#i have a tendency to make beautiful people be tall ?

[drawnecromancy]

the moon for the oc meme please!!!

Eli.

Not sure why Tumblr decided to make the image so blurry ? :/

While those who are part of the Old Church of Aeteris are usually more closely associated with the Sun, Eli's first appearance in the short story The Companions of the Blue Forest is in the middle of the night. There's a silvery-white light, at the edges of a character's vision, at midnight in the middle of a swamp...

Here, let's translate the passage (this short story is in french) (also this passage for now literally only exists in the first draft; my second draft hasn't gotten here yet, i haven't worked on it in. so long).

"Alan was woken up by a repeated, regular sound, slowly approaching the camp. It sounded like a staff if it had been planted in the muddy soil of the swamp at the same speed one would walk. Through the fog, he could see a strange, silver glow around a silhouette that he couldn't yet quite parse.

[...]

When the silhouette was finally close enough, Alan stopped breathing for a second. Tall, with dark brown skin and incredibly long, cascading hair, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Incredibly, she was dressed in a long, flowy, ancient clerical robe, of a pure white despite her walking barefoot in a swamp. She was the one emitting that silvery-white light, like a forgotten spirit walking the earth.

Alan was seriously starting to think he was just dreaming."

Idk, she just feels very moon to me.

[roboticchibitan]

Okay, I've made enough "blease knit gauge swatches. Swatchless projects killedy family" posts. This post is an informational post a out gauge swatches. It will mainly be written in knitting terms because that is my main craft but it applies to crochet too. Even if you're an experienced crafter, you might learn something from this post. I talk about different reasons to make a swatch and some reasons a swatch might lie to you.

What is gauge?

Gauge is the size of your stitches, ie how wide and tall they are. It can be affected by the way you hold the yarn, your tension, and your needle/hook size. In knitting the style you knit can affect this, with the tendency being that English style is usually, but not always, tighter than continental. When I went from knitting English style to knitting Norwegian style, my gauge drastically changed to be much looser.

What is a gauge swatch?

A gauge swatch is a small piece of work that you use to measure your stitches per inch and rows per inch gauge. "Standard" gauge swatches are 4in/10cm squares, but often you'll see different sizes, especially for lace patterns that have you test knitting a certain chart or stitch

Why do we make gauge swatches?

We make gauge swatches to check if our gauge is the same as the pattern designer's gauge. Because you want your gauge to be the same as the pattern designer's so you know your size XL sweater will actually be size XL or your six foot in diameter shawl will actually be six feet across. Or that your airy and beautiful lace will actually be airy and beautiful and not too dense or too loose.

We also might swatch if we are substituting yarns. For example, a blocked lace swatch of wool will have different dimensions than a blocked lace swatch of pure silk because silk is less stretchy than wool. So if you are substituting fibers, you want to know that you'll like the finished item and might swatch a bit of the pattern before starting in earnest so you don't waste your time making something you'll be dissatisfied with.

There's also some differences between yarns of the same fiber and same weight. Some lace weight yarn is categorized as lace weight while being 600 yds per 100g, and some lace weight yarn is 800 yds or 1000 yds per 100g. So you should knit a swatch when substituting yarn even if they are the same fiber and weight if they are different yardage per gram ratios.

Do I always need to make a gauge swatch?

I talk a lot about the importance of gauge swatches but the honest answer is no, you do not always need to make a gauge swatch. If you are making something that doesn't require a certain size or airiness of pattern, like a bag or a simple scarf, you don't need to do a gauge swatch.

How do I make a gauge swatch?

Most patterns have a simple gauge listed, such as 22 stitches by 18 rows is 4in/10cm square in stockinette. However, some patterns have an "in pattern" gauge swatch or a separate pattern/chart for their swatch. So you cast on however many stitches (I often cast on a few more than the swatch calls for, but you don't have to), and knit that many rows in whatever pattern is specifed. If it's stockinette, knit stockinette. If it's "in pattern," locate the repeating part of the pattern and knit the designated amount of rows. If there is a separate pattern/chart for the swatch, knit as directed. Bind off. Don't measure on the needle, it will lie to you.

Then, you want to treat the swatch how you'll treat the finished object. If you're not going to block the finished object, measure it as is. But if you're going to block the finished object (and most things you should tbh blocking hides so many sins), you get the swatch wet, pin it out to shape, and then leave it to dry.

THEN! And nobody talks about this step for some reason and it's been the reason swatches lied to me in the past. Unpin it and let it rest. Different people give different time amounts for this resting. I'd let it rest at least three hours but some people recommend up to a week. The reason for this resting period is that many yarns, especially wool and other animal fibers, have elasticity to them. They'll rebound back a bit. Cotton and linen will have less rebound than things like wool. I'm not 100% sure where acrylic falls on that scale since I hate the texture of most acrylics.

OK I made and blocked the swatch and let it rest, what do I do now?

Now you measure! Does your stitches/rows ratio match up with the pattern designer's? Compare your gauge to the listed gauge. If it is different, you need to adjust needle/hook sizes. If your swatch is larger than the given measurements, your gauge is too loose and you need to go down one (or several) needle/hook sizes. If your swatch is smaller, your gauge is too tight and you need to go up one (or more) needle/hook sizes. At this point you can say "it's probably just one size up/down" and start your project, or you can repeat the entire swatch process. If unsure, repeat.

That's cool, can we see an example?

Sure! Here are two swatches I have pinned out.

I didn't follow my own advice about swatching and just started the Sapphira Lace Shawl on the recommended size 4 needles, but I got all the way through the first repeat of the body chart and then frogged the whole thing because my gauge was so loose you couldn't even see the pattern.

The Sapphira Lace Shawl has a separate pattern just for the gauge swatch and says "gauge is not important, swatch in lace pattern and use comfortable needle size to achieve airy lace that is not too holey." Too holey means that the stitches and yarn overs are so loose you cannot properly make out the pattern at all. That's what happened when I used size 4 needles.

The swatches you see here were knitted on size 2 (top) and 3 (bottom) needles. I knitted the bottom swatch first but was unsure if I liked the result so I went down another needle size and knitted a second swatch.

You'll notice the size 2 swatch is smaller and it's easier to make out the design. The stitches are smaller and denser, so the places where decreases and plain knit stitches are grouped together are easier to see. Versus the size 3 swatch where the stitches are looser and it's a bit harder to make out the design, though not impossible. On size four needled my stitches were so loose you couldn't really make out the design at all. With these swatches pinned out, I personally like the size 2 swatch better. However! That may change once I let the swatches rest for a while!

This yarn is an alpaca/silk mix. Alpaca is known for stretching out and not holding its shape. It's not ideal for lace. Silk is very good at holding its shape, but not very stretchy. I'm hoping together they make an okay yarn for lace because separately neither is my preference for lace. It was what I had on hand that was dyeable. Alpaca has some elasticity so it will spring back once I unpin it and let it rest. At that point, I may like the size 3 swatch better. I won't know until I get there.

I'll try to remember to post pictures of the rested swatches tomorrow to show if there's any difference. I might work up another swatch on size 4 needles to show what "too holey" looks like but that's more of a "how to knit lace" educational swatch than a "how to knit swatches" educational swatch so I might not bother.

That's it, that's the post. I'm sure my knitting mutuals will have comments and things to add so check the notes.

[aphroditesmoon]

Hiiii! Love your clarisse oneshots ^^. Could you possibly do one where Fem!reader is the daughter of Hades and has a hellhound as a pet that absolutely adores clarisse? Reader also has a similar personality to clarisse, loves to fight and has a big pride but only lets her guard down around Clarisse.(also possibly has her own electric weapon of your choice)Thank you!!

creatures of the night

clarisse la rue x fem!hades'cabin!reader

warnings: none

a/n: sorry this is so short, hope u like it<3

wc; 1.1k

You would never consider your relationship with your father as better than anyone else's relationship with their own parent in camp.

But when you had been claimed by Hades as well as being gifted a long black javelin with gold wrapped around the sharp edge on the same night you arrived at camp Half Blood, it seemed well established to everyone else and including yourself, that your father acknowledges your existence proudly.

Being one of the people in the small list of forbidden children, had created a fearsome reputation around your presence, and honestly speaking, you enjoy the privileges that come with it.

Although it was hard making friends considering your less friendly personality, some campers stuck by your side anyways. Those who bore you enormous respects and had been intrigued by your mysterious air instead of intimidated.

One of them being the infamous child of Ares, Clarisse La Rue.

Beautiful, strong and hot headed, Clarisse La Rue.

The two of you are often compared as the two sides of the same coin. Your personalities differ from eachother in many ways, but when it came to your goals and aims, you both are usually on the same team.

It's safe to say that you are less hostile than Clarisse. You prefer to keep to yourself whilst she prefered to assert dominance onto the other campers. And yet you are the more feared than her.

Clarisse is commonly brutal and unrelenting, but you usually saved up the worst of your tricks for when necessity calls for it. For now, intimidation worked well enough.

What's funny enough, is how Clarisse herself had a certain trepidation when she first befriended you. She learned soon that you were just another demigod girl just like she was, glory aside.

One of the instances where she felt that she had truly seen you as you are, all the facade dropped down, was when you first introduced her to your hound, Cerberus.

Your father had gifted him to you for your 15th birthday. It was one of yoir proudest moments in life. Demigods are almost never cared for that much by their parents, and so to have your coming of age be recognised by your father was a huge thing.

"Is that not the same name as Hades' own three headed hound?" She asked, staring at it for afar from the corner of your bed.

"I know, that's why I named him that." You explained to her as you're sat criss-crossed on the floor, scratching the beasts' chin.

Cerberus, once he deemed Clarisse as not a threat, rolled down on the ground on his stomach.

"Look at him, such a good boy." You were distracted by your new pet all day, ignoring your poor girlfriend who had come over to your cabin to spend time with you. "He's almost as tall as you." Clarisse spoke sarcastically, picking you on your height.

"That's not a fair observation. Most things are almost as tall as me." You responded, still not looking up.

"Are you just gonna keep standing there staring at me?" You asked her finally, realising just how weird the distance between you two were.

Clarisse was hesitant, frowning at your pet like he was some sort of threat. "I...think I'm good here." She muttered loud enough for your ears. "Oh, come on."

Clarisse shook her head as you complained about her irrationality. "Look at him, he's friendly." And he was, Cerberus had warmed up to you quickly and have not shown a single tendency for violence against your girlfriend.

"Come and say hello to him, Clarisse." You called out to her again.

You hear her sigh from the other side of the room. After a few more minutes pass, her footsteps grow louder as she moves nearer to you.

Clarisse squats down to meet Cerberus and flinched as he lifts his head up to sniff her. You reached for her hand, trying to get him to smell it. She pulls her hand back at first, but after a few more pulls, Clarisse relents and lets the hound give her knuckles a lick. "That tickles." She mumbled under her breath.

"He likes you, see." She gives a resigned look, like she's just going along with what you're saying. "No, I'm serious, look at how nice he's acting." You nudged your head towards Cerberus' head, encouraging her to give him a pet

Clarisse braves herself to give him a few strokes on his ears and found that he particularly likes that notion. "I guess he's not that bad." She admitted at last, pulling out a smile from you. "I told you."

"So what is he then? Some sort of guard dog?" She inquires. The gods would gift their children with tools that can be used, never something useless, like a domesticated pet. And from the looks of it, Cerberus is definitely not meant to be a some cute little friend.

"I don't know." You answered honestly.

"It's not like my dad does a lot of talking to me, but he gave me something from the underworld, something that's set as a reminder of him and his place above. I'd like to view it as some sort of stepping stone. Like I'm one step closer to him because of Cerberus."

It's not surprising that your end goal is to follow on your father's footsteps, no one really knows what the real secret to make their godly parent to care about them is.

It is often assumed that glory was the key, and yet, the best fighters in camp a

re usually the ones who resent their parents the most. You often prayed and hoped that you wouldn't ever have to cross that threshold.

"I'm sure he sees it that way too." Clarisse offered kindly. She knew all too well how much it meant to be noticed by their absent fathers, even if so slightly.

She slso knew deep down that even if your father refused to notice the lengths you would be willing to go for him, she did. And she would break the world in two for you if your father wouldn't. And you would do the same for her.

Clarisse leans her back against the lower frame of the bed, a small smile on her face as she watches you scratch the hound's chin whilst kissing the spot in between his eyes.

It is truly rare to catch sight of either daughters of Ares or Hades' being as gentle and playful as this, and Clarisse is grateful that these kind of intimacies are reserved for small private moments.

That same night, as she sleeps with her arms around your waist, Cerberus laying down by the foot of the bed, Clarisse realises that she would do anything for the bond between the two of you to prevail.

[moonastro]

left to right(top)-> 1,2

left to right(bottom)-> 3,4

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes.

°don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post(as i would entirely appreciate it).

FUTURE SPOUSE PAC

PILE 1-

Designated message= "look at me, look at me now".

-may have significant hands that other people notice. soft/beautiful/veiny/big/skinny etc. Could potentially use their hands a lot when talking or when carrying out daily tasks.

-i see that you are destined to unite but will take some time for you two to meet. When you do meet its going to bring everything you have dreamed of into your life.

-might be quite unfamiliar with emotions. may feel numb a lot or may not know how to handle emotions. Which may be from the fact that they carry a lot of emotional luggage that they just store. When they meet you you'll be able to guide them how to release those unnecessary emotions in a healthy way.

-the divine is LITERALLY guiding them towards you. like a magnet.

-i see a lot of people gossiping about them.😯

-in the eyes of others, they are very happy/witty/extraverted, when they are alone they might act differently.

-they are not in tune with their emotions which might be what they need to be working on in order to move forward. may be a life lesson for them???

-they may lack being independent. they follow other peoples footsteps which leads them not knowing who they are.

APPEARANCE

-definitely have curly/long hair.

-may like flowy/baggy light clothes.

-may wear bracelets/accessories.

-has a thing for flowers. may love the smell or likes flowers in general.

PILE 2-

Designated message= "tell me you love me". "love me love me say that you love me".

-gosh, very clingy.(applies to some, take what resonates).

-very funny. comedian kind of funny. Will make you laugh a lot.

-may be insecure, is afraid to ask for help from others.

-very introverted.

-yup, hides from the world but wants to see it and travel. may have tendencies to escape current lifestyle.

-is very emotional (lol opposite from pile 1).

-has definitely been through a lot, very transformative life experiences which made them lose trust in others. Scorpio/8h energy

-is very stubborn and wants to do their own thing.

-i see them dreaming a lot. definitely prefers night over day. which may also make them have an interest in stars/astronomy/astrology.

APPEARANCE

-short hair.

-may have a significant pet or has a lot of animals. loves animals??

-has some type of scar/birthmark on the face or head.

-dark features, ex, dark hair, dark eyes.

-sharp jawline.

PILE 3-

-Ooo love this pile ahhh. First thing that came up was success. very successful career. very reliable and VERY well known in workplace. business owner vibes.

-may speak multiple languages or may live in a different country. also travel quite often.

-they are definitely financially secure. They are literally up there with their money gains.

-can prioritise too much time on the job so could mean that they have no social life (some).

-you guys have already met or are going to meet very very soon.

-i see too much luggage and thoughts about work. may have mental health issues related from the fact.

-very tired individual. works too much. when meeting you they will definitely shine more as they will realise what they needed was you.😊aww

-may have Pisces placements. especially moon/mars.

-they might think that they don't need anybody because they have the standard dream life. that's not the case though.

-whenever you'll meet you'll definitely be the one to spark their life for sure.

-i see you two getting ice-cream/carnivals laughing A LOT. (i heard 'summer rain' so may meet in summer or when raining or you get the gist).

APPEARANCE

-have HUGE eyes. sleepy eyes. (some).

-muscular arms/chest.

-hairy (some).

-very tall, i see a huge height difference (some).

-is quite feminine/pure. not in a literal sense but may like accessories or clothes that may not be seen as masculine.

PILE 4-

18+

-very sexual couple.

-you are literally going to be thirsty for each other lol. may be into food play.

-they have high standards so they are not the one to choose anybody.

-very protective. oof take whatever ima say next with a grain of salt, they may become possessive in a not so cutesy way.

-check out pile 1 if you felt drawn to it as it may resonate to some.

-they literally will worship you. my gawd. you will be a literal goddess to them uhhh. want money? here. want new shoes? take my card. want to travel? lets go. That's going to be their mindset towards you. After meeting you they'll feel like its their job to protect and take care of you which again be careful as it may bring an unhealthy obsessions over you.

