#i also never draw their coat but eh

[suckerforlovesblog]

Pretty little thing

Pretty little thing Masterlist

Series summary: All Mr. Shelby wanted was to remarry. He had to find himself another wife after the death of Grace, not just to take care of his son Charlie but also to grant him access to the finer society of Birmingham. All he wanted the girl to be was a pretty little thing on his arm who simply submitted, obeyed and followed his orders.

And he did find the perfect girl - young, very good looking, of a good upbringing, smart but little did he expect her to have such a strong mind of her own…

All he wanted to do was break her in, like a horse had to be, and his new wife put up a good fight but eventually he is sure, he will break her and make her his completely.

Series warning: Dark!Tommy, toxic relationship, abuse, rape, non consensual intercourse, rough sex, age gap, Sir kink, choking - all the things that come with rough smut

Chapter 1: The perfect girl

Summary: Thomas Shelby is out searching for a wife. Most young women in Birmingham throw themselves at him but he doesn’t like that and goes out further to search for the perfect girl to be on his arm whilst hanging on his lips.

Chapter Warning: age gap, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 1.5k

~ tag list: @ncoleys , @amberpanda99 , @priyajoyy @tommyshelbywhore @swordofawriter @goth-cowgirl-03 @thenattitude @sheun-555 @meetmeatyourworst @bruher @frazie99 @blvebanisters @jessimay89 ~

I‘m very intrigued to hear your thoughts!

Also: please let me know what you would like to read! My requests are OPEN!

End of 1925:

Thomas Shelby was still grieving the death of his beloved wife Grace, even after an entire year, and everyone around him knew. He did blame himself for her death because he gave her the bewitched jewel to wear and even put it onto her himself. And she wore it that night, like a target painted on her forehead. But business had to keep going and Charlie desperately needed a mother figure in his life. Frances, the maid, was doing her best and Ada and Polly came to help out from time the time but it just wasn’t the same. He had even hired a governess, a very pretty thing, blonde and petite and at least fifteen years younger then him, to attend to his son’s needs because he couldn’t always be there for him. Thomas who was now nearing forty, also really enjoyed the governess presence, at least when he bend her over a table, fucked her from behind and she didn’t talk. Other than that he avoided her most of the time and let her do her work.

She fulfilled his needs but it didn’t help him with business.

So, Thomas Shelby called a family meeting at Arrow House and now everyone was sitting in front of him in the drawing room: Arthur and Linda, John and Esme, Polly and Michael, Ada, Finn, Charlie, Curly, Jeremia and his son, and Lizzie, of course. Sometimes he still slept with her but she would never be good enough to be his wife. He did like her but Lizzie’s social standing was beneath his new position as a business man.

“Thank you everyone for coming, eh!”, Tommy’s voice boomed: “I have an important announcement to make and I think I need everyone’s help.” All the people in the small room looked at him. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and then said: “I decided that it’s time for me to remarry. It will be good for business.” Lizzie looked at him with wide sad eyes, knowing he would never share the feelings she had for him. Arthur stood up, smiling and went up to give Thomas a small hug, “Proud of you, Tom. Linda will help for sure.” Everyone else looked reassuring and Curly started babbling something no one was able to make out. “May I ask what kind of business you think of concluding?”, Polly said. “Yes but I will not tell just yet ‘eh.”, Tommy says, wetting his lip, “I just think a wife will open up new branches for us and make the company more respectable.” He then puts a cigarette between his lips, after fishing it out of the gold case from the pocket of his coat: “Anyways today is a day to celebrate and I invite you all to dinner. Now, Michael, John and Arthur stay, everyone else I see at dinner.” Thomas lights his cigarette whilst everyone leaves the room except for his brothers and Michael. He sits back down and explains the guys what he’s looking for in his future wife, mostly talking to Michael because the girl should be around his age, a very desirable age in his opinion. The four men make a plan to start the search for his wife tomorrow, starting with all the respectable families in Birmingham and then toast to their success with Irish whiskey, of course.

Early spring of 1926:

Thomas and Michael looked at all the young women in Birmingham, from a respectable upbringing at least. John joked that the two of them fucked their way through Birmingham and that was true to some extent. None of the girls satisfied Thomas’ needs however and Michael was growing tired. “If you keep going like that Tom, we will never find a girl for you. One is not tall enough, the next one doesn’t have enough tits, another one is too stupid, then she is pretty but not gorgeous. This is exhausting.”, Michael says looking at him from the drivers seat of the new Bentley Thomas got. The car was extremely luxurious and expensive.

“Well Michael, we gotta find the perfect girl for me, eh.”, he answered, taking a puff of his cigarette, “She needs to be smart and eloquent for me to be able to bring her around business partners. But she ought to be gorgeous as well because then negotiations will be even easier because men are dumbstruck if they’re accompanied by beautiful women.” Michael also lights a cigarette: “I get that Tom but if we keep going at that speed my dick won’t work anymore with the girl I may marry in the future because I emptied everything I have into some girls” They both laughed and kept driving to meet Alfie Solomons in Camden Town for business.

After driving past the first couple of buildings, he barks at Michael to stop the car and Thomas basically jumps out. He brushes his coat down, fishes a cigarette out of its case and puts it into it mouth leaving Michael more than puzzled. Thomas started walking towards a building, lighting the cigarette with a match and then enters a shop, a tailoring shop it appears. Michael still sits in the car, smoking a cigarette as well and waiting for him to come back.

Thomas looks around the shop, searching for the woman he just saw. He only saw her side profile but Tommy knew she was the one, now on his way to make her his, willing to do whatever it might take and hoping she wasn’t already married. Fuck, even if she was, he were to make her his for sure.

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t even hear the little bell ring as he entered through the door and then the people inside the shop turning to him. The pretty woman he searched for was sitting behind a desk to his right and he made his way towards her but was stopped abruptly in his step by the owner of the shop. “Sir”, the small man called out, “how may I help you?” “Aye, I need a new suit please and may I have a word with the young lady at the desk?”, Thomas answers. “For sure”, the man says in a low purr, scarred of the dominance in his voice, “we will leave you to it, Sir.” Tommy nods and the man leaves the shop through the back door, pulling a women behind him.

Thomas approaches the woman. She was already looking at him through her Y/E/C eyes, smiling lightly. “Hello miss, my name is Thomas Shelby, owner of the Shelby Company Limited. I saw you out in the street and you caught my eye”, he said and smiled an earnest smile. “My name is Y/N, my farther is the owner of the shop.”, the girl answered. He looked at her thoroughly and she got even more prettier the longer he looked at her. Although Thomas didn’t feel any affection towards her but she was very pretty for sure and he knew that she would be the perfect wife: young, a pretty face and fine features, nice hair, a slim figure. Her voice was very calm and had a pretty sound to it. He knew she would be the perfect little thing on his arm. He looks at her with his icy blue eyes, “Tell me sweetheart, how old are you?” “I just turned 18, Sir”, she said. The obedience and innocence in her voice made him hard, without help anyways, for the first time since Grace died. His heart ached for his lost love but he needed this to work and pushed the face of his dead wife out of his thoughts. “You’re not married, eh?”, he asked the girl more nearly twenty years younger then him. She shook his head, seemingly submitting him to, scarred of his booming figure. He really liked that and smiled: “Please get your farther to me, I need to speak with him. In private. And take the measurements for the suit I ordered, will you sweetheart?” She got up, nodding and getting her farther at first, afterwards measuring him and writing all the details down for his order. She was sent out shortly after, leaving her farther with the unknown man with the pretty blue eyes.

“Tell me Sir, is everything to your liking so far”, the old man asked Thomas. “Yes, indeed”, he answered with his thick Birmingham accent, “I would like to marry your daughter. I know this sounds rushed but she immediately caught my eye and I can provide for her very well.” The older man, the girls farther, looked at him reserved and averse. Thomas looked at him with his blue piercing eyes, radiating pride and dominance and the older man submitted. “Listen, eh, I give you a great deal for her and promise to provide and care for the girl.”, Thomas says, putting another cigarette between his lips, letting it dangle for a little while before lightning it with a match.

He pursued the conversation for a little while longer, settling everything important, like the wedding date and the money the family will receive. After it was all settled Thomas went outside of the shop, calling Michael to set up and then seal the document.

The girl came back into the shop, Thomas walked over to her and put his hand on her waist. She looked up at him confused but he just smiled at Michael: “Meet my darling fiancé, Y/N. We will be married in two weeks time and she will be Mrs. Shelby.”

[theother-victoria]

LOVE IS CONCOCTED FROM ESTERS AND KETONES- CH.01: AVENTURINE

SYNOPSIS: he never expected to find home again.

CHARACTERS: aventurine

TAGS: bittersweet veering more towards bitterness I’m sorry guys, menace aventurine, 2.1k+ wc,

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @flowery-jazz, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore , @lxkeeeee , @mewnekoice-mecha , @nariism

NOTES: aven fans are allergic to happiness case in point: me

special thanks to @milksnake-tea for doing the math on how much a perfume bottle costs in the hsr-verse and @akutasoda and @phantovia for letting me use their ocs aika and yeri respectively! additionally thank u to my pookies @tragedy-of-commons, @akutasoda (once again), @https-sourlimes, and @kazuhaiku for proofreading this chapter!

The first of the new customers comes in on a slow Tuesday afternoon.

It’s just you and your two assistants in the shop. They’re restocking some of the bottles on the shelves and you’re in the lab as per usual, this time reformulating an old scent that didn’t sell well on its maiden voyage. You distantly hear the front door chime ring and the voices of your two assistants welcoming them.

You stare down at the flask in front of you on the table and the array of raw materials scattered around it. Eh, might as well get up and help out. You haven’t made any progress in the past half hour either. 

With a sigh, you get up and unlock the door separating your lab from the store. Your usual greeting spills from your lips like you’re on autopilot.

“Welcome, dear customer. How can I be of assistance today?”

You trip over your words a little bit at the end as you take this customer’s appearance. On first impression, it’s a bit gaudy- like a peacock trying to impress. An expensive leather coat with fur like he’s trying to flaunt his wealth and a spade cutout right in the middle of the chest like he’s trying to draw attention to it. His face is also obscured by the brim of his hat and his pink sunglasses so you sadly can’t get a glimpse of his appearance.You haven’t seen him before- you’d remember a getup like that for sure. 

“Nothing in particular. Just doing some window shopping.”

His voice is rich and syrupy like honey and it pulls you in. You don’t miss how your two shop assistants are eyeing him and you send them a look over your shoulder. They giggle under their breaths and scurry away to busy themselves around the shop. 

 He picks up a black tester bottle and sprays it a couple times around his pulse points before walking around the store again. It’s pricey, but it’s a popular perfume among young men, especially those that like to party from your observations. Not surprising, considering how creamy, spicy, and decadent it smells. It’s a crowd-pleaser. 

One of your assistants, Aika, passes by with a box of perfume bottles that you received in an earlier shipment. She pauses and gives you a mischievous look. 

“He’s hot,” she whispers as he passes by. “Looks like he’s interested in you too. I see him eyeing you up. Don’t pretend like you haven’t either.”

You merely glare at her, which she laughs at. He gives you a knowing look and a wink, further proving her point. You pointedly ignore it. 

He seems happy with how the scent reacts with his skin chemistry and the dry down because he walks back to grab a bottle before setting it down by the register. You pause what you’re doing in the meantime to ring him up. 

He hands his card over without a second thought. Black card, you note as you swipe it. It’s got some weight to it too. You catch a glimpse of the name on the card and the IPC logo in the corner before handing it back to him. Aventurine, of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department. Now you have a name and affiliation to go with the face as well. 

When you hand his card back, his gloved fingers ghost over your hand for a second longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand seeps through the thin leather and you have to force yourself to ignore it and bid him goodbye. 

Another one of your shop assistants watches him go as well.

“You know, he didn’t seem like he particularly loved that perfume. Maye he bought it just to get close to you?”

“Yeri…”

“Just saying. Don’t act like you didn’t notice it too.”

After that, he doesn’t leave you alone. You quickly learn that he’s an IPC executive, which takes you by surprise with how he’s attached to your hip at any given time. He’s still busy with work, but he spends a lot more time at your store than you’d expect- at least a visit or two every week. He always leaves with something as well. At this rate he’s going to have a bottle of every perfume in your store…

“He’s more like a… how do I put it? He’s more like a… clingy stray cat that you took pity on one day and it wouldn’t leave your side after that,” you complained to your shop assistants one day during lunch. Aika snorts and steals a bite of your food. 

“No harm in playing along with him. He’s rich, after all. Savor this opportunity.”

He also likes to flirt with you and hog up all your free time. He’ll walk in with a loud declaration of “(Name)! I’m back!” and wrap his arms around your shoulders and waist the moment he sees you. Over time, you’ve gotten used to it and you’ll do business as usual with a grown man clinging to you like some house cat. 

(Your shop assistants still tease you relentlessly though.)

In return, you turn him into your unofficial guinea pig to test your upcoming perfumes on. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he seems to take pride in it. 

You gently grab his wrist and spray something onto the exposed skin. He doesn’t resist- just lets you do your thing.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

“My friend, you already know what I’m going to say. Everything and anything you create is bound to sell out. When it comes to storytelling, your nose is unmatched.”

“Give me real constructive criticism, Aventurine. Stop trying to butter me up.”

“I’m being honest here!”

With the frequency of his visits, the distance between you quickly closes. He insists you refer to him by his name without any prefixes. You don’t particularly care what he refers to you by, but you’ll frequently catch him on the phone talking about “his beloved perfumer”. 

One day when there are no customers in the shop, he comes in. There’s no loud proclamation of your name or the now-familiar sound of expensive leather shoes against the floor as he searches for you. He looks a little different as well. His hat is gone, as well as his pink sunglasses, letting you see his face unobstructed for the first time.

His eyes. They’re the first thing to draw you in. They’re a hypnotizing shade of magenta and blue that you’ve never seen before. 

What pretty eyes, you think. But you avert your gaze in case he catches you staring. Strangely enough, he doesn’t meet your gaze. He takes a particular interest in the view outside the window even though he’s seen it a million times already. 

You hand him a faceted golden bottle. The turquoise liquid inside swirls slightly as he examines it. A thin turquoise band runs around the circumference of the bottle and he hesitates. It looks a little familiar, for some reason…

“This is a new scent I created recently. Smell it and tell me your thoughts.”

He sprays it on his wrists before tentatively taking a whiff. Instantly, the scent of bergamot and the sea hits him.

No, the smell of home hits him. There’s a faint citrusy smell that smells vaguely familiar to a hardy fruit that bloomed on the scraggly trees during the spring and the earthy scent of sand hits him like a punch to the gut. He can still recall the sensation of the sand stinging his eyes from the harsh solar winds and how despite his sister’s best efforts, he could never fully get it out of his clothes and hair. It stuck to him like a second skin. 

Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that he could’ve filled a bottle with sand and brought it with him so he’d always carry part of home, especially on those lonely nights. 

Then comes the rain.

He can hear the sound of the rain hitting the rooftop of the tent he called home as a child where he’d celebrate a few lonesome birthdays, followed by the stench of iron and rot and the sickening squelch of his footsteps in the drenched sand as he flees, leaving everything he’s known and loved behind. 

