does what he wants and takes the trait of an observer to the extreme. And what he wants to do now is pay Kira a visit! After a few sleepless nights and days of tracking him down all over again, Jonas already knows where he’s hiding.

“Was it fifteen years…? Yeah, I’m sure of it.” Jonas thought, reminding himself of all the information he knew of Kira while walking through an alleyway. “It’s been a while since I’ve bugged him. I’m considering getting him a ‘congratulations-you-didn’t-get-caught’ gift.” They’ve known each other for a while, though Jonas’ visits aren’t frequent, they're always fun.

To him at least, Kira definitely has a different opinion.

“Or just a gift as an apology, because I loosened one of the buttons on his attire on purpose. Who knew such small evidence could cause such a bad day for one man.” A smirk tugged on his lips. It’s a dick move, but hey, it was funny to him.

He’s not sure what kind of gift he could come up with, but if Jonas still can’t set his mind on something before he gets to Kira’s current new house, he’s not getting him anything at all. Does what he did make him feel bad at all? …Maybe? He’s not sure what to feel towards Kira that he got to know personally in the killers mid twenties. “Hmm… One day I might figure that out.” He shrugged.

——

It was sudden, but he was pushed to one of the walls in the tight space of the alleyway by some stranger that snuck up on him. It happened faster than Jonas could react. And plus, how dare they interrupt his train of thought?

The supposed attacker got too close to his face, rummaging through his pockets, “ughhh… just some random mugger.” Jonas cringed as he pushed himself further onto the wall. He’s not phased by the fact he’s being robbed, simply uncomfortable and annoyed that the stranger is all up in his personal space. “I don’t have time for this…” he pushed away his feeling of discomfort once they reached for his backpack and kicked the stranger off himself. A swift wack to the head and they’re knocked out. “Psh, you must be pretty desperate to attack someone bigger than you.” He says to himself, not caring if the other wasn’t listening.

“Should I kill them? Nahhh, I don’t have the time to hide them or frame their death to someone else…” he’s now thinking out loud, “argh, and I still don't know what gift to -“ his eyes widened as an idea clicked.

A moment passed, and the now shrunken, knocked out pred is being held by Jonas with both hands underneath their arms, like a doll. “Oh, this is gonna be priceless.” He whispered as he carefully placed them in his small leather backpack, as to not wake them up because Jonas would love to save them a very rude awakening later.

He gets up from his crouching position and slings the backpack over his shoulders, continuing his walk with an upbeat skip to it. Jonas really hopes he still has time to stay over this late afternoon alone with Kira, when that woman and child are out doing whatever, he’s not bothered to care. Finding Kira again wasn’t difficult, but the amount of time of scheduling for this specific day to be ruined will surely piss him off.

—

The doorbell's ringing is heard throughout the Kawajiri house, which made Kira become alerted immediately. Who was in his now bedroom, still learning to copy a deceased man’s handwriting. Who the hell could that be at a time like this?

He already knows that it can’t be the wife and child, the woman obviously had the keys with her. Was he already found out by those brats? Or that guy in a white coat that almost fucking killed him? Was his act so poor that the woman called the cops?

Kira peek’s through the peephole of the front door and… no one was there.

“So! A family guy now, huh?” Came from his left and he swore he felt his soul leave his body, swiftly turning to the person who said it. “It really doesn’t suit you in my opinion.”

It was Jonas, who somehow appeared lounging on the living room couch. Kira put both his hands on his face, sighing deeply to calm his nerves. “Whyyyyyy do you do this to me…” he’s clearly already annoyed. Jonas completely ignores this, “You took too long so I broke in through one of the windows.”

“Seven years… and you still somehow scare the shit out of me every time…” Kira groans, he’s already stressed enough with other stand users after his head and getting used to his new identity, now with his headaches again that comes and goes. —that is Jonas. —

“Awwww, you kept track of our years of ‘friendship’.” Jonas said, in an exaggerated sarcastic baby voice. “Also, black hair doesn’t look good on you either. Ever thought of bleaching it?” He flicks his hand towards Kira’s direction, the sass is unmatched in this guy. Kira scoffs, “Where are you going with this? Get to the point already so you’ll leave faster, I’m not in the mood for your antics.” He really hates that he’s being reminded that he’s constantly watched by someone like Jonas, who sighed and moved to lay on his side. “When are you ever in the mood.” Kira attempted to kill him a few times when first meeting him, but failed to do so every time. His agility and stamina is incredible to say the least. And able to jump from building to building like an acrobat, without needing to use his stand? Yeah he gave up after a few days. Though he was never able to see his stand, even when he attacked him, because Jonas claimed he didn’t think using his stand to defend himself against him was necessary. The way he felt disrespected by that…

Jonas sat up, and though not often showing much facial expression than just a constant tired smirk, his hands fidgeting shows that he’s a little nervous. “Well, it’s been a few days longer than usual in my schedule to check on you, also on my way here I got you a ‘congratulations-you-didn’t-get-caught’ gift.” He’s obviously not gonna admit he had something to do with Kira’s situation. Kira doesn’t seem to believe he’s being genuine, “I swear if it’s another one of your pranks-“ Jonas cuts him off, “no no no no nooooo, it really is a gift! I mean, I guess you could call them ‘your supper’.” He laughs a little, though Kira quirks a brow. “Them?”

“Don’t worry, I cleaned them thoroughly.” Jonas opened his backpack that was on his lap and a series of muffled cursing could be heard from the inside, which got Kira to inch closer.

Jonas lifted the little pred —now prey — by the back of their shirt collar, thrashing in his grip. “This little shit tried to do something funny, so I turned the tables on them.” He gives the prey a hard flick to the head with his other hand, earning a yelp from the little thing. Neither the pred nor the bigger observer acknowledged what they have to say, as if they’re nothing.

Kira looks visibly stiff by the sight of his ‘gift’. The prey is basically the size of his forearm, a foot long even. “Yeah… no thank you, I don’t think I can handle that.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh come oooon now, don’t make this awkward.” Jonas pretends to be hurt, exaggerating it as well, getting up from the couch and holding the prey closer to Kira’s face. “I worked soooo hard getting this for you.”

Kira knows he’s pressuring him by using the key word ‘awkward’ because he actually feels awkward now, stupid Jonas using his social awkwardness against him. The smell of something similar to a meaty broth and a mixture of fear from the prey are filling his senses, but still keeping his composure to reject it by turning his nose up.

Of course, Jonas knows the exact words to get him to do what he wants. “Who knows what they wanted from me!” He leans closer, his smirk turning a bit more sinister. “They could be one of those that are after you, why else would they attack me and search my pockets specifically? I know I handled it myself, but now that I brought them here to you and stuff…” Jonas grimaces and sucks air between closed teeth, acting guilty. “I admit, that’s my fault. I could let them go and it would be over for your ‘quiet life’. And I’ll be damned if you use your stand. Either way, it’s such a waste for something I put some effort into for you to reject it.” Could this count as a threat? Well, as long as he gets what he wants. And Kira listened intently to every word, it’s true that the little trembling mess in front of him could put him at risk if Jonas were to let them free. Also fully knowing it’s futile to use Killer Queen or even Sheer heart attack to pry them from Jonas’ hands, putting him in a difficult position. He’s somehow both smart and a dumbass.

He exhaled in defeat. “You make a really good point, like always…” Kira grumbled, he’s right. Jonas is right and he hates it, every damn time. He reluctantly takes the prey by the scruff from Jonas’ gloved hands as the ridiculously tall observer pats on one of the cushions of the same couch he was lounging before, signaling him to sit there. Even more stupidly smug as hell, knowing he was right.

Kira scoffed but did as instructed. Still unsure if he’d be able to handle the size of the prey, he takes a few seconds to brace himself before giving them a lick across their face. What if their wonderful scent could be deceiving?

They were silent a moment before, but the action seemed to snap the prey out of their shocked state, becoming a sobbing mess and mumble unintelligible pleas that fell onto deaf ears.

The taste was proven wrong to Kira, a loud groan emitted from his core. He turns away from Jonas, as the observer is, well, observing him. Kneeling beside the arm of the couch with his arms propped up and leaning his head in his hands. Would’ve been easier for Kira if he wasn’t there because his face is already pretty flushed in embarrassment. Nevertheless, he’s now eager to go through with it.

Making sure the prey's arms are pinned tightly against their sides with both of his hands, he shoves their head into his awaited maw, the saltiness from their tears heightened the flavor. He pushes them a little further to the back of his mouth and attempts to swallow, but that doesn't manage to send the prey down at all. He tries again, harder this time, but they still wouldn’t budge.

Jonas came into view, chuckling. “Silly, you still have your tie on. Let me get that for you.” He pulls the tie loose then grabs the little legs that are wriggling outside of the pred’s mouth. “Let’s try that again, hm? Third time’s the charm.” And gave a small shove with the assist of Kira’s swallowing, the prey’s head is finally inside his throat. It was stretched a little too much for Kira’s liking, it felt uncomfortable but he’ll manage. It’s a bit humiliating to him that he needed help though, but it doesn’t matter as of now that he’s slipped into a trance, focusing on the preys struggling. “Oh he is absolutely out of it.” Jonas thought, continuing to watch as he was licking along the torso of his prey, tasting them more as saliva dripped down the corner of his lips before swallowing again.

It was much more effective than last time, and resulted in half of their legs and up getting pulled in. His stomach growled impatiently again for its meal. Jonas smiles and reaches to rub it a little, causing it to make more noises and encourage the dazed pred to swallow the prey once more. But it got difficult again, which Jonas noticed right away.

With one last push and swallow of what was left outside of Kira’s maw, the prey is now completely enveloped. He gave out a huff, feeling out of breath. He can still feel them squirming as they descend through his esophagus. And Jonas admires watching the lump in Kira’s neck disappear into his chest.

Continuing to admire the pred as the prey filled up his empty belly, causing it to grumble happily at its meal.

Kira hiccuped because the feeling of uncomfortable fullness was sudden to his stomach, and the prey’s squirms weren't helping. Neither is the tightness of his button up. Actually, he’s not feeling so good.

The satisfied gurgles turned into whines as the prey inside kept fighting against the poor cramped organ. A hard hit caused him to groan a little from the pain.

