#i need to finish her human shape form

[owlyjules]

My Apricot got herself a new piece of magical clothing last game and so she needed a slight design update!:D

I took the chance to show too how she dresses while walking around the winter Vastlands with her nomadic family! 

And of course a small update for Peaches, the best of all the Uniroosters!

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

[gumbootillustrations]

UGH I FUCKING FINALLY FINISHED THIS

so yeah, have the divine warriors of the second war of the magi!!

more deets n closeups under the cut :3

aph!! i like to think that although the incarnations of the divine warriors r generally pretty similar, they do have some minor differences. for example, whereas the matron of the first war of the magi (irene) had one of the sets of wings on her head covering her eyes, the matron of the second war (mcd!aphmau) has both of them held back. this is bc whereas irene had lost her humanity (and therefore the ability to connect with mortals), aph hasn't - and, therefore, her eyes are open to the struggles of humanity. additionally, i took a lot of inspiration from honkai impact 3rd for these designs - in aph's case, i was inspired by elysia's herrscher of human: ego battlesuit and how it looks like a wedding dress (which a lot of folks have interpreted as an expression of her love for humanity, which is smth i want to convey w aph).

i think my favourite part of aaron's destroyer form is his seal (the thingy behind his head like a halo). i wanted to rlly play into the whole destroyer/devourer aspect of his abilities and domains, and i thought a black hole would fit perfectly! it also sort of (unintentionally) plays into how i see the dynamic between the matron and the destroyer and how they're both mirrors of each other; whereas the destroyer, well, destroys (and his black hole devours everything in sight), the matron creates and nurtures (seen in how aph's seal is almost like a white hole). i also wanted his armour to look a lot like the armour that shadow knights wear, albeit without all the spikes and spines and whatnot given that he isn't a shadow knight himself (shad's destroyer form from the first war probably looks a lot more similar to traditional shadow knight armour).

i'm lowkey suuper proud of how travis's keeper form turned out (even if i had to go back right at the end n fix it bc i forgot to add his tail 😭). i wanted this form to sort of be a mix between a high mage and a rogue: whereas the keeper embodies knowledge and magick, travis himself is a prankster who relies on cunning and trickery to gain the upper hand on his opponents. as a result, he's the only one who doesn't automatically manifest a weapon when he shifts into this form - instead, i feel like he chooses to rely more on magicks and witchcraft during combat.

katelyn's design was lowkey the hardest to pin down. originally, i wanted to go for something that was suuuper inspired by roman armour and had a copper and teal/turquoise colour scheme, but it wound up feeling too magical girl-ish and i scrapped it. i've retained the roman inspirations, but i headcanon that her flames are so hot they burn blue, so i settled on a blue-and-white colour scheme w some purple elements. i think my favourite part is her gauntlets! i feel like she uses them as an extension of herself/another pair of hands to punch with. the blue elements also lean into menphia's association with the moon - in ashes, ashes, tu'la is based on the roman empire and, as a result, is where werewolves originate from, and with werewolves having such close ties to the moon.... yeah. i'll probably do a post on tu'la later on at some point.

my blorbo

garroth's design is probably the one that's changed the least, but i'll still need to update his ref sheet anyway. i don't know if i conveyed it very well but the sort-of wing-things on his back are slabs of earth that can be shaped into a shield - originally i had him holding a shield but i wanted him to look a bit more divine warrior-ish so i retooled his design.

the boy! i was tossing up between having vylad or dante fill the role of the wanderer, but i settled on dante as i feel like vylad fits better as a sort of weird guide sort of figure within the narrative. plus, i have a real soft spot for dante and wanted him to remain in the limelight a little bit - i love his dynamic with garroth and laurance and i wanted to explore that further. i sort of wanted to play into his whole red-and-blue colour scheme that we see in canon diaries, but bc kul'zak is a nature deity (specifically of the wilderness), i wanted to incorporate some greenery into his design. i hope i've done an okay-ish job here - overall i'm pretty happy tho, but i can't promise that there won't be any tweaks in the future.

this is a redhead laurance propaganda spreading blog and i Refuse to apologise for it. i'd like to think that laurance's original colour scheme is similar to his justiciar form - lots of beautiful reds and golds and oranges to match the flames of his father's forge - but after he comes back from the nether with a Severe fear of fire he switches to the greens and browns that he's known for in canon. eventually he slowly begins to reclaim his fire and returns to the golds and oranges that he's introduced with (haha colour symbolism go brrrrrr).

but yeah. the special interest is special interesting. let me know if u have any questions!

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 1 - All in One Piece

A bad day gets infinitely worse.

WC: 2.5k

Masterlist | AO3

A/N: This fic will include a multitude of more intense kinks and fantasy themes such as watersports, heavy BDSM, forced painful eggpreg, bloodplay, knotting, non-human dicks, somnophillia, and of course considerable amounts of monster fucking. If you're not good with those, then this isn't the fic for you sorry! More tags will be added to A03 as the fic goes, so please see what's currently listed there before you start, but those are the tags I know for sure will be included that may deter some people. This one is for my freaks! (affectionate). It won't be as long as Wavelengths but this is definitely a longer series than Pitching Tents~

Cold dirty water leaked through the hole in your worn boot as you accidentally stepped in a puddle much deeper than you'd originally anticipated. You cursed to yourself and shook your foot uselessly, your socks were fucking drenched. An awful end to an awful day. Work had been fucking draining, and if one more customer asked if you could ‘check in the back’ you were going to start killing people. Ma'am, what fucking ‘back'? It's a damn boutique, we don't even have our own private toilet! The cherry on top was the classic Karen with that classic boomer lead poisoning stare who absolutely refused to leave when you were supposed to be finished ten minutes ago. You were about ready to hit her with the wooden sandwich chalkboard as you pulled it inside if she took one more fucking second. God, all this pent up anger was getting close to boiling over, you needed to get laid, bad. Ye olde silicone dick just wasn’t going to hit the spot tonight, even if you did have a fun new one shaped like an imagining of a dragon’s cock.

You opened your phone as you walked, music blasting in your ears, blocking out the sounds of the bustling rush hour city around you while you sighed to yourself and opened a dating app in utter despair. Swipe, swipe, swipe, oh a message, ew ugly dick pic no thanks, swipe, swipe. You were at least thankful that the rain had let up for your short walk home, but if one of these men didn't reply with enthusiasm to your need for a lay you were going to scream so loud they'd hear it at the city outskirts.

Swipe, swipe, sw-

Hang on.

What the fuck just happened.

Everything was so.

Dark.

Where did the lights of the city go? Was it a blackout, caused by the weather? The rain hadn’t been that bad today had it? A moment ago you'd seen the bright neon colours of illuminated billboards and shop displays reflecting in the scattered shallow puddles, the red of the no crossing pedestrian light, the bright headlights of an oncoming bu-

Oh.

Oops.

You got hit by a bus didn't you? God fucking dammit. Well that's fucking annoying. A real fucking inconvenience to be honest.

But hey, no time to think about that, because all of a sudden it's so bright your eyes have to squint to see, and with all the force of a body that was… just hit by a bus… you were soaring horizontally through the air. It was dark again but this time… just your body? Something encompassed you, shiny and metallic, a dark reflective surface covering what you could see of your skin. Something hit your back hard, or maybe you hit it? There was a crack of wood splintering from somewhere behind you and you slumped down, sitting against… a deck? Your head throbbed with ache but you seemed to be in one piece, blinking at your surroundings to try and figure out what had happened, where you had landed. Against some sort of food truck maybe? Directly under a bright streetlight? Surely that would explain it. Voices were calling out around you, the vibrations of heavy, frantic footsteps over wood able to be felt where your hands touched the ground, but you couldn't hear anything except the buzzing in your ears, like white noise turned up far too loud, your eyes having trouble focusing through the bright light.

Something warm closed around your neck and you were dragged to stand, then further, your feet hovering above the ground as you choked, pressed against something solid behind you. You blinked again. No, that can't be right? Must be a dream, hopefully a sexy one, you must have been knocked unconscious. Scarlet red hair sticking up like a wildfire, squared googles worn like a headband, thick eyeliner, lips painted in the same shade as his hair. Oh please, please, please let this be a sexy dream. No scars though, curious. Pre timeskip then? His mouth was moving but you still couldn't hear, ah, not quite a completely detailed dream you guessed. Lucid though? Your ability to scan your eyes down at will told you perhaps yes. Ah, there it is, two flesh arms, yup we're going pre timeskip. Just as well, you'd never been keen on the idea of the metal arm touching you; a strong, calloused, fleshy hand would feel far nicer on your body.

You vaguely registered the brief feeling of weightlessness as you were pulled away from the strong thing behind you and slammed back again. The mast perhaps? Ow, that one kinda hurt. I think? Surely not, it's a dream. His mouth was moving again, but this time words were starting to form, the fog of the white noise slowly fading to a more bearable hum.

“-re you doing on my fucking ship?” He barked, flicks of spittle splashing against your face.

You blinked again, hmm, could you talk in this dream? No time like the present to try I guess?

“Tryna get laid?” You coughed, your voice strained from the hand around your throat. Something unrecognisable flashed in his eyes. Anger? Confusion? He leaned back a little to pull something from his bandolier, his grip on your neck loosening for a moment before being replaced by something sharp and cold, metallic perhaps? It was hard to tell from the thin edge.

“Wanna try that one again little mouse?” He gave you a toothy grin, his canines sharp and dangerous, and something about the dark look in his amber eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Fear or lust, you weren't sure, both perhaps? “I'll put it in plain words: What. Are. You. Doing. On. My. Fucking. Ship?”

Hmmm, prisoner turned lover type scenario huh? You'd read more than your fair share of fanfiction, your best bet to getting this sexy dream to go somewhere was act confident, right? What was he gonna do, kill you? It's just a dream anyway. Probably a weird coma dream, given the bus. Oh, maybe you'd be one of those crack medical cases of people who live a whole life in their coma dream. Shout out to your brain for picking this world to live it out in, you wondered if the machines on the outside would beep with a heighted heart rate every time one of these pirates fucked you in the dream. You wiggled your toes to check you were in control, all systems go captain, initiate stage one of ‘badass bitch gets laid’. You swung your legs up and wrapped them around his waist, and his brows, or lack thereof, shot up in surprise.

“Did I stutter, captain?” You purred, “You are the big bad captain of the Kid Pirates, correct? I thought a guy like you would be overjoyed to be presented with a hot, willing lay, or do you prefer to pay for those services?”

Someone coughed out a wheezed laugh, it sounded strained and suppressed. Ah, Killer must be nearby. Well, at least if Kid hated your jokes maybe you could turn your attention to the masked man, he was your favourite afterall.

“So what, you just crashed onto my ship outta butt fuck nowhere, naked as the day you were born, for a quick fuck?” Kid scowled, “How did you get here? Devil fruit?”

“Uh, I think I got hit by a bus actually,” you pondered, able to speak a little easier now that his hand wasn't so tight on your throat, though the metal was still pressed to it, some sort of knife you assumed. “Hang on, did you just say I'm naked?”

“Are you stupid?” Kid squinted. He let you go all of a sudden and you fell to the deck with an unceremonious thump. Ow, that one definitely hurt. “Kil, throw her overboard, if she ain't gonna talk we'll prove for ourselves she has a fruit, fish her out before she drowns too much though, she's interesting. I wanna know how she got here”

You turned to the quiet footsteps of the approaching first mate, in his button up polka dot shirt. Cute. You gave him a sweet smile but he ignored it, scooping you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and absolutely yeeting the shit out of you straight into the drink.