-they find it hard to communicate on a deeper level with others.

-yup, very into health and fitness. may be into strict diets like being keto/vegan etc.

APPEARANCE

-BIG. are gym freaks so you know how that turns out to be.

-plump lips

-may have a tooth gap (some)

-deep voice/significant voice.

That's it!! 🤍

Thanks so much for reading. i sincerely appreciate your time.🏵️

Feel free to give feedback and simply interact with this post however you'd like.⭐

[yokohamapound]

Oh hi Mark! Can I request some hcs on Dazai, Fyodor, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Tachihara and Odasaku with female reader who is a model and one day when he comes to pick her up from a shoot, she comes up to him and says they're short a model to finish a shoot with and the clothes just so happen to be his size and please won't he model with her? Just for this shoot? :D

Always love a good The Room reference! And what a perfect request for such a cavalcade of beautiful men~

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Tachihara Michizou, Oda Sakunosuke

Contents: no real warnings, just Dazai throwing his ass back

Dazai Osamu

Dazai has a tendency to come to your photoshoots whenever he has free time (or even when he doesn’t but he just wants to skive off of work). Not only are you there, usually dolled up and hanging around between outfit changes and lighting set-ups, but there’s also usually a buffet table full of food he can mooch off of. He still hasn’t shut up about the crab rolls from the first shoot he attended. 

Photographers, wardrobe assistants, and make-up artists are all familiar with him by now, and just put up with his nonsense in order to work with you. And he is capable of wrapping people around his little finger when it suits him to do so. He can turn the charm on and off like a light switch. 

He does have an annoying habit of standing behind the camera and pulling exaggerated faces at you while you’re trying to maintain a pose. Don’t worry, you’re too much of a professional to break. One day, probably when he’s loitering around the buffet table or pissing off the lighting techs by doing shadow puppets against the backdrop, the photographer makes a suggestion to you—since the male model hasn’t been able to attend, why don’t you put your boyfriend to some use? 

Dazai’s tall, slim, and very good looking, so they might as well get some use out of him if he’s going to be there, right? Lucky for you, it really doesn’t take much convincing. When you ask him, Dazai seizes both of your hands, his eyes sparkling.

“About time! I knew I’d be discovered one day!” 

Dazai divas it up through hair and make-up, telling the make-up artists not to make him look too pouty. By the time you actually get his ass into the clothes and in front of the camera, everyone's a little exasperated. You don’t have the heart to scold him, though—you know he’s only really doing it for your sake…and he really does rock the clothes. 

Photographer: “Dazai-san, you don’t need to arch your back quite so much.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I don’t imagine Fyodor can come to your shoots very often, but when he does, he always creates a stir. A tall, pale man with black hair, violet eyes, and that bone structure! He’s like a dream for the designers, and the make-up artists are itching to get at him just to enhance those features. There’s an aura surrounding him that makes them all keep a respectful distance, though. 

No one can quite figure out who he is. They speculate that he might be a European model. A musician, with those hands? Perhaps some kind of foreign celebrity none of them will dare admit to not knowing. You never elaborate and neither does he—the speculation amuses him. 

The way he watches you gives you delicious little goosebumps whenever you’re posing for the camera, and the photographer has to call for an assistant to come and blot you with warm towels to make them disappear. 

You’re never quite sure how Fyodor feels about your job, but he’s never objected. Part of you suspects he turns up now and then to make sure that everyone remembers who you belong to, and that it would be unwise indeed to upset you or take any liberties. Just to remind them that he exists and he’s watching. 

On one particular shoot, the wardrobe assistant and the director both approach you, looking a little sheepish. The male model has come down with the flu, they explain. Do you think your boyfriend would mind stepping in just this once? Otherwise they’ll have to wrap the shoot and reschedule, costing thousands…

You tell them you can’t make any guarantees, but you’ll ask him. Fyodor watches you with an amused expression as you approach him. One of his eyebrows creeps up when you haltingly explain what the photographer wants. You’re going to have to wheedle a little to get him to agree, because Fyodor doesn’t make a habit of stepping into the public eye. Then again, how funny if one of his enemies was to see him modelling on a billboard. It’s this, and his desire to indulge you, that finally makes him agree. 

“I suppose I can step in this once,” he says, putting a finger under your chin and lifting it so you’re looking him in the eyes. “But you’ll have to make it up to me, darling.”

The make-up artist is almost vibrating with nerves as she applies a few minor touch-ups to Fyodor’s face, not that he needs much, and the photographer phrases his requests very politely. No yelling, no orders, no “Yes, baby, give me more!” Although the thought of anyone saying that to Fyodor is enough to have you in hysterics. 

Fyodor’s naturally elegant, so he can pull off the poses, get the tilt of his head just right. He always makes sure that he’s touching you in some way—hand resting on your waist, your shoulder, fingers curled loosely through your hair. It’s like he’s claiming ownership of you in every photo. 

Style-wise, I think your best bet is either for a winter photoshoot, so he can keep his ushanka, or men’s formal wear. Fyodor in a suit? Yes, please. 

Edogawa Ranpo

At first Ranpo would come along to your photoshoots due to the prevalence of snacks on the buffet table, but as time went on he tended to get bored between all the time spent touching up your make-up, fussing with your clothes, or waiting for the lighting to be arranged. He loves you, but he gets bored easily and you’re too busy to pay him much attention. 

He’ll go off and find something else that interests him or wait for you at home, usually. He does still pop up now and then if your shooting location is near to where he’s investigating a murder or if he’s got lost and just used Find My Phone on your phone and followed it to your location. (Ranpo doesn’t do this to keep track of you—it’s literally so he has a way to find you if he gets lost. It’s not like you’re really able to hide anything from him anyway…)

It’s on one of these occasions that the male model has somehow been unable to show up for the shoot, so you’re forced to rope Ranpo in. 

He folds his arms, complete with a pout. “I don’t want to.”

“Please? I’ll bake you some macarons when we get home~”

You can see his resolve starting to weaken. Macarons are one thing, but homemade macarons, still warm from the oven? He starts to loosen his arms, opening his mouth, but you hit him with your ultimate move.

“I know you’ll be so much better at it than the guy they hired, anyway~”

Ranpo visibly wavers, then he sighs. “I guess. If you’re really that much in need of my expertise, I can help you out. I’m so charitable.” He points a finger at you. “Don’t think you don’t owe me those macarons, though.”

Suitably bribed and flattered, Ranpo loses his begrudging attitude and throws himself into it, letting the make-up artists primp and pamper him. Just picture him sitting there with his head tilted back, eyes closed, a satisfied little smile on his face. He’s so fucking cute.

Ranpo’s photographs well, posing happily with you through various couple-themed set-ups. Pretending to kick puddles in the rain while sharing an umbrella. Feeding each other bites of ice-cream from a sundae (although the photographer has to tell Ranpo to stop actually eating it). Sitting on a fake beach. 

Of course, the real kicker is when he opens his eyes and reveals that gorgeous shade of green. Your modelling agency is fighting to sign him up then and there, but he breezily turns them down, telling them he doesn’t have time to do this and be the World’s Greatest Detective. 

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Akutagawa doesn’t want to be there. Everything from his tense posture to his folded arms to his scowl make that abundantly clear. The only reason he is there is either because you asked him to be, or because he insisted on coming along to make sure that no one tried anything with you. He’s protective, but huffy about it. 

Naturally, this makes everyone on set a little nervous, even if they don’t recognise him as one of the most dangerous members of the Port Mafia. 

Despite how unnerving his presence is, more than a few of the make-up artists have fantasised about getting him in the chair and accentuating that face of his. His stark haircut, pale face, and sharp cheekbones make him look like he just stepped off the runway for an avante-garde designer. Like someone’s goth fantasy brought to life. 

When I tell you the amount of begging you’re going to have to do to get this man to take photographs with you…

“You must be joking if you think I’m going to make a fool of myself like that.”

He absolutely won’t do it if he thinks there is any chance of someone mocking him or laughing at him. It’ll take a lot of encouragement, and he’ll be militant about not taking his coat off, until you remind him that he’ll still be wearing clothes and able to use his Special Ability if there’s any kind of attack. 

You’ll have to do his make-up. No way in hell is he letting anyone else touch his face or his hair. 

Your best bet is if this is some kind of high-concept, gothic photoshoot. Lots of dead flowers and Victorian architecture. If it suits his aesthetic and his shirt has ruffles, you’ve got a much better chance of convincing him to go through with it. He’ll bitch about the antiques being fake, and he stands as woodenly as a mannequin, a scowl on his face, but that might actually work for this kind of shoot. He makes a great model for the clothes, austere and aloof. 

Basically, he’ll only do it if both of you look like you’re about to die of consumption and he gets to see you in something ruffled. 

Tachihara Michizou

I feel like Tachihara only came to your shoot in the first place because he’s a nosy little shit and wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And because he enjoys watching people fawn over his gorgeous partner. It strokes his ego, so what?

He likes to hang around and casually menace the make-up artists, or flick through the clothes and give his opinions on them loudly. 

“Ooh, bring this one home, babe~”

Despite this, he’s pretty popular. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he does have a slight charm to him, and his comments have made you laugh mid-photo more than a few times, much to the photographer’s chagrin. 

You didn’t realise how into it he was, however, until the day you ask him to step up and take the place of a model who couldn’t make it. They don’t often bring amateurs in, but Michizou’s cocky grin and delinquent good looks will work for this shoot. 

He gets pissy when the make-up artists make him remove the bandaid from his nose, but he settles down and goes strangely quiet while they’re dabbing stuff on his face. If you poke at him, he’ll grumble that he’s just making sure they don’t stick him in the eye with something, but you know it’s actually because it feels nice. 

“Hey, what’s the name of that crap you put in my hair? Looks good.” 

The clothes are fine as long as he’s not put in anything ridiculous. He can pull off a lot of different styles, but casual streetwear suits him best. He brings out all his punk boy poses: 

Kicking a foot back against the wall. 

Crouching down with his arms resting on his knees, hands loose.

Arms folded, slouching, giving a “what you looking at, hah!?” stare over his shoulder.

At the end, he wants to know if he can keep all the clothes. 

Oda Sakunosuke

Odasaku’s an easy going man. He was reluctant the first time you invited him along to a photoshoot, thinking he’d stand out like a sore thumb, but really no one has time to worry about him being there. He was able to blend into the background like a tall, handsome, stubbly shadow. 

He enjoys people watching, and a photoshoot is like watching an army of ants circle around its queen—you, in this case. People are fussing with your hair, your make-up, adjusting the fit of the clothes, the tiniest tilt of your head. He doesn’t know how you put up with so many people plucking at you, but he’s impressed by how professionally you handle it and accede to the photographer’s wishes. 

Sometimes they mistake him for a roadie (or the photoshoot equivalent) and he finds himself being roped into moving boxes of clothes or holding up one of those lighting umbrellas. You try to intervene where you can, but he always brushes it off and tells you he’s just content to get involved. 

He never expected to be so involved that he’d be in front of the camera, though. When the photographer beckons him over one day and asks him to take the place of the male model, he’s a little stumped. Not even his Special Ability could have foreseen this. 

“You wanna take photos of me?”

Oda’s pretty humble. It takes some convincing to get him to agree, and he twitches a bit as his hair is styled and wardrobe comes over to adjust the clothes he’s wearing. It’s easy to forget he’s still Port Mafia, and understandably paranoid about strangers touching him. 

Oda’s not really a natural behind the camera. Takes a while for him to shake off the stiffness and stop squinting at the bright lights, but the fact he’s doing this with his partner makes it a little easier. 

The photographer figures out he can get the most natural smile out of him by making sure he’s looking at you in every shot, rather than the camera. 

For some reason, I think he’d look really good in an Autumn/Fall photoshoot? Sweaters, boots, heavy coats, scarves, fake snow and falling leaves. That sort of thing. This man looks like he was built to wear plaid.

[arrenlebanen777]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS ✨

✨Hey ik I've been missing for a while but here I am coming back with more astrological observations!!!! ✨This is a collaboration post with @astro-sirena​ !!!✨

💫Having natal hard Aspects between Neptune and the Asc can give the natal person a hard time to Fit in. They often feel like no matter what they do they're not part of a grouping 💫Saturn Trine Personal Planets could bring a lot of mastery revolving the themes of that Planet (recognition too). But making a square could bring the opposite, difficulties and in some cases bad reputation. For example: -Mars Trine Saturn: Very disciplined, strong stamina, mastery of their masculine energy and have a good reputation of being very disciplined and structured people, usually very expert people in what they do. -Mars Squares Saturn:  Have problems with discipline, they could be rebels, have bad reputation of being inconsistent/undisciplined, could be rude without wanting it, have irregular libido and sometimes are afraid of intimacy. -Venus Trine Saturn: Very discipline and mature approach to relationships and their desires, have a good reputation of being very mature and high value people in relationship matters, they could get whatever they put their focus to. -Venus Squares Saturn: Bad reputation in relationships, sometimes fear commitment, they could have low self esteem when it comes to their desires and relationships, problems in love, sometimes immature decisions in love. 💫The planet your north node aspects, can have a significant influence in your life purposes. For example: having mercury aspecting the north node could mean that you could be really influential through teaching, writing or motivational speaking and you feel accomplished through these jobs. 💫People who have their Ascendant in Scorpio degrees(8,20) have beautiful and magnetic eyes. Their bodies tend to be unique and exuding sexual/sensual energy which is really attractive and eye catching to others. They’re mostly average height too. 💫Waldemath(h58) and Pluto are very similar in terms of intensity and negativity. For example: -if you have Pluto conjunct Moon you are very intense at core, every emotion is felt with a terrible intensity and when you are angry you are scary af and even bloodthirsty at times. -If you have Waldemath(h58) conjunct Moon you have the same intensity in terms of negative emotions, you are a very intense person at the core as well but this only is shows when negative emotions arise, with other emotions you are more normal. When angry you have the same fiery demonic raging eyes of a Moon conjunct Pluto person. 💫Having Sappho(80) conjunct Sun in the Natal chat can be an indicator of attracting very easily the same sex or being a crush of someone with the same gender. For example men with this aspect tend to attract a lot of gay people or they attract them very easily. 💫Asteroid Anubis(1912) in 8th house: Handle crises well, they tend to have a lot of wisdom/ knowledge about after death/traumas and suffering, deep understanding of deep parts of our psyche. 💫People with Jupiter conjunct Ascendant tend to come of as really proud and nonchalant. They have a tendency to think that everything they do is right and that they don’t need anyone, but they have a presence that hold a lot of wisdom so people will listen to them even if they are talking pure shit, and usually are really big/tall people. 💫Asteroid Savage(29837) in 3rd house: Very good at comebacks, sometimes they can say things that can hurt people, they are very sneaky and have a very high curiosity, there could be a very savage relationships with brothers/sisters like doing very savage pranks even hostility at times. Is a very rebel person in their way of thinking and doesn’t like to follow orders. 💫Asteroid Poor(13227) in houses indicates what areas of your life are very poor, false, weak and lacks content. Aspecting a Planet is something that you lack for periods of time or that you have to work harder to develop. For example Poor in Hard aspects to Saturn it could mean that sometimes you lack discipline, stability and structure, you have to work really hard to be a mature person with strong set of values. 💫In the house where Saturn is, is the area of life where you tend to be the most minimalist, since Saturn rules minimalism. 💫Mars conjunct Vishnu(4034): Could radiate a lot of divine masculine energy, has godly presence and a powerful aura. They attract a lot of attention and recognition. It’s important for these people to be self aware and connect to their spirituality in order to balance those energies out. With that they can become really magnetic and from that they can attract a lot of opportunities and possibilities. With that they’re also going to exude a lot of sexual energy and are able to attract many sexual encounters. 💫People who have asteroid Shiva(1170) in Scorpio could push their spirituality really hard by taking it to extremes like going to Himalayas mountain to do mysticism and leave society behind or do quite intense spiritual practices. They could pursue enlightenment intensely or feel a very strong devotion to all universe/creation or existence, their approach to life is also all or nothing, and that approach can take them very far in their spiritual journey. Asteroid Shiva(1170) feels really comfortable in the signs of Scorpio, Aquarius, Pisces, Sagittarius and Capricorn because it represents different aspects of Shiva on these signs. 💫Asteroid Pan(4450): Pan is a satyr, the lord of spring & fertility; he's got a thing for nymphs. Mythologically, he was said to be a genius at sex as well as being the God of all wild creatures. Pan shows great lust, great confidence/audacity, absolute lack of shyness/timidity; he is the alcoholic constantly throwing huge parties, indulging in life’s pleasures, joining grand orgies without hesitation. And he is completely uninhibited.. Those with Pan prominent, and especially those with Pan on the Ascendant-- are so wild that they often accidentally intimidate those around them.* 💫Asteroid Nymphe(875) in 9th house: Love to travel, they can connect with their true sexuality when they travel, could indicate sex with foreigners, very adventurer people, sometimes have reckless approach to sex, being in far away places of their home connects them with their mystic side of their femininity. 💫Asteroid Nymphe(875) in 10th house: Very sexy sexy people, they have a reputation of being highly sexually attractive, strong sex appeal, very mystic public persona, being in contact with nature could help them clear their ideas to follow their best path, a lot of people desire/lust them, sometimes men could feel almost like a compulsive desire to this persona, could have something innocent in their aura but this aspect indicate a strong woman who have high values related to their sexuality, probably want men with high authority, status or reputation. 💫Asteroid Hades(h41) conjunct Ascendant: Have a nostalgic presence, could have patriarchal or domineering ways of thinking sometimes, a possessive deep deep person, a person that carries a lot of suffering and history through their souls. They have extremely penetrating minds with a godly presence, could be really depressed sometimes and they have a lot of knowledge of the underworld and probably feels a strong connection to it. 💫Asteroid NOT (2857) indicates something that you decide to not do very much but it seems the opposite to other people, is a contradictory perception. For example: Asteroid NOT in 8th house: You do not have too much sex (decision) but you appear like a sex addict or like someone that has a lot of sex. 💫People who have Saturn In Scorpio could had a very brutal and hard Saturn return. 💫I have never met a Virgo/Libra sun who is not neurotic. 💫Mars in 3rd house could mean abusive relationship with brothers when younger, that could impact in the way they communicate having a very aggressive tone or speaking very louder. 💫If you guys are wondering about the anger of people with Mars in Sagittarius: Lot of them have it conjunct Fixed star Antares who is a very violent star, so they can have an unmatched Anger, rage and violent moments. Very aggressive people when gets angry. 💫People in general underestimate Taurus placements, i know a lot of Taurus people who are really fake/dark/ambitious/ manipulative/ superficial and etc, this is because Taurus placements who are in 17-29 degrees are In conjunction to the malefic Fixed star Algol (head of medusa/demon).