Jonas is just taking in the sight of Kira being in a vulnerable state, absolutely loving every second of it. “Awww, not feeling too well?” And of course, taking the opportunity to tease him. “The big bad cereal killer of Morioh can’t handle a little lively prey?” Jonas sits beside Kira, who’s already flustered by his teasing, glaring at him. However, Jonas ignored him again and wiped the drool from his chin with a thumb. “Do you need to be pampered?” Flustering Kira further, angry about it as well.

The observer's instinct to assist the pred couldn’t be helped. Being the bigger one, to care and protect the unwell pred also shifted in his mind. He unbuttons Kira’s shirt just around the stomach. Kira would complain, but he feels a lot better now that his distended belly gets more space. Jonas reaches to rub it again, but is interrupted. “Couldn’t you be bothered to take your gloves off..?” Kira half mumbled, a bit drowsy because of feeling so full.

“Sure, if that would make the feeling better. But if it’s because you’re curious about my hands again I will clock you.” Jonas sounded sarcastic, but something about it feels like it wasn’t, which got Kira nervously averting eye contact. Jonas sighs but hesitantly does so, and sets his gloves on the armrest of the couch.

This is now the second time he’s shown his slender scarred hands, that he dislikes, to the same person that likes hands a little too much, who described them to be very beautiful and ‘the scars add some handsome ruggedness’. He was definitely not concerned about his safety.

Jonas puts an arm around Kira, moving him to lean against his chest since he seems too drowsy to want to move. Kira wanted to protest this, he really does, but he feels so comfortable and safe he could sleep right then and there. Until Jonas wrapped his other arm around him to rub the still whining gut. Every coherent thought left his mind as he melted to the warmth from Jonas’ bigger hand kneading away any cramps, snuggling up more onto him.

Jonas just happy to be of assistance, idly listening to the content burbling from the belly. Then another sound reached his ears, “Are you… purring?” He wasn’t given a response as there are no thoughts going on in Kira’s mind currently. Well it proved his theory that his stand, Killer Queen, makes both it and Kira equivalent to a cat. He is so not letting go of this fact.

He can feel Kira’s stomach soften a bit under his hand and the prey suddenly stopped fussing in there, so he gives a push into it that makes an audible slosh before surprising Kira by making him release a sudden burp. Embarrassed, he whispered a quiet ‘I hate you’. Jonas softly chuckled and whispered a mocking ‘no you don’t’ back.

Other than that, both are huddled together in comfortable silence. — besides Kira’s purring— The pred soon drifted off to sleep in Jonas’ embrace who can’t help but smirk that he has the notorious killer in Morioh wrapped around his finger, or in this case, his arms at the moment. They rarely show vulnerability and relax together, but the rarity is what makes their partnership special. — even if Kira would never admit it—

“I really should leave any minute now” Jonas looks down at the shorter man peacefully sleeping, still purring and snuggled up on his chest. He ran a hand through Kira’s hair, smiling fondly. “A minute longer couldn’t hurt, he definitely needed this.” He’s absolutely spoiling him.

[asinnersalibi]

Tips and Tricks

I feel like indulging myself in something beyond mindless cleaning and keeping my cats out of the trash can so here are some tips and tricks to make your writing feel more fleshed out.

Knowledgeable Writing

And I cannot stress this enough, write what you know. The more you research it and the more you try to understand it the more you sound like a text-to-speech system trying to include everything you'd learned in the last forty-five minutes. If you need to go back and look into some things, that's fine, but to stop in the middle of a chapter to research anything from the point system of tennis to how long the human body can survive in less-than-ideal circumstances is fruitless and overall harmful to your progress.

That being said if you are extremely knowable about natural poisons and how they could affect the human body or anything with a similar mass, keep in mind the audience you're writing to. Not everyone understands the difference between belladonna, henbane, and jimson weed.

Don't be afraid to validate yourself, a quick google search is not nearly as harmful, as making yourself feel like it's just not right and fretting about it for the next quarter chapter.

If you don't know, you don't know, there's no shame in it, you slap one of these [], bad boys, in there and review at a later time. Let momentum carry you if it's there.

Critic Management

You are your worse enemy, and your worst critic, literally. There are moments when your writing looks comparable to a toddler's and it's a part of the process. People who look down on you will always compare you to someone better or more talented but that's just smoke and mirrors, they have far more time and experience and you just haven't gotten there yet. Until you die love, time's the only thing you got.

Write for yourself, first. Yes, one day you want to be published and have a fanbase that writes fanfiction and draws fanart of your wonderful process, though, do remember who you started writing for, and why. More often than not I am writing because what I want to see and read and interact with is not there, so I need to put it there. Sure, it sucks sometimes, but you've got to want it, or you've got to need it, those are the choices.

Write it out and see, sometimes it's shit, sometimes it's this wondrous thing you didn't think you were capable of. That's writing, and sometimes our skills are flexible, sometimes we wonder if we ever really learned how to write or if we're randomly pulling this stuff from our ass hoping it's at least comprehensible. That is writing, it's a craft, and you're not always going to be good at it, that's where the going gets tough and you've got to be tougher.

Write, Keep Writing, Yeah- Keep Going

Trust me, it's really easy to notice a mistake three chapters back that disrupts your whole plot, and you think, let me fix it, just real quick, and now you've rewritten chapters three, four, and six, and envisioned your entire plot. Shit happens, and shit will keep happening but that's life. Try not to edit things in the middle of your novel. You'll notice so many mistakes and begin to doubt yourself as a writer but that's the writing process, mistakes are going to happen, you're writing will grow with you and you will grow with your writing. Make a note of it, physically, and write it somewhere correlative to whatever it's referring to (because you won't remember it, trust me.)

On that note, write things down, I have separate notebooks for every serious WIP (and one I use for when I cannot for the life of me find the other ones) I have in progress right now so I can randomly jot down things I need to revisit, keep in mind, or adjust. It's a paper trail and if you're anything like me you'll hate yourself for forgetting those little details. It'll help you immensely in the long run when you start editing and working on the second, third, and sometimes even ninth draft.

It's draft lovely, your first one at that. It's a rough outline of an idea you had last night or that you've had since you were a child. It's meant to be on paper, grammatical errors, plot holes, inconsistent characters and speech patterns and all. It's supposed to be rough, it's supposed to be imperfect, it's supposed to. I promise, your writing is an extension of yourself most time and you've got to admit at some point, that you don't feel all that perfect, no matter how much you love yourself. We have bad days, your writing has bad days too. It's okay, that's why we edit, take all its hard edges, and sand them down to something more tolerable and we mold it into something we consider perfect, in all its imperfections.

Do not be discouraged by progress. Whether it's a lack of or overwhelmingly sum of, take it all in, take a break when you need it and tackle it piece by piece, arc by arc, chapter by chapter, line by line if you have to.

Don't Forget About You

Taking care of yourself is believe it or not a part of the process. You can't forget to eat and drink water and rest your eyes. You can't write for six hours nonstop, or at the very least you shouldn't. Regrettable things come from the general act of self-neglect.

Water is important, so is realizing what you've done is all you can do for the day. Whether it was a chapter, or four, there's a limit to everything and it doesn't make you less of a writer if those limits aren't consistent.

You are writing a legacy love, it takes time, it takes energy, it takes effort. Moderation is key to everything and I'm sure the last thing you want to do is neglect whatever you're working on in a burnout.

Take time for yourself you crinkly little gremlins, water is important and so are sleep, food, and eyeball breaks for the blind bandits such as myself. It can be a lot but shit what are you gonna do? Try?

[gremlin-writes]

chapers 4,5, and 6 are up ^^

Chapters: 6/?

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Four & Hyrule & Legend & Sky & Time & Twilight & Warriors & Wild & Wind (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Flora & Twilight (Linked Universe) Characters: Sky (Linked Universe), Flora (Linked Universe), Legend (Linked Universe), Hyrule (Linked Universe), Warriors (Linked Universe), Time (Linked Universe), Wild (Linked Universe), Wind (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe), bolson construction team shows up at one point, rhoam is mentioned Additional Tags: Sickfic, four isnt very present here sorry, first fic so if its a little fucky sorry Summary:

The Chain meets Flora, and there's lots of familial bonding :3

[bluerosefox]

Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions

Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.

Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.

"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"

When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.

"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.

And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.

"Danyal."

His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.

After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.

His bother who... wasn't dead.

His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.

His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.

His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.

His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'

And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-

Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.

[thatquietkid108]

Aliens: The pH of the soil is too high, I believe I'm gonna die!

Humans: FUCK YEAH! CONCRETE !

[dclovesdanny]

DCxDP prompt

Danny has already been adopted by the Wayne’s, and figured out they were vigilantes ages ago, but he hasn’t said a word. He likes watching them freak out trying to come up with excuses, and he is having a blast with this. He also loves playing innocent, especially when he hears them talking about cases.

The batfamily, on the other hand, think Danny is sweet and oblivious, with several of them lamenting about how innocent and sweet he is.

However, Danny’s gremlin side is getting restless. Maybe, he can pull a few pranks on his new family, just a few. Let’s see their reactions to his lore drops.

[anto-pops]

Heart of Vipers - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: After an ill-fated confrontation with Ominis' family, you come to learn that they want you for themselves. More specifically, they want your abilities for themselves. Ominis is less than pleased with the revelation and returns home with the intention of proving that the only person you belong to is him.

Alternatively summarized as Dominis turning into a possessive alpha male in the wake of his family's sudden interest in you.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor depictions of violence, explicit sexual content, rough/possessive sex à la Dominis

Descriptions of Marvolo and Aleister Gaunt heavily credited to legacyshenanigans

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (as always with more eclectic tags)

This was a bad idea. Truly one of the worst ones you had come up with in recent times– which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the stupid shit you’d gotten yourself into since starting at Hogwarts. But this was a decision born of desperation, and one that you adamantly refused to go back on. 

Not that you could, realistically. You were already here. 

The Gaunt Estate was massive. It was an imposing structure, shrouded in a perpetual darkness that seemed to kill off even the tiniest slivers of light, and you’d noted the distinctly foul scent of dark magic that encased the mansion from roughly a mile away. There were no Floo Flames to utilize for travel, so you’d been forced to apparate to Great Hangleton and walk the remaining six miles to reach your destination. This was your first time setting foot anywhere near Ominis’ childhood home, and the threat of splinching yourself by apparating to an unfamiliar location was a very legitimate concern. 