Icy water closed in around you as your body dropped down several metres under the surface at the impact. You felt no exhaustion though, no pull of the deep. Well, at least now you knew there was no devil fruit for you in this dream, too bad, it'd be sick to turn into a big fuck off bear or something. Sighing internally, you swam your way back to the surface, doing your best Little Mermaid impression and flicking your hair back as you broke through to air. Several scowling faces looked down at you from the deck, and you bobbed awkwardly in the gentle waves, staring back up at them. Fuck it was cold, could someone put a blanket over your comatosed ass irl please? Jeez.

“Uh, can someone help me up?” You shouted up to the ship, “I'm not a good climber”. Honestly, you weren't a bad climber, you were just sure this was gonna turn into one of those running but getting nowhere situations if you tried.

Kid let out a tsk and suddenly heavy chains were wrapping around you, enclosing around your neck and nearly hanging you as they pulled you back to deck, dropping you back to the wood with a wheeze.

“That wasn't-” you let out a choked cough, “that wasn't very nice of you. This dream sucks, actually”

“Dream?” Killer asked. Oh god his voice was even better in person. But it sounded more to the pitch of the Japanese voice actor, hang on did that mean you were speaking Japanese? Dreams are weird man.

“Yeah I mean..” you looked up at him, crossing your legs, not bothering to cover your nude body. What did it matter, this was just like one of those giving a presentation in school kinda dreams, but nudity had never bothered you. “I got hit by a bus, so this is just some weird coma dream. Sucks though, usually they're sexy by now. What a disappointment”

“Yeah? You have sex dreams about us often?” Kid smirked.

“You, not so much,” Kid's smirk very quickly turned to a frown and he looked like he was gonna hang you again, “aye, easy big guy, they exist, I just prefer dreaming about Killer or Heat is all”

Someone nearby choked on air, and there was the audible sound of a palm slapping a back and the faint whisper of “get it to-fucking-gether Heat, fuck”

“Anyway, this dream sucks,” you hummed, stretching out your legs, bored, “so either make with the orgy or turn into a face eating demon or some shit so I spook awake, I'm bored.”

Kid rushed towards you, knife still in hand, and you wondered for a split second if he was actually going to do one of the two, before the piercing pain of a knife through your rib cage cut right through that line of thinking. It was searing, white hot like you were being branded from the inside out, you'd broken your arm once but this might have hurt more. Your world stopped for a moment before you let out a blood curdling scream that forced those closest pirates to you to cover their ears, and you gagged and as you looked down at the knife sticking out of you.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” you finally stuttered as your scream settled, your throat sore and strained, pained tears rolling down your cheeks, “that hurts. Oh god, oh god, not a dream, not a fucking dream”

“No fucking shit, dumb cow,” Kid reached for the knife and you smacked his hand away, holding the hilt protectively.

“Don't fucking touch it, asshat” you bit, “oh fuck what if you got something important, just my fucking luck I get fucking isekai'd to the resident ship of the Grandline's biggest fucking asshole and now I'm gonna die again. Twice in one day, that's gotta be a record for sure.” Kid growled and tried to pull the knife with his powers, but once again your hands turned metallic and held the hilt steady. Realisation hit you like a… bus… hmmm, too soon?

“Oh, fuck yeah, HAKI!” you yelled triumphantly, “I always knew I was a strong willed bitch, ha, take that Captain Stupid Pants!”

You lifted a hand to flip him off. Ah, well, you'd never claimed to be smart. Moving your hand halved the strength against his pull, and the dagger shook and yanked itself out from your chest.

“Now who's stupid?” He smirked, dangling the dagger as he squatted in front of you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Okay, admittedly, maybe me,” you would probably laugh if it didn't hurt so damn much. “Hey, what if I make you a deal, I'll uhh… I'll let you freeuse me if you let me live”

“Back at it again with the sex! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Kid yelled.

“A lot, probably,” you sighed, blood pouring freely from between your fingers. You squinted at Kid before reaching forward and yanking his sash off, “gimme that.” Much to his dismay, you pressed the fabric to your wound to slow the bleeding, though the effects of blood loss were quickly becoming apparent. “Cute that you wear each other's colours,” you mumbled drowsily, holding the royal blue sash to your wound, which was quickly turning a dark red as your blood soaked into it. “Whoops, looks like it's your colour now though, Kiddo. Hey, before I die, can someone tell me how Heat's fire breathing works?”

“Really? Minutes to live and that's what you wanna know?” Kid frowned.

“Call me curious,” you gave him a drunk looking smile, “they never explained it in the manga”

“Who the fuck is they?” Kid tilted his head curiously, “and what the fuck is manga?”

“It's like a comic book, boss,” Heat spoke up. Ha, you always had him pegged as a fucking weeb.

Life was quickly draining from you, red spilling out over the wooden deck, your eyelids drooping more with every minute. If this was real, a thought occurred to you. Maybe there was a real reason behind this. Maybe you really were dead, and this was some sort of test to be a guardian angel or some shit. Alternate universe type deal, perhaps all fiction was just flickers of a view into another universe. Deep. Ah, no time to really ponder that thought though. You let go of the sash to grab Kid's arm with a weak, blood drenched hand.

“Don't- don't fight Shanks,” you mumbled, “and don't make an alliance with Apoo or Hawkins. And don't-” your head spun as you tried to push out the most important stuff, “don't let Killer eat the SMILE fruit”

The last thing you saw was a look of confusion on Kid's pale face, before everything spun and once again you were tossed into darkness. But hey, at least you weren't wearing wet socks anymore.

[Next Chapter]

Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

[lit3rallyll0yd]

Can you do oni!Lloyd x half-Dragon!fem!reader. Like Lloyd has always insecure getting into his oni form. So reader who already use to her dragon form, comfort him and say that she always love him no matter what form he is. Also bonus if you can do like how their tail (i think Lloyd has tail in his oni form??) wrap around each other and make a love shape.

Aodbksna im going crazy

"SCARY? MY GOD, YOUR DIVINE..." ── ninjago x reader. ft lloyd garmadon ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

warnings: lowercase writing, pretty rushed

basic info: takes place after crystallized, lloyd x reader, female reader, ft. garmadon, romantic x reader, n/n means your nickname!

you knocked on the door to lloyd's room softly, thinking because it was already so quiet in there he could hear it. it's been hours, no, days, since you've seen lloyd come out of his room.

when he does come out, it's only to use the washroom or to grab a snack in the middle of the night when no one is around to see him.

after the defeat of the overlord, harumi, and all of the other villains── lloyd has stayed in his oni form. he hasn't learned how to transform back to his human form, so everyone has kinda been waiting to see how long it will take naturally...much to lloyds discomfort.

you went to garmadon about lloyd's state, and even he was starting to worry. he knew from the start helping lloyd achieve his oni power would be tricky and lloyd would be stubborn. however i don't think he thought this far ahead.

"your his, girlfriend, aren't you dragon girl?"

the oni asked you, who was watering his plants in one of the rooms of the newly built monestary.

you glared at the man, the nickname is gave you caused you to cringe but you kept your cool. your tail swinging back n forth from behind.

"yea. why do you think i'm coming to you for help?" you placed your hands on your hips, "he hasn't come out of his room, i haven't seen him eat or drink any water, he hasn't spoken to anyone since his changed. i don't know much about the oni form; but even you guys still need to eat...right?"

garmadon just sighed, finishing watering his plants. "oni indeed are powerful beings, although everyone needs food to live a healthy life."

you gave the oni a "so??" look and he sighed again.

"oni kids enjoy cuddling. they like to feel the warmth of they're loved one; gives them comfort knowing someone is there for them. i believe your perfect for to give that to him."

you thought for a moment.

"i want to, that's all i want to do is let him know i'm there for him! he's been cooped up in his room, crying and it breaks my heart-."

"then why are you still here talking to me?"

you looked at your father-in-law and had a frown on your face.

thats what lead you here to where you are now.

you called out your boyfriends name after knocking a few times, hoping he would open up. "i made you you're favorite?" you smiled to yourself sheepishly, not knowing what else to do in this awkward silence.

when you got no response you sighed, "c'mon baby, i haven't seen you eat in days, let alone you in general! i'm worried, your uncle's worried, our friends are worried for you!"

you frowned softly, hearing the words come out of your mouth.

"i miss you..."

as you were about to put the plate on the floor by his door, the sound of it creaking open causes you to look up to see a blonde, 6'0 tall oni boy look back at you. his ears drooped down, his eyes res and puffy, his long thick tail fell to the floor a d drag behind him as he stumbled back into the bed.

you stood back up and walked into the room. it was dark, and cold. the window been open to let out dirty smells and bring fresh air in to block out of the smell of dirty laundry, which was all in one pile in the corner of his room.

you had a small frown in your face as you placed the food on his nightstand, sitting in the end of his bed by his feet. lloyd was cuddled in on himself, hiding his body from you and on the opposite side of the bed.

it was quiet for a moment before he spoke up, "i'm ugly, aren't i?" it was almost a whisper, his grouchy voice from crying and his oni form made it harder for you to hear, another insecurity he has.

you frowned and scooted closer to him and place your hand on his knee, looking at him with a sad smile. "lloyd, your beautiful. nothing about you has changed, your still lloyd, my boyfriend!" you laughed, rubbing his knee back n forth in a comfort motion.

it was quiet once more, until lloyd spoke up again, "how do you do it?"

you raised your eyebrow at him, "do what?"

"how do you walk around in your dragon form, aren't you scared people will judge you? be scared of you?"

tears started to form in his eyes as he ranted. you felt your heart shatter into two pieces hearing his sobs, "i never wanted this, i didn't want this!!"

he shouts ans cries, huddling into his arms the best he could. however soon he felt your arms wrap around his, your large dragon body holding him tight.

"i know, lloyd, none of us knew you were going to have to achieve your oni form; to be honest i was hoping you were...me n you have more in common now. and...you look 10x hotter then before, i say that's a bright side."

you gave him a goofy grin, hearing his laughter soon later caused you to open your eyes and look at him.

there's that smile you've missed.

you quickly leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips, to which he took by surprise. "your lips are still soft." you chuckled. as you were distracted, you suddenly felt something wrap around your tail...looking down at your legs you saw lloyd's oni tail wrap with your dragon one.

you blushed slightly before looking back up at him, who had a blush redder then yours. he pulls you into his chest and holds you, his face in your hair.

"thank you, n/n...i love you..." he whispered softly.

you smiled, happily snuggling into your boyfriend more comfortably.

"i love'ya too, mints."

[hana-no-seiiki]

I saw that you need ideas, so how about a yandere from the Neons? I mean, I would like to see more content from them since they represent the elements in Honkai star rail, by the way, sorry if you don't understand, my English is bad... I leave you a little drawing of a masculine makima (it has nothing to do with it, but as a gift ) xd Also, I don't know if I'm the only one, but Nanook makes me handsome >///<

(Sorry, I had already finished it but the work was stained hahaha and I did it again)

Yus the Aeons are so cool looking!! You really feel like they’re actual gods of the universe, especially since you don’t see them first hand (at least for now). Also Masculine Makima reminds me of Karma Akabane lol. I’ll draw it in my style, and add it here as an extra for you ♥️

Hb we mash those two topics up together actually?

warnings: mild yandere themes. mild spoilers for csm. major canon divergence. reader takes the shape of a masc/amab character but it isnt their original form.

status: unedited. updated art.