For some reason, he can taste the saltiness of the sea as well. But on a planet as desolate and barren as Sigonia-IV, there are no bodies of water. Is it the ocean or rather his tears instead?

He rubs his wrists together to make the top notes and memories dissipate faster. They fade to something richer and deeper, more opulent and decadent. More fitting for who he is now. The spicy scent of expensive alcohol is both familiar and sickening. 

There’s a new syrupy sweet scent that emerges that meshes so well with the alcohol he almost doesn’t realize it’s there until he takes a second whiff. His eyes widen and he almost chokes on it.

Honey. It’s the sugary sweet scent of honey. 

Even now, he still can’t escape his past.

He picks up on a resinous scent and if the honey made him feel nauseous, then the scent of amber makes him sick to his stomach. All for the Amber Lord. That damned phrase reminds him that he still isn’t free, imprisoned by gold and jewels instead of chains and shackles now. 

The decadence and richness of the top notes have died down and it now smells warm and intimate, like a hug from a loved one. He thinks of his sister and the long nights he’d spent cuddled into her side to stave off the extreme cold. He can’t remember what her voice sounds like anymore, or what she smelled like, or how she even looked. But he remembers how safe, how loved, he felt in her embrace. 

He hates every aspect of the scent. It’s too close for comfort. (Did you enlist the help of a Memokeeper for this?)

 But he loves it at the same time. He’s heard the stories of how your perfumes are stories in their own rights, shifting from one scent to another to evoke foreign yet familiar emotions in the hearts of their wearers. He’s enjoyed all your perfumes so far, but hasn’t found something that really resonated with him up until now. Clearly, he’s underestimated your nose.

You fidget a bit, a little unnerved at his silence. He always has something to say. For him to be silent is so uncharacteristic. 

“So… how is it?”

He continues to stay silent. His chest feels tight and his left hand has subconsciously clenched into a fist behind his back. 

“I’ll take your entire stock.”

The words make it past the lump in his throat and he forces a smile. 

You freeze.

“Sorry?”

“You heard me. I’ll take your entire stock.”

“... It’s still under development though…”

“I don’t care. Just don’t release it to the general public. How much per bottle?”

“The same as the rest of them. 112,000 credits for the full size.” 

To your surprise, he hands his card over without a second word. After a moment of hesitation, you swipe it. The little ding tells you the transaction went through. Most, if not all, of your customers are wealthy. They have to be in order to afford your perfumes. But the top one percent of the one percent… they really are in a different realm. 

“You do subscription services, right?”

Dumbfounded, all you can do is nod. He lets out a satisfied hum.

“Perfect. Sign me up for it.”

Sensing your shock, Yeri graciously takes over for you while you head to the back to process what just happened. This scent was just you messing around! If you did end up selling it, it would’ve only been in limited quantities because of how… unique it smells. Not as unique compared to some of your wares, but niche enough to separate it from your more palatable scents. 

Yet here you are with a man that has already paid for and demanded several bottles… Better get to work then. 

Your shop assistants have already finished processing the transaction and Aventurine is standing outside the store now. He gingerly lifts the bottle out from its packaging and sprays it a few times onto his pulse points. He knows he’s being greedy by hoarding all the bottles and not letting anyone else have it, but he doesn’t care. The delusional side of him thinks there’s no way this fragrance WASN’T crafted for him specifically. The notes, the bottle design, everything. 

Fabric holds scent longer than skin does. His mind drifts to the old rag that was his father’s, safely stored away.

He won’t be able to return home for a long while. But this perfume must be what it’ll feel like when that day finally comes and his time runs out.

PERFUME NOTES (yes I am making a perfume for every character):

TOP NOTES: bergamot, petrichor, sand, sea notes

MIDDLE NOTES: tonka bean, sandalwood, vanilla, rum, bourbon, whiskey

BASE NOTES: honey, amber, skin musk, iso e super

INSPIRATION: Versace Eros, Initio Psychedelic Love, and Initio Side Effect

enjoyed this? the taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[acherontiarchivist]

Hii! So the reader some how, some way, meets our boy Gabe. And they’re really into men with sexy long hair and yummy voices and the reader is just like mmmmm oooooo ahhhhh

And Gabe is just standing there like 🧍“ Bitch, be so fucking fr.”

Hiiiiii, thanks for the ask! I went with a kinda mixture of Gabriel being totally fucking oblivious and also not believing anyone could see him that way. He comes around, though :) thanks for your patience, Anon, and I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

Warnings: people being mean to Gabriel, reader is also kind of an asshole to Gabe ngl, mentions of masturbation, unsolicited flirtation by the reader, mentions of choking kink

Word count: 2.7k, including a bonus teaser ;)

Closing shifts were always your favorite. Your other coworkers hated them with a passion, and always asked to switch your morning shifts with their nights. At first they would give excuses along the lines of having to attend their kids' baseball games or attending family events, but that quickly fell through when you pointed out that they both couldn't possibly be that busy every closing shift.

"OK, You got me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took you this long to protest. You're definitely braver than us." Del was restocking the freezer with novelty ice cream bars as you sent reminder texts to renters informing them of their upcoming due dates and waited for a customer to ring.

"What do you mean? " you replied, smacking on a thick wad of hubba bubba between pauses, "I'm just saying if you guys don't like closing I'm more than happy to talk to the boss about scheduling me for the late shifts."

"You- you like the closing shift?" He seemed too astonished to multitasking, as he'd almost dropped a box onto the floor.

"Yeah, it's pretty easy, and I'm more of a night owl anyway."

"Wait, so you haven't noticed anyone… unusual coming in on your night shifts?" His hands were now too preoccupied on carrying the conversation than work.

"No? Just the same regulars that rent a porno and grab a few beers. They never make any advances on me, and I don't really give a fuck about their purchases." You continued to pay just as much attention as you had been to your work task.

"No, no, that's not what I mean." He shook his head and pointed to you, earning you a slight glance in acknowledgement.

"Well, what do you mean?" What else could he possibly mean?

He sighed, " Well, there's this… guy?" He gestured vaguely, "Eh, that comes in every now and again. He always wears this big ass trench coat, smells like pennies and has this fucked up face."

You turned your head to the side and sucked a bubble inside your cheek, "That's a bit rude."

"Hey, if you saw the guy, you'd agree. Anyway, I don't like him, and he makes Fernanda uncomfortable. Besides, he never buys anything. Just walks in, stares at this section or that, stands there for minutes at a time, and eventually leaves. And he scares other customers away!"

"Have you ever talked to him? Customer service is part of our job, you know."

"Nahhhhh, fuck that." He turned back to his task at hand.

You rolled your eyes, "It would get him out of the store quickly. And make us some money."

"Well, sounds like you can handle him perfectly well yourself. Don't come crying to us when you're stuck with all the night shifts and eventually run into that guy."

"You're so melodramatic. I doubt it's anywhere near as bad as you make it out. Y'all have probably already ran him off with your shit people skills, given that I haven't ran into this guy the entire two weeks I've been here."

"Oh, shit. I hadn't thought of that." He had stopped a moment to think, then looked at you and shrugged.

"No take-backsies. Night shift's mine."

It was another two weeks before you finally saw him enter the store. You had already taken care of clean up and restocking routines as usual and were left with most of your shift to act busy until it was time for closing. This time was perfect for getting a little bit of drawing done between customers, your boss didn't mind as long as you made a few sales throughout the night. You were so focused on your drawing that you hadn't noticed him enter. He was quiet, the only thing that tipped you off to his presence was the smell of pennies that Del had warned you about. When you looked up, he was standing in front of the miniscule horror selection, his back towards you, head almost entirely obscured by a tall standing collar reminiscent of something one might see a villain clad in a noir or giallo film. It took you just a moment to muster up the courage to approach him.

"Can I help you find something today?"

There was a moment of silence, almost as if he were hesitating, then a nearly unnoticeable nod, careful to obscure his face behind his messy dark strands.

You glanced at the titles before you, considering what might fall into his taste. "If you're on the hunt for a horror recommendation, you've found the right person to help." You ignored the fact that you were the one who approached him. After a moment of careful contemplation, you grabbed two movies, one to your left and one you had to excuse yourself to grab in front of him.

"We don't have a huge selection right now, but these are two classic giallo films I think you might find an interest in," you showed him Deep Red and The Bird With The Crystal Plumage. "Oh! Actually, I have one more recommendation from our thrillers."

He observed the covers of each DVD before flipping them over and reading the back as you perused the adjacent aisle.

"Here it is!" You grabbed the movie and brought it to him. "No Country For Old Men is more of a personal favorite," you said, pointing at the 'Employee Picks' poster by the register, "but I have a feeling you'd like it, too."

He studied the back of that case as well. The opportunity to peek at his face while he was distracted was not wasted. Admittedly, he was an individual that oozed mystique. When he caught you staring you tried to deflect with more customer service as an excuse.

"Um, if you like, we have rental versions. So you can watch them all before you commit to buying any." There was no way he hadn't caught you blushing. "I'll just give you a few minutes to think about it," you said, hiding behind the register once again. He was silent approaching the register with the rental copies of the movies you had shown him and through the completion of the transaction.

"The rentals are due on the 25th, you're all good to go."

He nodded and turned for the door.

"See you in two weeks," you smiled, and he was gone.

The next two weeks were uneventful, just you counting down every day until the 25th of the month. In the meantime, you badgered your boss to expand the selection of horror films and thought of what to show him next time he came through. When the day finally came your coworkers noticed how unusually chipper you were, and you brush it off as it being your weekend after today. The night turned late without any sign of him, and you worried that he returned the videos earlier in the day, or on a night you didn't work. Just as you were losing hope and thinking of closing a few minutes early, a call rang the store phone.

"Hello, thank you for calling Marty's Movies and Munchies. How can I help you tonight?"

The voice on the other line was strained and slow at first, deep and raspy in a way you found incredibly sexy. "Are you closed? I need to return some videos. I'm a bit later than I expected to be."

You lean in to the counter, feeling generous enough (and hopeful that he'll come by) to let the sexy-voiced customer in after close. Not like you had plans, anyway. "Nope, you still have about ten minutes 'till doors close, but since you called ahead I'll give you an additional ten minute grace period. Any later than that and you'll have to bring it in tomorrow and pay a small late fee."

"No need, I'm already here."

Before you could question the caller, the ringing of the bell hung above the door caught your attention. Immediately, you recognized the gangly form of the man your coworkers had not-so-affectionately dubbed The Creeper. Your gaze lingered on him, trying to get another glance at his piercing eyes through the curtain of hair that he made sure masked his face. He must have picked up on it and became self conscious, as he pulled his high collar up and sunk further behind its shadow. Odd enough, but you also noticed that he didn't appear to be holding a cell phone.

Feeling particularly brave, and maybe a bit too confident, you leaned over the counter and smiled at him, "So that's what you sound like, huh?"

His posture noticeably stiffened.

"Or is it a voice modulator? Either way, it's kinda sexy."

"Just…return these, will you?" It was quite cute how he would avert his eyes and take half a step back out of embarrassment. You didn't take him for the shy type.

Though he stumbled over every word, you had forgotten the landlines propped between your head and shoulder and the sudden noise in your ear made you jump back. "Yeah, sure thing."

"And," he hesitated for a moment, "I think I would like to purchase my own videos."

"Ok, DVD or blu-ray?" You already had them picked out and waiting for him under the counter, and held them out for him to choose.

"I… don't know the difference."

"You don't know which you have?"

He looked embarrassed and almost shrank right where he stood, "I watch them on my sister's device."

"Well does she have movies like this," you shook the bigger case in your left hand, "or this?" shaking then the smaller blue case.

"Both?" Incredible. You had no idea how anyone could just not know the difference.

"OK, I'm choosing for you," you said, stuffing a plastic shopping bag with blu-ray copies of each film. "You're getting blu-ray. They're better."

"What if I'm wrong? Will a DVD player work with these movies?"

His questions were honestly the most interesting ones you would get from customers, even if just for the sheer unawareness he had demonstrated in... pretty much everything. "Jesus Christ dude. Have you been living under a rock for the past 25 years or something?"

"Something like that," he answered a bit too readily, "And a bit longer."

You blinked and chose to ignore the statement. He was weird, odd looking, brooding, and now, obviously, a bit socially inept. God, he just became more and more your type, and you were dying to score. "Well," you started, "DVD players are the older video player and therefore not backwards compatible, but blu-ray players can play both. If your sister has both kinds of movies, she most likely has a blu-ray player, but," you wrote your number on a notepad kept at the counter and tore the page off, sliding it into the bag with his purchase, "if you have any questions or run into any problems you can call me. I might just let you come over and use mine." You ended with a wink to give it what you hoped was an extra layer of obvious courtship.

"Why would I use your device? I'll just buy my own." He pulled out a loose debit card from the right pocket of his coat and shoved it in your direction expectantly.

You sighed and took his debit card, ignoring your initial glance at the name– certainly not the name he had given for his customer account– then prepared to slide the card through the reader. "God, you are oblivious," you rolled your eyes. "Ok, your total is–"

"Wait," he quickly interrupted, then hesitated for a fraction of a second, "I want to rent another movie."

Of course! You had forgotten the movie you had previously selected for him. "Anything in mind?"

"I trust your judgment."

Your grin couldn't be wider as you grabbed the last rental copy of Possession from your 'Employee Picks' cubby. "You'll love this one. I feel a particular kinship with Isabelle Adjani's character, Anna. I think you'll like her too." With that, you rang up his total and saw him out the door.

By the time he left it was fifteen minutes past closing and you had to rush to finish up routines. You couldn't wait to brag to your coworkers that you had made a big sale to The Creeper. There wasn't much time to revel in your victory and plan your next move, however, because he had returned the following night. As it turns out, you didn't need to. He practically fell right into your lap.

When he entered, you immediately noticed that he walked with much more confidence than before. Ioday, he wore his coat open, and the standing collar limped to the side, putting his face, though still partially obscured by his gangly hair, almost proudly on display. You were so distracted by his drastic change in demeanor that you almost didn't notice him speaking to you.

"I want my own copy of this movie."

"I'm sorry, but we don't have any more for sale. You can always come in and renew your rental every two weeks, though that limits the number of other movies you can–" 

"Order it for me."

"I can't do that, unfortunately, but–"

"Yes? But what?"

You prop your elbow on the counter and rest your head in your palm, looking up at him from just below, "I have my own copy in my personal collection. You can come by and watch it anytime you like."

"Tonight. I'm coming home with you."

You laughed at how forward he was suddenly being, "Sure. I'm closing up in a few minutes," you tossed him your keys. "Wait for me in the car."

A few minutes later, you locked up the store and entered your car, where he sat nervously waiting for you.

Bonus!

You had waited all day for the unknown call with steadily declining patience. It's not that you were annoyed. You were just excited for your weekly visit. Every week the routine was the same: he comes or calls, spends hours with you holed up in your room and leaves you shivering under your sheets, eagerly awaiting his next arrival.

 Your work day crawled by at an agonizing pace, not helped by the slow business this time of year– and in your particular line of retail. The number of customers that came through the small video store could be counted on one hand, and the number that actually made a purchase even less. As usual, most of your shift was spent doodling in your sketchbook. Lately, they would all be little sketches of him. His hair was your favorite thing to draw; the contrasting textures of his wavy, dry hair and bloody wet tangles looping around one another, the cracked leather coat he always wore, drawing special and precise attention to his bright eyes and the exposed muscles of his face. Your sketchbook was littered with countless finished and unfinished pencil and ink sketches alike. Sometimes, you would add a splash of color, usually red or blue.