[lilislegacy]

Demigods non-human.

•Absence of menstruation.

•Alarmingly high pain threshold.

•Tendency to Depersonalization-derealization disorder.

•Severe forms of PTSD.

•Too loving and affectionate. the loss of any loved one is perceived extremely hard.

•Creepy appeal. They are too beautiful to be something natural and alive.

•Fearlessness. hardly anything from the mortal world can redeem them.

•Abnormal physical characteristics. too fast, too strong, too agile.

•Most often slight tendency to sadism.

•Predisposition to handling weapons. They are too good at learning how to shoot and use cold steel.

thnks for the ask!

oooh! i love this. yes to all of these!!

my thoughts on a few:

i don’t think sadism applies to all of them, and if it does i don’t think it’s constant. but it definitely is a trait that can come out in them at times. it’s the god in them, especially if they’re a kid of one of the more brutal gods. and i think when it does happen, in most cases, it’s when they’re inflicting pain upon their enemies. but for the demigods that aren’t good people… yeah, sadism - in all its ways - is definitely a more present trait in them than it is with humans.

the menstruation thing. i feel like this has to be true. there’s no way female demigods are dealing with periods while they’re trying to stay alive and go on quests. but then i always question how they get pregnant if they don’t menstruate. but then i always remember how they’re all born and what they’re composed of, and that logic and science doesn’t apply to them lol. (do we think there’s a special demigod birth control? or does normal stuff still work?)

and 100% yes on the abnormal physical abilities and characteristics. they can definitely be thrown around and beat up a lot more. i find myself reading the books and saying things like “how did she not just die?” and “he should be majorly concussed with every bone broken right now.” they are way more agile, way stronger, and way faster than humans. they’re just built different. literally.

i’m gonna add a couple things:

i think demigods have a tendency to be taller. i’m not saying they are all tall - there are certainly exceptions; we know hazel and leo are short - but i think the overall average height for them is taller than it is for humans. for instance, according to google, the average female height is 5’3 and the average male height is 5’7-5’8. but for demigods, i think it’s normal for female demigods to be between 5’5 and 5’8, and for males to be 6 foot or above, you know? like i think full grown piper is 5’6, annabeth 5’10, thalia 5’5-5’7, etc. i think full grown percy is like 6’2 to 6’3, jason around 6’3, frank 6’5, luke 6’1 or 6’2, will 5’11-6’0, etc. i just think they’re naturally taller.

i also definitely think demigods have a slightly non-human look to them, but i don’t think it’s necessarily because they’re all beautiful. a lot of them are, definitely, but not every one. personally, i think it’s all in their eyes. i just feel like when rick describes them, there is always a lot of emphasis on the eyes. annabeth’s are this super unique and intimidating gray and they look like storm clouds, piper’s are multiple colors and look like kaleidoscopes, etc. and i think this especially applies kids of the big 3. like thalia and jason have electric blue eyes, percy’s are a super unique and vibrant sea-green, and hazel’s are literally gold. nico is the only exception having dark brown eyes, but i think they’re still super distinguishable and have a certain wickedness to them. i just think all demigods’ eyes are very unique, intense, and vibrant. their eyes are beautiful and stunning, but also very unsettling if they’re staring at you. that’s the feature that i think makes demigods look not quite human

i’m sure i’ll think of more as soon as i post this lol.

other ideas and opinions welcome!

[putting-it-into-parc]

papaya problems

masterlist

part 2!!

Oscar x reader, Lando x reader (4.0k words)

summary: after a chance encounter with oscar, you can’t help but daydream about what could’ve been. lando has other ideas.

warnings: unresolved tension, potentially inaccurate pit crew descriptions, tw: dutch national anthem ;))

papaya problems

On your first day at McLaren, the secretary at the front desk hands you a card attached to a bright orange lanyard. Race Crew, it declares proudly. You slip it over your head right away, feeling a little buzz of excitement.

After shaking hands with what feels like a thousand people, all dressed in orange polos—or, as you were told during orientation, papaya polos—your guide Shawn leads you to a back hallway, tucked well inside Team Hub, the McLaren motorhome. “As you probably already know well, Lando and Oscar are the two drivers for us this season. If we’re lucky, they might be around to say hi.”

A knock on a door labelled with Oscar’s name yields no response. But as you two approach Lando’s driver room, you hear the muffled sounds of two boys screeching.

“AAAAAAAAAH!!!!”

Thump.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! THERE’S TWO OF THEM!!”

“Lando, just open the door!”

“NOOOOOOOO!!!”

You exchange a glance with your guide. His eyes are crinkled at the corners. “Sounds like they’re a bit…preoccupied,” he says. You nod, amused.

The door abruptly flies open, and one of the drivers bolts out. You have just enough time to register a mop of brown curls, and icy blue eyes widened in terror. The taller of the two walks out of the driver’s room much more calmly. His hair, although also brown, sweeps over his forehead in a smooth wave. He raises his straight, dark eyebrows at the two of you.

“This is one of our drivers, Oscar Piastri,” Shawn informs you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, extending a hand politely.

“Pleasure,” Oscar drawls in a distinctly Australian accent, accepting your hand. His feels warm. Inviting. “And that animal over there, crying over a wasp like the baby he is, is Lando.”

Right on cue, Lando trots over, wiping sweat from his forehead. “That wasp was huge, mate. You’re so calm cause you’re an Aussie. Aren’t the bugs, like, the size of dinner plates there?” He shivers at his own words.

Then he notices you. “You must be new here,” he says. He clears his throat, stands up a little straighter. “I’m Lando. Norris.”

You smile at Lando, offer up your name. “That’s a pretty name,” Lando says. “Pretty girls always have pretty names.” And he winks.

Shawn rolls his eyes. “Lando Norris is our other driver. He has an unfortunate tendency to flirt with anything that moves.”

“Hey, now,” Lando says smoothly. He shoots a quick glare at the guide. “I have the fortunate tendency of not being afraid to appreciate beauty when I see it.”

You accidentally make eye contact with Oscar, who’s standing behind Shawn, and he mouths, You’ll get used to it. You can’t help but smile.

A tiny insect flies out of the driver’s room, and the three of you laugh as Lando dashes back into his room and slams the door.

Later, you’re desperately wandering the halls of the motorhome in search of a vending machine. Your first day was a blur of faces, names, and fact sheets, and you need caffeine now. Finally, you spy one just outside the kitchen. Someone’s already standing in front of it, clearly pondering his choice of beverage. He turns around at the sound of your oncoming footsteps.

“Hey,” Oscar nods. You’re surprised he recognizes you, having only just met you briefly today.

“Hi Oscar. Know what drink you’re going for?”

His eyes are fixated on the row of Coke bottles at the very top. “I’d kill for a Coke.”

“Why don’t you get one?” you knit your brows in confusion.

“Diet. My trainer wouldn’t like that at all.”

Right. The drivers have to maintain weight. And Oscar, being decently tall, is already at a bit of a disadvantage. He sighs and punches in a number. A Diet Coke comes tumbling out of the machine, and he scoops it up and steps aside for you.

You scan the drinks and settle on a tall can of Monster—the most potent source of alertness the vending machine has to offer.

“Wow, a Monster at 5pm,” Oscar muses. A teasing smile has formed at the corners of his lips. He has a dimple on his left cheek.

You sigh. “First days are rough. Although I’ll admit that I’m a bit of a caffeine junkie.”

“Tell me about it,” he says, running his fingers through his already perfect hair. “It’s only Media Day and all I want to do is roll around in my covers. And we haven’t even raced yet.”

The thought of Oscar wrapping himself up in a duvet like a burrito makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

You feel your cheeks burn. “Nothing,” you say quickly. Oscar just stares at you with an inscrutable look on his face.

Great. Now he thinks I’m insane.

“Well,” Oscar says. “I’d better get back. But it was nice meeting you. And I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He gives you a small smile and slips away.

You want to kick yourself for acting like such a fool in front of Oscar, then you wonder why you care so much in the first place.

Because he’s a driver, and as a pit crew member you wouldn’t want him to think you’re weird. Right. Because you were teammates, and teammates need to get along. No other reason at all.

~

For the rest of the week, a can of Monster greets you at the door of your hotel room every morning. Oscar. It’s very kind of him. You wonder if he’s this nice to everyone else on staff. You feel a tiny lick of jealousy imagining him ordering drinks for other people, and quickly stamp out the feeling.

Lando, on the other hand, doesn’t settle just for kind. Every time he passes by you on the paddock, he flashes you a winning smile and a wink. On Sunday night, his eyes meet yours as he holds his P3 trophy aloft, and holds your gaze as he sprays his champagne all over Max Verstappen. You notice that Oscar tips back his bottle in a perfunctory swig, but doesn’t mirror their antics. After the podium ceremony, Lando hurries over to you.

“Post-race party tonight,” he says, breathless. “Come with me?”

Frankly, you’re exhausted. Partying is the last thing you want to be doing—Oscar’s burrito technique sounds really good right about now. You give Lando an apologetic smile, murmur something about next time, and shuffle up to your hotel room like a zombie. How the drivers have the energy for this…you’ll never understand.

You’re indulging yourself with a hot soak in your bathtub when you think you hear a knock at your door. Ugh. It repeats, a little louder. You climb out of the tub, wrap a robe around your body, and peer through the little hole in the door.

It’s Oscar. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In his hands are a helmet and a small tin.

Crap. You don’t have time to put clothes on. You open the door, just a tiny crack. “Oscar?”

“Hey,” he says cautiously. “Sorry to be a bother.”

“No, not at all. It’s just…I’m kind of only wearing a robe right now. Sorry, I was taking a bath…”

Oscar’s cheeks turn pink. You feel your own face redden.

“So I’m totally being a bother,” he says. “Sorry again. You left your helmet at the paddock, and Lando said you went back to your hotel room because you weren’t feeling well.”

You have no choice but to open the door fully and accept the helmet from Oscar. You’re sure your hair is dripping onto the carpet. He carefully avoids looking anywhere but your eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m a mess,” you mutter, embarrassed by your carelessness. “Thanks so much for bringing it all the way over here.”

Oscar chuckles. “It’s not a problem. We’re like, right down the hall from you.”

“But you should be out at post-race. What are you doing at the hotel at all?”

“I’m not that much of a party guy,” Oscar says quietly. “Not gonna lie, as soon as the podium ceremony’s over, I usually try to sneak back before someone manages to drag me to some bar.”

This surprises you. You figured the drivers would be mostly outgoing, always chasing a new high, overflowing with energy.

“Speaking of which,” he says, holding out the tin he had been carrying in his other hand. “Tea. I know you prefer Monster, but it is pretty late…”

Your heart melts. “Oscar,” you say, taken aback at his sweetness. “You didn’t have to…”

He shrugs. “I felt bad. Don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m not,” you say guiltily. “I just told Lando I was tired. I guess I’m just not as good at sneaking back to the hotel as you are.”

At the mention of Lando, Oscar suddenly starts to examine the patterns on the carpet with great interest.

Suddenly, curiosity seizes you. “So when you come back early, what do you do?”

“Usually watch TV. Maybe read a book or play mindless video games. Just unwind.” He meets your eyes again. “You? Aside from your bath, I guess.”

“I mean,” you ponder. “I guess I’ll just watch TV too. And I should probably order food—I’m starving.”

“You haven’t eaten dinner?” Oscar asks, looking slightly alarmed.

“No,” you say, “but there’s no way you had time to, either.”

“No,” he admits.

An idea pops into your head. “Honestly, if we’re the only ones here…do you wanna just order a pizza or something? I totally get it if you’d rather just chill alone."

Oscar’s eyes widen slightly. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake. But then the corners of his lips quirk upwards. “I’m down,” he says.

By the time the pizza shows up, you and Oscar have established that both of you think pineapple on pizza is a sin, but ham is an absolute necessity. He tells you about Aussie pizza, which apparently comes topped with an egg. You wrinkle your nose.

“Hey, can’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” Oscar says defensively.

Then you find out that both of you are working your way through Killing Eve, so you run to the bathroom to (finally) put some pajamas on, and Oscar’s sitting on your bed, TV remote in hand. You climb in next to him, not too close, and try not to get distracted by the fact that he smells like clean laundry. Halfway through the second episode, your eyelids begin to droop.

“Tired?” Oscar whispers, jerking you awake.

“Huh? Oh…” Your head feels foggy. “No, I’m okay. We can finish the episode…”

The next time you open your eyes, startled, the light is still on and you have no idea what’s going on in the show. You look over to your right. Oscar is slumped over with his eyes shut, mouth slightly open, breathing lightly. Out cold.

“Oscar,” you whisper. His eyelids flutter.

“Oh my god,” he says, looking disconcerted. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

You laugh. “I think we both did.”

Oscar slides down so he’s fully horizontal, and rolls to face you. “In that case,” he murmurs sleepily, “how do you feel about not kicking me out tonight?”

You’re so drowsy you can hardly think. All you know is that it’s nice and warm under the covers, and Oscar looks pretty damn comfortable too. “I’m okay with that,” you say softly.

Oscar reaches out with a muscular arm, switches off the lamp on the bedside table, and faces you again with a yawn.

And just like that, you both fall asleep.

~

A ribbon of sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains wakes you up the next morning. You half-open your eyes to three freckles dotting a pale neck, a soft white t-shirt against your cheek.

What the—

You shoot away instinctively. The t-shirt wrinkles as its owner stirs. Oscar opens his eyes blearily. “What the—” he echoes, looking totally frazzled.

The events of last night suddenly come flooding back to you. Oscar returning your helmet, eating pizza together, watching Killing Eve, falling asleep next to him…

The realization seems to dawn on him at the same time. You look at each other and laugh, a little awkwardly.

“I must’ve mistaken you for my pillow,” you say apologetically.

“I didn’t mind,” Oscar replies quickly. You gape at him, shocked, and he blushes. “Sorry, that sounded weird.”

“’s okay,” you mutter. “I guess we should get going.”

Oscar shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “Yeah…yeah. Thanks for letting me stay over. It was…fun.” He slips on his slides, gives you a long look, and disappears.

You feel dazed, unsure if any of this was real. Did Oscar mean what he said, about you inadvertently cuddling up to him in the middle of the night?

Shut up, you tell yourself. Did you see the way he left, so fucking quickly? He’s probably embarrassed that he stayed over. Don’t you dare start daydreaming about him now.