YANDERE! AEONS + VARIOUS! HSR x AEON OF FEAR/CONTROL! READER

You have no memory of your conception, only that you started existing for what felt like an eternity.

You represented fear and despair, but unlike IX whose mere presence drove humanity into insanity, or the rest of your fellow aeon’s godlike status amongst the world,

you walked around as a normal, ordinary human being.

As normal as an Aeon can get anyways.

In your current lifetime, you took the shape of Himeko’s “brother”, planting fake memories into her mind and being the one that urged her to travel the stars. While she was the navigator, you took the role of conductor before creating Pompom to supplant you.

Welt always knew you weren’t just a regular person. Your eyes always felt distant, so far off that not even a century’s worth of trail blazing would allow him to come close. As such he mostly kept cordial relations with you.

The youngsters of the bunch on the other hand, never seemed to realize the sheer magnanimity of the danger you held and always hung around you.

Particularly that Caelus. The newest addition to the crew. The stellaron within him always pulsed in some sort of giddiness and excitement whenever you were around. The boy couldn’t help but be a nervous wreck when he was around you. Stuttering and stumbling was a common occurrence whenever you so decide as to just breathe at his direction.

You knew what those Stellarons are, their nature, their purpose, the way they were created. In fact if you wanted to, you could have taken the Astral Express straight to the source of it all, your partner: Nanook.

However that would have ruined the fun of it all. So you chose to let them have their little adventures before the final confrontation.

Also because you signed a contract to not meddle with Nanook’s business in exchange for your freedom. But that was another story to tell.

“Why . . . why do you continue this farce? This utterly worthless play?”

IX’s voice rang within your ears and no one else’s. You were the only being it ever gave the time of day to. You imagine it to be the reason why insanity slowly built itself within the recesses of your head.

“You may see the entire universe as worthless . . . but I,” You breath hitched. You looked around your room. Time was frozen. Everything turned grey. You weren’t afraid of the others in the express hearing you, just that the following words you were about to spout out felt like bile on your mouth. “I suppose I’m still a bit like them in a way. I wish to see the world without its evils.”

“And destroying them. That is my first step.” You summon an orb of golden light. Stellarons. The creation of the very thing that made you loath all evil. Including yourself. You will eradicate these and then Nanook yourself. One day.

“Is that why you send those hunters out?”

“Perhaps.” The orb within your hands get covered in chains, quickly getting crushed within the metal like substance as it soon disappeared.

“Do as you wish. Just do not bother me like that imbecile.”

“I promise. I will be much worse than Yaoshi.”

IX remained silent for several seconds, no doubt regretting its decision of associating with you before adding, “. . . And do not die.”

“That one I cannot guarantee.”

Your room’s color returns, time continues. Signaling the end of two Aeons’ encounter.

Nanook, the Aeon that threatened to eradicate all that you love. All so they could have your soul once more. Within your gilded cage. Within your original body that lied dormant.

The Destruction will no longer be a path. That is a guarantee you write upon the stars when your Trail Blazing lifetime eventually comes to a close.

The stage is set, your actors ready.

All you needed was the cue.

Your gloved hand arose, pointing towards the express’s windows in the shape of a gun.

“Bang.”

[quibbs126]

…Okay, you may end up seeing these drawings yet again on a later date

I finished the page, which was small at 500x500 px, but I wanted to make the page bigger. I did that, and I drew one new thing, but now I don’t know what else to draw on there. So for now, I figured I might as well post the original full page right now

Yeah, sorry for the laziness

This is the other sketch I finished on there, for those curious

Anyways, so yeah, this new style practice I’m trying

The original page I tried these out on is this, which also isn’t full, but I thought trying it out with actual characters instead of just random poses and shapes would be better, so I switched over to Cookie Run characters

The method is still a work in progress when it comes to all the shapes and the red sketch layer

I suppose what I should do now is try drawing a bunch of different Cookies that have different body shapes, so that I have practice with that. As well as maybe attempt some full body ones

I suppose you can suggest some if you want, considering I don’t know who to draw other than like, Hollyberry or Avocado, since I should try drawing large but not buff characters here. But I should also probably draw more skinny, and also chubby

But on to what I actually drew

So I already talked about Peach Blossom and the top Dark Choco drawing prior, so no real need to elaborate

The Dark Choco and Dark Cacao one was me drawing them in their younger forms to see how they compare. Not for any sort of study thing, but just in a symbolic sort of way. Since they’re so similar looking

I think I had a lot more fun with Choco, especially his hair. I remember Cacao being mostly annoying for his weird cloak thing that I don’t understand

The hand pose was ass though. I knew the general idea of what I wanted, that being them with their hands over their swords, but I was struggling to figure out how to draw the hands. Not to mention I had to change the pose from the red sketch because the swords were further down than I put them. I still don’t think I did the pose exactly correct, but screw it, it’s good enough

I’m also noticing that Choco looks way lighter in skin tone compared to Cacao. Like yeah, I know he’s normally slightly lighter, but it’s far more noticeable here. I’m pretty sure it’s because I used Dark Choco’s ToA colors here (bc they work better with my black lineart), which are slightly lighter, as well as just that Dark Choco is wearing much lighter colors while Dark Cacao’s are relatively darker. So maybe it just makes them contrast more

I liked drawing them, but I also did basically do the same body type 3 in a row, so I should probably draw different characters

Anyways, let’s talk about that extra sketch

So for those who likely don’t remember, that there is an OC of mine called Prickly Pear Cookie

I made her entirely on a whim one day, and she doesn’t really have any character or story, just vibes, but I really like her design and wanted to draw it again

I probably should give her some sort of bra though. The shirtless chest looks cool but in my opinion sounds really uncomfortable without at least that

I did originally draw her with the green skin, but it looked weird so I shifted it to more of a yellow so it looks more human

Honestly I really like how she turned out

But yeah, I think that’s about it for now. Just wanted to show this

[cripplecharacters]

I have a character in a non-Earth fantasy setting who's is a ball jointed doll made living, but not human, so she didn't get magic'd new organs and stuff. The character can communicate intelligently but does not have human bodily functions, like breathing, eating, and more relevantly the ability to produce sound (since she doesn't have a voice box to begin with). I was considering she communicate in a type of sign language (I'm still deciding on what), but the character does not have a tongue and I'm concerned if it's essential for mouthing. Within the "rules" of her animation, she can flex her fingers, move wrists, and shape her mouth, but it's just the tongue (or the lack of it) that I'm worried could be a problem.

I know that no two sign languages are exactly the same, so I'm aware the rules can be different between languages. Since I haven't decided on the sign language she speaks, I'm open to hear y'all guys' thoughts and others'.

Hello,

So, having a tongue is not essential to mouthing a word, but lip-reading is barely a viable form of communication. Even people who are good at reading lips can only accurately figure out what's being said around seventy percent of the time. Sure, it's better than nothing if she absolutely needs to, but it's probably one of the hardest options she has for communicating.

Sign language would be great. You can choose whatever one you want, or you can give her some alien sign language, or she could use home sign, which is sign language created by those who can't speak for whatever reason but who also haven't been able to learn an official sign language for whatever reason. It would be effective, though she may encounter people who don't understand sign language.

Then there's the option of her using some sort of text-to-speech or augmentative and alternative communication. Those take a little longer as she needs to type out her thoughts, but they're also viable options to help her communicate with others, especially if your setting is some kind of science fiction.

I don't know how you would describe someone reading her lips unless it was from her perspective, but sign language and text-to-speech or augmentative and alternative communication can be written almost as dialogue. Here are a few examples.

"Excuse me?" Character's hands moved harshly and fast, her fury obvious.

Character's face lit up with an idea and she looked down at her tablet, plastic fingers clicking on the screen as the others waited for her to finish. "I have an idea, I think I know how to fix this."

She can also have someone translating for her sign language, in which case; "I'm not a decoration, you know," Other Character said, making sure to verbalize the sarcastic drawl in Character's signs. "I do occasionally have a good idea. Maybe even a great one."

I think the concept of her sounds pretty cool, by the way.

Mod Aaron

[wholoveseggs]

Mikaelsons & Marijuana

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

420 Followers

Hello my loves, I have reached the (very important) milestone of 420 followers! So I thought it would be a fun (& very stupid) idea to do some silly little headcanons about what kind of stoner each of the Mikaelsons would be...

♡♡ Ps. This is definitely the dumbest thing I've ever written, and I didn't tag anyone because I respect your time ~ lol ~ ♡♡

1k words - Warnings: drugs use

~☮~ Klaus ~☮~

- He smoked a lot of weed in the 18th century, mostly to just pass the time. It's not something he likes to make a habit of, because it makes him feel very human and that unsettles him.

- It somehow makes him more paranoid, but about stupid things, like, what if the reason he can't find a matching sock is because Kol is trying to make him think he's going crazy? Turn the family against him? Does Elijah really know what's in his shampoo?

- He will start a new painting every time he gets high, but never finishes it because he starts a new one when he's high again, and that one looks so much better, why would he finish this one when there's such a great one he can work on?

- He also gets really fascinated by the moon, he will just lay out on the roof or in the garden and just stare at it for hours. Wondering if he could survive the vacuum of space. Everyone ignores him when he gets like this, because they are afraid if he is even slightly encouraged, he’ll do it. Imagine him in charge of the ISS?? Terrifying.

~☮~ Rebekah ~☮~

- Her fav way to get high is through edibles. She will make a whole day out of it, baking the best treats and doing lots of self-care. It makes her very giggly and snuggly.

- She loves to take long baths when she's high, they make her feel like she's floating. She uses bath bombs, candles, rose petals, soft music, etc. Creating a relaxing environment for herself.

- She prefers to be alone, treats it a lot like meditation and will get a little annoyed if someone disturbs her.

- After all of the self-care she will put on her softest pajamas and sleep for at least a whole day.

~☮~ Kol ~☮~

- Kol is a bit of a scientist, always finding a new way to consume. He will try any form; smoking, vaping, edibles, drinks, dabs, tincture. You name it.

- He prefers to just smoke it, because it has the most powerful and immediate effect. He likes to see what it will do to his brain, or make him do. It makes him a very curious boy, he will test his own limits.

- As a witch, he will get his room all smoky and do stupid spells that will cause a light show. Sometimes the spells will even backfire on him and make him lose control of his limbs, or start levitating. It's pretty funny.

- As a vampire he gets incredibly horny and hungry, and often needs to be watched over so he won't go completely off the rails.

~☮~ Davina ~☮~

- Gets frightened and doesn't like the paranoia and lack of control. But sometimes she will try it with Kol and they will just cuddle and watch her favorite movies. He never pressures her to try it and always makes her feel safe.

~☮~ Elijah ~☮~

- Always refined, he will only smoke the best hydroponics mixed with the finest tobacco. It has to be premium and it has to be a very special occasion. He has to feel like he earned it, and that's difficult to do.

- He will spend a long time rolling it, making sure it's perfect. It's got to have just the right amount of weed, be perfectly shaped, the paper has to be perfectly smooth, the rolling motion has to be flawless and the filter just right.

- He can't stand the smell and will immediately shower afterwards, then he will get dressed up in his nicest suit, sit in his study and listen to classical music.

- If he gets really high he will want affection. He will lay with you and talk about some nonsensical philosophy, try to unpack things like the meaning of life. He will whisper poetry and kiss your cheeks. It's quite endearing, he gets all blushy and bashful.