He never came into the store anymore. Instead, he would pick from your personal collection and give you money for a copy of his own if he really liked the film. Once or twice, you had tried to set up a cute movie marathon date night, but he would often get...  distracted. It was nice, though. Sneaking him in through your window so your roommates didn't freak out and fucking with the lights out and a movie on in the background made you feel like a teenager again. The butterflies he would churn up in your stomach and the heavy feeling in your chest when you thought of him made you absolutely giddy, though you would have a hard time admitting it if pressed.

It wasn't often he would leave you hanging. If he couldn't make it, he would at least call you and let you know ahead of time. At least then you'd know to set time aside to take care of yourself.

Tonight was one such night. No call, no cancel, no sign of him. By the time you would usually have heard from him, you had had enough of waiting and decided to pleasure yourself. Earphones plugged in with your background noise of choice, lube in hand, toy at the ready, you went to work. As you moved your hands over your body, you imagined they were his. Admittedly, only he could tease you the way you really needed it, from with feather-light touches that tickled your inner thighs, to his hands wrapped around your neck in a vice grip; but tonight, your own would have to do. Just the thought of him touching you like that had you crying out his name. It wasn't until you were nearing your peak that your session was interrupted by an incoming call.

You let the phone ring as you stared at the ID on the screen.

UNKNOWN

It had to be him. It always was. You let the call linger for a few more seconds before you finally picked up the line– you just had to tease him a little bit. A few seconds of silence greeted your ears and planted a seed of uncertainty. "Hello?"

Nothing to be heard on the other line. You considered hanging up before the familiar feedback pierced the line. He said nothing at first, leaving you shivering in anticipation.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, or perhaps a dark stifled laugh.

"Starting the show without me, sweetheart? What, no more ten minute grace period for me?"

[jakelandryshorts]

WereCoach

“Oh shit…” Mr. Pritchett muttered.

Jay looked up at his professor with a bit of confusion. Even if he was an adult, he’d never heard the mousey teacher say something with so much confidence. “What?” he quickly asked.

Mr. Pritchett’s eyes were glued to the soon to be night sky. He drew his attention away, just enough to grab his stuff. “I need to go. Sorry.”

“GO!?” Jay jumped out of his chair and ran to the door, blocking Mr. Pritchett’s exit. “What do you mean go? I have a test tomorrow. You said you’d help me tonight.”

“Sorry. Not tonight,” Mr. Pritchett said. He adjusted his glasses and tried to move Jay out of the way. It wasn’t going to happen as the football stud weighed a good 70 or 80 pounds more than the scrawny teacher. And most of that was firm muscle he’d been working on for years.

Jay pushed back. “No. Tonight. I’ve been spending all semester trying to pass. You can’t just ditch me the night before the fucking test.”

“Now boy—” the depth in Mr. Pritchett’s voice shook Jay for a second. He quickly cleared his throat and it returned to normal. “Jay, I’m sorry. Not tonight.”

“Wh-why?” Jay felt himself stammer. The feeling that his teacher’s voice gave him suddenly sent him for a loop. His whole body shook, but there was a different feeling that was accompanying it. His desire to study turned to curiosity with a sprinkle of something he didn’t quite understand. “Is it because you forgot deodorant? Cause I don’t give a fuck. I’m in the locker room all the time. This is nothing.”

“Boy…” Mr. Pritchett growled. The timbre of his voice returned. A striking and powerful sound that made the jock instantly stand up straight. He fought off the urge, to smile but one was still cracking through the side of his face. Mr. Pritchett could feel a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face. “Damn it boy…”

“Sir?” Jay squeaked out.

The crack of a smile turned into a full on one as Mr. Pritchett sat down on the table. He spread legs wide, with a foot resting on a chair. “Sir… I like that. Didn’t think a punk like you’d use it though. Heh,” he laughed. “Not that I’m complaining.” Mr. Pritchett’s soft facial features started to shift. Hair started to fill out around his face while his facial features started to widen.

He started to undo the buttons of his navy dress shirt and then took off his pants. “Holy shit…” Jay stared blankly. “When’d you get so buff!” A glare from Mr. Pritchett made him quickly add. “Sir.”

Mr. Pritchett snorted a laugh. “Always have been,” he answered flexing his arm. His bicep was rapidly growing. It had been almost none existent even minutes ago, but now it looked like it was about the size of a baseball. Every second even more and more muscle pumped into it. It was growing past the size of a soft ball and then some. Bulk started to appear on the lean mass only making it look larger.

Jay’s mouth continued to hang open as the rest Mr. Pritchett’s scrawny body was rapidly filling out. Muscle and size just kept packing onto his lean body. Two hefty pecs pushed out in front of him. He had a nice solid belly that strong men had. His legs bulked up significantly, making his khakis near impossible to wear. Thick meaty legs ran down to the floor.

Hair erupted from every part of his body. It ran up and down his large hefty frame covering near every inch of him. A thin layer of sweat coated the hair, making it cling more to his body but also drawing out a natural musky smell. He smiled as he ran his thick hand up his hairy belly and let out a big yawn.

“Damn…” Mr. Pritchett reached for the sky. “Always feels damn good.” Every part of his body began to stretch to new heights. As he stood back up, he was now looking down at Jay instead of up. “Eh?” he looked at Jay as though he’d seen him for the first time. A devious smile crossed his face.

“Mr-Mr. Pritchett?” the jock asked.

“Heh-heh,” the man laughed. “Coach Pritchett. When a werejock becomes a teacher, they become a werecoach. But you can call me sir.”

“Yes sir,” Jay quickly nodded.

“Good man,” Coach’s hand gripped Jay’s shoulder and gave it a light shake. “That damned teacher always locks me up. For some reason he’s all embarrassed of me and the only guy I ever get ta see are those scrawny nerdy ones. But damn… You’re a pretty good specimen. Drop and give me fifty.”

Jay felt a compulsion to drop to the floor and pump out the fifty pushups. “S-sir?”

“You heard me,” Coach growled. Instantly Jay fell to the floor and started pumping them out. “Count them out.” Jay did as he was told. Coach watched as the jock continued through the exercise without much difficulty at all. “You’re a good strong jock, aintcha?”

“Yes sir,” Jay chanted.

“Let me see.”

Jay stripped off his shirt and dropped his shorts around his ankles. Coach put a thumb to his beard, observing the other man. “Hmmm…” A sudden feeling of self-consciousness overtook Jay as Coach started to observe him. He’d been taking it a bit lighter in the gym lately because of all the studying. Would Coach be mad?

“You’ve been slacking…” Coach grumbled.

“I—”

“No excuses,” Coach instantly shut the jock up. His back straightened as he did so. “Heh-heh,” Coach chuckled. “You like doing what I tell you?”

“Sir?” Jay felt his head tilt a bit. Never in his life had any one considered him to be submissive. But no matter what the coach said, he felt like he should do it. Almost like his body was naturally reacting to the other man’s authority.

“C’mon boy. No need to lie,” one of Coach’s big hands reached down Jay’s shorts and gripped his hard cock. The light squeeze and stroke. His firm hand slid gently over Jay’s shaft, drawing a soft moan out of the jock. Jay’s body jerked slightly at the feeling. He couldn’t help it as pleasure shot through his body.

So much so that his mouth hung open. Coach took it as an invitation and locked their mouths together. Jay found the other man’s tongue in his mouth but relaxed. Feeling the bigger man’s hands drape over his back and slide down his muscles was overly relaxing and stimulating. Almost like a tickle that he didn’t want to end.

Jay didn’t even notice as his shirt was removed from his body or his shorts dropped to his ankles. But he did notice as Coach stopped the kiss. The soft prickles of Coach’s beard drew him back in but Coach was quick to stop him. “Sir?” he whined.

It only drew a cocky smirk out of the older man. “First things first. We have to talk about your training. I ain’t going to be treatin some slouch. You got that?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now we have to talk about you getting bigger. You really need to be pushing yourself in the gym. Making sure each workout really hones in on each group. So you can get bigger here,” his hands rested on the jocks shoulders, then slid down over his arms. “Here.” Those big hands grabbed Jay by the waist and landed firmly on his ass. “Here. And most importantly,” One of his fingers slid against Jay’s hole, “here.”

It pushed inside drawing out the most pathetic whimper out of the jock. Jay’s body instinctively leaned into Coach and his hands clasped at the bigger man’s body. His head nuzzled into Coach’s burly pecs. Jay gripped Coach’s sides squeezing as more of Coach’s finger pushed inside. He gasped at the feeling of his body being invaded. He couldn’t believe how good it felt. A sudden tickle worming around on his insides as he buried himself into the wall of a man in front of him.

Not to mention that rustic manly smell that was invading his nose. He’d known it all his life, yet from coach he couldn’t get enough of it. He took a deep breath whenever he got a chance, moving closer to Coach’s smelly pits. His tongue lolled out as he gave the sweaty pit a lick. All the while Jay’s cock throbbed with excitement.

There were too many pleasing senses bombarding him at once. He couldn’t focus on just one of them. The salty sweat. The strong man to hold onto. The feeling of his ass being opened up. His body jerked and he didn’t even realize that he’d finished. A sudden euphoria overtook Jay as fell limp in the other man’s arms.

“Sorry sir…” Jay apologized.

“No need to be sorry,” Coach smirked. “You’re just beginning your training. And we still have a long night ahead of us.” He sat back on the table and grabbed at his package. The stained tightie whities were true to their name as the bulge seemed to push the stretchy fabric pretty far. However, all Jay could think was how much he wanted to please his Coach.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Mr. Pritchett woke up the next morning to find Jay in his arms. As soon as the grogginess of the night wore off, he was quick to realize what had happened. “Oh shit! Oh shit!” he repeated.

Jay slowly drifted out of his slumber to see the scrawny teacher grabbing his clothes and trying to put them back on. “What’s wrong sir?” Jay felt the word slip out. He didn’t like how it sounded. “What’s wrong sir?” he repeated. It was supposed to be ‘what the fuck?!’ but nothing else would come out. And his anger kept returning to the submissive version of him the night before.

Slowly, Mr. Pritchett turned back to the college student. “Sir? Since when do you call me sir?”

“Uhh…” Jay felt a bit embarrassed. Memories of last night were starting to come back to him. More embarrassing was the lack of pants and his dick growing hard again. Every time he looked at his teacher he had the urge to please him.

“You met Coach. Huh?” Mr. Pritchett asked. Jay gave a soft nod but couldn’t help but smile. “Well… Damn it.”

“No. Not damn it,” Jay quickly stood up. His dick pointed at his teacher. “Sorry…” he didn’t do anything to cover up though. “It was fun. And well… Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

“Again?” Mr. Pritchett looked at the man and smiled. “We’ll you do need a lot of help studying. Why not?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

more stories over on my wordpress

[likesdoodling]

It's Dazai! Underwater!

Ye.

I have started a 30 day art challenge,

(a fanart one, because why not)

This is technically day three since I realised I had unwittingly done the first two days, (a sad character, and drawing a character with glasses) just this last week. Which I thought was kind of funny,

ANywaY

The prompt for this was 'draw a character underwater'

I reckon Dazai just fits for this one honestly.

It also looks better than I anticipated,

(if you look up coats in the wind then you get a lot of really helpful reference. Pinterest is a lifesaver)

I was planning on doing this earlier... Like, at the start of the month, but eh. Better late than never.

[quibbs126]

Helooooo, can I have espressoline fankid

All right, this is Opera Madeleine Cookie

Fun fact, technically this isn’t the only or first person to request Espresso/Madeleine, as someone else commented a request on the original post I made asking for requests. I believe the name was @cerulaenfunkz. It’s actually listed as my third request, but I guess I just never got around to it. I was originally trying to make it, but I was having so much difficulty figuring out what to do that I just went on to other ones, and I guess it just went to the back of my head. So yeah, of all the fankids, this is probably the longest time coming

Anyways, so Opera Madeleine is named after opera cake, because it’s a cake with coffee in it, but I changed the “cake” to “madeleine” since she’s part of House Madeleine, similar to Choco Madeleine’s name. Also I just think it sounds better

The original name I gave her way back when was Coffee Cake, but I didn’t like that and when I eventually discovered opera cake, I changed it

Opera cake:

I’ve already made my design struggles with her known, basically in that, I had the hair, hairpieces and gloves down, and I like those bits, but wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of her. And to be honest, I like the scarf and boots, but I kind of flubbed with the coat. I thought she’d look cool with a coat, but I also wanted to show off the boots, so I made it high up, and I don’t think it worked all that well. Not to mention I don’t really know what her upper half looks like, as you can see with the admittedly pretty bad sketch

You know what, I may just go back and edit her later to make her coat look better, it’s just bugging me

Edit: I did do that

Originally I gave her blue eyes like Madeleine, but I changed it to pink so she’d look closer to Espresso. Also because I wanted more brown/warm tones, but didn’t want to give up her blue outfit color scheme

All in all, I liked most of drawing her, but I flubbed the last bit and it looks kind of eh. I just didn’t know what to do for it, but I didn’t want to keep her in development hell for eternity and I wanted to do her hair, so I just went with something

Anyways, let’s get on to her

So Opera Madeleine is the heir to House Madeleine, however she is not a Paladin like her father Madeleine and instead chooses to use coffee magic like Espresso. However she still follows Madeleine in that she’s a warrior, she just prefers to use magic instead of a weapon. Granted I’m sure Madeleine still taught her to wield one just in case. And also she’s good at hand to hand combat

Chances are she went to school in Parfaedia, given they have a whole school for magic and from what I can gather, Espresso once went there himself

Unlike Madeleine she’s more of a no nonsense kind of person who’s more focused on her duties as a warrior. Not saying Madeleine doesn’t care about being a warrior, she’s just not as…prideful as him, not caring much about appearance. However one thing she refuses to publicly admit is that she takes great pride in her hair and goes through great lengths to keep it as pristine as possible. But that is the only thing

She’s a hard worker, but not as much of a workaholic as Espresso, as she doesn’t have nearly as much coffee in her dough to maintain that lifestyle. Also Madeleine made sure that she didn’t follow in his footsteps

I feel like I’ve talked a lot about Madeleine but little about Espresso. I imagine the two talk about coffee magic and such, but due to her differing interests in careers, she probably spends more time around Madeleine

I imagine when she was younger, Madeleine just showered her with adoration and tried to be a loving father. But if you asked her which of her parents was the coolest, she would say Espresso, much to Madeleine’s dismay (more like he gets moody that he’s not the favorite more than anything). She’d probably learn combat with Madeleine, but would also just wander off to find Espresso and just watch him do his work for hours on end, quietly sitting in his lab

Hmm, I think that’s all I have to say on her. I wasn’t expecting to write that much to be honest. But yeah, hope you like her

Edit: so as said earlier, she’s been edited, and this is the original if you’re curious

[shadofiredragon]

Legends Never Die

{ Big shout out and thank you to my dear friend @000marie198 for beta reading and taking part in editing! Grammar mistakes are real guys }

Part 1 ~ Immortal Escape

Chapter 2 - Undercover Immortal

The fox felt something pull at his attention, a sensation that felt both familiar and foreign. His ear twitched towards where the strange energy seemed to be coming from and was about to turn around out of curiosity when Kant, the timber wolf, clapped him on the shoulder.