But no matter how many times you repeat it to yourself, you can’t shake the feeling of his chest against your cheek, his warmth. For the rest of the day, your eyes roam the paddock for the Australian driver. But Oscar is nowhere to be found.

~

Oscar was verifiably nuts. Bonkers. "I didn’t mind"…really? He really, truly had looked her in the eye and said that. He buried his head in his hands, perched on the edge of the little bench in his driver’s room. Groaned as he remembered the way her soft pink lips had parted in shock.

Truthfully, he remembered waking up briefly in the middle of the night to the feeling of her rolling over, nestling her face into his chest. Her hair smelled like jasmine and vanilla and something else he couldn’t quite place. Oscar had sighed and closed his eyes again, half-thinking it was all just a dream.

His reverie was interrupted by Lando all but kicking down the door.

“Bro,” he demanded, “why weren’t you at post-race last night?”

Oscar grimaced, bracing himself for the impending lecture of you need to get out more and live a little he was inevitably about to receive. “I was bringing one of the pit crew their helmet back to the hotel.” Not untrue.

Lando rolled his eyes so hard that Oscar wouldn’t have been surprised if they fell out of their sockets. “How kind of you. And how utterly fucking unnecessary.”

“I’m a nice guy,” replied Oscar, nonchalantly.

“She must’ve been hot,” Lando deadpanned.

Oscar immediately turned red.

Lando gasped. “No.”

“What?”

“You dirty, dirty dog!” Lando crowed gleefully. “Just returning a helmet, my ass. Who is she? Tell me!” he demanded.

Oscar couldn’t really see a way out of this. He muttered her name under his breath, hoping Lando would somehow not remember her. But the driver’s eyes flashed with instant recognition.

“I cannot believe,” said Lando in a low voice, “that Oscar Piastri picked up a girl the night of the GP. Without so much as going to a bar to do it.”

“Shut up.” Oscar gritted his teeth. “I didn’t pick her up. We didn’t even do anything…just sat there and watched TV.”

And slept together…just not like that, he added in his head silently.

Lando was staring at him, eyes slightly narrow. “What?” Oscar asked, feeling like he was being examined through a microscope.

“Are you into her?”

He felt his face grow warm again. He just shook his head.

Lando looked thoughtful. “So…you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out.”

Oscar felt a little like someone had kicked him in the stomach. “Ask her out?” he said weakly.

“Yeah, mate.” Lando flashed a smile. “She’s cute. I’ve been trying to get her to hang with me this whole week.”

“Why don’t you just ask her out now?” Oscar said, the words coming out a little more rudely than he intended. But it was true. It was unlike Lando to try to get to know someone before just shooting his shot.

“Chill, mate,” Lando said, a little suspiciously. “She’s not just, like, a girl in a bar, you know? And she’s also a papaya…ever heard of maintaining productive team dynamics?” He made air quotes.

“Uh huh,” said Oscar, dubiously.

Lando could do what he liked, Oscar told himself. After all, he was telling the truth—it’s not like anything happened. It wasn’t like he had some kind of claim over her, like she was his territory. And he remembered again, with a heavy sigh, that look of surprise on her face. Even if he did try to make a move…it never would have happened. Not for him.

Oscar decided that he’d do what he did best—and give her, and Lando, the space they probably deserved.

~

Weeks pass in a repetitive blur of travel, races, a post-weekend crash, repeat. You find yourself settling in to a routine, becoming more comfortable with the rest of the staff.

Except for Oscar. Since Bahrain, you’ve hardly seem him, only running to his car during races to make adjustments, occasionally seeing him in the hallway, exchanging only a polite nod. Neither of you ever mentions that night, of course. Oscar’s probably long forgotten by now. Spending real nights, ones involving long kisses and perhaps even something more, with who knows how many girls. Beautiful, confident, rich ones. Girls that didn’t spend most of their time with their hair in a messy bun under a papaya cap or a helmet, frantically scurrying around with jacks and wheel guns. Every race, you get better and better at tucking him away into a deep back corner of your mind.

At Miami, you casually mention to one of the guys on the pit crew that you have a penchant for CoD and Rocket League. Word must’ve travelled fast, because Lando corners you the very next day and demands you join him and some of “the boys” after FP2 to play a few rounds. You shrug in agreement, expecting to see a group of papayas on their laptops, but walk in to none other than Mercedes’ George Russell, and Williams’ Alex Albon, sitting cross-legged on a bed in Lando's hotel room.

George shakes your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he says primly. A proper British gentleman.

Alex, on the other hand, greets you with a warm, sunny smile. “Lando’s told us a lot about you.”

And then Oscar walks in, laptop tucked under his arm. Your heart immediately starts to pound. “Oh.”

“We have guests today,” trills Lando.

“Do you two already know each other?” George asks.

You look anywhere but at Oscar. “Yeah. We’ve chatted a few times.”

“Great!” Alex chirps cheerfully, and grins. “Charles is gonna be so mad we’ve subbed him out.”

“Oh—“ you stammer. Charles Leclerc? In Ferrari? “Wait, I don’t want you to kick anyone out because of me—“

“He’s just joking around,” laughs Lando. “We’ve all been annoyed with Charles. He’s been bailing on us left and right lately.”

George gives Lando a knowing look. “Since Max told him he’s been interested in learning some padel. Coincidence? I think not…”

You realize he’s talking about Max Verstappen. Suddenly, you feel like you shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be privy to this…gossip. Gossip about Formula One drivers. Lando must have really talked you up to his friends.

Oscar clears his throat subtly. “Wanna get on it? Or are you all too busy speculating on Charles’ love life?”

The boys roll their eyes good-naturedly, but fire up their computers. F1 drivers, you think. They’re just like the rest of us.

~

One day, as you’re busily blocking George’s car from scoring a goal, George calls you “Pastry’s girl.”

You yelp, temporarily dropping your defense. George seizes the opportunity to launch the soccer ball into your goal, accompanied by an evil cackle. Proper British gentleman, your ass.

“Don’t call me that,” you protest.

“Why not?” George grins. “We all know it’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

“All he does is talk about you,” singsongs Alex. “Oh, Alex, have you seen her today? D’you reckon she’d play with us tonight, Alex? How should I ask for her hand in marriage, Alex?”

You shove Alex hard, sending him toppling into George. “Feisty,” he smirks, rubbing his arm.

“That’s not true,” you plead. Alex and George just laugh, exchanging knowing looks. Infuriating.

“Pastry’s girl,” George teases again, and you stick your tongue out at him.

It’s impossible. George is just being a clown. When Oscar won’t even talk to you…

~

In Monaco, McLaren pulls off a 2-3 podium. You howl with laughter at the sight of Max yanking Lando’s collar and spraying the champagne right down his back, almost as soon as the last note of the Dutch anthem plays. Oscar meets your eyes, and without thinking you mime shaking up the bottle. And for the first time, he does, with a smile that you tuck away in the same corner that you’ve stashed the rest of him in. A smile that you let yourself believe was maybe meant just for you.

Lando, much like at Bahrain, makes a beeline for you after the podium ceremony, waving away eager reporters. He beams at you, and you can’t help but smile at his jubilation.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Congrats on P2,” you tell him.

“Feeling up to the post-race tonight?” he asks.

You’ve gone to a few now. It’s always a bit of a mixed bag. But the Monaco race was a little earlier in the evening, and it’s not like you’d have any company if you went back to the hotel…

“I suppose so.”

Lando plays with the zipper on his racing suit. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, making you feel a little uneasy.

“So…I wanted to tell you something.”

You look at him quizzically.

“Ah, well, the truth is...” Lando says, his fiddling intensifying, “I’ve always thought you were cute, and now I know you’re smart and funny and just, like, fun to hang out with.”

You don’t know why, but your eyes dart over to Oscar. He’s standing at the far end of McLaren’s paddock, smiling amicably for pictures, signing papaya hats, fielding questions from reporters. He doesn’t see you and Lando standing together.

“So.” Lando hesitates. “Will you go out with me?”

You steal another glance at Oscar. Let yourself imagine him saying those words. It would never happen.

Lando’s piercing blue eyes look at you earnestly, awaiting your response. You tear your gaze away from Oscar. Lando is handsome, and charming, and funny, and you think that maybe...maybe you could learn to love the other driver in papaya.

“Sure. Yeah…that sounds nice,” you tell Lando.

He grins from ear to ear, and takes your hand as he leads you away from the paddock, away from Oscar. He never sees you.

notes: wasp scene…poor lando 😂

sequel here! more fics here!

[gyusimp]

°•Cry•°

Warnings: No smut today, lol just a bit angst sorry. I've been feeling like Gyutaro lately and today I felt like crying in the office so I better take the opportunity to vent and write a bit.

▪︎Song Inspo: "Cry" - Cigarettes After Sex (i love them so much, pls listen to their music 🤧)

He was better than him, or so Gyutaro thought of his best friend.

Best friend? Since when did he think of him like that? He was quite a close acquaintance, because for Gyutaro friends don't exist.

He sees himself and him thinking that they are complete opposites, so why do they get along so well? And they get along so well why couldn't Gyutaro help but be envious of him from time to time?

Douma was a handsome young man, posting pictures of himself everywhere he went to his hundreds of Instagram followers. His skin was smooth, pale and flawless without any blemishes, his toned body and height would make anyone who looked at him drool, his features well proportioned and even his style of clothing was similar to that of a k-dramas idols or models, dammit.

He had a lot of friends not only in college but also from his old school where he finished high school, all the girls were texting him and would be willing to line up behind him at least to get a closer look.

He loved going out on weekends for walks and raising all the looks he could to feel desired and be the center of attention wherever he went.

Douma wanted a girl? He could have her.

But Gyutaro, oh, poor Gyutaro...he was Gyutaro. Always with the same expression on his face of having smelled shit even if he really felt happy, his laugh was totally outrageous and his shaky and weak voice matched it.

He had a nice skin tone and beautiful blue eyes but these were surrounded by dark circles due to the exhaustion of working all day and being a university student in his free time, the skin of various parts of his body including his face were dotted with peculiar birthmarks, a few scars and little spots caused by the stupid shitty acne he had been fighting for years.

He made an effort to dress well but being too tall he couldn't even find pants that fit him correctly, being tall was not part of his insecurities but being someone that big intimidated other people making them move away from him even when he weren't did it on purpose.

His hair was styled the same way every day, if he tried to do something different with it it was hard to like it and he'd rather opt to tie up his messy curls the same way again. Gyutaro hated his hair.

He had no friends, sometimes he used to talk with Hakuji and Michikatsu in college besides Douma but apart from them he had no one else to talk to. He hated people and his asocial tendencies made it almost impossible for him to want to leave his house when the 3 boys asked him out on a weekend. He had better things to do, like resting at least 1 fucking day a week and spending time with the only person he really cared about in life, his little sister Ume.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

"Did you see her? I think it's her, right?"

Gyutaro looked up from his food towards one of the campus gardens, looking at the girl the blonde was referring to.

"It's her. Bro, do you really like her and can't recognize her yet?"

"It's nerves, I suppose." Douma said, laughing ruefully.

It had been several months since Douma had set his colorful eyes on a girl from college, no idea who it could be because she wasn't in the same class as them so that made things a bit more difficult for Douma to start his goal of getting to know her better. He didn't even know her name.

Gyutaro tried to help and advise his friend in what he could, he had never had a girlfriend before but for some reason he was good at romantic issues, although not when he had to apply them himself.

Recently, a girl at work had made Gyutaro's heart race every time he talked to her. She was too nice to him and they had a common taste for topics of conversation. It is not common for Gyutaro to feel romantically attracted to someone, it had been 4 years since his last disappointment in love so this time he was more mature and thought he would dare to open up more and maybe get to know this adorable and special girl more.

They were small steps but Gyutaro was determined and motivated by his co-workers, he would start by greeting her in a friendly manner, talking with her in free time and even bringing her some sweets or snacks to her desk making her smile and thank him tenderly, making his chest puff up proudly every time they were together... but not everything was rosy.

An idiot was behind her too. He had a girlfriend but he was still after every woman in the office that he could get for himself within the company, 7 years older than her and unattractive but still...she seemed to send all the little but sincere efforts from Gyutaro fucking down the drain. He was very disappointed, again.

Gyutaro cannot forget how one day he came to work earlier than usual and found them laughing and talking as if they had known each other for years and when they saw him they simply went to another place to continue talking alone...as if he was trash.

That day he decided to give up but if only his heart could stop feeling things for her so easily. She preferred that bastard, it wasn't safe at all but seeing them eat lunch together every day, talking when they could and coming to work together would drive Gyutaro into the head without fail, making him feel bad. It wasn't the first time this happened to him, other girls he was interested in before also rejected him without a second thought. They all told him the same shit about "She's missing it, don't worry about her." "The right one will come" but when? How much longer was he going to have to keep waiting when he was getting further and further along in his adult life? Were they sure the problem wasn't him? Because he was convinced of that. Different interests in different people, different places and stages of his life... and he was always rejected.

Gyutaro had so much love to give behind that serious face and "unfeeling" armor, but no one cared to know what was beyond all that. It was frustrating.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Gyutaro worked on his computer on some university projects after work, he did it afterward before going to sleep to pay enough attention to his little sister when he got home and had dinner with her. It was almost 9:00 pm and several messages made his cell phone vibrate, he took it to turn on the screen and see the contact "Douma" who had sent him 5 messages. Gyutaro opened the app and everything was a summary of how his partner had gotten the number of the girl he liked at a college event, got her Instagram and following each other accompanied by some screenshots of the random topic conversations with the girl. This made Gyutaro happy for his friend though not entirely, maybe at first but a few days later it all became a bit annoying for him. Douma couldn't stop talking about this girl, how cute she was to him and all the things they both had in common, how she responded to his messages almost immediately, and how they complimented each other. Douma was just excited and he didn't do it with any bad intentions but Gyutaro couldn't help but feel that his college romance was being rubbed in his face while he had been sent to hell a couple of weeks ago.

Gyutaro didn't say any bad comments to his friend, he reserved all kinds of hurtful words because he really appreciated him but envy grew little by little inside him. Douma was smart and handsome, he had gotten the seemingly unattainable girl of his dreams in a matter of weeks even though the only thing they met to socialize with was campus 1 time a week, a year ago he didn't even know she existed and now maybe they would even end up dating or doing things together in college and this disappointed Gyutaro in himself.

Why couldn't he do that? Why didn't these things happen to him? Even Ume got a love confession a few days ago but he never got his turn at anything...he was sick of this crap of feeling like he was "begging" people for some affection...he was fucking tired of the constant rejection .

If Douma did it with a complete stranger then why couldn't he achieve anything with the people he lived with and saw every day at school or work, with people who were even his friends, who took the fucking trouble to learn his name well and greet him every morning, with whom he had common themes and similar details in their life...why not him?

Shit, he was crying, again.

He didn't like to do it but he had to. Ume was asleep in her room so she couldn't hear his sobs in the dark, he sighed heavily and wiped a few tears from his face when his cell phone vibrated again. He scrolled down the notification panel only to find more messages from Douma and more screenshots of his conversations with the girl to tell him that everything was going well.

Gyutaro wasn't in the mood, not now. He tucked his cell phone under his pillow and snuggled under the covers as he was lulled to sleep by the rain outside. Maybe if he slept early today his head would stop aching and spinning in the morning, hoping to have a clearer and less stressful day than today.

[lady-ashfade]

The Crows and prey.

Six of crows x Bunny!Fem!Reader. (Bunny hybrid) [Romantic]

Plot: Ketterdam was in a bad storm and the crow get locked in at the club together for the rest of the night. It takes one of them to spot something outside and then the rest follow, and they go to figure it out. Ready to fight, ready to kill. But they soon realize there is no threat.

Previous. [] Next.

Readers appreciate: Female, I thought of a shorter reader but any body type can be used. (But I think bunny hybrids would be short, if you’re tall just imagine) The readers ears are white, because it’s easy and I think they are freaking adorable. And with darker skin tones they will be beautiful and pop out. That the only thing that is said.

Warnings: Abuse, reader being abused, being slaved and sold, blood, wounds, gaslighting, future dark yandere tendencies, possessiveness, and obsession. I wanna make this serious kinda dark, but nothing to bad, but they probably will be medium-hard yandere’s.

Tagglist: @igakc @babyblue-chaos @aqueennia

Btw: This took to long, so bare with me for the mistakes and spelling shit- I just needed to get this posted.