~☮~ Marcel ~☮~

- He is always up for sharing, and always has the best bud on him. He will make it a very casual experience and offer some to the other vampire's that have been good to him. It's a time for everyone to unwind and chill for a little bit.

- He's definitely just a social smoker though, when he gets high alone he can fall into melancholy.

- He loves to get high with Rebekah, he will take her on the most elaborate and romantic dates, where they just eat an enormous amount of food... And maybe find someone to drink from together.

~☮~ Hayley ~☮~

- Has tried it a few times when hanging out with the werewolves. It makes her feel calm, and the colours around her just get brighter. She doesn't really understand it and isn't that into it, but she likes that she feels more connected to her pack.

- She likes to use CBD before she transforms into a wolf. It dulls the excruciating pain that comes from that, and she's grateful that it takes her mind off the torture for just a while.

- Jackson loves it, uses it in a spiritual way and is a very good guide for her on the matter. He makes her laugh and makes her feel safe when they are alone, sharing a joint, talking about life, and their plans for the pack.

~☮~ Freya ~☮~

- It freaks her out because it makes her feel sleepy and unfocused, which she does not enjoy at all. She finds it to be a waste of her time and feels like it could never be that enjoyable to be stoned all of the time, there are so many better ways to pass the time.

- But she will experiment with using it in her magic, and will make some potent edibles for her beloved sister. She does think it has some medicinal purposes.

- She is very fascinated by it, and will watch as the other's indulge. She will be the one to find Klaus watching the moon, it amuses her to see him so carefree.

~☮~ Esther ~☮~

- Didn't know exactly what it was one thousand years ago, but liked to add some to her tea. It would make the stress of living with Mikael much easier to deal with.

- Perhaps drank too much tea one day and had the genius idea to make her children immortal. Totally worked out well for her.

~☮~ Mikael ~☮~

- Would never, makes you weak and complacent. If you wanted to be so carefree and useless you might as well be dead.

~☮~ Finn ~☮~

- Tried it once, didn't inhale.

[f4nd0m-fun]

I keep coming up with cryptid!Batfam ideas, and @hallowsden is a very helpful coconspirator.

This is the Hell-touched AU

Constantine paused as the figure coalesced into a human shape, though his magic sight was privy to the multitude of eyes and shadows that stretched as far as he could see. "Bloody hell," he muttered, pulling out a cigarette, only to pause as several eyes bore into him, shadows slinking over, refusing to let him light the smoke.

"Perhaps I should have brought the swear jar." While the voice seemed normal at its most audible point, there was echoes and screeches buried beneath the words.

Before John could finish processing the jar comment, Batman stepped fourth and spoke in some language not of earth.

Constantine may have been magically versed in many languages but even he could only catch a few words, one of which angled somewhere towards 'caregiver'.

"Bats?"

"Not now, Clark." Part of his words dipped into the incomprehensible tongue, almost an overlay before he cleared his throat. "An issue has come up in Gotham, I am needed."

Gotham... somewhere the hellblazer refused to step foot in, the land reeking of sulfur and rotting magic, the air stagnant with pain and hopelessness, a city chained by greed and insanity.

The monstrosity's form layered over itself and Batman, before the two were gone with hardly a sound, no hint but the lingering scent and magic showcasing that they had ever stood in the room.

John shuddered and finally lit his cigarette. "Bloody Gothamites, the whole lot is cursed."

In this AU, Gotham is a part of hell, whether it was originally so and rose to the mortal realm, or because of the demon chained to its land - Lady Gotham. Whatever the reason, curses run rampant, and Lady was already weakened by being forced into the mortal realm. Because of this, she cannot do much, but nearly everyone in Gotham is demon-touched in some manner, but some also have inklings of being angrl-touched, some more than others.

The Waynes and Kanes are among the most hell-touched due to their long lineage in Gotham, but there are those Gotham tries to welcome with open arms and, in doing so, warps them to be more demonic than they should be as a newcomer. This does not always turn out well, as the chains on her limit her control

Some who are hell-touched have demonic traits, usually very minor and easy enough to excuse as meta traits if anyone ever asks. Others have much stronger traits, and there's the lucky ones who can morph their form, though they will never fully lose the traits of their demon-blood.

----------

Alfred seems the epitome of a normal butler from the outside, until you realize how unflappable he was towards Gotham's chaos, or hear his tales of being a veteran in years long gone. Perhaps he's yet another demon, right? But no, not even that fits him. And perhaps you'll never be privy to the full truth, but the Waynes and Gotham herself know. Alfred is no mere demon, he is eldritch, from before the world was even a speck in the Creator's eye. And while the children are physically fighting for Gotham, he is there for them, but he is also there for Gotham, spiritually untangling what he can from her.

Bruce Wayne's appearance doesn't seem to relay his ancestry as much as one might think, but his fangs and claws are clear for any to see, as well a his piercing blue eyes, glowing life sulfur flames amidst a backdrop of black sclera. Batman, on the other hand, has stiffly curving horns arcing over his head, leathery bat wings and a sturdy tail, with digitigrade legs and talons, perfect for scaring enemies or for carrying what appears to be his young.

Dick Grayson was never truly one of Gotham's. She certainly granted him care and consideration and treated him as kindly as her curses would let her, but he was never able to accept more than the slightest blessings, if they could be considered as such. He never learned to fly like Batman did, but he became faster and stronger, his only visible demonic traits being nails and teeth slightly sharpened. Even so, he put forth as much effort as the rest of the colony, doing his utmost to help anyone he could.

Barbara may have lost her ability to walk, but that doesn't mean she's defenseless. She still has her claws and horns, and a unique affinity for technology that she's worked hard to hone after what happened to her.

Jason Todd had wings too small for much more than gliding, but his autumn rich curls hid the beginnings of majestic horns, his pale blue eyes shining with a hope few in Gotham could muster. But Robin had augments to his wings, enabling short flight to follow his mentor, at least until his grounding. Gotham could not let go of him for long, and dragged him back herself, but failed to do so completely, watching him be whisked away by Talia. Red Hood never regained his wings, not fully, more bone than flesh, what few feathers left struggling not to fall off. Pain arcs through his body from time to time, but he has a duty to Gotham and her people, one he would willingly choose any day. As for his pit rage, it is the equivalent of eating something you cannot process, as his system already had its fill of demonic energy from Gotham.

Tim Drake was born in Gotham, but his family's adventures dragged him throughout the world until the tender preteens. Before that only, he had been loosely tutored on the travels, but now his parents had deemed public school of importance, and also thought he could help organize their collections when he was not learning. One night, while cleaning up a gallery, he found an artifact he apparently had not put away yet, a statue that Catwoman would find quite fascinating. Upon interacting with it, pain ricocheted through him. When it finally stopped, his form had been twisted. For anyone else the statue would have merely given one the abilities of a cat, perhaps a curse to go with them, but his supernatural features were malleable enough for the power to take advantage of, turning him into a human feline. Eventually, he went to join Batman as Stray, knowing he needed a Robin but not wishing to take the name on himself. Many rogues seemed to think him a child of Batman and Catwoman, and they oft went uncorrected. He likes to perch on his family.

Cassandra is demon-touched primarily through the league and proximity to the pits, but nothing strong enough to truly take root until Gotham welcomed her to her new home. While her features are limited to black sclera and not much else, she is strongest in the ability department, able to literally move through shadows and hide in them at will, though she cannot speak while doing so and it can be hard watching for a shadow signing. Due to her past and being hell-touched, she is a bit stronger than Dick, though not as physically strong as those who grew up in Gotham.

Duke is more angel-touched than the others are, resulting in the enhanced strength of his light abilities and visions. That doesn't mean there isn't demon in him though, it just showcases itself more quietly.

Stephanie may very well have the sharpest claws and fangs of the family, but her razor wit is one of her best attacks depending on who you ask. Her and Cass sometimes seem joined at the hip, and, while their styles are somewhat opposite, they work quite well together.

Damien was created with the blood of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, grown in a Lazarus Womb. He looks like a tiefling, with skin dark like Talia but tinted the slightest bit red like his father, burning green eyes like Talia but black sclera like Bruce, and the very same Wayne horns and talons that dominate the generations. He does not have wings and it seems unlikely he will ever have them, but that does not stop him in his tracks.

[acapelladitty]

something lost, something gained

Summary: After being snatched by human traffickers while exploring an abandoned schoolhouse, Lucy fights to survive as she waits for Cooper to find her. (3.9k words)

(warnings for: attempted sexual assault, biting, blood, face slapping, groping, violence, murder, aftercare, hurt/comfort, cooper trying his best in a bad situation)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Awaking with a languid groan, Lucy's eyes flittered open for only a moment before slamming shut again as a dull pain to her temple made her wince and gasp. Raising her right hand to press at the skin, she was surprised to find her left hand moving in tandem and her eyes snapped open as she realised that her hands were bound together.

Gazing down at the coarse rope which encircled her wrists, panic arose in Lucy's chest as she glanced around the small, cell-shaped room and immediately understood that she was not anywhere recognisable. It didn't even look like the same building she last remembered walking into.

"Cooper?" Calling out with a dry, uncomfortable voice, a sense of irritation laced the anxiety which rolled through her. "What the fudge? Why am I in here?"

The door to the cell creaked open and Lucy glanced up from her slumped position to see a man she did not recognise fill the doorway. He was very tall, head almost brushing the top of the door frame, with a mop of raggedy blonde hair hanging limply across his shoulders and something in the way he looked at her made her skin crawl with unspoken danger. An instinctive disgust which made her mouth tighten.

"Finally awake." The man spoke, his voice sharp, light and slightly pitched. "We were worried we'd done some real damage to your head there."

At his words, Lucy finished her earlier assessment as her fingers once again grazed the hard lump which had formed on her temple - the skin feeling raw and wounded under her fingertips. Dragging her fingertips away, she found them flecked with her own blood.

"Who are you?" She asked, wide eyes darting across the limited space. "Did Cooper put you up to this? Or my father?"

"Don't know who any of those people are but we saw you going into that old schoolhouse with a ghoul so we snuck in, waited for you to split, and gently smuggled you out."

Gently smuggled.

The wound on her head suggested otherwise.

"Why?" A reflex question, one Lucy didn't think she wanted the answer to as the blonde man took a small step in her direction to stare down at her with a lecherous smirk.

"Cause you're in our territory and you're ours now. Me and my buddies have a little side business going on and you're our latest catch." His gaze roving across her white tank top and blue pants, one of his hands settled on the visible bulge of his groin as he winked at her. "We take them, break them, and pass them on to be sold. 50/50 share. And, baby, let me tell you, you're gonna fetch us a pretty price."

The panic in her chest now clawing at her heart as she scrambled her back against the cool stone of the wall, Lucy felt sweat break out across her body as she took in his candid admission with open-mouthed horror.

"No. You can't-"

"Yeah. I can smell the vault on you so I know you probably aren't rolling with the same diseases as all the other cunts we pick up."

Flinching at the term, Lucy fell back into what she knew best as old defense mechanisms kicked in to protect her as best they could.

"Let me go and I'll get you whatever you need. Caps, meds, weapons. I know people who could hel-"

"You?" Laughing openly at her offer, the man steadied himself against the doorframe. "Maybe that bulky ghoul we saw you with could have worked some muscle for us but you haven't got shit we need. Well, aside from-"

His hand still groping sleazily against his bulge, the man stepped fully within the cell and kicked the door shut before him. An action which made Lucy jump as her body shuddered and tensed to the point of discomfort, sensing the danger and violence to come.