“You're a hoot, Kit! Are you this funny in sparring?" The wolf gave a crooked grin.

Kit's ears corrected themselves and he shook off the warm pull that had caught his attention, chiding himself for being so easily distracted.

He cracked a smile, forcing himself, with some level of disgust, to match the haughty expression of his comrade.

"Well, why don't we spar sometime and you can find out?"

"Oh-ho! That sounds like a challenge!"

The other two mobians, a rusty brown squirrel and a black and white raccoon, clapped his shoulders with their hands.

"Rookie wants a fight, eh?" the raccoon laughed, the squirrel joining in with some amused chuckles.

"Hey, I might be new here but I've had plenty of experience elsewhere," Kit warned them playfully.

"Alright, then how about a sparring match tomorrow?" Kant grinned.

Kit's smile disappeared for a second, his feet shuffling nervously.

"Well, I'm not sure about that... I might be relocated again tomorrow."

Kant scoffed and the other two mobians groaned.

"C'mon, Kit, do you really move around that much? You only got here a couple weeks ago!"

"Hey, it's not my fault our superiors find my skills adaptable to all our locations," Kit said, smirking.

"Oh you're so full of yourself, Kit," the raccoon mumbled, rolling his eyes.

The squirrel looked at him curiously, "What kind of person do they move around so much? What kind of skills could possibly have you being relocated so much?"

Kit shrugged his shoulders with a sigh, "Sorry guys, top secret information there. And I'm pretty sure you don't have the clearance."

"Hardy har har," Kant replied sarcastically while the raccoon snorted his amusement.

Kant continued, "Fine. You're busy. How about tonight instead?"

This also caused Kit to pause, considering. He would have preferred to complete his mission in the evening and leave before lights out. He'd already been there for so long, he was looking forward to finally going back home...

I guess I could use another night to properly prepare... If I get too hasty, I might miss something, and that would only make things more dangerous for us down the road. He thought.

Trying not to show his reluctance he shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Kant grinned, his shining white canines flashing in the light as he slugged Kit in the shoulder.

"That's what I'm talking about! Let's hear it for Kit, finally stepping up and taking on an actual challenge!"

The two other Mobians hooted and cheered, turning some civilian eyes to them.

Kit laughed at their antics, joining in with the rowdy whooping as they continued back to base. But inside, the unruly antics only made him feel bitter.

~•~•~•~

Kit rotated his arm, stretching the sore limb as he walked through the long hallway that led to the living quarters. Sweat still coated his ruddy orange-brown fur, and he probably would have had some bruises if his body wasn't used to years of close combat.

He'd just finished his sparring match with Kant. The wolf had been declared the winner after Kit had submitted mid-fight, and the two canines had shaken hands afterwards in respect for one another.

Of course, Kit had to let him win. He had previously decided against sending the wolf yelping with his tail between his legs, though, in all fairness, he very well could have. Even though it felt weird not being able to use the full extent of his skill and experience, he really didn't want to draw more attention to himself than was necessary. He wanted to be present, but not memorable. And from what he could gather, beating the wolf in combat would've been a very memorable moment.

The crowd of over fifty other soldiers gathering for the fight was a testament to that fact.

In any case, he was ready for bed. It wasn't lights out yet, but if he was going to complete his initiative in the morning he needed some good rest tonight. He also needed to let the others know he was going to be a little later than planned.

Quickening his steps he reached a corridor lined by doors, each with a numbered plaque nailed to the front. Upon reaching door number 207 he pulled a card from his uniform vest pocket and pressed its face to the black scanner next to the door handle. It beeped twice before a green light blinked, followed by a large click as the door unlocked.

Tucking the card back into his pocket he twisted the handle and stepped into the room.

An overhead light instantly blinked on at his entering, illuminating one bed on the farthest wall, a sink and mirror to his right and a desk with drawers to his left.

It was a humble living quarters, but he didn't complain. Most facilities only had such accommodations ready since he would arrive without any warning, giving the agency little time to prepare.

And soon I'll be leaving again.

He tried to find comfort in that fact, letting his mind muse over what he'd possibly come home too as he stripped himself of his uniform.

‘He's probably torn the whole lair apart by now.’

He chuckled to himself, sliding off all but his gloves and socks and folding them over the back of his desk chair. He glanced in the mirror, baring his fangs to make sure he hadn't gotten any food stuck in them. He nodded in satisfaction when he found none.

He resisted the urge to look more closely at the rest of his appearance and his light blue eyes.

Striding over to his cot he plopped down onto the covers and reached into his pillowcase, pulling out a small black device that he carefully lodged into his ear. He tapped the device until it beeped once, signaling that it had activated and had made connection.

"Kit to base," he whispered, looking up at the wall as his tail swished behind him, "Anyone there?"

There was a long silence before a robotic voice replied.

"Affirmative. My systems are picking up your message with complete clarity."

The fox felt a smile pull at his muzzle.

"Hey, 'Mega."

"Have you completed your initiative?"

The smile left. "No. Not yet."

"Is there reason for the delay?"

"Not really. I just needed time to get some of the others off my back." Kit hesitated, before lowering his voice, "Is, he there..?"

A moment of silence.

"He grew impatient, again, and has taken to resting in his quarters until further notice."

Kit couldn't help feeling disappointed.

"Would you like me to awaken him?"

Kit sighed. "No, let him rest. I won't be doing anything tonight, so might as well leave him be."

"I do have one inquiry..."

Kit turned over onto his back, one hand tucking under his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Inquire away."

"If you do not plan on completing the mission tonight, when exactly are you going to go through with it?"

"Tomorrow morning," Kit replied frankly, reaching up with one hand and twisting his fingers in an attempt to amuse himself, "I'm getting up earlier, so less of the base will be active. It'll also give me some time to set everything in place."

There was another pause, and Kit could practically hear Omega's whirring processor.

"Hey, 'Mega? Could you make sure that I wake up in time? 3:30 please. I'll keep the ear piece in while I sleep so I can hear you."

"Do you not trust yourself to wake at the desired time?"

Kit felt his muzzle begin to twitch up to a smile. "Organic creatures aren't as efficient at timekeeping as machines."

"Very well. I will have him wake you when it is time for you to arise."

A warm grin came across his muzzle. How a machine was able to read his mind was beyond him, but he was grateful for it.

"Thank you."

"Your gratitude is unnecessary, but accepted."

Kit chuckled, a comforting, happy feeling that was so different from the laughter he shared with the brutes who called themselves guardians.

There was a long pause in which Kit could tell the A.I. across the comm was thinking.

"Something wrong?"

"Negative. I was simply wondering..."

Kit tilted his head. "Yes?"

"Do you think... You will be able to locate him this time..?" The robotic voice quieted as it spoke, as if nervous to really be asking.

Kit's expression grew solemn.

"I don't know... I hope so.”

"Do you think a machine, such as I, can feel hope as well..?"

This question took Kit aback a bit, but he softened at the A.I.'s uncharacteristic timidness.

"Yes, I think so."

The robot took a second to process this before responding.

"Good. Because if not I would have asked you to run diagnostics on me and check for viruses upon your return."

Kit snorted in amusement at the A.I.'s brash logic.

"I don't think that's necessary."

"No. I suppose not. This hope... I enjoy the feeling it evokes in my programming."

"Then why would you want me to erase it in the first place?"

"Because any threat must be eliminated. And if it would cause me to turn on you then it should be removed with haste."

The seriousness of Omega's robotic tone made Kit wince.

"Don't worry. That won't happen."

"The sentiment is foolish, but appreciated."

Kit chuckled, rubbing his eyes with a yawn before rolling onto his side.

"Okay, I need to get some rest now. Just thought I would update you both that I'll be heading back later than expected."

"Affirmative. Enjoy pleasant renditions of your imagination during your time of rest."

"You too, pal."

"I am unable to conjure dreams since I do not own a subconscious."

"Good night Omega."

A short pause before, "Good night."

Silence descended upon him and he clapped his hands once. The light overhead obediently flicked off, plunging him into darkness. Shifting his weight off the covers, he draped them over his slightly sore body and quickly drifted off to sleep.

~•~•~•~

Knuckles walked in through our front door. As usual, my brother and I greeted him with warm smiles, Sonic patting him on the shoulder while I gave a simple fist bump.

"What brings you down to the humble surface of Mobius, Knuckles?" Sonic teased the echidna. "Got tired of waking up on your magical island paradise every day?"

Knuckles huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "No, I did not. And I've actually been 'down' for a while now, thank you very much."

This caught my attention and I tilted my head curiously at him. "Really? Then, who's guarding the Master Emerald?"

Knuckles waved his mittened hand dismissively. "No one. And for security reasons, I'm not telling you where I hid it."

Sonic and I exchanged glances, his green eyes looked at me with amusement and I shook my head, unable to keep the smile from my face.

"But I didn't come here to talk about my duties as the guardian," Knuckles said, his face growing serious, "There's, something I found out... That I need to tell you..."

His violet eyes flicked between me and Sonic, our expressions growing confused.

"It might be a bit crazy to hear- but as your friend, I feel it's my duty to tell you what I've found. And, Tails..?"

His eyes locked with mine, and the deep sadness I saw there made me feel frightened.

"I don't know if you'll like it."

I swallowed hard. Sonic took Knuckles by the arm and led him into the living room, prompting me to follow.

"Here, Knuckles, how about we sit down a sec?"

The Echidna didn't resist, solemnly taking a seat on the longer couch with Sonic taking a spot next to him. The hedgehog’s emerald eyes scanned the echidna with concern.

"Are you sick or somethin'?"

The echidna sighed, looking down at the floor between his shoes.

"No, I'm not sick."

His gaze came up to meet mine, and I'm sure he could see my confusion and worry.

"Tails, what do you know about your parents? Or any of your ancestors?"

I sucked in a breath and I saw Sonic stiffen at the question, no doubt for my sake more than his own.

"Nothing," I answered honestly, trying hard to ignore the ache in my heart and reminding myself that I'd found my true family. I didn't need my blood relatives. Not while I had my friends and, technically, brother by my side. "I don't remember anything about my parents and if I did have any other relatives, they didn't make themselves known."

Knuckles' expression darkened, only filling me with more worry.

"Tails... I know this is going to sound crazy, but about a month ago I was... conversing, with the Master Emerald."

"Talking to yourself," Sonic coughed under his breath, earning a glare from the echidna. But the joke did make me feel better, breaking the suffocating seriousness of it all with a chuckle.

"Anyway," Knuckles growled, ignoring Sonic's tease, "While I was tending to it, I had a vision. It was confusing at first, kinda like a dream where you can't clearly see what's going on, but you just have this feeling that thing's are happening..? But it showed me something... Something about you..."

Even Sonic had leaned forward in his seat, brow furrowed.

"And?" He questioned.

"Tails." Knuckles' expression was so serious, so pitying, I could hardly handle the suspense.

"I think you’re a... Kitsune."

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. At first I was confused. But then all the retellings of legends and myths that Sonic collected from across the world came flooding back.

Kitsune. A mystical being rooted in eastern culture. Often possessing great power, and revered for their cleverness.

Most commonly identified as a multi-tailed fox.

I shot up from the chair, my confusion turning to cold blooded shock.

"No.” I shook my head, "No, you're wrong!"

On top of that, how dare Knuckles make jokes about me like that?! I felt my shock turn into anger. "And it's not funny to make jokes like that!"

Knuckles stood from his seated position, extending his hands apologetically.

"I'm not joking, Tails... I did some research, and it all matches with what the Master Emerald showed me."

My tails lashed behind me as I glared into the echidna's solemn violet eyes.

He was serious.

A sick feeling spread through my chest, poisoning my stomach with dread. It couldn't be true... It just couldn't...

I looked to Sonic for help, my angry blue eyes pleading for him to say something, to stand up and tell Knuckles that he was wrong. To tell the echidna to apologize for even thinking up such a cruel joke.

But Sonic wasn't looking at me. His emerald eyes were distant and I'd never seen his expression so thoughtful.

"Sonic?"

His emerald eyes looked up at me, but now they held the same heaviness that I had seen in Knuckles'.

Tears burned under my eyelids as I stared at him, begging for him to affirm the denial in my heart.

"Tell him he's wrong!"

Sonic opened his mouth and I felt my hope rise.

That's right. My brother was going to tell Knuckles that everything he was saying was false. I couldn't be a Kitsune! What a ridiculous idea!

But then the hedgehog's mouth closed again, and he looked away.

He looked away.

I staggered back, hitting the edge of the chair with my leg. But I didn't care.

My head swam, tears blurring my vision and I clenched my fists.

"No. No! I don't believe you! It's not true!" I shouted at them, "You're lying!"

Sonic stood up now, taking a step towards me.

"Tails-"

"Don't, Sonic!" I snapped, "How can you agree with this?! Kitsune aren't real! They're just legends!"

"Come on, buddy, just hear him out," Sonic pleaded.

I shook my head, taking another step back.

"No! I won't listen to lies! I don't want to listen to either of you until you tell me the truth!"

I spun around and ran upstairs, furiously taking the steps two at a time. Tears had begun to stream down my cheeks and even more fell when I heard Sonic's voice call out desperately behind me.

"Tails!"

But I ignored him. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear any of it.

My heart thudded in my ears and my head felt dizzy. I ran to my room and slammed the door shut behind me, making sure it was loud enough for the both of them to hear.

Once in my room, I couldn't help it. I slid down the door, unable to hold back the tears. A sob choked me, the tears running hot down my muzzle.

I never felt so scared, confused, and angry all at once. I wanted to feel betrayed, Sonic was supposed to be my brother! Why didn't he stand up to Knuckles and talk him out of all this nonsense?!

But I couldn't. Because I didn't have to think too hard about it to know that what Knuckles had said was true.

I didn't want it too, I didn't want all the pieces to fit, and I hated that they did...

Another sob racked my body, as I pressed myself to the door.

"No, it can't be real. I have to be dreaming. This is a nightmare. It's not real. It's not real."

All the stories Sonic had told me came rushing back to my mind. It was customary for him to share bits of interesting folklore from different cultures with me and now everything he'd told me about Kitsune clouded my mind.

Many Kitsune possess a variety of powers, such as flight, shape shifting, and illusion.

A whimper tightened in my chest.

Kitsune are identified by their multiple tails, which showcase their power and ranking among other Kitsune.

I tucked my dual tails closer to my body, clutching them as I sobbed into their soft fur.

The most powerful of this creature is a nine-tailed Kitsune, which is rumored to be so powerful, that the whole world cannot provide enough energy necessary to satiate it.

I pushed my hands over my ears, as if doing that would be enough to stop the thoughts from continuing.

A Kitsune gains a new tail for every 100 years of its life, though some Kitsune have been known to be granted an extra tail as a reward for noble deeds.

I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to think about it-!

Because of this, Kitsune are considered immortal. Reaching full power and maturity at 900 years.

I screamed against the thought, trying desperately to blot it out. I stood up from my sitting position, shaking my head and shouting denial.

"It's not true! It's not true! It's not-" a sob hiccuped from my throat, cutting me off.

I desperately wanted comfort, for something or someone to reassure me that it wasn't real, that it was all just a sick joke, and that everything would go back to normal. But I couldn't face either of the two who could do that. So I ran for the next best thing.