The small tapping on the widows as the droplets of rain hit the glass, the silence around the bar made it easy for them to hear it hit the walls from the outside. It was a very angry rainy night, people left early to get home while they still could. The group was forced to stay here for the night and couldn’t get back to their shared house, so they took comfort knowing they could be together still.

“The saints must be upset.” Jesper commented and raised his finger that rested on his cup. Inej looked at him and raised a brow and gave him a look, he just smiled and muttered his apologize. The thunder roared through the city and they could feel it sometimes, it was one hell of a storm outside.

The wind whistling through the small cracks of the door, “We could play a game?” Nina smirked and leaned forward with a mischievous smile on her lips. “Might as well do something fun.” She looked around the table at their eyes. Kaz looked annoyed and didn’t give in, he wasn’t doing some foolish.

“What do you have in mind?” Wylan asked and snuggled into his boyfriends chest and took a sip of his tea. “Charades? Two truths and a lie, or swords and shields.” She named off some games to see if they liked the sound of any of them. The table broke out with the crew, except kaz, with their own ideas.

Kaz looked away from his friends and looked out the window that was almost pitch black, he watched the water collect and rush together. Something moved across the widow and blocked the small incoming light, then disappeared to the direction of the door. His chest clinched and he stood up right away, everyone stopped and looked at him. He had a scowl on his face, different then his calm one.

He glared at the door and looked at them for a second then back to gesturing something, Nina was the first to pick up. She took a second and focused on the heartbeats she could hear, one more then usual. Nina nodded and they all stood up quietly, Jesper slowly moved towards his guns, Nina put her hands together. Inej was getting herself ready for anything, wylan looked around and saw the butter knife and grabbed it, knowing he could kill someone’s with it. Nina looked at mattias who placed a hand on her shoulder, as if this could go wrong. But he was ready, they all were.

Inej walked in front of all of them and quietly moved along the wooden floor towards the door, she was the one to open it. She grips a knife as she slug open the door ready to face the person, but her eyes found nothing but the road being rained on. A split second later she heard a noise and turned to the side, her hand blocking herself.

“I’m sorry..” a quite voice said from down on the floor, the deck roof stopped the rain from hitting them both. Inej looked down and saw someone leaning down in a cloak and couldn’t see their face, but their voice was soft and scared. Jesper came quickly and pointed his guns to make sure to get his point across, but he stopped when Inej placed a hand on his guns and pushed them down.

“Are you alright?” Inej asked and inched closer, you moved back and held your side to get away. “Please don’t hurt me- I’ll leave.” You groaned and held onto the railing to help yourself up. Nina could hear the slowly heartbeat, but it spiked up when you saw them. Clearly you were hurt. “I have no interest in hurting you.” Inej put her knife away and kaz glared at her, she was letting her guard down.

Kaz stepped through the door and eyed you up and down. No one could see your face, it was dark and your hood hugged your face closely. He did notice the hand that stuck to your side and he could see red staining your hand. “There’s a healer down the street, this isn’t a place for you.” Kaz earned everyone’s glare.

“Kaz.” Inej looked at him with begging eyes, also angry at him for being cruel. You understand and didn’t want to be there anymore, the people around you were too many. The man dressed in all black with the cane was giving you bad vibes, he scared you.

You fell back a bit and hissed in pain, you moved your feet up and took a step. Your body threatened to collapse but you pushed passed it, this wasn’t the first time you had been in this situation. But for the first time you weren’t back at your home- Or the place you were sold to and it was never a place you called home. “Sorry to disturb you.” They watched you carefully step down the wet steps and hold the railing tightly to keep you up.

Jesper looked back at kaz, Nina glared at the man, wylan was heartbroken, Matthias stared in pity, Inej knew how it felt to be like you. Hurt and clearly no where to go. Kaz felt their glazes on him and didn’t want to give in. He wasn’t going to offer a helping hand because then someone might mistake them for kind people. Then every injured lowlife would come seeking shelter.

But when he looked into Inej’s eyes, the frown in her brows and searched for the answer she wanted. “Fine.” He rolled his eyes and walked back inside for them to deal with it. As you made the final step you were stopped, “We can help you.” Your skin felt the rain again and you shivered. You didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll be fine,” you spoke through shaking teeth from the cold. “You’re clearly hurt, and it’s hell out here.” Jesper took a step and you backed up and your foot hit the mud. They all stopped because they saw how frightened you were, and they asked themselves why you were so skittish. Inej knew- Or could have a guess.

“You can come in, take a breath and have a roof over your head for the night. We have supplies for you to fix yourself, we don’t even have to be near you.” You looked at her for a minute at the soft tone in her voice and the small smile on her face, along with the rest looking at you so soft.

You picked yourself up the stairs, “Can someone help me in?” You trusted them enough because even if this was a trap, you needed help. Nina smiled and made her way down to you and held her arm out, you took it and she helps you up and into the bar. They all followed after you both, kaz was sitting at the table and his eyes feel on you again.

The light of the candles lit up the room and as close as Nina was she could see your face clearly now. Her heart stopped, a bloody and bruised face. She couldn’t explain it but you were as beautiful as a blooming flower, but seeing you like this filled her with rage. Why? She just meet you but she felt this pull towards you.

“Inej, come with me and let’s get her cleaned up.” They took you into the back and the boys were left feeling a bit lonely as they saw you disappear. A tug at their hearts had them as confused as Nina. “The supplies are coming out of all of your paychecks.” Kaz mumbled and took a swing of his whiskey, the others rolled their eyes and went to sit down at the table to wait it out.

In the back room they made and place for you to sit, Inej got all the supplies you needed and placed them on the table. Nina looked around and made a bed for you on the floor, with blankets and pillows she could find. “Do you want us to leave?” Inej asked and you looked up at her and she saw your face. Inej’s stomach dropped and she wondered who did that to you?

“I-” you whimpered out in pain and leaned back and pulled the stuff closer to you. For a slight second your sleeves rises up and Inej caught a glimpse, a familiar sick feeling caught in her throat. “I shall be fine with it.” You wanted them to leave so you could get all your wounds, you needed to take off your hood. Inej sighed in disappointment but she understood, she whistled for Nina to come over.

“Yell if you need anything.” Nina shouted as they both walked out of them room. You got to work on your side first, the deepest wound you had. This was the first time your owner had truly hurt you, or this bad anyway. He wasn’t happy when you fought back, so he got angry along with his booze which lead to where you are now.

“Is she alright?” Jesper asked as the ladies walked out. Nina shrugged and went over to the bar were kaz sat and poured herself a drink, matthias got up to be beside her. “She’s hurt pretty bad.” Inej spoke and pulled out one of her blades and played with it as she glared at the ground.

Kaz looked at her and recognized the look on her face, one she got when she was mad or overthinking something from her past. “She’s marked.” She stated and everyone turned their head to listen to her. “The menagerie?” Wylan asked and stood up.

“No, I haven’t seen this marking before. I don’t know what it’s from- Or if it’s the same, but it’s in the same place.” Inej pointed to where her marking once was. “That’s why you wanted to help her?” Kaz asked.

Inej glared at him, “No. I helped because it’s the right thing to do.” Her tone made it known she was getting annoyed, something she didn’t do often, or showed.

Behind the closed door the extra pair of ears hung down the side of your head, once fluffy white fur was coated with dirt and blood. Cuts along them hurt almost worse the the slash on your hip. You couldn’t help but overhear their conversation even if the ears were ringing, it made you a little panicked.

Slowly you applied some medicine on the cuts on your ears and they twitched in pain, you whimpering at the sting. You rushed the cleaning process on your hip and then the bandage that you wrapped around yourself. You filled your pockets with some of the supplies and got up and looked at the window. You pull your hood out and tied the bands on the back of your head to make it stay.

You unlocked the widows and quietly opened it up, looking down at the ground under thinking of you could handle the small drop. This was for the best, if they knew the symbol on your wrist they could take you back. You had finally gotten out after years of trying and you weren’t going back.

“Where are you going?”

You jumped around at the voice of the girl from earlier. She wore red and had light skin, brown hair and a nice smile. A big man stood next to her…He looked rough and scary but at the same time kinda soft.

“Thank you for the help, I will pay you back.” Nina took a step forward and smiled wide at you. “No silly, you stay here for the night. You must be scared, and we don’t want to hurt you. You’re owned by someone. Yes? Maybe the one who hurt you?” She was strangely right and that made you a bit scared.

“If you go out there they might find you, take you back. This is the safest place for you.” The younger looking man stepped through the door and his eyes fell on you as Nina spoke. “You don’t want that do you, sweetie?” Her voice was smooth but they hit you hard.

She knew her manipulation would work, of course it did. Fear was powerful, but so easy to control.

You looked out the window at the puddles splash, you sighed and closed it shut the glass, you looked at them apologetically. “I’ll stay here tonight.” They all hummed and gave you smiles, some more bigger then others but still smiles more the less. “Get you some rest dear, we will leave you to it.” Nina said and pulled the big man out the door.

The pale small one stayed for a minute and looked at you and you squirmed a bit under his gaze. “My names Wylan.” You blinked and played with your hands. “Hello, wylan.” His body tingles as you speak his name, as if he craves it more. He stayed for a minute to learn your name but you didn’t seem to want that. So he smiled at you one last night and left you be.

You looked at the clothes they left for you and you decided to put them on because you were going to get sick if you didn’t. But you kept your hood on as you laid down on the bed they had made you. You found it comforting, it was like the nest you had back there. But this was wasn’t as bad, you liked it well.

So you snuggle up into the blankets and moved the pillow underneath your head and let your body finally get some rest. Hoping when you’d wake up, you’d still be here.

Kaz stared at you as your face stayed calm and still. He found it almost cute how you looked- So pretty and adorable, but the cuts on your skin made him feel a certain way. Kaz found himself staring at you for a while, it was his turn and he was forced to do so. But he was glad he did because he needed to have a look at you and figure you out.

Body stirring to the side he saw your eyes clinch before opening them. The light was brighter then the day before, the sun came out of the clouds that once blocked it. He saw the light hit your face and it was almost heavenly to him, and your eyes he finally got to see their color. In the moment, new waves took him under and made him feel overwhelmed.

It was strange to him, but he pushed aside the  urge to protect you and touch you in that moment. “Hello, sunshine.” His voice laced with sarcasm. You turned your head and groaned at the pain your side, “Um, hello.” You rubbed your eyes to see clearly.

You gasped as your wrist felt something cold and sharp, his cane brought its way up and pulled your hand closer. “What is this?” He asked and pointed to the ink in your skin. You swallowed and pulled your hand back and held it close for your chest. “You clearly know what it is.” He raised a brow and tilted his head.

“Let me rephrase,” you watch him lean down a bit and your heart begin to beat faster. He looked threatening. “Who do you belong to?”  You bite your lip and looked away from him and tried not to tear up at the memories. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Kaz chuckled and smirked, “That marking means you do, but to who? Never seen that one before.” You pushed yourself up and leaned on the wall facing him. “You want to take me back?” He saw the fear in your eyes as you asked that question. That made him never want to give you back, not that he would in the first place.

“Not at the moment, no. My crows wouldn’t be too pleased.” His words confused you. Kaz felt his heart squeeze as you moved your head, it was like some sort of confused animal. Adorable. “Crows? Like the birds?” It was his turn to be puzzled for a second. You didn’t know dirtyhands and his crows? The wraith, sharper, demolitions expert, heartrender and her boyfriend, and him? The bastard of the barrel.

“My crew, the ones that took you in. Went against my wishes just for you.” He pointed out and you nodded in understanding. “Your name?” You asked. He felt his chest grow with a feeling at how your eyes looked at him. So beautiful. Then the soft voice that sounded like heaven to his ears. “Call me kaz.” You made a note of his name. Kaz went on to tell you all of their names, it was making you head spin to put faces to them but you got it soon enough.

“Tell me..” he raised a brow, he didn’t even know your name. “Y/n, that’s all I remember.” You shrugged and gave him a soft smile. Kaz looked down at your wrist and glared at the skin covered up. “Tell me, y/n” the name tasted like flowers in his mouth, “Who is the person who put the mark on your skin, give me something. We can keep you safe here, but you have to talk.” Your heart dropped and he saw the look in your eyes as they got wider. Sadness laced behind your eyes and it angered him slightly, someone so soft spoken as you was probably scared into acting that way.

As the thoughts run in your hears your breath begins to pick up and chest going up at down at a fast pace. Your eyes look over the room at everything and your hands grip the sheets. “You can’t- I need to go.” You gripped onto the windowsill above you and tried to bring yourself up, but the pain in your side and body made you fall back. Kaz watched with fear, you couldn’t leave-

No, no you had to stay.

He thought for a minute of what to say and how to bring you out of this panic state. It was painful for him to watch. Then he saw something drip down the side of your head, it coming from underneath your hood, and then to your far cheek. “You’re bleeding.” He pointed a finger and you only shot up. You didn’t feel the pain grow because you were to focus on your mind, the cuts on your ears must have busted open again. You let out a whimper and place your hand on the second pair of ears on your head.

“Take off the hood.” Kaz motioned with his hands. But you didn’t want to because then he would know what you were. And he could end up like the rest of them.

“No, I can take care of it. Just leave me for a few.” You blinked up at him and gave him a small but weak smile. Had he ever seen you without the hood? You slept with it on, you didn’t want to part with it. He found that intriguing. 

“Take off the hood, it’s not a option. You’re hurt and you clearly didn’t take care of it the first time and it’s on your head. Do you want to lose the blood going to your brain?” You shook your head.

“If I take it off you’ll turn out like him! And I will not be sold again..” you shouted and he saw the emotion in your eyes, “Never again.” Your soft tone returned and broke.

“Inej would have my head if I sold you.” You glared at him and bit and showed you were in no mood for his comments. “I promise to not sell you out. You have a place now, you’ll work for me to pay your debts. But my crew and I will let no harm come to you.”

If you could just stand up fully without falling you would be out of the door by now and send money later. You wanted freedom but somehow this didn’t feel like it, but you had no other option. Sighing you nodded your head and untied the knot behind the hoodie to loosen it. It felt like a million years for kaz, you had about ten things keeping it in place. Then the fabric was finally pulled off your head.

The white fur with old blood and new blood splatter over it, he saw the flesh under the cuts, the dirt mixed with the blood on the fur. It was silent for a few minutes as he stared at the top of your head with a unreadable expression. He was surprised, what were you? He couldn’t believe his eyes, it was like saints all over again. But where you are.

But what were you? It was making his head spin, he had no knowledge about this.

In front of him, small and hurt. Adorable face and body, a cute nose he just noticed and beautiful ears- If they weren’t hurt. “Saints.” He cursed under his breath and you didn’t know if he was mad or what. Biting your lips a bit you took a deep breath and waited for him to say something else. But you knew the confusion he was facing and it would take him some time.

“What the fuck.”

You both looked back and see Jesper hanging on the doorframe with Nina by his side with her jaw dropped. You shifted in your seat and covered yourself up and didn’t care about the pain in your ears.

It wasn’t going to be a secret anymore.

[bedeviledcowboy]

Blood of a Servant

Renfield x gn!reader 18+

> kinks: light dom/sub, jk very heavy dom/sub, master/servant, begging, Renfield is a bottom, anal play, fingering male receiving, orgasm denial, etc.

Many thanks to @ashyyslashy for editing and proof reading! Go read their fic rn🔫🔫

Pure smut below the line, warning it’s a lot

Renfield had… messed up.

Why, he should know by now. He has three rules before sundown; One: Always keep their home tidy. Two: Lighting. Vampires may be all knowing, but they cannot see in the dark. Yes, better than a human, but not like a bat.. as some would assume.

And then there’s Number Three. Always have a willing victim. Always have blood.

Tonight, he’d forgotten the most important thing. Rule number Three; His master’s meal. He knew you, he knew you would not be… violent. You were benevolent, unlike Dracula was towards him when he failed at the only job he was strictly tasked to do. But, the disappointment from his new master felt somehow… even worse.

There was a tall tale about a wild pack of wolves in the area, the villagers were scared to go outside after dark. They’d locked themselves up inside, tidy and warm by their fireplaces, burning wood and roasting meat for supper.

What was most annoying was the fact that, as a half vampire, Renfield could enter someone’s home. But the question wasn’t could he enter, rather, would he.

Renfield knew if he broke into a home, stealing someone for his master’s supper, he’d cause more of a panic. And… well… his Master loved this small town. Its people and scenery paired well with your complexion. You did not want to leave. So, Renfield had to be extra careful.

He had a tendency to scare the locals. Being half crazy will do that. Occasionally.