You almost wished you’d taken the gamble, if only to spare yourself the harrowing journey on foot. 

Ominis had to already be inside the manor, having left long before you decided you would follow him to essentially eavesdrop on his meeting with his family. You had never seen him so agitated in the hours leading up to his departure, and it was entirely due to the letter he’d received from his father. What it had said, you didn’t know, but you knew Ominis well enough to figure out that it wasn’t anything good. His entire demeanor had changed upon reading the apparent summons, but he wouldn’t tell you a lick of what it was about. He’d promised to return home as soon as he was able and left without so much as a goodbye kiss. 

The memory only reinforced the fact that this was a really bad idea. What the hell were you thinking? 

Now that you were actually here, you had no clue how to go about your poorly thought out plan. Going inside had always been the goal, but now that you were face to face with the blood-chilling building, you found yourself hesitating. Something told you that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. You didn’t even know where Ominis could be, especially if the interior was as gargantuan as the exterior. Getting lost– or Merlin forbid, caught and tortured– seemed like the most plausible outcome. 

It was as the saying went; curiosity killed the cat. You seriously hoped you wouldn’t end up dead as a result of your inquisitiveness. 

Forcing one foot in front of the other, you started down the gravel path towards the arched double doors with your wand in hand. Your anxiety was like a physical entity hiding within your chest, but you smothered it beneath the overwhelming desire to ensure that Ominis was okay. While you knew he could handle himself, his family’s reputation preceded them, and you’d feared the worst earlier when you had borne witness to his expression shifting into something far more sinister than you were accustomed to. 

You cast a disillusionment charm for extra measure before giving the handle a testing twist, relieved to find that the door was unlocked. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were other safeguards in place that you were unaware of, but pressing on despite that unknown possibility was a risk you were willing to take. You opened the door a crack– just enough for you to squeeze through before quickly shutting it behind you– and you were instantly encased in suffocating darkness. 

The windows that lined the walls were evidently just for show. 

It smelled distinctly old inside, as though there had never been a time when the mansion wasn’t inhabited. The wooden columns that lined the entryway were cracked and worn, stretching all the way towards the vaulted ceilings before disappearing into the inky shadows high above. There was a striking amount of antique looking decor that lined the walls; from suits of armor, to ornate vases perched atop mahogany tables. Straight across from the front door was a giant portrait of what could only be the Gaunt family.

Ominis was nowhere to be found in it. 

The sound of distant, unintelligible voices echoed throughout the vast foyer from somewhere deeper in the house, drawing your attention and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your eyes scanned the room once more before you were furtively moving further into the room in the direction of the noise. 

Following the sound of the voices brought you to a giant oak doorway– a mere fraction of the size of the main entrance, but still obscenely large. From within you could hear a man you didn’t recognize, his throaty timbre one that seemed to command attention, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that danced down your spine. Nothing about his tone sounded pleasant. 

“It’s been put off long enough,” you heard the man say as you sidled up directly against the door, careful not to lean on it too much and risk shoving it open. “We entertained your rebelliousness while you were at school, but Apollonia has anticipated this union for years now. It will happen. Whether you’re a willing participant, however, is up to you.”

“You already know my stance on the matter.” Ominis. “I’d sooner dig my own grave before I let you marry me off to that deplorable woman. She’s psychotic–” 

“A non-issue,” interjected the older voice. 

“Perhaps it’s irrelevant to you, but not to me,” Ominis snapped. You hardly recognized the threatening lilt in his voice; he sounded thoroughly fed up with the discussion, and you briefly wondered how long he’d been going at it with the unknown man. “She’s utterly wicked. Moreover she’s family. Have you forgotten my opposition to these incestuous relations you continue to shove down my throat?” 

At this point, you were almost positive the deeper voice belonged to Ominis’ father. You knew next to nothing about the man, other than the fact that Ominis loathed him with his entire being. Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a distinctly feminine voice filtered through the thin slit in the doorway, sounding colder than ice. 

“Aleister, give it a rest. If he wants to be dragged to the altar instead of walking down it, then so be it.” 

Ominis’ laugh was crass and devoid of any genuine humor, and you could practically hear the sneer in his rebuttal. “Bold of you to assume I’ll let myself be dragged anywhere. Try it and see what happens.” 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so opposed to this,” the woman continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “You never used to fight us to this extent– you’ve always known what was expected of you as a Gaunt. Does that girl from Hogwarts have anything to do with this?” 

Your entire body went rigid at the mention of yourself, and a tense silence descended over the room. It was suddenly so quiet that you were certain you could hear a pin drop– but in this case the lack of sound allowed you to pick up on something shifting across the floorboards closer to you. You had barely glanced over your shoulder before you were jumping away from the door with your heart hammering in your chest. 

The biggest snake you’d ever seen in your life was slithering across the floor, its iridescent scales somehow reflecting the nonexistent light within the hallway. Your eyes went wider than saucers as you stepped away as much as you could, silently backing yourself into the tiny alcove beside the doorway in a bid to remain undetected– because if there was one thing the wizarding world had taught you, it was that beasts of any kind were far more intelligent than they were given credit for. The snake’s long, forked tongue flicked out incessantly as it made its way towards the doors, but it stopped short of the entryway to pivot its massive head in your direction. 

It was looking right at you. 

Fuck.

Your body tensed in anticipation of the worst; maybe it was venomous and you’d die quickly, or maybe it was more inclined to strangle the life out of you before depositing your corpse in front of Ominis and his parents. The thought made your stomach churn, and your eyes flicked down to confirm that yes– the disillusionment charm was still working– but that didn’t seem to matter where the reptile was concerned, and you mentally chided yourself for ever having let your curiosity get the better of you. 

The conversation on the other side of the door continued as your staring contest with the snake pressed on. “That girl is none of your concern. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll refrain from speaking to me about her.” 

“Ominis,” Aleister admonished with a rough voice. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way. Such hostility for some witch we know nothing about– perhaps it’s time to rid you of her influence once and for all. She’s proving to be a greater distraction than I had anticipated.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the snake’s, but your blood ran cold. 

“Over my dead body. If you so much as look at her–”

“That can be arranged. No son of mine will be consorting with some harlot of unknown blood purity. You’d be better off in the grave–” 

“Aleister!” Ominis’ mother yelled, silencing the back and forth bickering instantaneously, and you found the willpower to shift your feet sideways so you could better make a break for the front door.

There was another flick of the creature’s tongue as it blatantly scented your presence, but it made no move to inch closer to you. While you were grateful to still be breathing, you were also deeply, irrevocably afraid, and you came to the resolute decision that it was time to get the hell out of there. 

You moved out of the alcove slowly while maintaining what you deemed to be a safe enough distance from the snake, and all the while its thin, slitted pupils followed your movements. The blasted thing had an awareness to it that sent shivers down your spine, overwhelming you with the urge to run and get away, but vigilance was key. It wasn’t poised to strike, but that just made you even more nervous. 

Why wasn’t it attacking you? 

You adamantly refused to turn your back on the reptile, so you kept your front to it as you skirted the edge of the wall in the direction of the entrance. The discussion between Ominis and his parents was muffled now– their voices distinctly lower after his mother had cut off their argument with her biting tone– but you no longer cared to listen in. You craved safety, and nothing about the Gaunt household offered that. 

As you came upon the final stretch of the hallway, the snake flicked out its tongue once more before it was turning around to begin slithering towards you, and the remnants of your bravery evaporated. Fear overtook you, and the disillusionment charm that had shrouded you in transparency fell away as you pivoted and bolted around the corner. A chill-inducing hiss echoed from down the corridor– the first real sound you’d heard the animal make– and it only served to propel you towards the exit even faster.

The gargantuan double-doors swam into view, and just as you were reaching out to curl your fingers around the handle, a strong arm was coiling around your waist and hauling you backwards with enough force to give you whiplash. A startled, pained yelp was expelled from your lungs as you were slammed into the wall beside the doors, and your hip connected painfully with a tiny side table that careened against the floor. The vase that had been perched atop it shattered loudly, the ceramic pieces scattering across the tile, but you barely got the chance to gauge the extent of the damage before an unfamiliar face was blocking your sight. 

“Well well well, just look at what the cat dragged in. Get lost on your way home, doll?”  

It took a second for the statement to register, but once it had, you were craning your head back to glare boldly at the arrogant sounding man. His tawny eyes were narrowed down at you in amusement, his thick forearm pinned horizontally across your chest to restrain you firmly in place between himself and the wall, and the predatory look in his gaze had your stomach sinking into your feet. Everything about him screamed dangerous; from the unruly hair that curled around his temples to the animalistic way he bared his teeth at you– there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the man would kill you if he deemed it acceptable. You cursed yourself silently for having put yourself in such a predicament in the first place. 

The imposing man cocked his head to the side coyly as he teased, “I hardly think I deserve such a cruel expression when you’re the one sleuthing around my house uninvited.”

Your mouth opened and shut a few times before you managed to stammer out, “I-I wasn’t–” 

“Don’t deny it,” he cut you off quickly. “What other reason would Ominis’ little plaything have for being here? I sincerely doubt the house-elves held the door open for you.” 

The term ‘plaything’ made you scowl, distracting you from the fact that the man even knew who you were, and you brazenly planted your hands against his firm chest to shove him away. It was like pushing against an immovable boulder. “I’m not his plaything, you prat–”

His free hand shot up in a flash to grip the sides of your jaw painfully, the look on his face darkening tenfold as he growled, “Careful now, I’d hate to lose my temper and take away my brother’s pet.” The fingers splayed under your face tightened a fraction as the crazed man angled your head to the side, shamelessly pressing his nose against the sensitive skin of your throat before he inhaled deeply. You shuddered uncomfortably at the contact. “Although I’m beginning to understand his infatuation a bit. You smell… different. What is that, exactly?” 

You had no fucking clue what he was referring to, nor did you care to find out. Each passing second brought the towering man closer into your personal space, and when one of his legs started to weasel its way in-between yours, you found yourself attempting to writhe out of his ironclad grip. “Let go of me,” you demanded in a low voice, doing your best to keep your words steady and hide the rampant unease in your tone. 