Crashing onto my bed I curled onto my side, snatching up my pillow and hugging it to my chest as I sobbed, desperately willing the thoughts to go away with little success.

Eventually my tears ran out and my cries subsided, leaving a dull emptiness in my chest. I curled tighter around the pillow, wrapping my tails around myself and pressing my eyes closed.

I don't know how long I laid there, feeling lost and hopeless. And I didn't know how it had happened, but I had somehow accepted what Knuckles had said.

Sometimes it's a curse to be clever...

I heard the door handle click followed by a small creak, but I remained unmoving, not even twitching an ear towards the sound.

"Tails..?"

The sound of my brother's voice sent a jolt of grief through my body and I clutched the pillow tighter, more tears threatening to unleash themselves.

He didn't move for a moment, allowing a moment of silence to settle between us, before I heard his gentle steps enter the room and approach my bed. I didn't turn to him, pinning my ears tighter to my head and pushing my muzzle farther into my pillow, making myself as small as possible.

I felt his weight bend the mattress behind me, but I couldn't face him. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Not because of how betrayed I had felt earlier, but because of how ashamed and lonely I felt now.

A gentle hand rested on my arm.

"Hey, bud. I know you're upset... but-"

"I don't want to talk right now..." I managed to squeak out.

Sonic paused, before I felt the mattress move beneath me once again.

"Okay. We don't have to talk."

His shifting stopped and I could feel his presence sitting on the bed behind me, most likely hunched against the headboard.

"Let's just sit here a bit..." He whispered, his hand remaining on my arm.

My breaths shuddered in and out as I struggled not to cry. Just having him there made me feel a bit more comforted. And yet, at the same time, Sonic's presence only deepened the gaping hole in my heart.

I couldn't help it when I turned around to finally face him. Releasing my pillow, I propped myself up on the bed and looked up at my brother, who returned my gaze with a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," I croaked back.

His bright emerald eyes held nothing but kindness and understanding as they stared into mine.

Suddenly the tears rushed back and I couldn't stop myself from breaking down again. Only this time, I curled against Sonic's side, crying into his peachy fur.

He wrapped his arms around me, hushing me and stroking my back in slow, soothing movements.

"Hey, hey don't cry. It's okay. I know that was a bit of a shock down there..."

Understatement of the century...

"And I already talked to Knuckles, about how discretion can be a virtue..."

I nuzzled closer to my brother, feeling his ever present aura of warmth and safety steady my shaky breaths and slow my tears.

Sonic tilted his head to look down at me, a gesture I wasn't quite willing to return yet. He didn't seem to care though.

"But really, being Kitsune isn't something to cry over."

I could hear the smile in his voice, trying to help me feel better.

"I mean, it's not like they're something hideous, like a golem or a troll," he mused, and I felt a weak smile pull up the corner of my muzzle.

He continued, "I mean, come on, a Kitsune? They have all sorts of cool powers! No clue what they all could be- but shape shifting is one right? How cool would that be! Think of all the pranks you could get away with!" His voice grew more excited, and I could tell that he was trying to get me excited about it too.

It was almost working.

Sonic whistled to himself in wonder, "And to think. I get to say that my brother is a Kitsune of legend! Forget hero of Mobius- I get the title of, 'Bro to Ultra Awesome Fox Boy'!"

I laughed weakly at his joke, and he seemed to like that. His positive energy emanating from him in stronger waves.

My smile disappeared. Was that how I could feel Sonic's energy..? Because I was Kitsune..?

"Yeah, that'll be a neat headline," Sonic grinned, unaware of my troubling thoughts.

There was a comfortable silence that settled between us before I finally worked up the courage to say what was eating me away on the inside.

"Sonic..?" I rasped.

He looked down at me.

"Yeah, bud?"

I fisted my hand against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

I hesitated to say it. The idea too horrible.

"Will..." My eyes were transfixed on his rising and falling chest, tears blurring my vision once again, "Will I have to watch you die..?"

A sharp inhale filled his lungs, raising his chest under my fist abnormally quick. The feeling made my heart hurt and more tears rushed to the edges of my eyes.

"Will I outlive all our friends..?" My voice cracked, and a tear broke loose, trailing down the side of my muzzle.

Peachy arms wrapped around me, pulling me tighter to their owner as Sonic rested his chin on my head. I allowed his radiant energy to wash over me, snuggling closer to him with a sniff. My ear was pressed against his chest and I couldn't help but listen to the strong, speedy beat of his heart, treasuring its liveliness.

"I don't know, buddy," Sonic whispered.

I couldn't ever remember hearing him sound so sad.

"I don't want to..." I whimpered, pressing myself as close to him and his warmth as I could.

Sonic didn't answer for a while. And that was okay. I just wanted him to hold me. To be there.

"Tails," he finally whispered, his tone sounding serious, but I could detect the pain behind it, "Maybe... Maybe you, or I, should talk to Shadow."

I jolted, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"What? Why?"

Sonic averted his gaze.

"Because, maybe he can give you some advice... If you're really..."

I could hardly believe my ears.

Sonic sucked in a breath, tilting his head up towards the ceiling and smiling weakly.

"He'll be able to take care of you. After I'm..."

I shook my head vigorously.

"No, don't say that. No one could ever replace you!"

Sonic looked back down at me and I couldn't help but marvel at the spark retained in his emerald eyes. How could he still be so hopeful? So himself?

"He wouldn't be replacing me, Tails. You'll always be my main man and little brother!But," a somber smile came across his muzzle, "You'll need someone to keep you company. It'll be good for him too, I think." Sonic mused over the idea.

But my stomach only churned with bitterness and a resurgence of denial.

"Knuckles could be wrong," I said, holding onto the rebellion that reared up inside my chest, "He could've misinterpreted what the Master Emerald was trying to say, or maybe's he's just jumping to conclusions again-"

"I think we both know he's not," Sonic said, squashing my hopes as quickly as they'd dared return, "I always sensed there was something different about you. And as you've gotten older, that feeling has only grown stronger."

I ducked my head in defeat. I knew what he was saying was true. Deep down, it felt right. It made sense.

Sonic continued, his smile still on his muzzle,  "It's not a bad thing, Tails, and I don't want you to be mad about it. If you're Kitsune, then that's what you are. Sure it's gonna be different from what you expected, but you can use that to make a difference. Even after I'm gone, you can keep making a difference! You can change things and help people, you can continue living life and using that clever head of yours to make this world a better place for everyone!"

My tails twisted behind me, uncertain.

"But... What about you..?"

Sonic's smile faltered. Only for a moment.

"Don't worry about me, little bro. I'll keep living my life to the fullest, right alongside you, for as long as I can."

"Maybe, maybe I can figure out a way to-"

He cut me off, "Tails, no. We can't interfere with nature. As much as we'd like too. I promise, that as long as there's some fight in me, I'll always keep on running. But as much as I hate to say it... Even I can't live forever."

Tears were filling my eyes again, my chest aching with an oncoming sob.

"Hey, Tails..."

The deep voice startled me, both Sonic and I sharply turned our heads towards the voice. Knuckles was standing in the doorway, an awkward expression on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

He opened his mouth, but his voice sounded hazy.

"Tails..?"

I tried to listen closer, but it felt as though all the sound had been sucked out of the room. I looked to Sonic and I watched his mouth open as if to speak.

"You awake?"

The voices weren't making sense. What was going on?

"Tails??"

I looked around, everything was beginning to fade as the voice grew more clear.

"Hey! It's time to wake up!"

~•~•~•~

Kit awoke to a voice speaking directly into his ear. He groaned at the jarring sensation of being so awkwardly pulled from the dream world and into reality.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, turning over onto his other side and pulling the rough covers further over his head.

An amused chuckle came from the device he'd left lodged in his ear over night.

"No can do! You wanted an alarm you got an alarm! Now- Up and at 'em!"

Kit let out another groan, this time to make his annoyance audible to the person on the receiver as he threw the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He blinked his eyes blearily, trying to get them to clear.

"Come on! Today's the day we'll finally find something! I can feel it."

"That's what you say every time," Kit, or rather Tails, muttered, rubbing his eyes and squinting ahead, trying to get his eyes to work.

"Well someone's a pessimist today. What happened, did you wake up on the left side of the bed?"

"I woke up with a very, very loud voice in my ear," he grumbled, standing up. His vision had begun to clear, and his keen eyes had already begun to adjust to their dark surroundings.

"If I'm really such a pain in the morning, why'd Omega tell me you wanted me to wake you up?"

Tails could hear the smirk across the comm.

"Maybe because, as obnoxious as it is, it's still better then an online audio recording of an air horn playing on repeat?" He answered, clapping once to turn the light on and recoiling as the sudden light burned his retina.

"Still better than the air horn. Can't be that bad then!" The voice joked.

Tails laughed weakly, still rubbing his stinging eyes.

"So! You awake yet?"

"Yes I'm awake," Tails answered, finally opening his now adjusted eyes.

"Good! You ready then?"

"Well give me time to get in uniform." Tails grunted, grabbing the uniform off the back of his chair and working to slip the shirt and pants on.

"Make sure you're still in character while you're at it," the voice nonchalantly reminded, "You sometimes lose it while you sleep."

Tails paused with pants halfway up and glanced at the mirror. Sky blue eyes stared back at him, clear and bright. His brown fur from last night was gone, replaced by fur with a vibrant, golden hue.

He let out a sharp sigh in frustration.

"You lost it didn't you?" The voice was unbearably smug.

"No, I didn't," Tails protested, quickly focusing on his appearance, watching in the mirror as his body changed back to the fox from the night before. In only a few moments, he was Kit again. His attention then went back to the pants. "I'm just having trouble with the pants."

"Ugh."

Tails could practically hear the shudder over the comm.

"Pants... See? This is just more proof that this organization is no good. Mobians wearing pants. Pure evil..."

Tails rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling at the voice's dramatic over-exaggerations.

"Oh sure, forget the fact that they've locked up an innocent Mobian and kept him prisoner against his will for over 150 years. No it's the pants that makes them evil."

"Hey- I'm not saying it's a worse crime, only that it adds to it."

Tails shook his head with a chuckle, slipping his boots on and tucking his newly donned pants into them in the uniform style for G.U.P.

"Is Omega ready to go?"

"Affirmative." the robotic voice of E-123 Omega responded, "I am fully operational and prepared to fulfill my role."

Tails finished buckling his boots, as well as the belt that housed his weapons. Looking over himself once in the mirror to make sure he was properly disguised, he turned back to the desk and opened one of the drawers.

Moving a stack of papers he spotted what he was looking for and snatched up a black device with two stylized tails marked on the top. It was about the size of a large USB drive, but didn't have any noticeable place to port it into a computer.

He tossed the device into the air, caught it mid fall and dropped it into one of his vest pockets. Inhaling sharply, he turned towards the door. He knew he could do this and yet, somehow, the knowledge did nothing to rid the butterflies  that fluttered in his stomach and made his heart skip.

"Ready?" The voice prompted into his ear.

Tails exhaled slowly, forcing the butterflies into submission as well as consciously making an effort to relax his tense muscles.

200 years and he was still acting like a scared kid.

Well, not today.

Confidence flooded his body and he nodded sharply. "Ready."

He stepped forward, putting his hand on the door handle and turning it.

"Let's go find our friend."

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

{ Story Facts! : What is G.U.P?

Guardian Units of the People, or G.U.P for short, is a military organization primarily focused on internal security. It's main goal is to keep peace within the nation and protect the citizens therein, acting almost as a more superior police force.

Though international security is in the minds of the officials, national problems are often handled by the parent organization, Guardian Units of the Nation, or G.U.N.

In accordance with their role, G.U.P is much more active in local communities, exercising judicial authority over their inferiors. As the child organization, G.U.P does have some ties and connections with G.U.N. However, these connections are mostly in the form of command chains in which officials of G.U.N will pass down instructions or alerts to G.U.P should the need arise. For the most part however, G.U.P acts on its own accord, and is fairly innocent to matters of international security.

G.U.P is very conscientious concerning its people groups. For this reason, it splits its troops into two segments, Sapiens and Bestia. This separation includes separate barracks, training facilities and tech support.

This separation of races was deemed beneficial since it would be easier to send like-species teams into certain environments or communities that might lean more towards Sapien or Bestia in population. Because of this, it is fairly normal to only ever see Mobian Guardians in more Mobian populated communities, and Human Guardians in the more Human populated communities.

Though experimentation has begun in establishing race specific bases, in which there is one base for only Bestia or Sapien respectively, it is still in the testing phase. With G.U.P still preferring to use larger multi-species bases with the separate accommodations made for each race. }

[Here it is! Chapter 2!! Thought I would post it for Wholesome Sonic and Tails Wednesday since I’ve been a little busy to do much else. There’s a heart-touching Sonic in Tails moment in here- so I’m counting it XD Hope you all enjoyed! Hopefully the third chapter will be up soon! As well as this story on AO3. So keep your eyes open!]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[hyperfixatedonstuff]

Short Fic about Trans Fem Scout for @jaymi-and-their-shit

also on my AO3 -> Call your mother!! (1098 words) by hyperfixated_on_dumb_shit Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Scout's Mother (Team Fortress 2) Characters: Scout (Team Fortress 2), Scout's Mother (Team Fortress 2), Spy (Team Fortress 2) Additional Tags: Trans Female Character, Trans Scout (Team Fortress 2), Trans Female Scout (Team Fortress 2), scout's name is Jamie Summary: Scout comes out to her mom with the help of Spy

Scout was nervous, her pacing around the phones revealed that. Today was Sunday, the weekly ceasefire and also the day she always called her Ma. Well, not always. Lately she had been neglecting calling home because she was terrified to talk to her mother. A few months ago she came out to her team as trans, it was a little scary but due to how open they were about being queer or accepting those who were she had managed it. But now she had an entirely new challenge, coming out to her mother. Her mother always said she would love her no matter what. But what if this was the exception? What if she got mad? Or was disappointed?

“Scout!” She nearly jumped out of her skin when a gloved hand materialized out of thin air and landed on her shoulder.

“What are you pacing about for? It’s distracting to those of us trying to use the phone.” Spy had removed his hand from her shoulder and crossed his arms to relay annoyance.

“N-nothing! I’ll get outta your way or whatever.” Scout begins to away from the phones but before she can even get a few steps in Spy sighs and speaks up.

“This is about your mother, isn’t it?” Her shoulders go stiff and she turns back, expecting to see a smug grin. Instead she sees Spy leaning against the wall with a cigarette, brows furrowed and staring at the ground.

“…How did you know?” Spy lets out a little chuckle but quickly explains himself when Scout glares at him.

“It’s my job to know things. You have obviously been stressed. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to reach.” At first she scrunches up her face in anger but then she sighs and takes a place against the wall next to him. After a few moments, she sinks to the floor and pulls her knees to her chest.

“You haven’t told her yet.”

“No.” Spy tries to speak again but is interrupted by Scout’s voiced overthinking. “What if she gets mad? And yells at me? And never lets me go home? What if my brothers make fun of me? Or if Ma ain’t angry but sad?”

“Scout.”

“What if she don’t want me as her kid anymore?”

“Scout!”