“Renfield? Has the sun set?” Your voice called from beneath a thickly coated coffin.

“Yes, my master. It is safe to come out.”

Upon the sound of stone grinding against stone, Renfield quickly made his way to his master’s engraved holder and easily removed the lid. After shoving the lid away, his master rose from the dark. You stretched your arms out.

Before you could even usher a, “Good night,” Renfield was quick to spill his failures out onto the table.

“I am so sorry, master—you, you see, no one was outside! There are tales of a.. a wolf pack nearby. The villagers were all hiding. I could not fetch one for your feeding… I had to be careful. Master, you like it here and I could not bare with myself if I were the one to make you leave—”

You only stood, stretching your legs as you walked around on the marble floor of the newly taken castle. Renfield was still babbling on, reasons for which he had no blood, all of which caused butterflies to manifest in your stomach. He was sickly. Sickly sweet, to care so much. The fact that he understood that you, his master. appreciated the town, that you cared for its people and only drank from the subdued… you never killed, Renfield seemed pleased.

“Renfield,” You silenced him with a hand, long pointer finger covering his lips in a line. “I have no dinner. That is fine… I can just drink from you.”

At this, Renfield’s eyes widened. “Master… I do not believe… I would not fill you.” You snickered lightly, covering your mouth with a pale hand.

“Oh, Renfield…” You grabbed his face with thin fingers, pushing his jaw upwards, eyes on his throat. “You are correct. It does not fill me. But, you can satiate me come tomorrow. I will not starve with your blood. It is merely a placeholder for the next delivery I receive from you.”

Renfield let out a relieved sigh, before realizing what indeed his master was saying.

“Oh, master,” He closed his eyes tightly, grabbing a fistful of his collar and pulling it down to reveal more pale skin underneath. “I give you my blood. Take as much as you need.” His eyes looked wild, but he closed them as he tilted his head back. He let you take in more of him with your eyes.

“Have I ever told you you have a most beautiful neck?” His eyes opened with surprise at this comment before he felt the prick of fangs enter his skin. The sensation of the bite was enough to have him wince, before it was replaced by some strange, tingly feeling.

He’d only felt this once before. The night that Dracula had bitten him, the night he had become his slave. Though, this felt different. It was not entirely painful. He felt at ease. Perhaps almost… euphoric.

Excitement flooded his veins, eyes rolling back as his master’s tongue darted over the fresh wounds and suckled hungrily. He didn’t realize his pants had grown tight until your thigh slithered between his, pushing him up against the nearest wall.

“M-Master,” He whined quietly. “Please, oh please master…” Their mouth sucked at his skin, drinking up his blood that was dutifully flowing for them and only them. Renfield’s hands found purchase in a black, lace sleep-shirt, pulling at the texture and scrunching it up. Forgetting about the fabric, the two became entangled in their ways.

One enchantingly leeching, the other obsessively whining out pleads and cries of want and need.

“What is it that you need, Renfield?” His Master had spoken between the sucking of his skin, no longer just lapping up the crimson staining his collarbone. You were now leaving bruises, red and purple and blue in this wake of horrid torment.

Renfield had his arms wrapped around your neck, lips spread as a way to speak his master's name with need. “I need.. I need you..” Your thigh twitched against him, causing a long moan to fall from your servant’s lips. “I need release. Please. Can I take them off?” His eyes were too pitiful. You could not, with good conscience, restrain him any longer.

“You’ve been a good pet. Let me.” A hand, previously squeezing Renfield’s thigh, moved to the man’s waist. Unhooking his suspenders, you felt yourself giggle at the silly things. After all these years, he still found suspenders over belts to be the most flattering. “You want to make this hard for you, hm?” Your tongue trailed his throat, unable to restrain your low, guttural sound. “Wearing these strings, confusing my hands of where to go, when all I want is to touch your cock.”

Renfield could only quiver, he could not help the way his body craved his master. He could not contain his feelings, physical pain needing to be relieved by the undoing of his pants. “P-Please, master! I need it. Please, don’t stop. I do not intend on making things harder, please…”

“Hm, what do you need, pet?” A whimper fell from your slave’s lips, feeling as your hand slipped under his trouser’s waistband, holding him in a delicious way.

“Th-that! Oohhh, master—master, please. You know what to do! Do not embarrass me, do not make me say such things!” He whimpered, he cried, desperate to keep his mouth shut. Every small movement against his cock, especially due to him being confined to the fabric of his trousers, sent a wave of embarrassment over him.

It was adorable. The begging he was just not to beg. Though, you were still hungry. Of course, you’d get your fill first. You bit down on Renfield’s throat, harder than before, his cock jerking at the sensation. The pleasing feeling came once again, causing the pathetic man to whine loudly. He felt like a slut, a dirty slut, to be saying such things. To be making such noises.

“I am going to need to hear you say it, Mr. Renfield.” You teased him, reaching further and taking all of him in the palm of your hand. This caused an explicit groan to fall from his lips, halting to a pathetic croak. “I’m going to need to hear what you want me to do.”

“Please touch my cock. Make me cum. Make me cum from your touch and your touch alone! I crave it, I crave you, master! Please! God, help me, please!”

“Oh, my beloved.” They cooed, beginning to stroke his cock up and down. “Yes, good boy. Look at you.” He let out another pathetic whine, happily sighing as he felt he was getting his way. But he was wrong. Closer and closer he felt to his climax, the feeling of his master’s palm enclosing his cock was too good, he felt the buildup too quickly. Pairing that with the feeling of euphoria clouding his thoughts from all the bites, the sucking of his neck, he teetered so close to the edge he almost couldn’t tell he was about to spill any second.

“So good for me. So good for your master… although, you’ve seemed to have gotten one thing wrong.”

Renfield’s eyes widened from their half lidded state, feeling their hand tighten around his cock. That’s it, that’s it! Just, just some more..! He did not care what he’d gotten wrong, he had no idea. All Renfield knew was that you were touching him perfectly.

“Why… there is no God. He’s not going to be able to save you.” Your stroking slowed until your hand retracted from his trousers. He let out a cry, as if wounded, panting desperately in confusion and exhaustion and desperation to cum. Just on the brink, vision painted in black and white.

“No! Master, master no no, no! Please!” Renfield was out of options, he could only cry out and plead, hoping you would take pity on him. “Please finish this! I can’t.. I can’t..!”

Both of your hands grabbed his face, pulling him into a deep and intoxicating kiss. Mainly to shut him up, adorable as he is, you couldn’t listen to his pathetic whining any longer. Tasting his own blood on your tongue caused Renfield to roll his hips, grabbing out with no control. You truly were intoxicating, he couldn’t get enough. You frowned, he was not listening. You must teach him again how to listen.

Then you whistled sharply. Renfield seized, taking back his hands as if he’d been shocked. “But, master… I…”

“Turn around.” His eyes widened once more. Oh, oh benevolent master! He obeyed, turning around to find himself being pushed against an old piano. His neck was still dripping blood, no doubt driving you crazy, but you knew better than to give into the blood lust.

He looked pathetic. You realized… you must give your slave what he needs. Some release, some solace.

“Do what you know how to do, slut.” Renfield moved almost automatically, he unclasped his suspenders and dropped his trousers with the snap of your fingers. Then your fingers, grabbing at his thighs to separate them, touched him softly. The coldness of the piano had Renfield’s cockhead twitching, he softly whimpered in need.

“Please. Please, master, oh please. Make me undone. Finish what you’ve started...” You wet your pointer and middle finger with your tongue and with your other hand, you shoved him closer onto the piano. His face squished hard against the wood as you got down on your knees, and inserted a finger into his hole.

His legs twitched, separating more to the point he looked so pathetic taking your finger so easily. His hands stayed above his head, balling into fists as he struggled against riding back on his master’s fingers.

“Good boy, Renfield. You know better. Let me make you feel perfect, hm? You’ve served me well enough.” Your finger slipped back out, before they slowly inserted back in, two this time. You began thrusting your fingers softly, squelching noises filling the room with the filthy deed. His legs shook, their fingers reaching deep inside.

Then you hit the spot, the spot that made Renfield see stars. Upon finding it, you grinned, running your other hand up his shaking thigh. “That’s it, good boy. Take my fingers like the slut you are. Hmm. Am I touching you just right? Is that why you are shaking like a leaf? Are you gonna cum all over the floor, Mr. Renfield? Are you going to cum with my fingers in your ass?”

“Such dirty words, master.. I—“ He cried out, legs shaking horribly at the feeling of his master touching that one spot again. And your free hand wrapping around and stroking his sensitive cock. Renfield had no idea what he’d done to have you believe such a reward was worthy, but he prayed to a god that didn’t exist that it would happen again.

“Are you close, Renny? Are my fingers touching you so good you can’t stand?” Yes. It was true. All of his weight was being layered into the piano lid, Renfield was unable to keep himself up-right at all.

“Y-Yes master! Ohhh, master. Once, once more—that’s—!”

One more thrust inside one more curl of your fingers, one more stroke to his pink and leaking cock, all had him cumming violently. His legs shook with an intensity, having no control over himself or the way he stood. He might as well have collapsed into himself.

“M-Master! Fuucckk!!” He cried, but the pleasure didn’t stop. His master kept stroking, kept thrusting, kept curling. He felt lost to your touch, entire body shaking from overstimulation when he felt the knot in his belly tie again, all too quickly. “Master please! I can’t take it! I’m, I’m, I—“

He felt his cock twitch again, kicking to spill his seed all over the large, marble floors. He whimpered and cried out to his master, who removed their fingers, yet kept milking his cock for all Renfield was worth.

“Good boy, Renfield. How was that, my meal?”

[dairy-farmer]

"and i thought, you'd be the last person to ever hurt me." trope on tim.

👀👀👀👀👀

this has such dicktim vibes because out of all his relationships within the family i think that tim really has a close emotional bond to dick. tim's dynamic with the rest of the family is unique and each carry something special but if tim had to believe that one person wouldn't betray him- it would be dick.

and under normal circumstances that's true. dick is a good brother, a good friend, he's even a good parental figure because he was really the only other adult there for tim when bruce was emotionally unavailable. i mean he stood in as a 'parent' for tim during the meeting of all the parents for young justice!

dick has demonstrated he is a good and fulfilling companion in all those roles but...dick isn't perfect.

and when it comes to romantic relationships he just....flounders. he messes up, he does the wrong thing, he gets scared of the commitment, of the possibility of 'forever'.

sure maybe if he examined himself he'd learn that it's the result of an unstable upbringing, of the fact that he often carried the emotional burden of a grown adult when he was a child, of the fact that his desires and needs in a parent-child relationship were never satisfied or fulfilled by bruce. which left him always wanting and yearning for more. and that of all the things that bruce did impart on dick, it was his tendency to self-sabotage just when he was on the cusp of something great because of some deeply self-loathing belief that he didn't deserve or earn his happiness.

tim, more than others, knew dick had these issues. its part of being part of the same family, of sitting down for dinners together, of spending so many waking moments together.

tim understands dick. deeply.

so when he grows older and their relationship boundaries start to warp and they start growing into something more...tim thinks he's different.

he thinks that because he understands those sad parts of dick's brain that he's different from barbara, from kori, from all the people who have been in relationships with dick and been betrayed or abandoned.

but its dick...and so much of dick is so good that people are willing to overlook the...not so good parts.

tim knows this. he's done it too.

but that doesn't make his chest ache any less when he drops into dick's apartment as a surprise and finds him naked and in bed with barbara who just a week ago had ribbed him and dick over comms over their relationship.

tim can see the guilt in her expression, the shame, and the regret.

he knows she will probably never be able to look him in the face again.

but...he understands her. he knows the charm of dick. of the way when he laughs at one of your jokes and flashes a sight of those cute dimples that it's enough to warm even the coldest of hearts. that dick is the kind of beautiful where even the barest idea that he might find you attractive as well has your cheeks warming. that dick with his charisma and undivided attention when he speaks to you makes you feel eight feet tall.

dick makes people feel wanted and desired. he makes them feel proud of themselves and stand straighter and hold their heads up high.

tim knows.

tim knows she must've run into him or arrived at his door and maybe they got to talking and she made another joke about his new relationship and maybe they reminisced about theirs and...and it was so easy to forget that they weren't together anymore because they were laughing and having a good time and leaning in close.

tim knows that's how it went down.

because he knows dick.

and he knows that dick had been acting off every since he received that wedding invitation from an old highschool friend who was getting engaged to his girlfriend of two years. which was less time than he and tim had been together. and tim knew dick probably spiraled thinking about how they should've been married by this point, that they should be living together by this point, that they should be talking about kids by this point.

tim had never mentioned any of that because he knew how it frightened dick. how it scared him to be exploring new territory because bruce had never dated long enough to get married, to move in together, to have a child.

but tim had thought he was different.

it scares tim how quickly all those years of feelings between them just completely drains away at the sight of dick sitting up in bed and staring at tim with huge dinner-plate eyes.

it's like a tub full of water has had its drain plug pulled and all those years worth of love and commitment just flows down and disappears forever.

maybe its just his body compartmentalizing for him. an automatic reaction to the sight of something deeply traumatic.

either way it gives tim the ability to turn around and ignore the frantic calls and scrambling out of the bed by dick.

barbara's voice is pained as she asks tim to please wait that it was an accident, that-

"it's alright," tim offers in return, surprised at how calm his voice sounds to his ears. "you can have him."

like dick was the last ice pop in the freezer. the last brownie on the plate, the last cherry dr.pepper in the corner store.

tim can hear dick's frantic untangling from the bedsheets falter but tim doesn't speed up. he just continues his slow stroll to the front door.

whether dick catches him or not makes no difference to tim. his heart might be ripping apart in his chest but his mind has already run through all the outcomes from this.

he'll forgive dick. of course he will. he loves him.

just like how he'll forgive barbara. of course he will. cass loves her and tim loves cass.

he'll still be dick's little brother. he'll still be the first hero dick ever mentored. he'll still be the boy who inherited his mantle after jason. he'll still be a fellow hero that will have his back.

but...whatever else they'd had is gone. sure tim could take him back, could make dick swear to never do it again and undergo the long and painful journey of building back the broken trust. tim would have to calm is speeding heart when he heard dick was alone with a former lover in a room, will need to train himself to not immediatly suspect betrayal the next time dick and kori share a laugh.

....but why should he?

that seemed like a lot of trouble and a lot of work to save a relationship tim hadn't done anything to wreck. and besides...tim didn't know how he would be able to look at himself in the mirror and have an ounce of respect for himself if he just allowed this to be a 'bump in the road' of their relationship.

tim had been humiliated enough having to walk in and see his boyfriend brazenly cheating on him.

so that string has been cut. but it's not like their connection will be fully severed.

of course he and dick would eventually be able to laugh and joke with each other. eventually they would see each other on patrol and on christmas. but the cuddling? the whispering to each other late into the night? the hand holding and kissing and fucking? the promise of being each other's closest confidant and beloved other half?

gone.

tim and dick, brothers and friends.

but tim and dick, lovers?

no. not anymore.

tim is down the hall from dick's apartment building when dick bursts out in his underwear and babbling so fast he's out of breath. his voice is thick and he sounds near tears. like he might cry.

tim gets no satisfaction out of the idea. but he also doesn't reach out to coo and comfort dick like he normally would.

it's not the first time tim's been fucked over by someone in his family. bruce had done it. jason and damian as well. even alfred had with his tendency to defer to bruce and not put his foot down until it was too late.

but dick...

dick had advocated for tim. he's fought in his corner and stood against the rest of the family so many times in his defense.

dick had done it for years and that's what saves him from tim abandoning him completely.

but still... it hurt.

but not as much as dick grasping his shoulder desperately. when tim turns to face him he's crying. there's snot running down his chin, his eyes are red. dick's neighbors are peeking out from their apartment doors to watch this spectacle of dick humiliating himself.

"p-please tim, don't shut me out. you can scream at me or hit me i know i'd deserve it but please don't ignore me- i thought you swore you'd never ignore me-"

and that hurts. dick had once had a bad brush with madhatter tech. some long-range distance device that covered all of gotham. when he took it down he'd ended up calibrating it to make it so everyone would pretend like he wasn't there. it took six days for bruce to get to the tech in his queue of tasks and end up reversing the effect.

dick had never mentioned it but the experience had been horribly scarring. he'd told tim about it and tim had sworn that he'd never purposefully ignore dick for anything, not even if they were fighting.

it's such a desperate bid on dick's part and tim can feel his mouth opening as he stares into those haunted eyes and feels...nothing.