“Answer my question,” he countered easily. “Or I’ll snap your scrawny neck and be done with it. Makes no difference to me whether you live or die–” 

“If you have any desire to keep those slimy hands of yours, you’ll remove them this instant, Marvolo.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Ominis’ booming voice echoing throughout the foyer, which had the elder Gaunt smiling wickedly at you. He didn’t bother turning around, opting to stay right where he was and drop his fingers lower so he could squeeze around your windpipe, and you knew your choked gasp reached Ominis’ ears when he swore viciously and began walking closer. 

“Did I stutter? I said to unhand her, you cretin.”

Marvolo tutted disapprovingly, angling his head to the side so he could better keep track of Ominis coming up behind him, but he kept his eyes glued to yours all the while. “Come now, Ominis. You know how I feel about rats, and she was certainly scurrying around like one.”

You finally caught sight of the blond over Marvolo’s shoulder, and the look on his face was downright murderous. His dark, expressive brows were slammed down atop his milky-blue irises, and his pursed lips contorted into a scowl as he leveled his wand with the back of the taller man’s head. Ominis continued to side-step closer, moving with the prowess of a wolf stalking its prey, and to your immense satisfaction Marvolo broke eye contact with you to fix his gaze on his brother. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he looked wary. 

“Last chance,” Ominis grit out through his clenched teeth. “Let her go. Or you’ll be nothing more than a stain on the floor.” 

The sharp laugh Marvolo let slip past his lips was positively wicked, and Ominis’ threat only served to motivate his brother into tightening his hand around your throat. Stars danced in the corners of your eyes then, and your own hand shot up to grip at the man’s thick wrist in an attempt to pry his fingers away from your windpipe. Panic flooded your brain, your racing heart drowning out the sound of Ominis’ angry voice as your pulse thundered in your ears. Fight or flight was probably an appropriate way to describe what you were feeling, but Marvolo was making both options impossible to act on. 

He wasn’t listening to Ominis. He probably never would. You would have to get yourself out of this mess on your own. 

Marvolo was barking out insults and threats over his shoulder, taunting Ominis into hurting him as he called his younger brother’s bluff. You were able to school your nerves long enough to focus and dig deep inside of yourself in search of the magic you so rarely touched. Isidora’s abilities were as much of an unknown now as they had been when you’d first absorbed them, but it was comparable to a living entity within you, and the phantom presence of her magic roared to life as you called upon it. 

You felt the strange, darker magic crackle over your skin, and Marvolo’s head whipped back around to stare at you with his pupils blown wide. Whatever he saw reflected in your eyes was enough to spark alarm in his heart, and a sick, twisted part of you relished in the apprehension that washed over his features. 

“What the fuck is that?” His hand around your throat loosened a fraction, but you weren’t about to let him walk away from this unscathed. The arm that had been hanging limp at your side stretched out until your palm was directly against his chest, and you couldn’t help but grimace when the red bolts of magic skirted across your forearm and blasted straight into his sternum. 

Marvolo went flying with a barely there grunt– his arms and legs flailing as he tried to find purchase– to no avail. He hit the stone floor and slid an additional ten feet or so until he came to rest just beside the corridor you’d run out of earlier, and your blood ran cold when an older, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out from within the hallway. The look on his face was enough to spur you into action then, and you spared a quick, panicked glance at Ominis before you peeled off of the wall and threw the front door open. 

The cool night air was like a slap to your face, sobering you up instantaneously and driving you to pump your legs harder— faster— as you sprinted down the path that led to the dark forest surrounding the property. There was a bang from somewhere behind you and an animalistic sound you could only describe as a snarl, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when it could potentially cost you dearly. 

“Marvolo!” Ominis shouted, his voice angry and distant, but as the footsteps slapping against the gravel behind you got closer and closer, you realized it had to be him giving chase. Your heart hammered in your chest and in your ears– drowning out the sound of the encroaching danger hot on your heels– but you knew there would be no outrunning Marvolo. That crazed look in his eyes you’d seen earlier told you everything you needed to know; he would pursue you to the end of the damn country on foot if need be, and you had no intention of getting caught to find out what he had planned for you. 

Another growl sounded from over your shoulder, causing you to will your brain out of flight-mode and force your magic into action. It surged in your blood, coursing through your veins as you thought of home– of safety. 

One second you were running, and in the next you had apparated. Marvolo’s hand came down on empty air, his heels digging into the ground as he skidded to a stop and realized what had happened. You were already long gone, but his rage-filled roar shook the foundation of the manor, somehow echoing in your ears as you collapsed to your knees in the center of your living room. 

***

Your eyes stung as the steam from the bath wafted up into your face, your gaze never straying from the surface of the water. It had been nearly two hours since your narrow escape from Ominis’ childhood home and you had been in the tub for the majority of it– calming your frayed nerves and racing heart with deep breaths that did little to quell the anxiety that still riddled you. The hot water had been charmed back to scalding temperatures twice now, having gone cold multiple times already as you sat with your knees curled against your chest and replayed every second of your fortuitous run-in with Marvolo Gaunt. 

The ache in your hip throbbed to life every time you thought back to the primal glint that had flashed in Marvolo’s eyes as he’d thrown you into that table. What had started as a tender red spot on your side had transformed into a nasty, colossal bruise, stark and obvious against your bare skin. You hadn’t been able to so much as glance at the finger shaped bruises that wrapped around your neck without feeling nauseous. 

You’d made a mistake in following Ominis– that much was certain. 

The man in question had yet to return home, and as a result, the seemingly bottomless pit of unease in your chest only worsened. Part of you was ashamed for having left him alone to face his family’s scrutiny after literally breaking and entering, but you knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would have found a way to get you out as quickly as possible if you hadn’t done so yourself. 

Still, you worried. 

Another fifteen minutes passed without a sound from within the house, and you dimly registered that the water had gone cold once more. You were half tempted to heat it up again and spend the remainder of the night turning yourself into a human-sized prune, but the ache in your back from staying curled up for so long diminished the idea quickly. Swiftly, you hoisted yourself out of the water, using the rim of the tub to steady yourself as you stood and began drying yourself off. Rivulets of water still cascaded down your body as you draped your robe over your shoulders, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Fatigue overtook you as you combed through your hair with your fingers and padded into your bedroom, and the second you laid down atop the sheets, your eyes were drifting shut. 

You had no idea how long you slept before the distinct feeling of the mattress dipping roused you from your light slumber. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the pulsing, red glow that emanated from Ominis’ wand as he hovered it over you, and you slowly started to blink the fog from your eyes. 

You had no clue how he realized you were awake, but his voice was unmistakably tight as he asked you, “Where are you hurt?” 

It took your brain a second to fully register the question, and you propped yourself up on your elbow as your eyes adjusted to the dim light and muttered, “What?” 

“You screamed,” he gritted through clenched teeth, and despite the low visibility in the room, you watched as his grip on his wand turned white knuckled. “I heard you earlier. You were in pain– I know it’s the truth– so tell me now, where are you hurt?” 

On cue, the bruise on your hip throbbed to life, and you swiftly placed your hand on top of it while silently cursing yourself for not having brewed any Wiggenweld potions after returning home. Evidently your mind had been too jumbled to do the most logical thing following the altercation. “It’s not that bad–” you started to say, but Ominis cut you off before you could downplay the injury any further. 

“Please,” he implored you, silencing you instantly with his pleading tone. “I’m trying to leave this up to you, but don’t think for a second I won’t figure it out for myself if you don’t tell me.”

Something about the desperate look on his face made you pause, and you took a moment to really take in the sight of him. He was pale– far paler than normal– and the way his brows furrowed told you that he was more anxious than you realized. His posture was still impeccable but less poised– closer to rigid. His shoulders barely moved, giving the illusion that he was hardly breathing, and you honestly weren’t sure he was at this point. 

In short, Ominis looked petrified. 

Your lips formed a hard line as your gaze traversed his stiff form, swallowing thickly before you slid your hand away from your hip to reveal the dark purple blotch that decorated your side. “My hip,” you murmured, afraid that if you spoke the truth too loudly, the tentative composure Ominis was keeping would vanish. 

The muscle in his jaw ticked, and the hand he didn’t have wrapped around the handle of his wand came to skim along your waist before hovering ever so slightly above the bruise. “Where else?” 

“This is the worst of the damage–”

“Where else?” His voice was deeper and rougher than you were accustomed to hearing, and the notable difference had your stomach flipping over on itself. It left you feeling queasy, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or at the situation as a whole. 

“…My neck,” you relented quietly, all too aware of the blatant anger that overtook Ominis’ face. “At least I returned the favor,” you added quickly with a half-smile, trying to lessen the severity of the claim. It was a failed attempt, however, seeing as the man averted his unseeing gaze to the floor and shook his head minutely. Dimly, you watched as he waved his wand over his free hand, and a small vial of Wiggenweld appeared in the center of his palm before he wordlessly handed it to you. Given his tense demeanor, you opted not to say anything as you took it and removed the cork, then drank down the earthy contents graciously. The relief was instantaneous, and through the darkness of the room you managed to catch sight of the bruise on your hip fading away entirely. 

Your tiny sigh of relief reached Ominis’ ears, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate– albeit barely. “You should never have gone there. Why would you set foot anywhere near that damnable house? Do you have any idea the kind of danger you put yourself in– the kind of danger that you’re still in?”

At that, you finally pushed yourself up so you were sitting with your back against the pillows, setting aside the empty vial so you could clasp Ominis’ free hand in yours. His skin was cool to the touch, and you noted the miniscule tremors that emanated from him as you squeezed the appendage to will his attention back to you. “I’m sorry, Ominis. I was worried about you– you were so upset before you left earlier and I was scared that your family would do something to you.” 

“Of course they want to do something to me. They’ve tried puppeting me into a version of myself they can tolerate for my entire life, but it’s for that very reason that I can handle them. I’ve told you what they’re like– how relentless they are– and still you went there.” His head finally snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face was one you were certain you would never forget; it was a mask of desperation, fear, and most notably, rage. “You have no idea what you’ve done– what it means now that they’ve seen you and what you can do.”

You’d hadn’t really done much of anything, aside from blasting Marvolo across the foyer before running for your life. Still, his words kindled a spark of fear in your chest, and your hold on his hand turned loose and clammy. “What are you talking about?” 