“I don’t know what I’ll do. I just shouldn’t tell her. She don’t need to deal with all of that. O’ course I’ll have to tell the guys not to-”

“Jamie!” Spy’s shouting finally reaches her ears and she looks up, slightly teary eyed.

“Your mother loves you. That won’t change no matter what you tell her.” There’s another pause before Spy kneels down and awkwardly pats her shoulder.

“But… how do you know?” She sniffles a bit and Spy sighs while drawing a handkerchief from his pocket.

“It’s my job to know things. And I know your mother is a good woman.” Jamie stares at him for a minute, despite the fact that Spy was an asshole, he was still convincing when he wanted to be. She sniffled again and he handed her the handkerchief. Spy watched as his expensive silk pocket square was coated in snot and tears, he grimaced in an exaggerated manner.

“I want that back by Monday. Cleaned.” She laughed as he stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it old man.” Spy rolled his eyes and helped his daughter to her feet. He patted her shoulder one last time and turned to head back inside.

“Eh- thank you Spy.” He simply nodded before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Jamie sighed. She knew that Spy was right, as much as she hated even thinking that. She had to call her mother. So she dusted herself off, wiped the last of her tears away, and stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket.

She had called home every Sunday for years until the last few weeks. It was clear from the faded numbers that her mother’s number had been dialed most. Muscle memory moved her fingers over the buttons quickly as she fiddled with the cord with her free hand. She traced circles in the dirt with her foot while the phone rang.

‘ringggggg… ringggggg… ringggggg…rin-’

“Hello? Jeremy is that you? Where have you been? You haven’t called in three weeks!” Jamie instantly regrets her decision and nearly hangs up.

“Uh- yeah it’s me… l-look Ma I’m real sorry I haven’t called- but there’s something important I’ve been meaning to tell you!” The words came out of her mouth at an inhuman speed and she aggressively tapped her foot while waiting.

“Well? What is it? What’s so important you can’t call your mother!” Jamie swallows and takes a deep breath. This is it. The moment she’s been dreading for weeks.

“Ma… I’m transgender. Iknowitshardtohearbutitswhoiamandimnotgonnahideitanylongerivealwaysbeenagirlandijustneedtogetitoffmychest!” There’s a pause. Dread seeps into Jamie’s gut. Did she make a mistake? Did she just ruin her own life?

“So you’re a girl?” Scout lets out a breath she had been holding. She couldn’t read her mother’s tone very well but… she wasn’t yelling.

“Yes…is that okay?” Jamie asks meekly.

“Okay? Are you kidding me?” Here it comes. She thought, closing her eyes and getting ready to be chewed out. But instead of yelling or sobbing or anything of the sort, a laugh came through the phone. Not an angry laugh or a bitter one, but a genuinely happy laugh.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter! I mean- I never told you or your brothers that because I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t proud of you because I am! But it has been such a pain not having another woman around the house!” Jamie slowly opened her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You mean… you ain’t mad?” Again, more laughter plays through the phone.

“Why would I be mad? I thought you were gonna say you were in trouble or dying! You finding yourself is the least of my concerns!” There’s more laughter but this time half of it is Jamie’s.

“I’m so glad! I was so worried to tell ya’ that I hadn’t been callin’!”

“Well not so fast, you ain’t off the hook for not callin’ your own mother for 3 weeks! But before I chew you out for that. Do you have a new name yet? Oh- and who else have you told? D your brothers know? Your teammates? What about that doctor of yours? Has anyone given you trouble for it? You just tell me and I’ll deal with it!” Jamie smiled as her mother rambled on, things were back to normal again.

[ploffskinpluffskin]

i may never have the actual courage to put myself Out There and post this particular story where anyone can see it (aka ao3 hhh) but it did make me smile while writing it

The problem, Natori had long concluded, was that Claudius was not handsome. Had he been even the slightest bit charming, or dashing, or even just relatively well-groomed, then perhaps Natori’s stubborn fondness for the cat might have been easy to explain away as mere infatuation. Certainly it would have left him feeling about as frivolous as a lovelorn schoolgirl, but it at least would not be some frustrating, unexplainable mystery.

Today the lavender-coated cat comes sauntering into the dusty church with a large, wolfish grin, stopping before Natori where he is counting their paltry collection of coins only so he can lean smugly against the doorway and wait. Natori eyes him with as much preemptive exasperation as he can muster (...which isn’t much, much to his own private dismay), and excuses his helper (who, also much to his private despair, regards the pair of them with a look that reads as unreasonably knowing). 

“Toldja I’d come back, babe,” Claudius says when they’re left alone.

“No,” Natori begins sharply, nearly interrupting him. “You told me specifically you were not coming back last time. I remember quite vividly.”

“Bahh, I was just mad. You know I can’t stay away from my favorite bump in the road.” Here Claudius moves closer, paying no mind to Natori’s own prim body language, slipping an arm across the other cat’s shoulders and pulling him close with a light hip check. “I’d get too sad.”

“Well, we can’t have that, I suppose.”

“Nope.”

“And I suppose this new wanted poster I’ve seen around has nothing to do with your impromptu arrival. Just a coincidence that you come back to where you can claim sanctuary just as you’re running from the bureau again?”

“Aw, babe, you’re killin’ me. I’m all genuine, promise.”

“Hm. And just what did you do this time to have their dubious attention?”

Here the other cat leans back, evidently finding the wall a better support for this particular position.

“Eh. You know.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, it’s not important.” Spoken hastily, in an all too telling fashion which Claudius doesn’t appear to recognize as such.

“No?” Natori looks up to fix his smug guest with an eyebrow raised over the flattest gaze he can currently manage, and he must manage it rather well since Claudius responds to it by fidgeting with his paws before he seems to realize what he’s doing. “I would never have imagined you as the type to ever say no to a rousing story.”

Most likely appearing more confident and nonchalant than he feels, Natori leans forward against the table he’d been previously counting coins upon, settling his chin against the butt of his paw.

“What inconceivably humiliating mishap must have occurred, I wonder, to make you reluctant to indulge in a little tall tale.”

Claudius huffs, glaring stormily at the paw he’s currently drawing circles on. 

“Sure doing your damnedest to make me regret coming back, babe,” he eventually grumbles under his breath testily. Here Natori finally smiles at him, cool but undeniably affectionate, despite himself.

“You say the same thing every time, and yet here you are.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Claudius sulks.

“That you might loiter here for reasons other than my use as a bump in the road? Never.”

“Good. Glad we're all copacetic on the matter,” Claudius responds first briskly. At least before he adds moments later, almost mopily, “... the view isn't bad either.”

A long silence passes between them after that, Natori abruptly aware of how he is stretched across the table and wondering furiously to himself whether Claudius’ words were intended to be read as an innuendo. The other cat doesn’t leave him long to wonder— padding over, leaning forward so that they’re nearly nose to nose, and all with a wide, suggestive grin plastered upon his face.

“I think you’re happier to see me than I am to see you, babe. I can tell.”

Not that long ago, Natori would have felt quite scandalized by that. He would have recoiled, bitten off some panicked, impulsive denial, and Claudius would have been left nursing a massively bruised ego. They might even have argued bitterly, to the point that Natori might be left wondering if the other would ever return. 

Here, now, still at least patently unsure what to say, how to say it, he manages only a soft amusement, a slightly crooked look of knowing concession. And the effect must be rather novel, as Claudius remains in his spot as if mesmerized for a fleeting moment, and then hastily pushes himself back up again. Natori is not quite so eager to return to propriety, and is even bold enough to take a moment to stretch before straightening. There’s a mute warmth which has settled in his chest, a familiar comfort he’s in no hurry to analyze or dislodge.

“You haven’t had a meal in a while, have you.” It’s not a question. Claudius’ sheepish hemming and hawing is answer enough. Whatever he tries to say This is about in an attempt to seem the suave, rakish charmer he very much isn’t, Natori knows it ultimately comes down to the food.

It’s as they’re moving further into the church, Claudius quite uncharacteristically trailing behind in a dutiful manner, that the fluffier of the two tries, “Warmed up to me pretty quick this time, you know, babe,” in an attempt to salvage that aforementioned pretense. “I didn’t get you into some trouble last time, did I?”

Natori snorts, not turning around, not otherwise explaining himself, and responds idly, “Stranger things have happened.”

[shootingmorningstar]

Hello! I was wondering if I could maybe perhaps have a match-up? 👉👈 Appearance: Female, (She/Her/They,) very long curly hair! very soft, very bouncy, very thick, like a sheep!, skinny as a stick and physically weak, have a baby face and I hate it so much..don't know if any of this matters or helps but!

Personality: (idk if you like zodiac or if it helps you at all either, but i’m a Gemini Sun, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising!)

I’m generally a very quiet and reserved person, especially during first impressions! I’m kind of a shy and anxious lurking shadow who assumes the worst until I get a good enough feel of a person, you know? Then I'm comfortable popping in!

I tend to gravitate towards being "Designated Mom Friend" or "Big Sister Friend?" I love being able to make others feel better about themselves or to help them out. Maybe it’s because of some rough stuff in my past, but I never want anyone to feel similar to the ways I have. If you hurt someone I care about, I am never going like you. But if you hurt me? Eh..it’s not really new? I’m kind of..soft? I cry very easily, be it happy or sad, and it frustrates me! I’m not a soft and squishy person !..okay yes I am but I’m also trying super hard to be the shoulder people can lean on if they need me! Growing a backbone is a work in progress, and sometimes I worry I come off too harsh or mean when I actually use it. A friend once described me like glass; it’s fragile, but a broken piece can still really mess you up, you know? Glass-ness aside, my sense of humor is honestly very dry and sarcastic and you probably wouldn’t expect it out of me! I can get kind of angry over petty things and sort of clingy, but I’ll be fine after some time to let it all pass.

I like playing crocheting and sewing, drawing and writing, and reading tarot cards! I like doing things alone, really, but I love the company of others when they want me to join in. Because it does indeed get lonely being alone sometimes!

I have some really gross depression bouts and lots of anxiety disorders that I do my best to juggle, but, sometimes I just have to shut down for a bit and sleep.

Values: Someone who can make me smile when I’m really having a hard time! I guess that sounds a little silly, but even something small to distract me from my thoughts is huge. Loyalty also? Admittedly I get kind of jealous and clingy when people I like hang around others too much..especially if I don’t like those others. I also really like um..acts of service I guess it is? Little things matter to me most!

NOPES: People who takes themselves too seriously. Disinterest/poking fun at in my hobbies or insecurities. Being completely babied/not letting me try to grow. Making assumptions based on appearance or first impressions alone.

OH- I'm Demi with a male preference? Is this enough to work with? Hopefully so, thanks again!

-🐑

Of course you can, anon .ᐟ Don't worry, this is more than enough. I love the details, it really helps me be able to envision a matchup .ᐟ

Anon, I'm matching you with . . .

Sir Pentious .ᐟ

From what I understand about you, it seems like you really need somebody loyal and willing to make you happy, to cheer you up through the times where you're not feeling your greatest, and who's more loyal than Sir Pentious .ᐣ He's the first sinner soul to ever make it to Heaven, and for good reason .ᐟ He is devoted to his cause and the people around him, and your mom friend like behavior would endear you to him.

Not to mention he already seems to be fond of the sarcastic type .ᐟ I think he would absolutely adore your sense of humor. Snakes are typically solitary creatures, so your more reserved nature would really strike a chord with him. You mentioned your long hair .ᐣ He would love to comb it out for you. He has to be really gentle with his scales so I think he could sort of relate in that scenario. Sew or crochet him his Egg Bois some sweaters and he will be absolutely over the moon. Maybe you could help him fix Alastor's coat to make amends .ᐣ Either way, I think he would be a great match for you .ᐟ

[chall-enge]

Info about Fredrick! (Hazbin hotel oc aka HH)

 Frederick is basicy luficer  righthand man, he is a fallen guardian angel who fallen around the same time as luficer for eh mainly the same reasons, he wanted to create also was a supporter of luficer bringing freewill (Aka in the angel eyes  evil) to the world hence him going down with luficer.

Fredrick  isnt a deadly sin due to him not wanting to (If he did it will ruin his look of him being the purest being in hell) . frederick is a big Denialist  when it comes to the fact he was kicked out of heaven because of him supporting luficer (Hence him just saying random stuff like “Heaven is just a very strict place dear.” or just him avoiding any topics that makes him speak about the reasons he was kicked out heaven).

He acts the part of a true guardian angel even in hell though every now and then you see his persona of a holy being break making him swear and insult with no bounds to anyone who ticked him off and he even might get physical with said person. Frederick helps luficer with anything if he needs to. basically pals in some way due to the fact he saw hell rise with luficer.

Frederick is more of a background person rather than being the main person. He also had a dislike for other angels but will keep things friendly most of the time and doesnt really have issues with adam (Have a feeling that will change very soon) he only heard about him from luficer and the times he.. Well basically taked adams lovers.

though frederick doesnt and never will understand why romance or physical love is needed (He just isnt a very lovely dovely person though doesnt mean he does not have crushes every now and then.)

Looks! (cause i suck at drawing so imagine! Also cause im eh.. lazy)

Frederick has a Sleeper physuque who has darker grey color skin,Brown hair which can be found usually in a short messy style,eyes with blackish sclera and Green pupils,6’5 tall,brown eyebrows,light grey eyelids,wears a whitish greyish  pinstripe coat with gold lapels piped with whiteish greyish, Underneath this he wears greysish and white dress-shirt with golden botten down  the chest, and long black dress pants with matching gold cuffs.,black leather combat boots ,Grey large wings which he proudly shows off often

Demonic form! (Likely never to be seen, frederick pretends it never existed for the most part and hardly is used,)

He has natured colored ram horns,his wings in this form is very ragged and messy ,His hands become clawlike the tips of his fingers turns sharp and thin that looks like claws, His overall looks is dim down and faded and not as holy he wants to look!,

[cosmicdreamgrl]

additional seven thoughts:

the production is so clean and concise, everything is well balanced in terms of volume, what should be highlighted and the mastering is top notch; this is what i mean when i say that some people understand how to listen to music and what should come out of it

the vocal runs? the inflections of vibrato? the way he moves back and forth between his mid to higher register? he makes it look so effortless, i will constantly be in awe of his prowess until the day he dies. also one of the many things i adore about his voice is how versatile he is, it's such a rare gift too. i know, shocking but i'm not going on a tangent about it here. plus bless the producers for not tampering with the vocal tracks to the point where his voice sounds off, like with what happened on left & right. let's never have a repeat of that again.

now that i've mulled it over? the lyrics are generic, it's nothing that hasn't been done before but the focus of this song isn't that. they want jungkook to be the main attraction, and they succeeded in spades

i actually like how simple the structure of the song/melodies are, there's nothing wrong with being experimental but where do you draw the line between pushing boundaries and making a mess out of something that wasn't complicated to begin with? sometimes it's best to stick to what works, not for the sake of being trendy or making what sells but because good music will always be good at the heart of it. so work to that advantage, i say

yes this is a summer song to a t. not in the bright fun upbeat candy coated manner, but you can hear it in the slick instrumental, which i'm glad they gave us because i'm going to be psycho analyzing that like i'm not on a break from my job

the reason why i said i was surprised by how well latto's feature worked here is because you know how it is, it's 2023 and everyone thinks it's cool to throw in a rapper on a song. which i highly disagree with, i always say that if you're going to feature anyone on a track? they better add nuance or elevate the track, i don't want to listen to the song and go 'eh, this could've been fine without so and so' because then what was the point? everything about making music should be with purpose, at least that's what i've learnt after half a decade

last but not least, that beat? i said it was jon bellion-coded and i meant it but it also fits in with a lot of the late 90s/early 2000s musical motives that have been coming back in style recently. another song that he produced/co-wrote that has this is missin' u by my girl tori kelly, if you hear it? you'll get what i'm saying but the point i'm trying to make is it's cool, it's fresh. more of this please, thanks

[huntereambrose]

The Vixen Queen: Prologue

Contains adult content. 18+ Readers ONLY.