"You see, cunt. I'm much nicer than my two friends out there and I'm willing to cut you some slack. Wrap your lips around my cock and suck it like your life depended on it, and I'll tell the boys that you're willing to be a good girl for us. They'll even leave their nasty 'breaking in' toys at the door if they think you're gonna be a good girl."

As he spoke, his body inched closer towards Lucy and her fingers shook terribly as she struggled against the rope holding her wrists, vision quick to blur as genuine fear rocked through her body.

He's going to rape me. Repeated in her head like a cruel, merciless mantra. The elders had told them what rape was, explained that they needed consent to ensure that everyone in the vault was happy and able to share their bodies without problem. They knew, in the vault, they all knew what was okay and what wasn't.

"Cooper!" She hollered out, voice breaking on the second syllable as she attempted to back up against the wall enough to scramble to her feet. "Please, fudge, someone help!"

A memory rose, unbidden in her mind as Lucy rolled her back against the wall. Not long after her body had started to change, one of the elders, a slender old guy named Ernest, had caught her in the gardens. He had asked her questions about her changing body, questions that made her heart feel heavy in her chest as a sense of how wrong he made her feel forced her to back away from him.

He had moved to grab her, his hand wrenching her arm away from her chest when her father had appeared from nowhere. He had been causal in his greeting but even as a child, she had noticed how tight her dad's smile was and how quickly he ushered her back to her room so he could have a quick chat with him.

Ernest died soon after. One of the first to be lost to the latest famine as the crops failed due to an unknown blight. She hadn't questioned it then, too many good people had been lost, but now, in this moment where that same childish fear weighed heavily at her limbs, she wondered if her father had killed him for what he had tried to do.

Kicking out with her feet as the man dropped to his knees before her, his fingers were quick to lock around her ankles - pulling her free of the wall and stealing the breath from her lungs as her head collided with the floor.

"Please, no. Don't do this! No!"

"First times always the worst."

Flashing rotted teeth at her as he straddled her waist, his hands pinned her own roped palms to her stomach as he burrowed down into her space. His breath was awful, smelling foul and rancid, and it sparked a retch in Lucy's throat as she twisted her head to the side. His tongue trailed across her cheek, tasting the grime on her skin as he growled in her ear.

"Just gotta remember to be a good girl and-ARGH!" Breaking off into a pained scream, the man reared back as blood poured from his mouth to drip down on her tank top.

Spitting out the large portion of tongue she had ripped free with her teeth, Lucy used her attackers moment of stunned pain to knock him free of her body. Crawling on her knees, she almost made it to the door when a rough hand wrapped around her hair.

"Stupid cunt!" The words lisping due to his injury, the man's hand was like fire in her hair as he snatched at her scalp viciously. "Gonna break your fucking nose for that."

Yelling as her hands locked around a small shard of metal that lay by the closed door, the man's foot having accidentally knocked it within the cell as he entered, Lucy gripped it tight as she spun on her knees, digging the shard deep into the closest foot she could reach before pulling it free with a vicious twist.

A fresh cry of pain broke free of her attacker as he crashed to the ground, his hands tight around his foot while he snarled obscenities at her.

Fuelled by adrenaline, fear and rage, Lucy pounced on him like a cat, knocking his back flat to the floor as she stabbed the metal as roughly into his throat as she could. Memories of her fraudulent husband flashed before her eyes and she hollered a vicious snarl as she dragged the metal through his skin until the blood flowed and the gurgling of his throat ceased.

Breathing heavily, she stayed in that position until his glassy-eyed stare repulsed her, the scent of fresh blood making her heave anew. Body shaking and mind rattling, it was only when a new voice broke the silence that she jumped as though an electric bolt had fired across her spine.

"Fuck, Petey. She's killed Owen."

Rolling off the corpse, Lucy was quick to take her earlier position - her stained fingers clutching the metal shard as her back pressed against the wall once more.

"Owen was always a dipshit. We'll be better off without him." The taller of the two newcomers added.

Looking just as filthy as the first guy, Lucy's eyes were wild as she pointed the metal at each of them in turn.

"L-let me go. I'll do the same to you." She stuttered, a sinking feeling of despair making her skin feel cold and clammy. "I've killed people before and you'll be next."

Glancing between themselves, both men burst out into a cruel laughter and their movements were quick as they descended on her. Fingers already trembling, it was easy for them to wrestle the metal from her hands and pin her to the floor; their much larger bodies easily holding her knees apart as they pressed them to the floor with their own legs.

Rough hands fished inside her tank top and Lucy found herself unable to do much but bare her teeth and fight off a sob as her chest was pulled free of her bra; breasts spilling over the fabric as matching grunts of approval escaped her attackers.

"They'll do nicely. Fuck, might not even sell this one, what do you think?" The one named Petey asked, his free hand gripping at her chin painfully as he tilted her head to the side in a crude inspection.

Cupping her left breast as though weighing it in his hand, the other man flashed a yellow smile at her.

"Could play with her for a few weeks without going to the others. Would you like that? A few weeks with us and then a ten minute walk up north to meet the rest of the boys?"

Refusing to answer as a fat tear rolled free of her eye, Lucy chose to remain quiet and not give them anything as she struggled in vain.

"You owe us for you did to Owen." The second man continued, his face an open leer as he released her jaw. "So I'm gonna fuck you and then Petey is gonna fuck you and then we're both gonna fuck you. Then you're gonna open those pretty lips wide for-"

"No."

A sharp hand collided with the side of Lucy's face, the blow catching her across the mouth and bursting her lip open in an instant as the taste of copper flooded her mouth.

"Not asking, cunt."

Their hands were all over her, one set fondling her breasts while the other pulled at the hem of her tank top to expose her stomach. They were everywhere and the feeling of them, hot and heavy atop her body, made her feel sick - her throat constricting and panicking as her breaths came short and fast.

The vague sound of the door slamming open touched at her senses but it felt so far off that she didn't think much of it until all hell broke loose.

A fresh splatter of blood sprayed across her face, the sensation matching by a booming gunshot which made her ears ring in the small space as the taller of the two, Petey, collapsed dead atop her - a hole leaking blood and brains from the front of his forehead to her exposed chest.

In shock, both Lucy and the remaining man stared at the corpse for a second before Lucy felt half the weight on her body disappear as the final attacker was pulled free. Her eyes unfocused and blurred with tears, she saw the flash of familiar, tattered leather which hurled her would-be attacker against the wall.

Sounds of exertion were quickly followed by a fresh death gurgle as Cooper's knife flashed in his hand for only a second before being drawn across her attackers throat; the arterial spray swiftly coating Cooper's clothed chest as he let go of his prey and allowed the fresh body to drop to the floor.

Not trusting her eyes, Lucy tilted her head back and cast her gaze to the dingy ceiling as her thoughs spiralled into a messy haze.

After a moment, Cooper's face swam in her vision and the close sight of him sparked a myriad of emotions within her; shock giving way to genuine relief before settling on fear as she took in the genuine fury which blazed in his stark white eyes as they darted across her battered face and disjointed clothing.

He wasn't angry with her, she knew that, but the sheer rage which rolled from his coiled frame made her want to curl into a ball and hide away from it. He smelled of leather and blood, the scent of fresh violence making her nose twitch as the corpses of her attackers lay motionless, crowding the floor of her cell.

"S'alright, I got you, sweetie." Cooper's hands were firm but gentle as he wrapped them around her shoulders, hoisting her enough that she were able to lean against the wall in a sitting position.

Despite everything, his voice was like a balm and she relaxed into his touch as her trembling fingers were gripped within his own - his knife glinting once more as he quickly severed her bindings and let the rope fall to the floor. In an instant, her knees snapped to her chest as her arms looped around them, her body curling in on itself as a wave of nausea made her throat feel tight.

Still on his haunches before her, Cooper studied her for a solid moment before matching her position as he leaned against the opposite wall, his legs outstretched and his back straight against the cool stone.

"Fix yourself, darlin'. I'd offer but I don't think you want another monsters hands on you before the day's out."

Keeping her knees tight, Lucy brought trembling fingers to her chest - her relief at being saved having made her forget about her state of undress - and she tucked her breasts away back into the off-white bra with a lifeless motion, the skin feeling sensitive and sore due to their abuse. Made decent, her arms were quick to loop around her knees once more, her chin sitting atop her knees as a gloomy, far-off expression graced her features.

"Did they-" A half question which Cooper quickly thought better of as he abandoned ship and adjusted it on the fly. "You okay?" It was a quiet ask, the words so low that Lucy knew she could ignore them if she wanted to.

"No," she stuttered, feeling weary despite the adrenaline which still pulsed in her veins, "but I have to be because what else is there. So I have to be."

Making a small noise of agreement in his chest, Cooper's gaze rose to the ceiling as he plucked his hat from his head and dropped it to the floor by his open lap.

"That you do, darlin'. Nothing else for it."

They sat in silence for a bit, the only slightly pained sounds coming from Lucy's throat as she adjusted to the various aches which afflicted her body. Her face was the worst as her temple throbbed like a bitch and her burst lip felt huge and ugly against her mouth. The bodies forever doomed to lay in messy piles, Lucy's eyes ghosted over them and settled on the growing patches of blood which each steadily leaked to the cell floor.

"You killed them all?" She said, already knowing the answer and unsure why she even asked.

"Not all of them. One of them was already dead when I got here and I'd recognise the teeth marks in that hunk of ripped tongue anywhere." Despite the guarded nature of his tone, there was a spark of warmth as he flashed his, well, her, finger at her, and Lucy swore she heard the slightest hint of pride leaking through. "You did good, sweetheart. You fought like a hellcat and you didn't let them win."

"Didn't win." Lucy mumbled miserly. "You did."

"Oh, I have no doubt you would have gotten them both in the end. They might have taken a few strips from you, but that fire in your belly would have scorched them dry."

Mouth upturning at the praise as she fought off the urge to cry, Lucy swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands as her breathing quickly grew erratic.

"All these bullshit lessons you've put me through and it still wasnt enough." She blurted out with a desperate gasp. "They're evil. I hate it here. I hate their cruelty. I hate their hurting. I hate-"

Finally unable to hold back the swell of emotion which threatened her, Lucy broke off on the final word as a heaving sob replaced any chance she had of cohesive speech. It was something raw and unfiltered, mourning the loss of some part of herself that would never be returned as she was forced to mold herself into a creature of violence and hate just to survive in their world.

Cooper, to his credit, let her cry without any false sympathies or interference. His face lacked any judgement, the hole in his face flexing slightly as he inhaled and exhaled steadily, eyes never shifting from Lucy's sobbing frame. Something difficult to pin down flashed through his gaze as though a multitude of possible outcomes were pushing at his thoughts.

After some internal debate, a grunt slipped free of Cooper's lips as he leaned across the short space and pulled at Lucy's shoulder.

So lost in her own misery, Lucy didn't fight the pressure of his strong hand as he pulled her to the side, dropping her to the floor in such a way that her head pressed against the upper part of his legs as she faced away from him. It did nothing to stop her tears, but it did give her something to lean on as he immediately retracted his hand to fold his arms fully across his chest.