“Before tonight, you were just an unknown witch I’d been… ‘cavorting’ with, in my father’s eyes. Easy to get rid of should the need arise. Until earlier, they didn’t believe you to be exceptionally powerful or particularly useful.”

The sudden dryness in your throat became painfully obvious. “Useful how?” 

“The Gaunt’s value power and authority over everything. Both things guarantee them the influence they need to further their own ends, and as unknown as your abilities are to them, they are undeniable. They’d be fools to ignore such a potent form of magic, and as much as I detest my family and their convoluted values, I’ll be the first to admit that they aren’t stupid. They will find a way to make that power their own– blood purity be damned– and stealing you away and marrying you off to my brother would be their most likely course of action.”

Ominis practically spat the word, his teeth bared and eyes narrowed as murderous thoughts of his brother flew through his mind. Your own head was reeling at the revelation, nausea crashing over you as you thought back to Marvolo and the sadistic way he’d smiled as he tried choking the life out of you. Someone like that wouldn’t– no, couldn’t have a caring bone in their body. But you also knew that someone of his caliber was bound to be determined to get what he wanted, and if Ominis believed that his family now sought to obtain you for their own ends, Marvolo would do everything in his power to make it happen. 

You had really, really fucked up. 

Somewhere in-between thinking of Ominis’ brother and the sickening idea of being kidnapped, your breathing had kicked up dramatically. You didn’t notice, but the blond man beside you certainly did. Ominis turned fully so his torso was angled towards you, feeling around the bed for your other hand before clasping your trembling limbs in his cooler ones, and your wide eyes flicked back up to meet his. “I won’t let them have you. Do you hear me? If they so much as glance at you, I’ll leave them wishing they had never set their sights on you.”

“You can’t know that,” you whispered, and your voice was unrecognizable to you. It was small and shaky, timid and so very, very afraid. “Marvolo is– he’s a beast. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, Ominis. You’ll die and it will be all my fault. I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault–” 

In a flash, Ominis silenced you with a kiss. It took you by surprise, but it was far from an unwelcome one– especially when his wand bearing hand slid to the back of your neck to pull you impossibly closer towards him. You were pleased to discover that the skin there no longer throbbed with discomfort, the Wiggenweld potion he’d given you having done its job for all the bruises, not just the one on your hip. The revelation calmed you further, and before you knew it you were melting against the taller man, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt to cling to him desperately.

Ominis broke away momentarily to murmur against your parted lips, “No one will ever take you from me, you’re mine.” 

Despite the circumstances that led the two of you to this moment, you found yourself enraptured by the possessive declaration, and you couldn’t help but lean closer into the blond’s personal space until your hands were sandwiched between his chest and your breasts. Your mouth found his again, and you fervently bit at his bottom lip as you breathily whispered, “I’m yours, Ominis. Only yours.” 

Instantly, Ominis was pushing you back towards the headboard until your head knocked against the wooden frame, not once breaking the kiss as he positioned himself on top of you. His long legs came to cage your own against the mattress as he threw his wand to the edge of the bed, freeing both of his hands so he could plant them on either side of your face. Pulling away seemed physically difficult for him but he didn’t stray far, opting to rest his forehead against yours and fix his hazy eyes directly on yours. How he knew where to aim his heady stare, you didn’t know, but your toes curled at the ardent need for you that reflected in his blue irises. 

“Say it again,” he implored you with a voice like pure sin. 

“I’m yours,” you obliged him without missing a beat, and a sigh slipped past your lips as Ominis lowered his face to pepper featherlight kisses along your jaw and down the now unmarred column of your neck. Goosebumps broke out virtually all over your body when you felt one of his cool hands fall to the neckline of your robe, and as Ominis slowly tugged the material apart to expose your bare chest, he sank his teeth into the tender spot above your clavicle. The pain laced pleasure left you moaning his name in earnest, your voice steadily growing louder as his thumb came to graze over one of your nipples. 

You felt the pressure from his teeth lessen as you arched into his touch, followed by his kiss-swollen lips latching over the bite to suck lightly. “Again,” he breathed, continuing to work his searing brand into your flesh. 

There were too many ways to describe his actions; primal, dominant, and greedy, to name a few. Yet there was a softness to his words that left your heart aching within your chest– a tenderness that spoke volumes of the fear he’d felt upon realizing you had entered into that nest of vipers. He had nearly lost you tonight, and when the hand against your breast shifted down to curl around your waist, you realized he would never allow for it to happen again. 

“I’m here, Ominis, I’m right here,” you moaned, your reedy voice bouncing off the walls of the bedroom and causing the man above you to shudder. “I’m here and I’m yours.” 

Before long, Ominis was moving back into your line of sight to capture your lips in another searing kiss. The hand on your waist traversed the bare expanse of your lower stomach before reaching your aching center, and you mindlessly wound your arms around his neck to tug him closer, bucking your hips into his hand as he slid a slender finger through your folds. 

“Mine,” he growled against your parted lips, and your next breath caught in your throat as he tentatively pushed the digit inside your wet heat. Your contented sigh filtered through Ominis’ hypersensitive ears as he pressed his finger in all the way to the knuckle, and the arm he supported himself with trembled minutely as he fought to control his baser urges. 

After everything that had transpired tonight, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep in your cunt, desperate to feel you clamp down around his cock and suck him in further and further as he claimed you. He longed to mark you, brand you, consume you, in every possible way– his family’s wishes be damned. He would make you his and his alone. Should any of his kin so much as attempt to interject, he vowed he would defend you until his last breath– and then not even death would stop him. Ominis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would defy the laws of nature if it meant keeping you safe from harm. 

As you continued to rock your hips in time with Ominis’ hand, your legs spread apart of their own accord, silently beckoning him closer as you shivered under his dutiful ministrations. Ominis felt the movement and groaned in blatant appreciation, taking advantage of the newfound space to siddle down the bed and kneel comfortably between your legs, and all the while his finger continued to pump in and out of your wet heat languidly. He bestowed another toe-curling kiss upon your lips before breaking away to slide fully down the mattress, your heart stuttering in your chest as he moved low enough to settle between your quivering thighs. It was impossible to overlook the animalistic expression on Ominis’ face as he gazed in your direction– following the sound of your barely there whimpers– and your blood ignited in your veins at the sight. 

All too eager, Ominis wasted little time in securing his grip around your waist with his free arm to better pull you harder onto his finger. The keening sound that slipped from your throat was replaced almost instantly by a guttural moan, drawn forth by the feeling of your lover’s lips latching around your clit to suck enthusiastically, and your head thunked against the headboard as wave after wave of sheer pleasure cascaded through you. 

Your thighs absentmindedly clenched on either side of Ominis’ head as he shamelessly pulled your bundle of nerves into his mouth, the action accompanied by wet, perverted sounds that had damn near all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks. “Merlin, Ominis– fuck–” 

Beyond a throaty growl, he said nothing. He simply tightened his hold on your waist, his other hand angling itself so he could better curl the finger inside of you, the combined sensations making your head positively spin. Entirely at his mercy, your hands flew to his soft, blond hair as you effectively surrendered to the pure bliss he granted you. 

If you had been hot and wet already, Ominis’ mouth felt a thousand times more so as he torturously dragged his tongue up your cunt. He removed his finger from your clenching walls and replaced it with the wet muscle, wriggling it as much as he could as though he were desperate to lap up everything that escaped out of you. Your breathing hitched and your hips involuntarily bucked when his ministrations traveled higher towards your clit, and when he finally reached it, the tip of his tongue was slow and methodical as he pressed firm, torturous circles around the throbbing bundle.

Ordinarily, having Ominis appreciatively go down on you would have been the highlight of the night, but given his domineering persona at present, you knew you were just plain fucked now. 

“Ominis, please,” you managed to croak out. “I’m not going to last, I– ah!” You practically yelped when the tips of the man’s teeth raked along your inner thigh, nipping at the soft skin there hard enough for you to jolt. 

“Just relax and let me work,” he muttered coolly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the spot he’d bitten as he dragged his hands down your abdomen to squeeze your tensing thighs. 

Despite your best efforts, you were quickly losing your grip on anything other than the sensations Ominis was lavishing you with. You felt lightheaded as you attempted to release your tense muscles, struggling to do so as your lover devoured you with reckless abandon. His nose brushed against your clit as he slipped his tongue inside of you once more, the sound of his wet, suckling noises intermingling with your breathy whines as you felt your climax building higher and higher in your gut. You couldn’t tell if your arousal was stemming from how Ominis enthusiastically used his tongue, lips, and teeth on you or if it came from the demanding way he directed you, but you decided that you didn’t care; every feeling had burrowed deep inside of you and taken root in your mind. 

You wanted more– no, needed more. 

Head whacking back against the wooden bed frame, you needily tugged at the strands of his hair wrapped around your fingers as you pleaded, “Please, Ominis, I need you…” 

Those five words did more to stroke his ego than you would ever know. Right now, Ominis needed you to need him. He wanted you to succumb to his ministrations and bend to his will, all to parry the baseless demands of his deranged family. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would ever willingly hand you over to them– much less to Marvolo– and through your rapture-filled begging, he knew he had succeeded. 

You were wholly and unequivocally his. 

He pulled away for a moment to run his hands up your thighs, over your hips, then along the pebbled peaks of your breasts. The way you trembled at his touch told him everything he needed to know; you were hanging on by a thread, and he didn’t need to see you in order to know you looked absolutely wrecked. 

Unable to endure a second more of the teasing, Ominis raised himself up on his knees to remove his clothing. Swiftly and efficiently, he dexterously undid the catch of his trousers before shoving the constricting attire down his narrow hips. There was no stopping the sigh of relief that spilled through his clenched teeth as his cock finally sprung free– long, heavy, and leaking from the red, swollen tip. With his shirt disheveled, hair mussed, and pants haphazardly hanging below his hip bones, he was truly the picture of temptation. You stared up at him through hooded eyes as he stroked himself a few times, taking in the sight of your lover towering over you as you lay prone atop the sheets beneath him. 

Once again, Ominis’ uncanny ability to feel your eyes on him surprised you, and a cheshire-like smirk blossomed across his face as he asked, “Enjoying the view?” 

“More than you are, I’d wager,” you retorted, and Ominis scoffed as his smug expression turned into one of amused disbelief. That mouth of yours was bound to land you in trouble one of these days. 