The greatest weapon of control is the chase.

Always make them chase, and always give a half-reward.

May it become a cycle, a wheel which ever turns,

where they chase and chase and chase after you,

and never catch up.

Grimoires of The Dark Moon

The 343rd Year of The Nordur Imperium

The 2nd Year of The Reign of King Ragnar XII

4A Y343

BAEDSTEN

Her eyes were familiar. A deep, intense violet, that warped his vision each time he looked upon them, pulling reality around him into a tunnel, with all else but her…blurred and irrelevant. There was magic in them, he was sure of it. Magic was easy to spot, but not always easy to identify, depending on the source. Comparatively speaking, whatever this woman was packing was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, with a giant sign saying, ‘Hey! I’m someone you might know from somewhere, and I might practice a magic that you’ve got a particular weak spot for.’ He shuddered, racked by an icy chill that was egged on by the nails she traced along his calf. I might be in danger with this one, he laughed to himself and took a long draw of his pipe, and exhaled. This woman…

She lay across him, her thick black hair falling like a dark blanket over his legs and onto the earthen colored bedding below, her rosy pink lips pulled into a grin. Ganzig found himself sucked in again, like his head was being shoved in an ice cold bucket of water filled with apples — a cruel joke among the Chinids. A classic. Everyone knows you can’t fall for that. But this is Baedsten. Not Chinid. And you…are more known to me than either. So familiar…what secrets are you hiding?

With significant effort, he managed to break free of her gaze once again. The woman snickered, a click of her tongue. The chill intensified. His fingers clenched the wooden pipe tighter as he eyed her, suspicious but amused.

Ganzig took another long draw from the pipe, creating a saturated orange glow within the bowl. The spiced apple flavor of the tobacco washed across his tongue. Chinid weed. Good for dulling the senses…amongst other things. I mean, I can’t speak for everyone else, but I’ve yet to find a more potent aphrodisiac. Also a plus, it calms the nerves. Ugh, I can’t even think about that yet.

He blew out, suddenly noticing the warped sense of time within the room, how it felt isolated from every other thread within The Weavers’ hands, from every thought within their infinitely omniscient minds. Is that because of her? Or is it the trauma about to unfold for everyone in this kingdom once it’s reported that Asher and his men are on their way across The Rissard Sea. Which, of course, it will be reported. Obviously. Only a fool wouldn’t take a chance like this, and Asher’s no fool — Scurra’s delight, I think that’s enough of the pipe for now. Eh, one more draw, call it a good luck charm.

He sucked in, the warmth of the smoke batting the effects of the woman’s charms. Mysterious, crafty fingers of spiritual rapture pined for him, reaching their strong but bony tendrils in his direction, hoping to get a grip on his soul. He had felt it many times before in his millennia long existence. It was an unmistakable beckoning, like the bright aura of a flame calling out to moths as they fly by, ever so close to danger, ever so close to pleasure. A thin current of red began to swirl about her as her fingers moved, as if they were dispensers of scarlet ribbons of the finest satin.

The smoke blew out into the stale air of his still, small home, coating the immediate area in a thick white haze reminiscent of a morning fog. He raised his own fingers and played with it, smirking at the thought that his fingers were dispensing their own ribbons, white to juxtapose the red. He cast a moving image on it, depicting the old Karhai legend of the binding of Tjilbrud — a history he longed to repeat, to slay that savage beast. The scene dissipated with the smoke and Enebish was left in the vulnerable state of limbo between sadness, grief, and recklessness as he looked around his room.

Knick knacks lined the walls and numerous racks of shelves, souvenirs from the thirteen hundred years he’d spent traveling across Teleria. Dragon bones from Nihen. Journals and books from Sunterran shops and old, dusty Jadar libraries and basements. A copious collection of booze and tobacco from all the hotspots: Brette, Chinid, Silica, Gallica, Two-Cities, Dalaï, Slavi. All of them alongside various other accouterments and relics given to him on his journeys, including dried mushrooms, flowers, herbs, and a plethora of concoctions for medicines and alchemy alike.

Straight ahead was an altar to The Triune, perhaps the last one standing anywhere in The Cosmos. He kept their memory alive, but just barely. Their patronage had grown weak over the years since Tjilbrud was unleashed. So close to vanishing, just like The Karhai themselves. All except a few.

The three gods were arrayed upon a single carving, made of ivory that had turned a yellow-cream. Ongor, Baiga, and Iredui, tall and in their white robes, reached out their hands to form akabra. A group channeling of power that should have been extinct, rotten and decayed from infection. He had felt it slipping away for a while, even growing stale — but then, it evened out. Now, it was beginning to find a resurgence. What reason did a gods magic continue to hold strong for their servant, despite their retreat from his realm and a dark spirit poisoning them? The question had gnawed Ganzig incessantly for the last few hundred years. Especially because, for the first time in thirteen hundred years, it was stronger than ever.

Wait…I’ve been here before. Not this exact sequence of events, but something of the same essence. Those scarlet ribbons…they’re more than ribbons, aren’t they? They’re threads, being pulled so that the veil in front of me slowly reveals what it’s been concealing. Me, sitting here pondering questions I should never find the answer to. I swear the last millennia at least have been lived in a constant fugue state, like I’m under some sort of spell I wasn’t aware was cast. Oh gods…literally whoever…why do I have a bad feeling about this?

He quested at the threads as they settled. They swirled down, ever slowly towards their semi-horizontal bodies — movements of spirit, vessels of divination. Vibrating, singing, they called out frequencies of yearning….and an immanent presence. The host? Unidentifiable as of yet, but he had his suspicions. It was a decent explanation for the yearning as well. For him, the source of such intense attraction was clear. But is it her? If it is it might explain my brooding, contemplating the centuries of explorations between the various lands of Teleria, searching endlessly for a way to break Tjilbrud’s Bind, revive the oasis out of The Wastes, to end the suffering…only to remain unfulfilled. Like the air of familiarity about this woman, it was always just out of reach, veiled and elusive, not not out of view. All the while she spreads her spell upon my weak and vulnerable mind. Typical. It really might be her after all.

Ganzig shuddered.

“You’re sad,” the woman finally said in a low voice. “I could fix that, you know.”

Enebish sighed. “You already did what you could.”

“More than that,” she added, taking control of Enebish’s gaze once more. His eyes were guided, as if by magic, over her bare, slender figure. Magic…what magic? Her magic, something enticing, enough for me to wander over this seemingly endless, smooth porcelain landscape. Enough to get lost in it. The gentle, sloping curves. The comforting, plump breasts. Little points of pink. The sharp contours of her face. Those violet eyes. Oh, those eyes…

“You want to be happy,” she added, warping reality around him and trapping Ganzig within it. The nails became like a beat, a rhythm, lulling him into hypnosis. He did his best to fight it, and steadily failed. “Fulfilled. Of service. To know that your additional years of existence weren’t undeserved, that someone besides you benefitted from your survival.”

Enebish gulped and eyed her suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. “And you can do that?” he asked smugly.

“Yes. Of course.” The woman shrugged.

“If that’s your plan, you’re going to need a lot more than what’s between your legs.”

The woman chuckled, haughty, seductive, and bone chilling. Oh fuck. It’s her, isn’t it?

On the verge of revelation, the hypnosis hit stasis as a knock rapped against his door. The woman was unphased, as if it was all part of her plan. Her eyes motioned towards the door.

“You might want to get that.”

Ganzig’s heart turned to water, but fluttered as it fell like rain.

Hah. Yeah. I don’t like that one bit. Coincidences don’t exist. But alright, witch. I’ll play your games.

Ganzig grunted as he shifted his weight out from under the woman. He stood and grabbed the maroon, silk robe from the end table, wrapping it around his thick torso and tying it tight. Another set of knocks rapped against the wood, more eager, with a hint of desperation.

Ganzig reached the door, clicked the lock and opened it. Baedsten’s cool, moist air swept across him. A refreshing, sobering wave. The streets outside were dark, with localized circles of warm light from the oil lanterns. In the small gap of darkness between the lanterns which flanked Ganzig’s tenement was a band of Loyalists, consisting of two Ealanites, a centaur, and a halfling. They looked upon him hopefully, as so many had.

“It’s time,” the young Ealanite in front stated with a seriousness that nearly turned Ganzig’s ancient, stone heart back into ice. “There are Jadar ships crossing The Rissard Sea. The Heralds have begun to move on the palace.”

He was barely a man, perhaps seventeen, and yet he found himself in a position Ganzig knew all too well: fighting for the soul of his people. It was exactly how Ganzig predicted. A foreign born, half-Ealanite Prince was on those ships with ten thousand men. His heralds had proselytized for two years, professing Asher’s generosity, his desire to see Baedsten and all of Ealan united with The Jadar. House Colt’s claim to the throne was hanging by a thread, despite their relation to the now defunct Mercer’s Royal Court.

Ganzig observed the others, finding in them the same spirit as the young man who delivered the news. The halfling seemed the oldest of the bunch, with a sea of wrinkles on his forehead betraying his age. The only female, the centaur, stood also as the strongest. Her legs were strong and steady on the cobbles. A bow hung around her chest, the bowstring nestled safely between her decidedly ample bosom. Deft hands hung at her sides, ready to mow down every Jadar soldier as fast as they could.

They cannot land. Marsden Colt had insisted. If they do, we will have a fight like we have never known.

In the distance, he heard the riders. The clacking of horseshoes upon Baedsten’s flagstone streets were like war drums, spreading chills across his body in a harrowing wave. Their voices, ghostly harbingers of future terrors. “All able bodied citizens to the battlements! Everyone else must shelter! All able bodied citizens to the battlements! Everyone else must shelter!”

Ganzig shifted and grunted away the ghastly visions. The what if’s. The thousands of Ealanites that could die under his support. The thousands of Jadar who would die opposing him. Tens, if not hundreds of thousands, between both continents, who would never be the same.

“The Thaewethens?” Ganzig asked, his deep voice a stark contrast to the boy’s. The warlock made sure there was no hint of apprehension in it.

“Five thousand strong, sir. On their way. Two thousand Iyentian cavalry, too, streaming down Royal Road as we speak at nearly full speed. The ships are ready to leave to meet them. Just waiting for you, sir,” the boy answered.

“Good.” Ganzig ran his hand nervously along the thick wooden frame of the door. He heard the shuffling of sheets behind him, and his heart turned back to water and sank into his stomach, drowning the butterflies. “Let…uh, let me get ready. Tell Marsden I’ll arrive at the battlements shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man nodded, as did the others. “Thank you, warlock, for helping us.”

“We’re not out of it yet, boy. Stay strong.”

Ganzig saw the young man’s eyes fill with a balance of courage and fear as the door swung shut. The perils of war hung in the air now, an ever present terror, but the presence of something else overpowered them. Or rather, someone else. Disclosure had finally come. Familiarity became identity — and he was right.

Ganzig’s body seized with dread. His eyes went wide. Hair stood on end.

Rirris.

Eight hundred and fifty years she had followed him, finding him each time, no matter where he settled, even for a night. Her tricks never failed. He was always deceived.

His eyes were overtaken yet again, guided to the bed where the woman lay, one leg spread, the other angled, pulled close to her body. Hair parted, it hung down over her shoulders, covering her breasts in long, dark waves. She puffed on the pipe, blowing swirling, tangling mists that shrouded her face. As they cleared, her violet eyes held a light of their own. They stared out at him, locking him into their spells as she finally revealed herself.

“Hello, Ganzig,” she drawled, winking. “Miss me?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times,” he hissed, in both exasperation and exhaust. “I can’t be bought. I serve The Triune.”

The woman laughed through closed lips, which pulled into a smirk. “The Triune have masked themselves and left you frustrated, Ganzig. They’re about to be gone from this realm, just as your people are. But I’ve been here. I’ve been honest with you. You’ve known me for almost a thousand years, Ganzig. Have I ever brought you anything but pleasure?”

Ganzig’s skin crawled at the question. Yes. But that’s the problem. That’s what you do. But it’s shallow. I won’t share in your misery, witch. Yet, as always, he couldn’t bring himself to voice a full rejection of her invitation, nor a direct answer to her question. She knows my thoughts, too. This is just a fun game for her.

Rirris had continued to be his biggest fear since the very day he met her. Ganzig readily defined himself as reckless, at times a bit conniving and manipulative — but Rirris took it to a whole new level. Haunting him served many purposes to her, he surmised. Fun, for one. After forty-thousand years of immortal existence, she was probably bored and looking for a fun plaything. It surely didn’t help that she was tied in spirit, drawn by mutual attraction, to every lost cause in The Cosmos. He could only imagine what that must do even to a declinate’s self-esteem. And what does she choose to do? Fuck with them. Use them. Typical.

What really drove him mad was that he sensed a convergence on their paths, one that was inevitable, inescapable. Not even Freya herself could hope to change that fate. All he could do was prolong it. As much as he refused to accept it… he was a lost cause, and he was well too far within her grasp to escape now.

“You’ve brought me a lot of confusion…a lot of regret.” Oh, so much regret. Your calling card, patroness.

“And pleasure…” she reminded him, on all three comments. She wasn’t wrong. Not entirely.

“Be gone.” The words were strained, as if he didn’t really believe them. Had he the capability of being honest with himself…he didn’t. He was close to wanting her just as much as she wanted him. He always was. Her company was an odd comfort, strangely congruent. And that pleasure…oh…she’s not wrong on that.

“Hah,” Rirris scoffed, blowing another bout of smoke from her tantalizing lips. It traveled across the distance between them, wrapping around Ganzig like a lasso, tugging him closer to him. He was helpless to fight it — not that he really wanted to. “Oh, Ganzig. You just prove each time that you don’t want me gone. No. You want to be bound to me. You want to serve me…be my…oh, I won’t say slave.”

“No,” Ganzig denied halfheartedly, fighting listlessly against the steps she forced. “Say it.”

He reached the bed a few moments later. Rirris rose to her knees, set the pipe on the end table and came to him. He did everything in his power not to look upon her, and failed. The declinate witch was amused at his efforts — and at his easy defeat. Skilled, magical fingers ran down his neck, parting the robe and untying it.

“You know exactly how to cast me out,” she whispered, purple eyes gazing straight into his soul. “How to protect against me. Yet, you never do it. Always finding yourself strangely tangled up in me instead, asking me to confirm that it’s ok to want to be my slave.”

“I…” Ganzig stuttered as the robe fell. “Ugh…”

Rirris stood and walked to the set of steel armor hanging on the adjacent wall. Ganzig dutifully watched every step, wandering that porcelain landscape as if he was an explorer on the surface of her flawless skin. She beckoned him, prompting him to dress in his undergarments. He obeyed.