Cooper's thighs were like unyielding steel beneath her head, giving Lucy something solid to pin her senses on as she fought to quell the quiver of her lip and the shudders which continued to wrack her body. Their journey had been hard and the hunt for her father was a disaster of interference and dead trails of information.

This was just the latest set-back in a long list of utter shit.

Offering her no other physical support, unsure if it would cause her to act out or break down further, Cooper waited until her breathing was a little more even before speaking again.

"Be sad." He paused, allowing the rare piece of advice to sit heavily in the air between them. "Be angry. Feel that fire in your gut burn so hot that you get the fear it's gonna burst free and raze everything around you to the ground. Hell, curse the day your momma brought you into the world if that's how you feel. But don't break."

Stopping once again, Cooper felt a rare moment of genuine pity for the woman as he glanced down at her. Lucy Maclean, who foolishly tried to choose peace in a peaceless world, still had a lot of learning to do when it came to the way that same world worked.

He could only show her so much, some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and if she could take them, then he would do his part to keep her whole.

"Whatever they do to you, survive it. Skulk off, lick your wounds, come back stronger. Get that revenge your blood sings for." Speaking as much to himself as her, Cooper allowed her a peek into his own thoughts, an insight he knew she wouldn't fully understand quite yet. "Never let them break you. Better off dead than broken in this world."

Gathering herself enough to shakily speak, Lucy gripped Cooper's knee with clawing fingers as she clung to him like a lifeline.

"There's more of them. Ten minutes up north. That's who they were- who they were going to sell me to."

"More side-tracking bullshit." Cooper sighed but his voice grew more contemplative as his gravelled tones mused on her words. "That said, been a while since I hunted down some proper vermin. No bounty. No rules. Might be fun to let loose for once."

He let the idea hang in the air, curious if she was hinting at what he suspected she was.

"You coming with me?"

"Yeah."

Unseen by the shaking Lucy, a pleased smile split Cooper's lips as he glanced down at her steady answer.

It wasn't often he took on a companion, far less one that he'd actually indulge, but the odd woman intrigued him with the hypocrisy of her very existence. A vaultie with a edge, naive blood screaming out for wrongs to be righted just like his own as she fought alongside him like a harpy.

It did help that they both wanted her dear old daddy strung up like the traitor he were.

But revenge would see her right.

She was owed a debt by those who had tried to take her, a debt of honor, and he would see that she avenged it in a glorious explosion of violence that would help keep her nightmares at bay as they would leave no doubt that the beasts responsible were well put down and unable to haunt her.

By gun or by knife, she would get at least that.

He had seen the broken ones. The ones used and abused by so many across the wastelands that they gave up everything and became husks even more devoid of humanity than the ghouls who lost the battle and went feral. It was a fate worse than the many deaths he'd experienced in his time.

No one deserved that.

Especially not Lucy Maclean.

His hand ghosting over her head, fingers only an inch away from her fine head of mousy hair, Cooper tilted his head to the side as he took her exhausted frame in.

"Sleep for now, vaultie. Time for this little killer to save her strength. So take it for what it is and when you wake, we'll see about righting some of the wrongs that happened here."

Feeling more safe with the violent ghoul who had shown her the new reality of her world than any other of the awful creatures she had met since leaving her vault, Lucy's eyes fluttered close as his voice washed over her and exhaustion claimed her before she could do anything to muse on that odd feeling of safety.

Links to the rest of the series:

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi! I hope you're having a nice evening today! ♡♡♡♡

May I request for a platonic Yandere Chang'e with a son or daughter reader? either by blood or bond I'm ok with it 👍 she's one of my favorites characters of LMK (☆▽☆) Thank you! And sorry if my english it's kinda bad 😅

Moon Rabbits

(Thank you for the request, and your English is just fine, friend!)

Many things have made their way to your mother’s home over the years, she says to you. Offered from thousands of varying sources and souls, a collection of offerings and letters and antiques.

“But you, my little bunny,” your mother says with a loving smile, “are the greatest of all my treasures.”

With practiced motions, she combs through your tangled mop of hair, humming an ancient lullaby whenever she’s not verbally doting on you. It’s an old ritual for the two of you, your mother happily talking about how she had found you years ago nestled on one of her lunar shrines, wrapped in a bundle of blue silk.

“I have no clue who sent you to me, my sweet lop, and I might never… but they have my eternal gratitude, forever shining softly upon them.”

As always, she’s perfectly gentle with you, her hands careful so as to not damage even a strand of your hair or fur. Chang’e sets down the ivory comb and takes up a sapphire-encrusted hairbrush, lifting it to the tips of your leporine ears. She brushes slowly from the top to the bottom, smoothing the soft fur into place and grooming out tangles. Occasionally she’ll pause to softly pull out a tiny bit of soil or foliage- that you no doubt acquired from playing in her bountiful garden.

Occasionally you’ll receive an instruction to turn your head this way or that, allowing the lunar goddess to more thoroughly arrange the pristine fluff of your ears. Aside from that, her words are spent solely on adoring you.

It’s a routine you’ve long grown used to, spending each evening in front of your mother's mirror as she tends to your appearance. Chang’e finishes each grooming session with a fistful of sparkly hair-clips, the polished metal studded with glittery beads. Some in the form of rabbits, some in crescents, some mimicking constellations. Each one is carefully clipped into your hair, in part to keep your appearance tidy, in part proof of her influence over you.

It’s only when she presses a kiss to your forehead (because she loves the human part of you) and both of your tall, fluffy ears (because she loves the rabbit part of you) that she allows you to stand up and leave.

Both sides of you, flesh and fur alike, are worthy of being loved, she always reminds you.

Her love is conveyed through more than just physical touch, of course.

Your nature as a half-rabbit being provides you with several impediments, in diet and behavior and clothing. Each of these issues Chang’e tirelessly works to resolve.

On account of your strong leporine ancestry, your stomach struggles with meat. You lack all the proteins needed to break it down properly, which means that eating any leads to having it sit around in your stomach until you throw it back up.

Chang’e keeps an incredibly varied kitchen that never seems to run dry of unique dishes- she accommodates for your dietary restrictions with ease. There’s no end to what she serves up, each meal designed to be both tasty and nutritious. Fruit and veggie platters for snacks, usually cut into the shape of rabbits and stars. (She does this no matter how old you get. Cooking is her personal love language, after all. She never wants you to think of eating as something trivial or unfun.)

In terms of clothing, the only real restrictions you have are with your scut and ears- mild, all thing considered. Most of your wardrobe consists of skirts and shorts to prevent any restriction, and your ears are barely an issue. It's not like you need to wear hats- you live on the moon. You're hardly at risk of getting sunburned.

It's your temperament that proves most infuriating. The rabbit aspects of you go far deeper than the skin- they bleed into your brain, even. You find yourself skittish and easily startled, jumping at the smallest of shadows. Even a mild creak has you bolting off to your mother, who's always ready with a warm hug and a mug of something hot and sweet with a hint of bitter that just barely comes through.

And you’re always so sleepy afterwards.

Waking up on your mother’s bed is a common occurrence, frequently awakening to find yourself bundled under a load of cozy blankets. There’s always a snack on the bedside table, usually a sweet variety of fruit cut into hearts, paired with a refreshing drink.

It’s all so very loving.

So much so that it’s hard to know that something’s wrong. You have no frame of reference for a truly healthy relationship, having lived on the moon for all your known life. It’s only you and your mother and her dozens of bunny drones, equipped with cameras to send constant streams of your current activities back to her phone.

Only you and your mother and her cooking show, you standing in the background and helping her chop veggies, sift flour, stir pots, and decorate cakes. It’s enriching enough that you don’t get bored. It’s fulfilling enough to create a sort of satisfaction.

Is it really so bad here that you’d think of leaving? From what you know, Earth is worse- war, famine, disease, poverty- none of that exists in your mother’s domain. There’s no suffering or pain in your life. You drift through peaceful days with good food and a loving mother.

Is it really so bad here?

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: your first full day with coriolanus snow doesn't go without a hitch somewhere along the way. ⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: mentions of poverty, mentions of alcohol, descriptions of alcohol, rough kissing (brief) ⊹ word count: 3223 ⊹ author’s note: so sorry for not being able to post this last week!! was high key withering away in the hospital like a frail victorian child lmao. but here's chapter two, I hope ya'll enjoy ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❝We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda; it is a form of truth.❞ ― John F. Kennedy

“What shape do you want them?”

“Mickey Mouse!” “A heart!”

“Alrighty, then. One Mickey Mouse and a heart pancake are coming up, John John and Miss Caroline.”

John Jr. is perched atop the kitchen counter to your right, sitting patiently while Caroline sneakily dips a finger inside the pancake mix next to him. The three of you had worked to make the batter perfect, and you’re all fairly satisfied. You manage to make a decent Mickey Mouse shape in the pan, and a nearly flawless heart and the kids clap with delight. Coriolanus quietly watches you interact with Jack's children from behind the wall separating the kitchen and dining room. He’s initially shocked to see you so vulnerable and soft with other human beings, even if they’re small ones. Coriolanus didn’t expect you to be someone who interacts with children in general, given the snarky and stubborn personality you’ve shown him so far. But he shouldn’t be so quick to judge you yet- after all, there’s a lot to Coriolanus that isn’t as it seems, either.

Jackie, Jack, and the rest of the family present in the Compound had an obligation with their father later in the morning. So, you decided to get some food in John Jr. and Caroline beforehand. Hungry kids are cranky kids, after all. You were to stay behind with Coriolanus, as the two of you weren’t needed at the gathering. You don’t mind as you need to organize the notes you’ve taken so far, as well as finish reading Profiles in Courage. You had a lot of questions for Jack about it already, and it’d be better if you had every possible question ready as soon as possible to ask upfront. Not to mention, you need to work on your dissertation a little more briskly now, considering you’re going to assist Coriolanus in his presidential campaign. 

John Jr. graciously accepts the Mickey Mouse pancake on his favorite Superman plate, and he scurries off toward the dining room. Caroline remains by you at the kitchen counter, dousing her heart with a disgusting amount of syrup. You almost say something about the sugar but decide against it quickly. Caroline seems to hold herself together better than her younger counterpart. Speaking of John Jr., he nearly runs into Coriolanus as he dashes down the hall to your dismay.

“Oh, good morning, Mister Coryo,” John Jr. beams up at the tall blonde man before continuing his path to the table.

“What did we agree on about walking, John?” you quirk an eyebrow after the boy, who is long out of earshot.

Coriolanus walks into the kitchen casually as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the entire time, opening the refrigerator and scouring the shelves for orange juice. When he doesn’t find it, he closes the door and walks over to you.

“If you’re looking for orange juice, John John drank the rest when he woke up. Chugged every drop,” you say without turning around from the sink where you’re doing dishes.

“Oh,” Coriolanus says, “Not surprised. The boy loves juice.”

You chuckle, “I learned that very quickly. He drank almost all of my peach juice the first night I was here.” 

Caroline looks between you and Coriolanus, a knowing smile on her face as she chews her food. Without a word, she leaves the room.

Coriolanus cracks a smile but quickly brushes it off before you can see, “Need help with those?” he asks, motioning to the dishes.

You glance at him over your shoulder, “Oh, no, I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”

Coriolanus wordlessly picks up a dish and dries it off with a nearby dish towel, his neutral gaze on you. You sigh, looking at the man defeatedly as you begin rinsing your soaped-up dishes, “I said I didn’t need help.”

“I know,” Coriolanus shrugs, “But it’s the least I could do since you treat the children so well.”