“Smartass,” he murmured affectionately, keeping one hand on his shaft as the other reached down in search of your waist, squeezing the flesh there with a bruising strength that only served to intensify the ache between your legs. You aided him by wriggling down the sheets in order to press your ass against his bent knees, and Ominis lowered himself once more so the heavy weight of his cock rested against your spit-slick folds. It was hard for you to believe that the wild haired, smokey-eyed man kneeling between your legs was the same boy who had shyly walked with you to your classes all those years ago. Both of his hands pressed against your hips this time as he sat back on his heels, white teeth flashing as he aligned the head of his manhood against your entrance. 

“Are you ready for me, darling?” Ominis asked, as though you hadn’t been begging for this very outcome minutes before. 

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily, your hands twisting in the fabric of your long-abandoned bathrobe beneath you. “I’m–”

Despite his privileged upbringing, Ominis was a fan of the simple things in life. Good food, long walks during the warmer seasons, and the sound of your voice catching when he took you by surprise and slid inside you abruptly. In one fluid motion, he breached your walls, listening intently to your sharp intake of breath as he inched himself forward until his knees were under your rear and he’d bottomed out completely. The small whimper that slipped from your mouth had a deep, throaty chuckle escaping his, and his thumbs took to tracing encouraging circles against your hips as you clenched around him. 

“I’m sure you are,” he purred in an infuriatingly sexy tone while you struggled to regain control over your breathing. Instantly, the dim embers of lust within you were rekindled, every inch of your body warm and borderline electric. Your hips writhed in Ominis’ hold in an attempt to wriggle closer, the unyielding grip he had on you coupled with the hungry expression on his face almost enough to make you come undone then and there. 

“Fuck, Ominis–” your words were cut short by a stifled moan as the blond slowly withdrew himself, arching back until only the tip of his cock was inside you before slamming his hips forward in one quick, sharp thrust. Your hands flew to his clothed knees as you dug your nails into the rumpled material of his trousers, desperate to touch every inch of him that you could but struggling to catch your breath in the midst of his slow, methodical thrusts. 

Well, methodical at first. 

You could feel Ominis’ acute desire for you with every pump of his hips, and a groan snaked its way out of his chest as he freed one of his hands to reach down and thumb over your clit. You hissed triumphantly through your teeth as you saw his expression slowly shift into something needier, his thrusts becoming less precise and more visceral. With how tight he was gripping you, you were positive the healed bruise from earlier would be replaced by long, finger shaped stripes, but you didn’t care. If it was Ominis, it was fine. If it was him claiming you, branding you, consuming you, it was more than fine. 

The blue-eyed incubus above you seemed to think similarly, if the low rumble in his chest was anything to go by. He was absolutely lost in the euphoria that came with being encased in your pulsing, tight heat, causing him to abandon his pretenses of control and give into his want for you with gusto. The hand he had on your sensitive bundle of nerves returned to grasp your waist, and even elevated as he was, he still had to thrust down into you– shaking the headboard with every plunge as he effectively fucked you into the mattress. 

The distinction was clear and evident in your mind as your legs came to wind around Ominis’ waist; the two of you had obviously been intimate before, and you had definitely made love before, but you had never been so carnally fucked like this a day in your life. It was hard to recall if Ominis had ever ravished you with such need in every stroke, enough so that you found yourself unable to control your shaking breaths or the volume of your voice. It was enrapturing– getting caught up in the way he staked his claim on you– so intent on fucking himself harder and deeper into you that his own husky murmurs of your name fell from his lips like a mantra. 

Your inability to fight your moans and curses and feverish pleas for more was what Ominis lived for. The blond craved the sound of your voice like a drug, and he drew unparalleled strength from your vocal satisfaction. Maybe it had more to do with the events of the night than anything else, but hearing you cry his name and feeling you claw at the tops of his thighs made his chest swell with possessive affection, thrilled to hear you unwittingly proclaim that you were in fact his. No one else would ever have you– no one else would ever find themselves lucky enough to have you reduced to such a state beneath them other than him. 

“M-More,” you practically sobbed the request as Ominis gripped your hips tighter, dimly registering the thundering crack of the headboard banging against the wall. “More– please– I’m s-so close–”

You asked for it with each breath expelled from your lungs, and Ominis would graciously give it to you. He couldn’t have refused you any longer if he wanted to. “You want to come, darling?” He panted, receiving only whimpering nods in return. “Ask.” 

“P-Please, please let me come, I can’t–” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth clenched together hard enough to make your jaw pop. You teetered on the brink of oblivion, waiting only on Ominis’ say-so to fall over the edge which seemed to loom so, so close. 

“Beg,” Ominis rasped thickly, his fingers tightening and digging into the skin of your hips as he bucked harder against your ass. “Beg for it– beg for me to let you come.” 

You couldn’t even find the brainpower to realize he was demanding to hear you say it to fuel his unrepentant hold on you. The taunting, the pleasure laced brutality– it was all to assuage the bitter anger that had coursed through his veins upon hearing his family refer to you as tradeable cattle. Later on, he would be collected enough to reassure you that you were your own person, free to make your own decisions and go wherever your heart desired. 

Right now though, his baser urges had won out, and he needed to hear you say it. 

Your head slammed into the pillows as your back arched off the mattress, doing your best to shut out the mounting pleasure that threatened to break through your crumbling resolve. “Please, Ominis! Please let me–” you hiccuped around another gasp, the ache in your gut bordering on unbearable. “L-Let me… let me…”

One of his hands released your waist to feel up your torso and curl around the back of your neck, lifting your head off of the pillow so your eyes were on him as he uttered five words that struck something deep inside of you. 

“Then come for me, love.” 

Your breaking point smacked into you hard and fast, leaving you equally breathless and brainless as your mouth fell open around a long, drawn out cry of Ominis’ name. Your climax ripped through you ferociously, your vision flashing white and your muscles tensing for a moment of near perfect silence as your lover continued to thrust in and out of you with unwavering focus. Even after you’d collapsed back against the sheets and gone limp in his arms, Ominis continued to chase his own finish, balancing precariously over you on his elbows and burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the shaky groans he failed to bite back. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he continued to murmur quiet declarations against your skin that sounded a lot like, “Mine.” 

Before long, Ominis was following you over the edge with a throaty purr that slithered out of his throat. His arms trembled on either side of your head, his hands gathering fistfuls of the pillows as he buried himself completely inside of you with one final plunge of his hips. You heard the blond moan hoarsely in your ear as he spilled into you, grinding against your ass to milk every last drop of his seed from his twitching member, and when he mouthed wetly against the sweat-slick column of throat before biting down, all you could focus on was the warmth that filled you as you quivered under him. 

After a few moments of the two of you panting softly, you lifted your hands to Ominis’ clothed back in a bid to usher him to the side. He tensed, however, and you paused as he wedged one of his arms under your back to hold you flush to him as he continued to re-center himself. “Not yet,” you heard him grumble into the hollow of your throat. “Not yet… give me a second.” 

“…Alright,” you relented quickly, only mildly concerned as you wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. With your fingers tracing lazy shapes against his clothed back, you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of Ominis’ weight pressing down on you, his gentle exhales fanning against your clammy skin, and the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your sternum. 

Given the severity of what had happened at his family’s house, you weren’t sure the two of you would ever get another moment like this again. So, you held on tightly to him in the hopes that the night would last just a little bit longer. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours but realistically could only have been a few minutes, and shortly after Ominis began peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw, your eyes drifted shut as you dozed off once more. When you woke the following morning and found yourself tucked in beneath the sheets, you propped yourself up on your elbow to glance around the otherwise empty room, noting immediately that Ominis was nowhere to be found. 

In a panicked flurry of movement, you threw off the blankets and were still tying your robe around your waist as you hurriedly shuffled down the hallway. Your dread was smothered in the next instant by overwhelming ease as you rounded the corner to find Ominis in the kitchen, gripping the countertop and working a muscle in his jaw while he hovered his wand over a letter that looked eerily similar to the one he’d received just a day ago. 

Even though he could hear you approaching, he said nothing as you padded across the room to stand behind him, coiling your arms around his waist to press your front against his back. A shaky sigh escaped him, and you stared at the wall as you contemplated your words before deciding on, “What are you reading?” 

A pause, “A formal summons for you, inviting you to meet my family officially.” 

Your heart fell into your stomach, arms tightening around the taller man a fraction as you pursed your lips in blatant distaste. “We won’t go,” you announced, and Ominis shifted in your embrace so he could wrap his arms around you to hug you back with a firmness that spoke volumes of his agreement. 

“We won’t,” he said. “But we can’t stay here, either. Not anymore.” 

“I know.” 

He buried his chin in the mess of hair atop your head, shamelessly inhaling your scent before he told you, “We have to leave– go somewhere far away– and we can’t tell anyone.” 

“I know.” 

The way his nimble fingers gripped the back of your robe told you of just how conflicted he was to ask this of you– to uproot your shared lives here to flee the meddling of his family. His voice was laced with remorse as he asked, “And you’re okay with that? Truly?”

“I am,” and you really were. There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in your voice– not a shred of apprehension hidden in your tone at the prospect of packing up and running as far from here as humanly possible. “So long as we’re together, I am.” 

Ominis skimmed his hands up your back to cup your cheeks, angling your head up at him so he could kiss you fully, and you returned the gesture with equal fervor. As long as he was with you, you knew you could do anything. With Ominis by your side, you would fight tooth and nail against every hellish creature or person in existence to ensure your future together. 

Wherever the two of you ended up, you already knew that your home wouldn’t just be some place. It would always be him.