"and i thought, you'd be the last person to ever hurt me."

[typologyastro]

MBTI & Astrology Observations

🥀 1. Moon/Pluto aspects give off Ni, introverted intuition vibe. Dominant/auxiliary/tertiary Ni users may have Moon/Pluto aspects. They may indicate problems or a strong bond with their mother. Their emotions are intense. I've seen easy Moon/Pluto aspects (Trine, Sextile, Conjunction) are often INFJ, INTJ, ENFJ and ISFP.

Hard Moon/Pluto aspects have to learn to make peace with their intense feelings. One ENTJ I know personally has Moon Opposition Pluto. She has a complicated relationship with her mother and jealous tendency. ENTJs have inferior Fi so it's likely difficult for them to manage their intense feelings. They likely ignore their feelings or explode.

Another INFJ I know in real life has Moon Trine Pluto. His mother is feisty and strong. He loves and admires his mother. Women have big influence on him. He has a healing gift he may not realize in himself.

For example: Fujii Kaze (INFJ, Moon Sextile Pluto), Twice's Mina (INFJ, Moon Sextile Pluto), Madison Beer (ENFJ, Moon Sextile Pluto), Jodie Foster (INTJ, Moon Conjunction Pluto), BTS's Yoongi (INTJ, Moon Sextile Pluto), Avril Lavigne (ISFP, Moon Conjunction Pluto) The Weeknd (ISFP, Moon Conjunction Pluto), Blackpink's Jennie (ISFP, Moon Conjunction Pluto), Billie Eilish (ISFP, Moon Sextile Pluto) , Brad Pitt (ISFP, Moon Trine Pluto), Leonardo DiCaprio (ESFP, Moon Conjunction Pluto), Vanessa Hudgens (ESFP, Moon Trine Pluto)

🥀 2. The next similar indicator is Scorpio Moon for Ni/Se users. I've often seen Ni + Te/Fi users (INTJ, ENTJ, ISFP and ESFP) have this placement. Another ENTJ I know personally has Scorpio Moon. He gives off a dangerous, mysterious and suspicious aura.

My explanation for Moon/Pluto aspects and Scorpio Moon give off strong Ni - introverted intuition is because I associate Ni with Pluto, Fe & Fi with Moon & Neptune.

For example: Epik High's Tablo (INTJ, Scorpio Moon), Lady Gaga (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Hayden Christensen (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Avril Lavigne (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Taylor Monsen (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Dove Cameron (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), The Weeknd (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Katy Perry (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Blackpink's Jennie (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Blackpink's Lisa (ESFP, Scorpio Moon), Lily-Rose Depp (ISFP, Scorpio Moon), Miley Cyrus (ESFP, Scorpio Moon), Kylie Jenner (ESFP, Scorpio Moon)

🥀 3. Blackpink's Lisa has Venus Trine Pluto. Kendall Jenner has Venus Conjunction Pluto. Blackpink's Jennie has Venus Square Pluto. They are known for their captivating and sexy beauty caused by Venus/Pluto aspects but how the audience feels about each of them can be totally different.

Lisa's passionate dance performances and doll-like appearance stand out in the crowd.

Kendal is the eptimote of how I envision a Venus/Pluto beauty looks like: sharp, tall, dark and mysterious.

Jennie has the most RBF, intimidating and edgy look out of the three. Her reputation is also the most polarizing.

Jennie seems to get hated the most. People mesmerize by Lisa and Kendal's beauty more while Jennie's face both attracts admirers and invokes hatred and jealousy the most. Venus/Pluto beauty generally creates strong impact on people. It's hard to forget their beauty.

It's fascinating to observe how easy and difficult aspects play out in real life. Easy Venus/Pluto aspects are more Venusian and hard Venus/Pluto aspects are more Plutonian.

Kendal is an ISTJ, Jennie is an ISFP and Lisa is an ESFP. They all have a Te/Fi axis.

🥀 4. Dove Cameron was born one day before Blackpink's Jennie and they are both ISFPs and Scorpio Moon. Their chart are almost identical (without knowing their birth time).

[in-flvx]

I saw a post a few days ago about the different shades of Sirius' eyes. Like.. It could be any colour. So I want to ask in which eyecolour for sirius you believe? And what eyecolour does Remus have? Aaand what about Sirius' hair colour? James has black hair in the books, and sirius just dark. But what is dark? Is it black as well? Is it a dark brown?

U know what, if you are in the mood feel free to make a whole physical description of the three 🌚

Hey you 🥰 sorry for the late reply but I think I have my answer now.

Sirius does actually have black hair in Canon, I wasn't sure after reading this ask, but I looked and he does (one of many - the hp series has a lot of white people with black hair idk why). I hc that hair to have some waves and curls in it that also show when it's short, and enough to turn a bit wild looking and coarse when they're not taken care of, but with relatively little effort it's sleek and shiny. In swm it falls elegantly into his eyes, but that man can't do anything without looking graceful, so that applies to his hair too.

I think he has the typical pureblood-grey eyes, but even though I'm pretty sure his eyes are described as light at some point during the books, I prefer to think they're more of a dark grey, with a touch of heterochromia into either green, blue brown or even just another shade of grey, you know, like damascene steel or the stormy sea.

He has full arched brows, and a somewhat pointed nose. He also has a few beauty marks, most importantly one right next to his eye, that makes it seem like he's wearing eyeliner. More so than his full black lashes do.

He's tall, and slim, but his torso is dorito shaped, giving him a slutty little waist and the appearance of more muscle than he actually has. His resting face looks bored and alone for that reason does it come across as arrogant when he is confident in anything, and when he wants to play the pureblood he let's his eyelids grow heavier to accentuate this. He is generally surrounded with an aura of crackling electricity, of great resting energy.

Remus is very beige in his general appearance, or rather unobtrusive. His hair is coarse but not exactly wavy or curly, and of a light brown colour. He starts to grow sideburns in the 70s and never let's go of them. He starts greying in his late 20s. He is of an average height and statue, though he tends to lose weight around his transformations. His eyebrows are light and slim but grow close in the middle. His hair gets lighter when he spends time in the sun and he tans well. His eyes are light brown as well, with a tendency to yellow that is part him and part werewolf. They look like dark honey or caramel. He smiles a lot, and has otherwise a mild expression, though he does get frowny when he starts to think. Enough so that even his more insane ideas and brash decisions seem measured and reasonable. Which brings his friends sometimes into trouble for things he had initiated and done.

James has black hair. It's a messy mop of curls, and he has a cow lick in the back that let them stand up there no matter what he does. He has a slim face with a long nose. He's generally slim, has a seekers body, like Harry, but does a lot to gain muscle and fat for his chaser position. HIs eyes are hazel, with some green spots in them that only really show when the sun illuminates them and makes his pupils smaller. His skin looks golden and perpetually sunkissed. He does have a bad case of akne that leaves him with some scarring in his face and gets his first white hairs at 19. Even though both makes him unhappy, he enjoys attention too much to let this make him insecure, and he'd be attractive on account of this confidence alone

[pvffinsdaisies]

Scotland Headcanon Masterpost

All artwork used belongs to @ifindus

I’ve been thinking about creating masterposts (inspired by @nordickies ) for a while now, I’ve always liked the idea of just having one solely thing to check where you could find out pretty much all you need to now about my personal take on different characters I talk about often. I decided to start with Scotland, as he is my brainrot atm. I also make google docs with a lot of info on my portrayals too, which you can find here. However, those really only work on desktop, and can be tricky to navigate on your phone.

My portrayals do sometimes drift away from canon, but I think my version of Scotland aligns fairly well- partially because there’s so little info on him, it’s pretty easy to just add my own headcanons on top. But also? I just like the direction Himaruya took with Scotland, I don’t try and hide my bias towards canon Scotland over the old fanon version of him. If anyone actually bothers to read all of this, I applaud you! And maybe if this one doesn’t go so terrible I might attempt to make more with other characters.

PHYSICAL

Scotland stands at 6’2 / 188cm tall, making him the tallest in his family by quite a margin.

He has a muscular body type, which scotland likes to tease is all natural, but going to the gym and having a pretty physical lifestyle definitely helps keep him in shape.

He has features that are almost intimidating. Hooded eyes, thick eyebrows, a Roman nose (but the bump is only small) and downturned lips that make him look like he’s scowling.

Scotland’s hair is a deep brown, but in the summer it can appear lighter, and some ginger undertones peak through.

His hair is pretty fast growing, whether he has a beard or not I’m still debating, but he definitely has at least a bit of stubble.

Scotland has freckles! A feature he shares with both Ireland & Northern Ireland.

The big hair curl that sits atop his head actually represents Loch Lomond, the largest loch in Scotland by surface area.

Scotland has two sideburns at the side of his head, representing both the Shetland and the Orkney islands. They originally started growing in the 1400s.

He has multiple moles/beauty spots located around his body, representing the Hebrides.

Scotland has a rather large scar sitting across the side of his neck, reaching to the back of it. A result of being beheaded during the Scottish witch trials, which also resulted in him becoming very sensitive to things touching his neck. He will instinctively fight off anything that makes contact with it, and flinch if he notices something coming too close to it.

Scotland has profound hearing loss. His hearing deteriorating happened slow and gradually at first, over the centuries and he didn’t even notice because he’d adapted to lip reading. WWI marked the most noticeable loss in his hearing, taking it from mild hearing loss to profound. It took him a while to adjust to, and even longer to truly accept, but after so many years he’s become comfortable and even proud of his disability.

PERSONALITY

Despite his intimidating appearance, Scotland is welcoming and friendly with (almost) anyone and everyone he meets.

He has a natural charisma around him, which makes him actually quite easy to befriend and talk to. This is matched up well with a witty sense of humour.

Scotland loves a joke, and he’s always willing to go along with one, even if it’s with a complete stranger, he’ll play along without a shadow of a doubt the second he picks up on it.

Scotland is not inherently aggressive, but he is very opinionated, and he has a tendency to think of things as black and white rather than nuanced. And if Scotland decides you’ve stepped out of line, he will be vocal about it.

He sees lying as inherently bad and honesty as inherently good. He will speak bluntly, and he appreciates when people speak to him with the same energy. Sugarcoating the truth might come off as fake to him, too.

He is tricky to argue with when he wants to be, Scotland can and will remove his hearing aids and/or close his eyes mid argument so he can’t hear/see what the other is saying. This drives England especially up the wall and the two continue to further butt heads.

Scotland prides himself on being a realist and down to earth. He looks at the current moment and analyses situations based on what is and not what has been or what could be, and he’s not likely to be carried away by potential positives or negatives.

He is very logistics based. He loves picking something apart to see what it’s made of to better understand it. Leading him to be very good at sciences and maths. But it also makes him pretty good at explaining things.

Stubbornness is a trait he shares with his siblings, which lends itself to his refusal to listen to someone else’s argument. Once Scotland has decided on the way something is, it can be hard to change his mind.

He has a very sharp tongue, and a natural ability to insult and hurt people. He doesn’t use this very wisely, once he’s mad he doesn’t think about what to say and when to say it. This can lead to a brutal argument over something relatively small, and once it’s all over and he’s calmed down he can then see how his words hurt. Still, he can be stubborn, and might not apologise right away.

Deep down, Scotland feels under appreciated. Especially by his brothers. He feels as though he contributes so much to the household, but he doesn’t get many thanks or anything done in return. This is rarely something he addresses.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, and you always know where you stand with him. If Scotland his happy he will smile, if he is mad he will yell, if he’s frustrated he will tell you. If Scotland dislikes something, it will be very obvious about it.

A strong desire for independence makes him desperate to prove he’s capable of handling things by himself. He’ll refuse help from others even if he may need if, he has a tendency to boast and show off the things he can do and what he’s good at. He will tell people off if he feels as though they’re not letting him handle things he’s perfectly capable of. He does not appreciate being babied.

Scotland can make a conversation about anything if asked to, even something small and silly. If you ask scotland to talk about something, he will, without question, the sillier the better. He and Ireland could sit for hours with these discussions.

Despite being loud and talkative, he has a need for the quiet, too. Noise, and having to consistently keep up with conversation, can be so extremely tiring. He needs a moment to shut off, but living with 3 brothers, it can be tricky to find those moments. This is one of the reasons he enjoys Norway’s company so much.

HOBBIES

Scotland enjoys hiking, he tries to go out every weekend. He loves exploring the nature around all of Scotland.

He plays golf, it’s mainly an excuse to get outside. Out of all the sports he enjoys, this is the one he’s the best at.

During the winter months, he likes speed skating. A hobby he used to share with Norway in the viking age, that just stuck with him.

Scotland is crazy inventive! And he loves coming up with new inventions. He loves putting the pieces together like a puzzle and watching the machine move and come to life.

He loves comedy, watching stand up comedy shows, old sitcoms and comedy panel shows.

He also happens to really enjoy crime dramas, however, he has a nasty habit of talking over the TV and sometimes might miss important plot points.

Scotland does know how to Cailidh dance, but he rarely does it apart from on specific occasions. He doesn’t enjoy practicing either, so he’ll attempt to jam all his practice into one week before he has to perform- if he needs to. Because of this, he’s definitely not as good as he maybe should be.

He does play the bagpipes, but unlike what’s depicted in canon, I think Scotland is a lot more cautious about when he plays them. Bagpipes are an outdoors instrument, so he prefers to only play and practice them outside. The only time he will play them inside is if everyone currently in the building has earplugs in.

He’s well acquainted with a pub, and out of all classic pub games, Scotland’s found himself best at snooker and pool. He’s not a master or anything, and anyone who actually plays for fun would definitely beat him, but for a total amateur he’s actually really good. Only person in his family able to beat him is Ireland.

He doesn’t mind skiing, however, he really only gets the chance to do it when he’s with Norway, in Norway, so he hasn’t really developed much skill with it at all. Out of all the sports he enjoys, this is his worst one.

Whilst Scotland doesn’t play football, he does enjoy watching it, but only specific games. He’s a Celtic fan, and really only watches if his team is playing. However, he does also enjoy watching Scotland v England games especially. He tends to get extremely competitive when watching a game.

He enjoys watching rugby Union too, and whilst he is a firm believer that Union is better than league, he’s definitely not quite as passionate about this one as he is with football.

Whilst Scotland is a realist, he does also enjoy the folktales and stories from his childhood, holding a deep love for the mythical creatures that inhabit his home. He has a little knitted nessie that was a Christmas gift from Norway, and way too many “my little pony” unicorn toys that his siblings buy to tease him- even if he doesn’t necessarily watch the show.

Scot doesn’t feel an intense need to have music in his life, but he does appreciate it. His preferred genres being more indie-rock and Scottish folk music.

He enjoys reading, his preferred genres being murder mystery and adventure books, he also much prefer to find a new series to get invested in rather than reading one-off books. With some exceptions.

Scotland loves highland cows, and he definitely has a few highland cow themed items in his house. However, he also just really loves super hairy animals in general. In his mind, the hairier the animal, the cuter it is!

Out of every national holiday, Hogmanay (Scottish New Year) is his favourite, and he likes to go all out for it. He also really appreciates and enjoys Burns night on the 25th of January, as a celebration for his culture.

Autumn is his favourite season in general! He loves wondering around different cities as the days are getting shorter and the sun is setting sooner, wrapped up warm but not too warm. Or he loves walking around in a field or in some nature, watching the orange leaves as he passes, appreciating the last few walks of the year before it’s winter and it feels too cold.

He actually really enjoys learning new languages, and he’s pretty good at it too! He likes learning both spoken and sign languages, and he loves figuring out the history of those languages and figuring out how they work and how they came to be. He speaks multiple spoken languages, but in terms of signs languages he only knows BSL, he intends to learn more.

LIFESTYLE

Scotland uses the human name Alistair MacKenzie, he’s used multiple different surnames throughout the years. He was, at one point, a Kirkland- it was England’s idea- but he changed it in the early 20th century for two reasons. One, to reclaim his culture and his language. Two, to honour his late friend that he met whilst fighting on the WWI front, who’s surname was also MacKenzie.

Scotland’s sign name is currently “inventor”, based on his hobby and how many things over the year that have actually been invented in Scotland. He wears this name like a badge of honour!

He owns a cosy, traditional Scottish stone house in the countryside surrounding the city of Stirling, with lots of garden space and some stunning scenery sounding it. This is his preferred place, and he frequently drives or takes public transport through to either Edinburgh or Glasgow.

However, because Scotland isn’t yet independent, he still has to live with England, Wales & N. Ireland to some capacity. The four of them share a house in London. It often feels cramped and crowded, so he really only spends time there when he absolutely needs to. Plus, it’s just a long travel.