You turn to him, hand on your hip, “I think every child should be treated with kindness. Besides, John John is a good boy despite his father, and Caroline is a gentle little thing anyway,” you say jokingly.

Coriolanus chuckles, “You’re absolutely right. Anyone tell you how rowdy Jack was at John Jr.’s age?”

“No,” you quirk an eyebrow, finishing up rinsing off the dishes, “Do tell.”

As you and Coriolanus dry off the pans and plates, he tells you stories of how Jack and his siblings would go buck wild around here at the Compound. You find yourselves openly cracking smiles with each other as Coriolanus describes the antics. When Joeseph Jr. is brought up, the room becomes solemn. 

“Did you ever meet him?” you ask as you put away some of the dishes, Coriolanus doing the same.

“Only once. He was a man of few words,” he admits, folding the dish towel and neatly placing it back on the counter.

You hum, closing the cabinet, “Well, I’ll probably be working most of the day. If you need me, I won’t be far.”

Coriolanus nods, watching you carefully as you leave the kitchen. He decides you, too, are someone of few words. But you always know when to use them correctly. And he admires that a little.

You feel like a ghost roaming around the house throughout the day, reading your book as you aimlessly walk into rooms and halls. Occasionally, you stop to look at things in the various studies and unoccupied bedrooms. Despite the warm and welcoming hospitality of the Kennedy family, at times, you still feel sorely out of place. You didn’t grow up lavishly by any means- no one in your neighborhood did. The outskirts of Boston during the Great Depression weren’t much better than the city itself. Food, clean water, and bare necessities were hard to come by, even in the suburbs. You learned to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and be nifty with minuscule things. It’s one thing Coriolanus notices when you wander into the den, Profiles in Courage tucked under your left arm and your notes in your right hand. Every single available space on the paper you had current notes written on was taken up as if you’d run out of paper at some point. But you had an ample amount of pages left in your notebook- one that hadn’t already been filled like your others, at that. Coriolanus is sitting at the fireplace, puffing lightly at a pipe as he skims through a book he’s half-reading. He stops fully paying attention to it the moment you enter his presence, and he notices your notes.

“How much do you plan on writing about Jack?” he asks abruptly, breaking the dead silence in the room.

Coriolanus’ voice startles you from your trance, your lips letting go of the pencil you had between them, “A lot. I sort of have to. Why do you ask?”

The tall man’s eyes flicker between your face and your notebook folded in on itself in your hand, “You seem to be writing your notes like it’s going out of style.”

Your eyes fall to your endless scribbles of words, eyebrows scrunching up for a moment, “I don’t understand?”

Coriolanus carefully closes his book and sits his pipe down on the table, taking two long strides over to you. He cradles your notes in his large hands, tracing the delicate handwriting with his fingers. The scraping of every drop of the mixing bowl earlier, the tedious way you used dish soap and warm water, your early rising, and your short showers. The way you carry yourself and your words. Coriolanus knows and knows it well.

“I still have a few rationing stamps,” Coriolanus says, his looming figure dangerously close to completely blanketing yours, “They’re in an old tobacco box of my father’s. I can’t remember the day we stopped needing them.”

Your face falters as you peer up at him, his gaze glued to your notes in a focused and avoidant fashion. You gently take your journal from the blonde, closing it before placing Profiles in Courage on top of it and pulling away from the odd warmth from Coriolanus’ cold tallness.

“I think I’ve done enough writing today.”

You don’t like being seen, and as often as possible, you hide away. It’s something you dislike about yourself. And no matter how much you work on it, when your foundation is shaken, you tend to lose your grip. The Compound suddenly felt quite small, and you needed a moment to breathe. So you scurry away to your room to put away your books and grab a thick coat, as it had snowed overnight despite being warm yesterday. Said snow crunches under your feet loudly as you descend the steps toward the beach, wrapping your arms around yourself as the breeze nips your face. All that can be heard for a while is birds overhead and waves crashing to the sand banks. You breathe in the stale, salty air while you have flashbacks of hunger pains from childhood. It’s something you don’t let bother you anymore, but the memory is still very much there. 

“Sorry if I overstepped,” Coriolanus suddenly says from behind you, his hands shoved into his coat pockets.

You physically jump, your hand flying over your heart in genuine surprise, “Jesus, Snow. And no, you didn’t overstep. I’m just too inside my head today, I guess.”

Blonde curls fly around Coriolanus’ face erratically as he stoically stares at you from behind, and you avoid him. He stands beside you now, looking down at you in a way that makes you feel odd.

“I think we both expected different things from each other, hmm?”

“How so?” you ask, your face slowly beginning to burn from the cold ocean air.

“Well,” Coriolanus says, staring out at the open sea, the grey spaciousness giving him a moment to ponder, “I didn’t think someone so outspoken could be so inside their head at times.”

You bite back a fiery retort but instead come back with a simple, “And I didn’t expect you to know humbleness, Mister Snow.”

Coriolanus doesn’t respond right away, so you follow with, “But it seems we both learn something new each day, correct?”

“Yes,” the blonde says, “And I think we’ve also both learned to always be honest with each other.”

“When have I not been honest?”

“I did overstep. I shouldn’t have assumed anything, but I did. And even though it’s only been a day of knowing you, I also know you’re the last person to spend too much time in their head. You have enough in the real world for you to care about.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll see through you, you’ll see through me.”

“Good.”

After quite some time bearing the unrelenting ocean air alongside Coriolanus, you decide to make use of yourself somewhere other than the Compound. Coriolanus retreats to his room, and you go into town. Maybe you’d find a little something for the kids or the family for Christmas while out. It isn’t absolutely freezing, so you opt for walking to the market not far from the main road leading out of Hyannis Port. It’s bustling with people despite the temperature. You pick up a basket and fill it with a few oranges for John Jr. and Coriolanus for juice in the morning. After paying for the fruit, you’re called over the aisle by a younger woman you don’t recognize. 

“Are you by any chance the young lady researching Jack Kennedy?”

“Yes, I am,” you say.

“Oh, how wonderful! I’ve known the Kennedys since we were kids. I’m glad someone is going to make Jack’s work more known!”

“I am glad to be of help with that, then,” you smile at the woman, who couldn’t be too much older than you.

“Forgive me, I’m Candice. My father is the mayor of Barnstable,” she reaches a hand out for you to shake, which you take graciously.

“Lovely,” you say, glancing around at her various tables covered in small trinkets, “What are you out here bartering?”

“Just odds and ends I’ve found throughout my travels. I don’t have nearly enough room for it all, sadly. Take a look, you may find something!”

You skim the different buttons and brooches all varying in size and design, until you’re stopped by a particular gold brooch. It’s shimmering in the winter afternoon sun, the edges of the leaves and petals of the rose pendant sharp with precision. You gingerly pick it up, studying it closer.

“One of my favorites from Europe. Never could quite find anything worthy enough to pair it with,” Candice fawns, “It’s yours if you want it. No charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly-“

“It’s a gift, love. Take it.”

You slip it into your coat pocket with graciousness before continuing your brigade around the market. Some solid fiction books for Caroline and comics for John Jr. join the pile of oranges in your basket. Shopping for Christmas gifts for Jackie, Jack, Bobby, and Ted would be for a more dedicated day. Upon returning to The Compound, the house is bustling with the children and Bobby and Ted working on dinner. You hurry to put away the things you’ve bought in your room before washing up and making your way to the kitchen. Jack is leaning against the counter as he watches Bobby delicately season steaks, and Ted works on vegetables, his arms crossed across his chest. He stands up straight upon your arrival.

“Good evening, how was your day with some peace and quiet?”

“Ah, it was alright,” you shrug, a small smile on your face as you watch Jackie give Caroline and John Jr. her warning look as they circle the dining room table, “Too much peace and quiet is a little harmful, don’t you think?”

Bobby scoffs, “Not when you have children. Peace and quiet are rare. Be glad the other junior isn’t here to torture ya.”

“He has a point,” Jack grins, pointing at Bobby in agreement, “Bobby Jr. is worse.”

“Oh, come on, now. You know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree with John John.”

Ted snorts, and you decide to leave the brothers to their banter. Before you completely leave the room, though, Jack pulls you aside.

“Do you mind going down to the cellar? Pick out a bottle of something. We can all have some downtime after the kids go to sleep,” he says.

“Sounds good. Anything in particular?”

“Like I said, your pick.”

You wordlessly nod and find yourself at the cellar door moments later, the door already unlocked. You curiously open it and walk down the steps quietly, the lights dimly revealing a few shelves of wine varying in flavor and age. In between two shelves, you see Coriolanus pacing with a book in his hands. 

“It seems we always find each other somewhere around,” you say, being the one to startle him this time.

He snaps his head from his book, which appears to be the play Coriolanus by Shakespeare. Closing where he was reading, he disheveled looks at you off guardedly as he brushes himself off. You approach where he stands, your eyes scanning the shelves for any eye-popping bottle. A part of you feels heightened at being the one to unnerve him, and you feed on it as you stand dangerously close to Coriolanus on your tip toes to look at a wine more closely. You wonder why he’d be so nervous to be down here. Or what he had been doing to make him so uneasy of your presence.

“Which do you prefer?” you ask, pulling a bottle of rich red wine from by his head, “red or white?”

“Red,” Coriolanus says simply, his eyes shining with nerves, “I like the taste better.”

Your stare bores into his for a moment before you let yourself read the label, “A Nineteen Ten. Sounds nice,” you tilt your head at the man before asking, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Coriolanus blinks, “I just didn’t expect anyone to find me here.”

“Well, it is the cellar. Not much to hide here,” you encircle the bottle in your grasp, studying the rest of its details.

“Right.”

“Coriolanus, huh? By Shakespeare?”

Coriolanus scoffs through his nose, unbuttoning his sleeves and rebuttoning them to his elbows, “You’re familiar?”

“Not as familiar as I’d like,” you shrug, a hint behind your tone, “But maybe someday I’ll read more into it.”

The truth is, Coriolanus had been down there pacing and thinking of how to go about working with someone like you so closely. It’s been a day, and he already feels drawn to you in a way, and part of him feels disdain for it. But another feels so curious yet unnerved. Coriolanus usually reads the play when he feels he’s looking for something, and every time he is, he finds it within the play. It’s something new every time. No matter how many times the physical book has been deeply ingrained in his psyche. Your familiar and sarcastic tone from the night prior drinking similar wine makes his heart surge with something. And before Coriolanus realizes, his hand is grasping at the back of your head, bringing your face close to his.

“Maybe you should.”

Your hands are all but gripping the bottle of Cabernet, and your knuckles are white enough that you could press your fingertips into the bottle and break it if it were plastic. Coriolanus’ icy eyes are holding yours threateningly, and you don’t dare break the contact. It isn’t until Jack creaks the door of the cellar open to announce dinner is almost ready that the two of you think of separating. But you don’t. You feel bold and hungry and not like the type of hungry you were as a child, but rather bold and hungry for knowledge. A knowledge you won’t and can’t get from researching a man of power or holding a position of political power. But rather an energetic power you can’t quite explain unless you feel it. And you felt it the second you looked up to see Coriolanus standing in front of you by the fire the previous night. Again, when you walked into Jack’s office to see him standing there, and every time since. 

Your cheeks are tingling with fire, and your eyes weigh heavily on Coriolanus, unblinking and wild, “And if I don’t?” you whisper.

“I don’t think I’d allow it.”