[cuubism]

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

--

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

( can't you come to me now, this instant? i'm longing for you. )

chara : astarion fandom : baldur's gate 3 quote cr : ingmar bergman

astarion is not one for gentle affections, this quiet sense of intimacy a frightening and foreign being to this walking tragedy. yes, there is something he finds all too easy in the giving of himself to another, even if it may be through falsehoods & fatalities, even if there is something terribly lonely and desolate in a touch meant for the fervor. yet there is something so horribly different and confusing in the way he feels towards you-- from something born of deception and sickening sweet words to something more, to something real-- it makes no sense, and he despises this madness in limbo.

it's all too abstract and concrete all the same, and it's made of hypocriticals, but it's made of something so excruciatingly tender and naive, and maybe he thinks there's a safety to be found, somewhere, somehow, in you.

and perhaps that is the most frightening of all.

something weighs heavy on his mind ; something stirs beneath the rot carved into his chest, the hollows of being an ache in existence. it is so pronounced, so known, and surely this must be weakness. yes, that must be it-- nothing more, nothing less. he will admit that much, this fragility, because it's much easier to admit to that than to think of it being anything more.

ah, hells. he's too prideful, chin held high, practiced facade so carefully crafted. too stubborn, you think, to admit that he does find some semblance of comfort in your touch, and in the way his gaze meets yours, that lingering longing drowning in crimson hues, you understand.

you take a small step forward, note how he watches you with a vague hint of wariness. your movements are slow, cautious, but they are made of fondness and something reverent, and he does not know what to do with that.

you lace your fingers with his, squeeze his hand so gently that he almost cannot recognize this kindness you give to him. but he never can, can he? he'll never understand you, never understand why.

"sorry, astarion," you begin, "my hands are cold."

he blinks a few times, brow raised before he tilts his head in that certain, dramatic way you've grown to adore. the quiet joys that rest on the subtle curve of your lips grow the slightest bit at his reaction, and in return, he smiles, too.

"oh, how ridiculous. you always have to find excuses just to touch me, don't you?"

you laugh ; it is such a warm thing to hear, he thinks, and though he has only recently come to understand the sun's warmth, he does not think it could compare to yours.

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 2: Baz

It's him again!

Baz looked over Ilia’s shoulder as his young devotee worked. The books. Again.

Ilia said something under his breath as he carefully wielded needle and cord to sew the signatures together. He wouldn’t recopy any of the old texts into this new one until he had the new tome assembled fully. 

“You’ll ruin your eyes more if you don’t watch the sun or the light levels in here.”

“Go away,” Ilia muttered. “I’m busy.”

“Some people are polite to their gods.”

“Other people didn’t expect a task to take so long or they would’ve done their offerings before starting it.”

So he was paying attention. Baz sank back into the shadows that had started collecting in the room as the sun sank closer to the horizon. He could wait a little longer then. But only a little. Ilia had been slacking as of late, and while much of that might have to do with the Wildling he was engaged to being in the palace, it still didn’t excuse him from following through on his end of their deal.

Using the shadows, Baz slipped out of the room through the window and slid along the wall to the garden below. The Wildling hadn’t been here for very long, but already the garden showed improvement. The trees had thrown out more leaf buds and the flowers were putting out new leaves and flower heads. He often heard the gardeners talking and even as recently as the afternoon they hadn’t figured out if they wanted to curse or praise the seemingly sudden change in fortunes that made the plants more lively.

Once he had assured himself no human was around, or the Wildling, he took his proper form. He didn’t need to breathe, but still he took a deep breath of the orange flower perfumed air. Harboured by the trees he could walk here on his own two feet without one of the other palace dwellers seeing him and screeching before running out to find one of the Chidorian Order to try and eradicate one spot of darkness from a place ruled by light. Or so they thought. He was always gone by then, sequestering himself in Ilia’s study to watch what played out afterwards.

It would be amusing to have that replay again. Especially when no one knew that they would be ruled by child of light soon enough. Not that anyone knew thats what she was. He’d heard most people remark that the Wildlings golden eyes were unusual, but gave few thoughts on why they were like that. Baz thought most people were simply relieved that Ilia was marrying anyone at all.

As amusing as it would be though, he didn’t feel like going through it again. It got a little tiring being himself. It’s why he’d disappeared so long ago until a much younger Ilia had shown up in the temple of the dead god he’d been resting in for the last century or so. The boy, now man, needed him more than Baz desired peace and quiet. Besides. Azaia would rip him apart if he let any of her people come to harm if he could thwart it at all. And he really didn’t want to deal with his sister yet. Especially when she was angry.

The scent of burning herbs interrupted his musing and Baz looked up to see smoke threading its why out into the night air from the study window. By the time he was up at the windowsill to drink in the smoke, he had shifted into a nebulous thing. 

Ilia lit the last of the dishes of herbs and used the long match to light the oil lamps arranged artfully on the offering table with the dishes. “You must have been close by.”

“In the garden,” Baz answered while eyeing the singular peacock feather in the vase that never left the centre of the table. That was more for Ilia and anyone who entered the study. Ilia liked pretty things to look at, and it often soothed others to think that an unknown god who had pretty things among their offerings couldn’t be much harm despite what the teachings of the Chidorian Order said.

“Have you noticed the gardens are doing better?”

“I have. Give it a year and you’ll see the damage from the blight being reversed.”

“And how long until its been eradicated?”

Baz moved to the next dish to drink in its smoke. “Hard to say. The blight has been here for years. It might take that long to get rid of it. Could be longer considering the extent and severity of the damage. But it could also be shorter. The Wildling is young and strong

With a nod of resigned understanding, Ilia looked out the window. “When are you going to call Pippa by her name?”

“When you’ve married her and I’ve met her properly.”

“Lets hope she doesn’t react badly to you then.”

Baz didn’t think she would. In fact, he’d be surprised if she hadn’t figured out that something was hanging around the palace, if not the man she was betrothed to. But he didn’t say anything. Let Ilia figure out how perceptive the Wildling was. It would at the very least provide more amusement than usual for himself.

Maybe after Ilia died he’d attach himself to another human. Or even stay with the family.

He’d forgotten how amusing humans could be.

[theskit]

Stickers AU

Important!!!

Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Part 9

《Prev Next》

Danny wasn't sure what he'd expected when he put Bludhaven into his phone's GPS Sunday evening, but finding out it was only 30 minutes away was still surprising. He'd somehow thought it was farther away than that.

Shrugging it off, Danny found an out of the way alley to go invisible and intangible for the short flight. He'd already picked out which of his stickers he would be gracing Nightwing with tonight, now the only thing would be finding him.

Taking a rather scenic route along the coast, Danny got some interesting pictures of the rocky coastline and the water. The light pollution was still pretty bad, but it was a little easier to see the stars outside the city limits.

Reaching Bludhaven, Danny flew around randomly for a while before hearing a shout. Going to investigate he saw three guys cornering a young lady in an alley. Just as he moved to intervene, Nightwing dropped down from above, landing between the men and the lady.

"Mind if I cut in?" He asked as he hit the closest guy with an escrima stick, sending him to the ground with a crackle of electricity as the lady turned and ran. "It's just shocking how quickly I can go through dance partners, sometimes."

Turning to the other two, Nightwing fluidly exchanged punches before grabbing one guy's arm and throwing him over his shoulder into a nearby trashcan, "Sorry, you've been canned for inappropriate behavior," he quipped cheerfully.

The last guy took the chance while Nightwing was busy to pull out a knife. Smoothly dodging the first few swipes, Nightwing flipped over the guy when he overextended himself with a lunge, landing with a crouch and a leg sweep, taking him to the ground too. "Let's not get swept away in all the excitement, now!" He tossed out as he made sure all three guys were secure before calling it in to the police for pickup.

Danny practically sparkled with glee. The cool entrance! The flashy moves! The puns! He just might have a new favorite hero! Well. After Robin, of course. Teen hero solidarity and all that.

Danny landed, waiting to make sure the escrima sticks were put away before approaching Nightwing. He *definitely* didn't want to get hit with those things. Getting electrocuted was *not* on the to-do list this evening, thank you!

Coming up behind Nightwing, just as he finished contacting the police Danny smacked a sticker to the small of his back, yelled "Tag!" and took off running.

It was only after hearing Nightwing shout in surprise and then call out after him, beginning to give chase, that Danny realized he had dropped his invisibility. Whoops. At least he was in his hoodie. It was still a little bloodstained from yesterday, but it wasn't really *that* noticeable. Neither of his parents had mentioned it, and Jazz only gave him a small, searching look before he held up his bandanged finger to show her it was no big deal. It was also the only hoodie he'd remembered to pack.

Nightwing ran after the surprisingly quick child, teenager? they were kind of short... "Hey, kid! Hold up a second!"

The kid laughed, "No can do! Sorry, Nightwing! I needed one last number for my vigilante bingo card and you were it!"

The kid, a boy going by the voice, was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a slightly oversized hoodie with what looked concerningly like bloodstains at the side. He took a quick left into another alley, one Nightwing knew to be a dead end. Turning the corner as well, Nightwing slid to a stop, glancing around the empty alley. "Kid? Hey, it's ok, I just wanna talk." He called out, doing a quick check behind the dumpster, which was the only thing large enough in the alley to hide behind.

Nothing. Scratching his head, Nightwing looked around again in confusion. There wasn't even a fire escape down this way. Where did he go? And what did he mean by vigilante bingo?

Deciding to check in with the others, he called Tim, unsurprised when he heard the rapid-fire clack of a keyboard in the background when he answered. "Hey, Dick, what's up?"

"Hey, Baby Bird! So, I just had an interesting run-in with a disappearing kid. He mentioned something about vigilante bingo, and I wondered if any of you had as well?"

The keyboard noises stopped abruptly, "He spoke to you? You actually saw him?"

"Well, yeah? Chased him down a dead-end alley, but he went poof. Gone. No sign of him anywhere."

Tim sighed heavily, "Of course. Can you head in to the batcave? We could use some insight into this. So far he's gotten you, me, Batman, and Robin, but no one has gotten a good look at him."

Already heading to where he had his motorcycle stashed, Nightwing agreed, "Sure. You need 5 numbers for a bingo though, and he said I was the last. Heard anything from Hood?"

Tim groaned, "No. Of course he wouldn't tell us if something like this happened to him."

"No worries, Baby Bird. I'll check in with Hood first and then swing by the cave to debrief, how's that?" He asked, swinging a leg over the motorcycle and starting it up.

"That would be great, thanks. If you're the one asking, he might actually tell you what happened," Tim replied, relieved he wouldn't have to try getting information out of Jason himself.

Saying goodbye and then punching in another number, Nightwing revved the engine and took off for Gotham as he waited for Jason to pick up.

"What do you want, Dickiebird?"

Nightwing laughed, "What, no hello, how you doing?"

"Nope. I'm busy," Jason said with a grunt and what sounded like gunshots.

"Well, I had an interesting little encounter tonight, and I have it on good authority you might have had one too. With a certain disappearing boy? Want to meet up at Batburger, get something to eat and tell me about it?"