He owns two pet highland cows, called Neòinean and Eilidh. They reside in the field outside his stone house. He usually asks a friendly neighbour to look after them when he has to go down to london. He loves them, they’re his best girls.

He also has a unicorn friend, who he’s names Finlay, who frequently stays in the same field as the cows. Scotland doesn’t officially take care of him, but he loves watching Finlay on his never ending quest to befriend the cows- who have no idea he’s exists.

Scotland is a very messy person, and his house is honestly a bit of a tip! Piles of clothes that have yet to be put away take up a whole chair, shelves are over stocked, there are tea stains on the coffee table because he forgot to use a coaster and hasn’t got around to cleaning it yet, random screws are left all over the floor, there are empty irn bru cans found all over the house that he’s yet to throw away.

His house is an odd combination of hyper modern and antique. An old grandfather clock sits in the same living room as a smart TV. Brand new kitchen appliances, but there’s also old furniture that’s been sitting in his house for multiple decades. He still has an old fire place, that uses real flame, rather than an electric one.

His personal taste in interiors is very much inspired by older traditional Scottish design, from the Victorian era to the early 1900s. It would feel very dated if not for the modern appliances. It’s very red, with a lot of browns and some greens spaced about. It somehow always feels dark, even with the lights on. However, it does make a cold stone house feel warmer, somehow.

Scotland eats a lot, and he does not have a well balanced diet. He eats meat upon meat upon meat, and sometimes will not eat vegetables for a few weeks at least. He also drinks far more irn bru than he probably should. He has friends that consistently tell him he needs to eat healthier, but he doesn’t really listen.

He has a tendency to leave all the windows in the house open even in the winter months, and then wonder why it’s always so cold. England has gotten tired of constantly shutting them and telling him off.

On top of this, he hates putting the heating on! He will sit there under 3 blankets, wearing a thick jumper until he finally has to admit it’s too cold and he has to turn the heating on.

Scotland does enjoy drinking, and he is a heavy weight- he can hold his beer best out of his family. He also enjoys sitting in pubs, he likes the atmosphere of a good one, sitting watching an old sports games and chatting with his mates, or making new mates there. He loves the social aspect of it.

He feels a strong and deep connection to the nature of Scotland. It’s a big part of him, he’s quick to feel homesick when he’s travelling, and if he’s away from Scotland for too long he’ll get sad and depressed. But Scottish folk music can help him feel that connection a bit more. Scotland can almost feel the rolling hills in the vibrations of Scottish folk music.

Scotland knows Scottish Gaelic, Scots, British Sign Language, English, Irish Gaelic and French fluently, he is currently learning Norwegian for Norway. He used to speak Norn, the now extinct language of the Shetland and Orkney Islands, but he started to forget it after he no longer had anyone to speak it with.

Scot is more than proud to be the representative of Scotland, and he’s very vocal about social issues! Scotland is opinionated, and he is not afraid to share those opinions, he’s known for being very vocal about Scottish Independence, disability rights and lgbt+ rights. All this to say, he’s made himself to be a person you either strongly like, or strongly dislike.

He’s a light sleeper, quite luckily. You can easily wake scotland up by shaking him, and he uses a vibrating alarm clock to wake himself up.

Scotland chooses to dress more for comfort and practicality. The weather changes so frequently in Scotland, and for most of the year he has to try and dress in a way to accommodate anything. He’s frequently seen wearing muddy and scruffy wellies, a jumper on with a simple t-shirt underneath and jeans, and sometimes he’ll wrap an extra jacket or coat around his wait just to be on the safe side. He’s learnt to not bother wearing his hearing aids outside, as they’re not waterproof and it rains so frequently in Scotland.

Scotland drinks a lot of tea, specifically Scottish soft blend, which is his personal favourite! However, that doesn’t work so well with English water, so when he’s staying in london he usually takes Yorkshire tea.

Despite how much he loves working on new inventions, he doesn’t have a separate dedicated workroom for it, so he often does his work on his living room sofa, which results in certain things easily getting lost. He complains, but he won’t empty out a spare room to fix this problem.

Because of his passion for inventing and fixing things, he’d gotten the role of the handy man in his family. He’s the one everyone calls when something is broken, and he’s generally happy with this position, but he doesn’t know how to fix everything.

Scotland is not a big fan of far travel, it takes ages and, as we know, he gets homesick so easily! However, he’s not a big fan of meetings that happen through Skype. He’s given up asking for people to turn on their cameras so he can lip read them, and usually just gets Wales or England to send him a message after summarising what was spoken about. Online meetings are just Scotland sitting bored for sometimes hours not knowing what to do.

There we go, all done I think. Honestly feel like I’ve grabbed every thought from my brain. But I love talking about this boy, he consumes my brain a lot 💕 I did want to include relationships as well, but I don’t think my thoughts about a lot of them are well developed enough yet. But if you cannot tell, I have a huge bias for ScotNor, they are canon in my mind 😌 which is why Norway is mentioned so much 😅 It wasn’t intentional.

Idk, maybe I’ll do this with more characters if I get the motivation~ ✨

[alexanderlightweight]

hello! can you share the name/link of that fanfiction you mentioned where alec is the institute?

omg I am so, so sorry I have not finished writing it yet. i dont even have a name it's Insitute!alec in my drives. It was actually one of the projects I was working on before i had to take a hiatus for health etc and i was just talking about it

but i did not make that clear so here!! my reply took a while cause I finished a few prompts and then i went and finished the first chapter just for you! because i do love this fic and i'm so excited someone is interested in it!

so first chapter of my unnamed Alec is the Institute fic (you're not actually supposed to know that yet so it's written kind of sneaky).

--

Raphael sits in the basement cells of the New York Institute, he shivers despite the fact that he can’t actually feel the cold.  He knew it was a risk to bring Simon’s body here to the Institute. But while he is limited in his power to act directly against Camille, he had felt it his duty to deliver the mundane boy’s body to his friends.  

And if, it eased his mind a bit, that Simon’s nephilim friend Clary would be there to comfort Simon’s mother, then that was a boon for him alone.  To know that at least one mother did not have to mourn in confused pain the disappearance of her son.  

Raphael closes his eyes, stretching out his senses only to hit the chilled wards of angelic magic that hiss against him.  It is strange, to be so cut off from the world, but despite the danger involved it is an almost relaxing sensation.  To be cut off from all his extra senses and just exist for a moment.  True, he would enjoy it more if the fear of angelic torture didn’t linger over his head, but Raphael takes what he can, where he can.

It’s therefore a shock to him, to open his eyes and see a figure watching him.  The cell he is in is brightly lit, but the halls around it are dim with shadows and it takes a moment for him to focus.  

He’s tall, the shadowhunter who watches him.  Tall and broad with dark features that watch him with a relaxed air.

This one is more dangerous, Raphael realizes, than any of the other nephilim he’d met that day.

“Downworlder magic is an interesting thing,” the shadowhunter says, without introduction or warning.  “Nephilim magic is more limited, requiring blessed conduits to be of use.  Warlocks however, their abilities are only limited by their individual knowledge and power.”

Raphael stays silent, wondering exactly where the shadowhunter is going with this.

“The High Warlock of Brooklyn put my wards up himself, a beautiful piece of magic.”  The shadowhunter continues, “New York has one of the most defensible Institutes in the world.  The only fault I’ve ever found with Bane’s work is his tendency to sign it.” The man takes another step forward and Raphael sees the vibrant blue lines of angelic power, active in his eyes.   “Imagine my surprise when I read through the reports only to find that not only do we have a guest, but one who is very clearly under the High Warlock’s protection.”  

Raphael stiffens.  That is... the shadowhunter is not wrong.  But that is a secret.  Nephilim shouldn’t be able to see that, regardless of what runes the man has active.

There is a wry, almost exasperated curl of the shadowhunter’s lip, “sadly, I was less surprised to see that not only were you not processed but that there is absolutely no crime you have committed that warranted you being thrown in here.”

“The mundane—” Raphael starts, before pursing his lips.  He hardly wants to give the man a reason to keep him there.

“You were not the one who killed him. You were the one who brought his body back. It’s a rare thing, even my shadowhunters wouldn’t have risked such a deed on enemy territory.” The shadowhunter pauses and looks him over, “it’s an honorable deed and my people have reacted with dishonor.”

“Your people?” Raphael asks warily as the shadowhunter

“Alec Lightwood, I’m their Commander. I’ll be punishing them all, they had no jurisdiction and no permission.” And Lightwood has a stele out, one that he’s using to unlock Raphael’s cell doors. 

No alarms ring, no wards come on. No shadowhunters popping out to accuse him of escape.  The halls are eerily empty as he’s like deep underground and to a tunnel. Lightwood is fearless, back easily turned and Raphael feels fear at how casual he is. Sometimes it feels as if the walls and the very floors they are walking on are shifting, changing where they’re going.  

And then he’s being led up and up again and a small door opens and Raphael stares. He’s at the boundary line of the Institute, far away from the entrance and closest to the direction of the Hotel Dumort.

It’s a straight shot from here, more than enough for him to get back in time for the sun and without seeing a single of the ungrateful shadowhunters who had locked him up.

Raphael doesn’t say thank you. Lightwood was right, his shadowhunters acted dishonorably and what Raphael did was dangerous for himself. He does stop though and nod, just a quick little flash of a thing and then he’s gone.

—

Alec sighs as he watches the vampire leave.  This is going to cause problems, the least of which will be Isabelle, Jace and their new pet project.  He sighs again, shaking his head as he shuts and bars the door, watching it meld back into stone.  The way will close behind Santiago, as though it never existed.  He doubts the vampire would be so crass as to try and betray Alec by exposing the passage, but there is no need to be careless.

With that in mind he prepares himself, mentally going through the reports — and the lack of reports — from the last few days. 

Clary Fray is a disaster. 

He would be lenient except she has now expressly betrayed everything the Institute stands for, as well as put the lives of his shadowhunters in jeopardy.  Both with the downworld and with the clave. 

Raphael Santaigo had done them a boon.  To shackle him away was a disservice to both his actions and the future.  It is a relief that Alec caught it in time and eased the situation.

Now, to deal with the mundane.

It is worse than he’d thought.

The mundane is buried, a chance at a new life as one of the undead. Alec doesn’t have a problem with this, except for the fact that they’ve effectively chased off the only vampiric mentor they’d had around. Or perhaps the plan was to keep him locked up until they needed him.

It takes him a moment to reign in his anger and then he’s effectively cutting off whatever sentiment he holds for Jace and Isabelle.  He allows himself a certain amount of it, a degree of emotionality that most would consider extreme for someone of his capabilities. 

Now he gathers his power, wields his authority like a gavel and summons them. All of them and he puts them each in an isolation cell, where they will stay long past when Fray’s friend will be reborn.

Fray has no defense against his orders, especially not when Jace and Isabelle bend to his will.  

They don’t like it, but they heed it.  They have no other choice.

It won’t take much longer for Alec to be done with them and they know it. If Alec decides to ship their asses to Idris or even to Wrangle Isle, then it will happen.  It’s something Fray has yet to learn but Alec doesn’t care if it makes him cruel, one more mistake and he’ll beat her down in front of the whole Institute. 

Again and again, until the lesson takes or he sends whats left of her to the clave to deal with.

It takes him longer than he likes to decide what to do next about the body buried and waiting to crawl out, what route to take.  When he finally decides hours later, he finds himself settled against the cold stone of a grave and wonders just how he ended up here.

Decades of life and yet still he finds himself unprepared for surprises such as this.  His duty is to his shadowhunters.  His power is finite beyond the territory of his walls and while he considers it part of his pact to maintain —  at the very least — a good relationship with the downworld, this goes beyond that.

It’s been years since he’s had to put himself in a place of vulnerability, of dealing with outside forces that he doesn’t quite understand.  

He hopes this is worth it.

“Lightwood,” Santiago’s voice comes from the shadows and Alec merely nods his head.  He was aware the moment the vampire crossed the boundary. 

“If he transitions, it may be more violent than you’re used to.”  Is all he says, the vampire steps closer, into the glow of the streetlamp and Alec notes he already looks better.  He’s fed then.  

Good.  

He’s going to need all his strength to deal with a fledgling, especially one in the throes of madness.

“I’ve handled newborns before.” Santiago’s voice is calm but wary, he doesn’t like this. Coming back to this place or seeing Alec again and Alec doesn’t blame him.

“And yet, I doubt you’ve ever had to deal with one like this.  Most people are smart enough not to create a cradle for a fledgling in hallowed ground.  His mind will be open, a raw wound and the consecrated and angelic power of this place won’t help.  You’ll need to be fast and careful.”

Santiago seems to take his words into due consideration before he nods and steps even closer, crouching to run his fingers through the fresh dirt of Simon’s grave.  Alec watches unblinking as the man gathers up a handful of the dirt and seals it into a small box.  He says nothing, Santiago doesn’t either.

Dawn approaches, a danger to the soft glow of warmth that he knows will soon come and Alec steps back as the fledgling crawls from his death-womb and arises into a new life.

His old one is dead.

—

Raphael murmurs prayers and curses alike under his breath as he wrestles with Simon.

The shadowhunter was right.

Simon is unlike any newborn he’s ever helped birth. He’s feral and incandescent in his raw agony. He’s screaming not from hunger but from pain and Raphael pales even further than his corpse pallor when he realizes what Lightwood meant. Simon was buried in blessed ground, on the lines of an angelic core and he is suffering from the agony of being tortured as he was born.

“Help me!” Raphael demands without meaning to. He’s furious at himself for thinking a group of barely adult shadowhunter could properly take care of this.  He can’t believe who he thought was Simon’s friend would do this to him. To put him through this kind of agony.  

Simon is torn away from him, which isn’t what he meant and he feels a rush of fear before he realizes that there is calm.

Simon hangs limp but awake if not aware, terrified and trembling even though his heart doesn’t beat and his blood doesn’t flow. 

He’s not trying to bite Lightwood at all. 

Instead he’s got his mouth clamped shut so tight that not a fang pokes out.

“I suggest feeding him like this.” Lightwood says, calm and collected like he didn’t just subdue a newborn feral fledgeling with what is basically a hug.

Lightwood’s got Simon trapped to his chest, his arms wrapped tight so that Simon can’t use his own arms.

But Simon could kick and thrash or bite, but he’s not doing any of those things. So Raphael approaches slowly and he carefully opens a bottle instead of a pack.  Simon’s eyes light up with hunger but he doesn’t move, not a fang peeks out.

And Raphael realizes with horrified terror that Simon has reverted to nothing but instincts.

And currently, he is more afraid of the man holding him than his instincts can handle. Raphael carefully feeds Simon, barely able to get his mouth open and while he drinks greedily, eagerly and ravenously... he is still. He makes no noises, no growls or hisses, no lunging for the blood. Just trembling as he drinks and when Raphael deems him full enough, Lightwood drops him without warning and takes five steps back.

Simon lunges for Raphael and Raphael readies himself to finally fight, except Simon is already behind him, hands curled into Raphael’s jacket and still trembling.

“What is he?” Simon asks, whisper-soft and from their brief interactions, Raphael hadn’t thought Simon knew how to whisper. 

“A shadowhunter.” Raphael says because Simon has met shadowhunters before, just not while a vampire.

 Simon looks even more terrified. 

“You went up against a group of those guys, willingly?” he babbles, clearly in a panic and still consumed by fear. “Are you insane? I mean, I know Camille is but I didn’t think you were. How can you handle it, the way he feels? He smells so good but I couldn’t even think about it. Like if I tried, I’d be dead again. For good this time.”

Raphael doesn’t know what to say. Because that’s even stranger, that Simon felt such a great fear of Lightwood that he ignored the divine scent of angelic blood. Raphael had thought that maybe being born on the Institute land had made Simon immune to the song of nephilim blood.

Lightwood is watching them and Raphael suddenly feels like prey. 

“You need to leave.” They’re told, but it’s not a threat and Raphael realizes with terror that this is taking longer than he thought and it’s too near dawn. “Go here, there’s nothing much there but it will be dark and secure. My part is done here, he’s your problem now.”

“Wait, where’s Clary?” Simon is asking, “why, how am I a vampire? What’s even going on?”

Lightwood gives them both an unimpressed look and turns to Raphael and just says, “go.”

And Raphael goes, dragging Simon with him as he flees the coming sun and the cold, inhuman look in Lightwood’s eyes.  It’s never been more clear to him than in that moment that nephilim are truly, only half human.