One by one, she assembled his armor — the greaves, cuisses, sabatons. She draped the chainmail over his head, fluffing it out so that it lay flush with his hips. Her sorcerous fingers unlatched the breastplate and placed it around his chest.

“You may be a powerful mage, Ganzig, but you can’t resist me much longer,” she taunted him as she worked, cinching the plate into place. “You’re already mine.”

“I won’t serve you.”

Rirris smiled coyly as she turned, and then wheeled back around with his vambraces. She locked them into place around his wrists. “I always hope you’ve figured it out and yet I walk away disappointed. I’m not going to have to force your hand am I? Ugh. I’m not here for that, though.”

Ganzig studied her, curious. She was surprisingly patient this time around, and that frightened him more than the ten thousand soldiers on their way from Mystara. “Then what are you here for?”

“To encourage you, of course,” she replied, as if there was any other possible answer. “You have a war to fight. A civil war, in fact. One in which many outsiders seek to influence the outcome.”

He squinted, his eyes straightening to a flat line. “Oddly specific description.”

“And a relevant one.” Rirris’s eyebrows raised with her answer. She handed him his sword, then his helmet.

“Relevant?”

“Oh, is it ever…”

Ganzig was hard pressed to remember a time he was so torn with contradictions. Confusion gripped him, but so did clarity. His constitution was firm, but he was so weak against her seductive charms. He longed for her promises, but knew their fulfillment came with caveats. Beggars can’t be choosers. Yet, destiny was set, as much as he longed to escape it. His soul was as good as wed to hers. Soon, it would be official, but he’d run as fast and as long as he could in an effort for it to not be so.

Rirris. Patroness. Witch. Declinate. I…no. No.

She granted him a pivot towards The Triune. He saw now, with deep mourning, that those old gods were growing cryptic and withdrawn. The chill returned to him as Rirris’ nails slithered up his exposed neck and into his hair.

“The Triune, once stark and powerful, now cold and distant…” she whispered, straight into his ear. A single finger tugged at his chin. He turned and beheld her, seeing her in a new form…an infinitely more intoxicating one. “Rirris, once cold and distant, now stark and powerful. I’ll have you, Ganzig Enebish, and you’ll have me…but not today. Today, I need you to win.”

[campbluelake]

No Comfort in the Waiting Room || Trial 3.6 || Goku || RE: good lord

Johanna Doe sabotaged her prom’s homecoming ballot so she would win prom queen.

Leon had gone to Jo with this secret without further thought.  Even as she grabbed him, pinned him to the wall, pressed her forearm against his neck, demanding to know what was said… he was never sc███d.  He didn’t think anything of it as he read the slip of paper, even teasing lightly, like one would when sharing gossip.  A facetious tut, that suggests it’s a behavior one should be chided for, but wink wink nudge nudge, your secret’s safe with me.

But it wasn’t even her secret.  She’d never even gone to prom.  Leon hadn’t either, of course.

“We should have a prom here! Do you know how to ballroom dance?”“I kinda do! … But you just ran that dating event. You need to slow down, buster!”“Ehe… but it’s so FUN getting everyone together… I don’t have to run it, though! Maybe you can ask Tommy to dress up and meet you somewhere in the woods for your own mini prom!! Ohhh, that’d be so cute… or, you know, do whatever you want!! … Just saying… it’s never too late to experience things you never got to enjoy as a kid, you know?”

Luck of the draw.

If his and Warrick’s secrets had been swapped, somehow��� if he’d just thought to ask, maybe he could have intervened.  Maybe he could have talked to Jo about murder; they were friends, right?  They could laugh it off together.  And nobody would have to get hurt.

But he didn’t do any of that, of course.  It didn’t even occur to him.

In a moment of discretion that he will regret for the rest of his life, Leon had decided to keep Jo’s secret– fake as it was– just that.  A secret.

“Hey Rick. Did you ever go to prom?”“I did. Why?”“Just thinking… what was it like?  … Would you wanna do it again?”

He wonders, now, if this has anything to do with Jo not going to prom.  He can’t say he pities her, anymore.

No, there’s a new feeling entirely.  An emotion he’d previously identified as excitement in the last two trials, gets swallowed whole by a miserable tar that sticks to his diaphragm.  It coats his lungs, seals his throat.  He’s never felt anything like this.

“… The point of prom is to go with someone. Right?”“Yeah. … Why?”“Then… I’d do it again going with someone. Since I didn’t last time.”

Saya says he’s devastated.  That’s probably a good start.

But, more than that, there’s an urgency that boils under his skin– it doesn’t buzz like usual, motivating him to dive into investigations, to trials. 

It does not yield, it does not sit patiently at his side, urging him to remain in character.  It does not empower him to humanize Jo, to find reason in the carnage.  It does not comb gentle, reassuring fingers through his hair, with the knowledge that he and Warrick would once again emerge unscathed.

“I never really thought about, you know, a label. Have you?”“Not like that.  It feels… the word boyfriend. That sounds juvenile.”“It does feel a bit high school… Prom is also kinda high school, though, right?”“………… so be my boyfriend at prom, then.”

It reminds him, cruelly, of what he’s lost.  It does not afford him the luxury of distance that he’s so selfishly enjoyed with each death before.  It grabs his hand, forcing it down and welding it to the hot stove he’s been avoiding for hours.

Days.

Years.

It also reminds him that there are thirteen other people here, each with complex emotional responses he couldn’t begin to parse.  Thirteen other people, grieving Julio.  Grieving Niko.  Grieving Kaede.  Grieving Lydia.  Grieving Tommy. 

And he’d smiled the entire time.

Their words are mostly just words to him, static playing in the background as he finds himself locked in his own brain– but Kyousuke gives voice to whatever ichor is brewing in his bones.  That seems to be a running theme, something he’s not sure if Kyousuke is aware of.  He’ll have to thank him later.  It’ll be a nice distraction.

His heart pounds valiantly against Abigail’s back, preparing for a fight that will never happen.  An outburst that will die before it reaches Leon’s tongue.  All he can manage, as he struggles with coherence long enough to write down a vote– two letters, this shouldn’t be so difficult– is one feeble sentence.

A question, broken by choked, pathetic sobs.

To maybe accomplish one small piece of understanding.  Maybe it’s a fool’s errand, trying to understand the workings of a serial killer.  To understand why she chose the weapon she did.  To understand why she played with Warrick, like a cat does a mouse. 

To understand why, or how, she chose to disguise herself. 

“… Where, the huh, the HELL, did you, p-put, all your, HAIR?”

[oftincturedwords]

No Quiet Find sounds super cool!

I'm picturing the crew to stumbled upon a nest of sirens and Bush ends up with a siren baby by accident. But I also can see Bush with a water dragon baby to take care of

I bet the actual story is even better!

Ask Me About My WIPs !

thank you !! & agdkflgl aaah i love that idea so much , the very thought of bush becoming a guardian to a siren baby or water dragon baby is too adorable

especially since i can envision it being entirely by accident & reluctantly so , like the babe is only calm & happy when around or with bush thus bush is given charge of them. bush silently frets but does become endeared to them , it's unavoidable agdkflg xD

alas sadly my wip isn't about that :( although i very much love that idea , mine is rather less lighthearted , at least in the beginning that is. it more so along the vein of angst / hurt / comfort :||| bUT if you must know a spoiler , a tiny one that is ;P it does get better , for all characters involved , i cannot write angst without the happy ending. it just doesn't for my muse , it's too sad ahdkfgl

now for the actual idea instead of my cryptic ramblings agdkflg ; it's set during hornblower and the hotspur , more specifically during the end of chapter sixteen. it could be said to be set during the series' three episode two : duty , but it would be even more so an au than it already is but eh the series played with the timelines so why shouldn't i ? ahdkflflg xD however it does follow more so book canon than the series , i do have matthews & styles in it because i do love what the series did with those characters , their development & the dynamics they have with horatio & bush , & with each other. it's personable & fun !

.... again i tangent away from the aCTUAL idea ahdkflg sorry , i think i am nervous ?? about sharing this because i don't know if it's even a good idea & i worry over getting the details right , but aaaah sorry i will get on with it agdjfkf i am just being anxious & weird about it & i don't mean to be , so here goes the idea : horatio reacts harshly to something bush says , although horatio does regret how he reacted & the words said , duty gets in the way of him making any attempts at amends because , i as the writer , has a storm begin to come in soon thereafter & thus duty to the ship outweighs any personal matters

except fate is never kind to those who leave things for fixing later because bush goes overboard during the storm :||| & that's all i will say on it agskdlflg no jk , you know i would never do harm to bush ... or much harm that is xD just a little tiny bit of harm to him & lots of angst for horatio agdkflf at least in this there's more than his fair share :|| but as you know it all is better in the end ^^ i cannot have angst without the happy ending , i just cannot write it , it's an impossible feat for me agdkflf

anyway , enough of my ramblings , here's an excerpt :

'... It was hours later, when the sea had ran dry of its tumultuous ire, when the waves had ceased their violent churning and the relentless sheets of rain had tapered off to a mere drizzle of drops and unsettled seaspray, that Hornblower found himself in his cabin without recalling his descent from the deck above. Dressed still in his sea drenched uniform, his hat hung limply between his fingers from where his hands rested between his knees. Shoulders drooped and back slumped to the point of strain against the tight, military fashioning of his still buttoned navy coat. Yet heedless was he of it.

Soaked to the bone as he was, his brown curls lay plastered to his head to run rivulets of water down his face and neck. It too dripped off the ends of his cloak, tracing wet lines along the curves of his hands down to the points on his bicorne hat in intermittent plips to create small puddles beneath him. Their size marked the time elapsed since he’d come to his cabin to sit before the table, unmoved and unable to draw his gaze from where it had remained riveted upon the polished wood of the deck. Even a precursory knock at his door nor click of the door latch ere Doughty entered didn’t rouse an acknowledgement from Hornblower.

“Some hot tea, sir.” Came Doughty’s diffident voice, the muted clatter of a tray being set down and a pouring of liquid followed.

A clink of dishware, a spoon being indelicately stirred in a cup to be more precise upon the nature of the sound, came next. It indicated that Doughty had taken the liberty to add sugar to steaming cup… that, or rum, but the part of Honrblower’s brain recognising all this, knew his steward would never presume so much. Especially with the Captain’s misliking of the mind numbing effects of alcohol.

The sound itself had been odd, known was Doughty’s proclivities for decorum and pedantic nature that hearing such a noticeable clink of spoon on teacup had to be his steward’s way of trying to draw his Captain’s attention. Subtle yet distinct enough for Doughty to know it’d work.

For Hornblower had raised his head then, his features equally as sodden as his uniform yet less expressive in the turmoil that’d transpired hardly two hours prior. Rumpled and doused they were, from standing so long on a storm raged deck, whereas his face, albeit pale, held fast to the rigid mask he had set.

He was not to know his brown gaze now held, granted unconscious leave by the privacy of his quarters and with it being only his steward present, a hollowness that usually took root in those bereft. The natural melancholy cast to his countenance was held in a stark highlight by the low, flickering candlelight and the thinly veiled sorrow reflected in those brown eyes of his.

“Won’t you have some, sir?” Doughty set the teacup and saucer off the tray onto the desk in front of Hornblower, taking another liberty it seemed, but not so near enough to appear officious.

“Thank you, Doughty.” It was with a mechanical stiffness that Hornblower accepted the proffering, straightening his posture and reaching out with a pale hand to grasp the delicate teacup to drink from it.

Merely the action and appearance of wellness that was so precariously crafted and adhered to, especially under any scrutiny, and he could feel his steward’s gaze watching him, even as Doughty attempted to busy himself with collecting the tray and its contents to rightness. It wasn’t a task that could occupy him long, too soon it seemed for the obsequious steward, who straightened when finished... '

:) such happiness right ?? xD agdkflflg & there's a bit more to it , that's the main gist.

thank you for sending this in asking after this wip of mine ! <33 i loved being able to talk of this wip , i adore it so & truly need to work on finishing it. i have only to fill the gaps between a few scenes & then edit it & it'll be finished. just trying to get my muse to write those bits has been a hassle.

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

Preparations for Terra-Week 2023 ain't going smoothly like I originally thought they would. As soon as the prompts were released, Terra said that he was going to help me and that we were going to do it together; but over the last few days, my subconscious has gone in and sabotaged his energy... 😤

I began to write a letter in my diary tonight, but then Lea/Axel intervened and had an amazing convo with me. I decided to share it to show how preparations for Terra-Week are going:

Letter: "Dear Kingdom Hearts (+Jak), I don't know who the hell I'm writing to or what I'm specifically doing any more; it's a shambles. I know I just told a number of you to piss off, and for Aqua to watch some boundaries; so I understand if some can't work with me or receive me right now... Axel?".

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

Conversation:

Lea: "Hey there, this is Lea".

Me: "Sorry, I just find it cooler to call you Axel".

Lea: "No problem. Either one's fine".

Me: "So why have you responded?".

Lea: "I just wanted to tell you that everyone in Master Yen Sid's tower gets where you're at. You didn't tell the Guardians of Light to piss off; just the ones that would weirdly talk to you from across the generational void, like some mysterious master in a black coat, not named Xehanort".

Me: "But then I also just recently gave Aqua a piece of my mind, so that's eliminated the possibility of help from her".

Lea: "Eh, she's a Matriarch that one... Both in a good way and not so good way. I've noticed that you don't like people with too authoritarian tendencies; and even though she's an ISTJ, she's probably close to an ISFJ like your dad, just one letter difference. You've seen how she acts with me. Too much fun and she'll bite your head off. She and I clash like water and fire; so I understand you. Whereas you like Terra because he's always gentle with you and lets you be yourself".

Me: "Where is Terra these days? Where has he gone?".

Lea: "I dunno; he shouldn't be too far away. Now I don't know about the Wayfinder trio, but I'm not gonna let you suffer alone while you wonder about what happened to your dream guide. He'll be back. And while you're waiting, you can hang with any of us. Perhaps you and I can go to some of the places you've been with him?".

Me: "Now how can you comprehend places such as Neverland, Olympus and the Castle of Dreams? The only BBS location you've been to is Radiant Garden, and you may not want to frolic around in the Keyblade Graveyard".

Lea: "Oh please, Disney worlds, I can go to any of 'em. We have this partnership deal in place where we can openly traverse any Disney world we choose. But if it's just me you've got doubts about, then you can take Xion or Roxas. Or you can go with Riku since he's your other dream guide".

Me: "Thanks for the offer anyway, Axel. I'll consider it. But what I find the dirtiest out of all of this is that Terra's energy had to dissipate smack-bang in the middle of my preparations for 'Terra-Week'. He promised to help me and we were really going to bond over these tasks. So what am I supposed to do? I'll run out of time if I try and get him back because the energies are being difficult".

Lea: "Look; assuming this absence is out of his control, I think he'd want you to press on with or without him. Imagine how devastated Terra would be if he came back after the fact and found out that his absence was the reason you failed Terra-Week. He'd be sulking the whole house down and he'd never forgive himself. As hard as the situation may be, we've got your back. You can ask any of us if you need some insights about Terra, and so far Riku's done a great job on taking you through that first drawing. You're in good hands. And as long as you keep Terra in your heart, you'll be back in his arms before you know it".

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

Thank God I outlined my submission tasks and made a general to-do list before the energy interference.