A few more gunshots echoed down the line before Jason answered, "Fine. I'll meet you at the usual place in an hour."

"Awesome, I'll see you there."

After ordering the food, Dick made his way up to the roof, "Hey there, Little Wing!"

Jason took off his helmet and smirked at him as he accepted his portion of the food. "So, where'd you get stickered, then?"

Dick stared at him in confusion, "Stickered? What?"

Jason frowned, "You said you had a run in with the kid. He came up behind me, scared the hell out of me by yelling 'boo', and slapped a sticker between my eyes when I turned around." Jason paused as he stuffed a few fries into his mouth, "Shorted out my helmet cameras too, though not permanently. Didn't get a good look at him, but he had a funky echo to his voice."

Dick shook his head a bit, "He came up behind me, gave me a smack on the back and yelled 'tag' before running into a dead-end alley with no way out and disappeared. Didn't notice a particular echo, but we were already in a kind of echoey alleyway."

Jason grinned and made a little circle motion with his hand, "Give us a twirl then, let's see."

Turning his back to Jason, Dick heard a loud laugh and a camera noise. It made him happy to hear Jason laugh, even if he *was* apparently the butt of a joke. "Okay, what happened? Why are you laughing?" He asked mock petulantly as he turned back around.

Jason just grinned and showed him his phone, "Kid gave you a tramp stamp, Dickiebird!"

Dick burst out laughing as he looked at the photo, Jason joining in as he wailed overdramatically, "Little Wing! I drove all over Bludhaven *and* Gotham, *and* just ordered food with that!"

Editing this: apparently only the bitchy mobile app has a tag limit. I mostly use mobile. Guess who get to be my guinea pigs on the next installment?? 😁

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter @liandrin @jaguarthecat @russetfur1128 @purefrickingspite @oakskull @vythika96 @molasses-being-slow @satisfactionbroughtmeback @serasvictoria02 @tkiesai @breesperez139 @dhampir-princess @redhoneysugarorange @gildedphoenix @iglowinggemma28 @f4nd0m-fun @therandomartmaker @mandyne-1001 @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @solarisaetherlumine @zeldomnyo

[justaweirdogremlin]

It’s the spookiest day in spooky month so I give you

Jonas Falk

Tall ratty evil junkie bastard, a villain/vigilante OC

(WARNING: shit handwriting, low quality hands)

(Yeah dude looks like emo p2Joseph shut up.)

Pronouns are he/him but bro is homosexual and polyamorous.

Not a lot I known about his past since he’s good at hiding a lot of things and quick to cut ties with anyone. But the scars has their tales.

Though seemingly chill, easygoing and dumb with a smirk that’s plastered on his face, of course, he’s a lot smarter and sinister than he lets on, careful with his wording too. Yet, still gives off a sense of comfort to make you feel at ease and lower your guard down. Or up more, because that would feel weird if you were to think about it.

He may be homeless but he really doesn’t mind, he’d rather live on the streets and sleep on top of flat roofs on buildings. Just being outside and move around a lot, that’s what makes him happy. Being good at parkour, the guy has no problem climbing and jumping from building to building or houses at night. Even so, he still keeps a hideout/base of operations, stashing random metal junk to tinker with (usually doesn’t work), blackmail documents on people that interests him to stalk and more stolen stuff.

Cameras, cam recorders, tapes, film (for the cameras), voice recorders, you name it. He always brings a cassette player with headphones anywhere, just to listen to music because why the hell would’t you?

A better visual of his physique + Stand abilities

(Slight nudity?)

Yes, I made him ridiculously tall, absolute tank (6’10 ft/209 cm). Despite that, he’s still really good at hiding and sneaking, sometimes so quiet on his feet he accidentally jump scares people, but he doesn’t mean to. (Why wouldn’t you be scared shitless if a man with that height was suddenly looming behind you.)

His age is unknown, as I said, not a lot is known about him so who knows when or where he came to existence. Nor of what he is since there’s a bunch of mythical things that exist in the jojo verse. And again, he doesn’t tell much. (But I could 👀)

The stand, Toxic Love (by Tim Curry), with a range of 2m/6’7ft, is like a manifestation of a few different types of pollution.

Producing polluted air that reaches to a rate that is very dangerous to breathe in, damaging your lungs till they collapse.

spreading the noxious gases and chemicals 5m/16’4ft wide, surrounding itself at the center of it. Attempting to get closer to the stand, the denser and humid the fog is. If able to produce enough for an extended period on a high placement, the fumes go up in the atmosphere and infect clouds, creating acid rain, melting the flesh off your bones (remember the rat stand users?). Even Jonas himself isn’t safe from all of that, though it saps away all of his energy.

The stand itself being made of tar, contaminated soil and disgusting water that makes it have a semi-liquid consistency. Having its own cycle like a swamp around the stands uncomfortably warm body. Creating a thin layer of mist, continuously seeping into itself that then heats up into mist again. Punching it with another stand or not, you obviously don’t want to touch that poisonous pile of sludge.

The mouth stomach is what breathes out all of those fumes. The teeth grinds together to create sparks, with the combination of the sparks hitting the gasses it’ll create an explosion of flames. Of course Jonas is smart enough not to do that anytime soon.

A less explosive way is possible of course, flicking some of the stands tar-like fluids on the opponent and lighting them up.

Keeping his opponents in place and alive is also simple, covering them in tar. Since it’s out of the stands warm and humid cycle, it’ll dry out and harden.

But that’s only in its offensive form, it strains Jonas’ mentality a lot. Overstimulating him, giving him headaches that feels like getting his head split in half with an axe, feeling like he needs to vomit and getting cold sweat. Obviously Jonas doesn’t use that form unless absolutely necessary.

So he has it in its defensive form more instead, and it’s a lot more safer and a lot less mentally draining than the offensive.

The defensive form sits on the top of Jonas’ head like hair with a ponytail being a little shorter than his entire body, closely like a pompadour (wonder who he got that idea from). It can’t do any of the abilities it’s offensive form can do at all, though the ponytail acts as a third arm or a shield. That form also saves energy for the offensive.

Swiftly protecting or deflecting anything that’ll hurt its user. But of course, it’s not strong enough to shield or lift literally anything, like something as big or heavy as a car. It can’t slice through things but it can poke holes. Stabbing through rocks or bricks are possible, sometimes metal if it’s thin enough.

Personality

Ironically he likes to keep himself as clean as he can as a junkie, trying to shower more than just once a week, and he smokes.

As said before, he’s smarter and more sinister than he let’s you think. Still keeping that goofy laidback and sassy nature. Though always seems upbeat with a tired smile plastered on his face he actually doesn’t express what he feels, exaggerating and being dramatic to get his point across if that’s what it takes for a person to understand. Otherwise his tone is always… flat? Monotone? Which leads to many misunderstandings. It’s tiresome, observing or messing with people from afar is more entertaining. Jonas doesn’t really care for others, just his documents and recordings. Selfish and narcissistic. Always wants to be right and you’re wrong, he’s smart and you’re dumb, that sort of thing. He’s good with his words and proving it to make you believe him, finding things out about you to get under your skin, that sort of hostility to a stranger or enemy he wants to manipulate to get you on his side. His comforting aura-like thing supports it. But if anything, he doesn’t take things seriously.

On the flip side, if ever manage to get him to feel attached, Jonas seems the same but he’s teasing and brutally honest. He’s not one to lie to anyone or if he makes it technically the truth, which can be surprising. And because he doesn’t regret his actions most of the time. Still an ass with his teasing and sass, but it’s in a way to make it funny for who he’s attached to, which is what he aims for. He’d mess around even more to grumpy ones. His selfishness becoming a facade. Basically just softening up, maybe a little. Still needing to prove he’s better though.

⚠️Cruel noms⚠️

Jonas only partners up with cruel preds, he’s cruel himself and does not care for borrowers one bit. He gifts tinies to his preds when given the chance like a cat gifting owners dead critters, expecting them to eat it. Toys with borrowers as well, giving hard flicks, bruising them, scratching them, squeezing them. It’s a stress reliever to him. He doesn’t talk since he doesn’t see the tiny thing as anything sentient, just another rodent (he’s a villain, what did you expect). The pred he’s partners with or attached to is above anyone in his list, just one at a time, if there’s anything he thinks is a red flag he’ll cut them off. Very caring, protective and a giant cuddle bug when his observer’s instinct acts up.

A dedicated observer taking the trait to the extreme.

[asinnersalibi]

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Cerulean wondered.

"What?"

"This!" It was a boundless response, and Aquamarine tried to see it. Somewhere in the vast expansion of self, there was something spectacular Cerulean saw that Aquamarine couldn't. "All of it, every little bit of it, you could just, you could fall into it."

"Fall into what?" Aquamarine asked again, exasperation growing as their friend peered longingly into the increasingly dejected void.

"The everything." Cerulean concluded, "The nothing."

"You're worrisome." Aquamarine sighed, "You've turned Prussian." Cerulean looked down to their bare feet, their toes inked with a color acute to azure, or admiral.

"Have you ever wondered what we're all here for?"

"Not particularly." Aquamarine shrugged, "I've wondered what I'm here for, sometimes."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Aegean asked. Aquamarine shrugged again.

"Is it?"

"I don't think so."

"You've already thought too much."

Steel-blue didn't respond, a color like dark cobalt swirling over their skin.

"Do you always change so much?"

"Change?" Gentian blue asked,

"Yeah, you were excited, now you kinda look, contemplative."

"Contemplative?" Capri-blue thought, "Like a muse?"

"Are you musing?"

"Not really." Traffic-blue answered quietly, "I'm wondering, maybe."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know a lot of things, Blue."

"Blue, huh? Maybe I'm musing too, Aquamarine."

[synesthete-sylke]

selkie smajor selkie smajor selkie smajor !!

the fact pirates!scott could've been secretly mer,,, please the angst would be so good

also scott as a chubby little seal would be so funny, he'd break into the kestrel's base to eat their snacks and to avoid being caught turn into a seal whenever someone walked by

imagine going to eat your 3am shredded cheese and you walk into your kitchen only to find a harbor seal covered in jam eating all of your pastries.

how did he get there? why is he eating that and not the fish? how did he open drawers with flippers? these are all questions scott will not answer!