“Hmm,” you narrow your eyes, letting your hand that’s not wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle grip the back of Coriolanus’ neck, “Try me.”

It’s almost like a dramatic scene from an old black and white your mother used to watch during the daytime, Coriolanus’ other hand flying to your cheek to hold your head firm as he gives you a bruising kiss. And your willingness to kiss back is almost as dramatized. But the tension from the start has been palpable, and it was only a matter of time before your clashing yet molding personalities came together somehow. Whether physical or mental- or both. You have to pull away to gasp for air, reluctant to remove yourself from the embrace. But you know you had to at some point, and you realize this is a dangerous game you’re already playing. What you don’t know yet is there are worse games to play.

౨ৎ taglist:

@nilletellsstories @noyatv @moonlightstuffs @slytherinholland @dominqueeekk @allcheesemelts @coconut-dreamz @rosewine-5 @hsfallingsky @imasimptoowth @tatumrileyslover  @murdocksdaughter @fauxraven @throughgoeshxmilton @thesullengrrrl @fanfictionismyromanempire @americanprometheuss @prettycove @ilikefictionalmen @etfrin @xyraphine @arzua10 @shadowolf993 @niki-is-a-thing @ashy-kit @snowsgames @impeterporker @randomgurl2326 @tspilled @tonixe @sammythecat7 @nowitsmissing @wearemadeofstardust0 @ebsmind @papasfreezeriastan

[raichukaiju]

Spoilers for The Magnus Protocol Season 1 Finale

HOOOOOOOLY FUCK OK OK

So is that forever it for Sam then?? It can't be, surely!! Will Celia's world even accept someone from outside it as "restoring the balance" or will it have to be her in the end??

Who the hell is the Archivist???? Cause it isn't Jon, at least I don't think it is, cause Jon is here in the computer (we're fairly certain). My guess at this moment is that it's a more.... concentrated Avatar of the Eye? Like the Beholding bypassed needing a human avatar and just formed this vaguely human-shaped thing with too many eyes and additional power to act on its behalf? I don't know if that even makes any sense, but I'll be interested to see if I'm even vaguely on the right track.

SAM SOUNDED SO HEARTBROKEN WHEN IT DAWNED ON HIM WHAT CELIA WAS DOING 😭😭😭

AND CELIA BEING COMPELLED AND TALKING ABOUT HOW SHE LOST HER NAME ORIGINALLY!!! AND THE WOUND IN THE WORLD!!! YESSSSSSS!!!!! AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

AND GWEN!!!!! Gwen what the hell was that laugh??? I hope you're prepared to deal with the consequences of what you've done, you're gonna have to learn a whole lot very fast!! I wonder if we'll ever see Lena again? Maybe if/when Gwen realises she's in over her head, then she'll swallow her pride and call her? Assuming that Lena even survives in the interim.

POOR COLIN!!! He sounds so scared, I wonder if that's finally it for him, and Alice will only have a body to find? My hopes aren't high, but I really do want Colin to be ok, he deserves more!!

Alice, my beloved, you care so much, but I still need to know what the hell you know - cause I swear more than you're letting on so far! Maybe once she's finished (most likely) going off at Celia, some of it might come to light?

What an amazing season!!! It's been SO good to be able to follow this story unfolding from the start (I got into TMA by the time it had already ended) and watch things develop and make guesses week to week as to where it's all leading!! But now comes the waiting!!!!

Fuck I hope Sam is going to be ok.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

when they're on cases and he can't sleep cowboy! reader just stares at the ceiling. normally he would bake or play with buddy or something at home but on trips he just stares and tries to sleep. jj has rolled over and looked across the room to find him awake one too many times.

- 🦦

Description: cowboy reader can't sleep :(

Warnings: can't sleep (idk if it's insomnia tho), very tired reader, I think that's all

A/N: so the coffee dialogue has been sat in my notes without a fic idea for ages and I thought it might fit nicely here so I went for it lol

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84

Sleep was not coming to you. Like at all. It had been an hour and a half and all you had done was count the number of lights on the ceiling and judge their decor. There were only twelve small lights, but when you had finished counting you played small games - matching different lights to others, trying to make shapes in your head with the lights. Honestly you felt like you were going a bit insane.

You wiggled slightly as you sighed. This was worse than torture. You were tired, your eyes were tired and yet, no sleep would come to you. This was the second night. You would groan loudly, if it weren't for JJ sleeping soundly on the bed next to you.

The team had been given three rooms, one of which was being shared by Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss, the other by Rossi and Hotch, and finally, a room for you and JJ. You had tried to tell them that this layout made absolutely zero sense, but they weren't having it. And so, you and JJ departed from the rest of the group slightly flustered with Morgan whistling loudly.

And here you were. You were tempted to just stop trying to sleep and get back to work but you don't think your brain would function right now. You kind of wanted to bake something. Maybe the kitchen was open. Until you remembered it was half two in the morning. You missed Buddy.

You missed any form of communication with another human being.

Damn, you're spiralling already? Think of something, quick! Er, lizards are cool. You nod to yourself. It's true, lizards are cool.

"Are you okay?" A voice draws you out of your lizard thoughts.

"Huh?" It took you a minute to register, "Oh yeah can't sleep,'

"That sucks," JJ said, sitting up slightly, "Is there anything that helps?"

"Playin' with Buddy and bakin'," You said, shrugging. You gave a small yawn, "You go back to sleep, we need to be up in about..." You looked at the time, "Three hours."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," You shrugged, "Sleep well." She falls asleep instantly and you find yourself mesmerised by her. Eyelashes flushed against her cheek, you drew yourself out of your thoughts for a moment, turning away from her and to the ceiling.

You sighed, the ceiling no longer seemed interesting. You began to run the case over in your head. It felt like you were missing something. Something crucial, but what?

There was something about it. He wasn't sloppy - he wasn't leaving any DNA or physical evidence. He wasn't thinking irrationally. It just appeared irrational. Like his crimes weren't fully developed. Like he wasn't fully developed. Because he was a teenager! You mentally slapped yourself for not seeing it sooner as you bolted up. You had to talk to Hotch!

You grabbed one of the room keys on the table and practically ran out of the door. It was the only thing that made sense!

When you reached the door, you knocked - fairly loudly, but by accident. Within a minute Hotch opened the door (wearing a pajama t-shirt and checkered pajama pants).

"S'rry sir," You apologised before quickly getting into your train of thought, "The unsub's not sloppy, seems like it but its not. He's organised, he's not irrational but his crimes aren't developed. What if its 'cause he's still developin'?"

"You think he's a teenager?" You nodded, "That would make a lot of things make sense." He paused for a moment, taking in your appearance, "Have you slept at all?"

"Does blinkin' count?"

"No,"

"Then no."

"Get some sleep," Hotch said with a sigh, "I'll see you at six." You nodded, turning away and hearing Aaron lock the door behind you.

You were absolutely exhausted the next morning, two nights of pretty much no sleep (you had managed a whole hour both nights). You were going to need a lot of coffee and maybe a nap this afternoon.

You had only been at work for three hours when Hotch approached you. You were at the coffee machine.

"Ah sh't…" You mumble, dragging a hand over you face as the coffee machine bleeps angrily at you. Seeing Hotch, you turned to him for a moment before turning back to the coffee machine. "Hotch? Think I broke the c'ffee."

"Y/n?" You look up at him as you forced your eyes to stay open - despite them trying to flutter shut. "You need to get some sleep."

"'M not even tired." Hotch raised and eyebrow and you sighed, "Fine. But only thirty minutes..."

You walked the few steps to the couch in the break room, letting yourself practically collapse into it. You're immediately rewarded with sleep.

Two hours later (although it only felt like five minutes), Morgan gently shook you awake.

"Mmm, go 'way, 'm trynna sleep." You mumbled, turning over in hopes Morgan would just walk away.

There's a small smile, voice slightly higher in pitch, "There's been another body." JJ says.

You force your eyes open for a moment before trying to wipe the sleep from them. "There in five…" You grumbled, ignoring Morgan's rather loud huff.

You stood up, rubbing your eyes once more as you did. "Someone's not a morning person." Morgan teased lightly.

"'M too tired to argue with you, Morgan," You mumbled as you tried your best to stifle a yawn.

Luckily, within the next four hours, you had caught the unsub. "Can I have the couch on the jet please?" You yawned as Morgan cuffed him. "I think I might actually be able to get some sleep."

[celestialspecial]

Such Sharp Teeth

I needed to write a werewolf fic again, so many other writers i follow have been putting out bomb content so i had to join in <3

Writers notes: It's not true abo dynamics- some elements are featured but it doesn't follow truly, it is reader insert but MC's name is Aurora-

also go read @becauseicantthinkwritings Objects in Motion, hooooly shittt

Warnings: 18+themes, graphic descriptions of body transformation, insinuated non con elements, reader digression advised :)

All you could feel was the cool air on your skin, blowing through your hair as the moon glowed overhead. You felt strong, powerful. It was exhilarating and freeing all at once. The beauty of the forest surrounding you as the sharp ribbons of silver moonlight cut in shards through the trees.

You could taste the air, smell bread being baked from miles away, hear people talking and animals scurrying away from you. The forest floor rose up time and again to meet your feet, every sensation heightened. It was a beautiful thing more often than not, but tonight was different. Tonight there was a sense of desperation inside of you.

A tinge of fear, footfalls echoing behind you, they were far but yet still so close. Too close for comfort. Howls rang out and you knew that you'd never escape keeping pace like this. Your breath grew ragged, no longer deep inhalations but tortured puffs. 

You could see your breath in the air before you and then you felt the pain surging through your body. Bones breaking, tissue tearing, muscles unraveling only to be knit back together in another form. You wanted to cry out at the pain but it’d only alert them to your location and that was far too dangerous. 

You could taste blood and feel tufts of fur spring up along your spine as it twisted and mangled its shape into something new. Your eyes blurred as you felt the bones in your face collapsing and extending, ears rising up and canines lengthening in your still too small mouth.

The next time your foot hit the ground it was no longer a foot, but a paw. The squelching sound of mud making contact with the pads of it. You had been running fast but now the speed was unparalleled. Heavy panting as you pushed yourself to the brink of exhaustion.

You still had miles to go but the howling was far off in the distance growing further away and that’s how you liked it. How it’d need to be for as long as it took you to figure out the next step.

The covers you woke up in were caked in mud, it crunched as you shifted in the bed, pattering to the floor surely creating a mess. You groaned stretching your arms overhead, human arms, the muscles sore and aching from how far you’d run last night. 

Even the edges of your feet and tips of your ears felt taut with tension and soreness. Rubbing a hand over your face, coming away with more dirt.

“Shit.”

“Shit is right, look at the state of this room.” A friendly face poked her head in through the doorway. She was tall, elegant limbs covered in a chunky sweater and leggings. Dark brown hair pulled up into a messy bun, light hazel eyes filled with a touch of mischief.

“I’m sorry, Celeste. I promise I’ll clean everything up.” She moved over to the side of the bed, holding a mug of something that smelled heavenly. Gesturing for you to take it, the heat seeping into the palms of your tired hands.

“I’m not worried about it. Here, drink. You need something to warm your bones.” You nodded taking a long drawn out sip. The liquid was chocolatey with a medicinal hint that washed over your tongue and seemed to heat your insides up almost immediately. 

“It should help with well…everything.” She gave a half hearted smile, shrugging one shoulder up, before adjusting the edge of her sweater. “You came a very long way.” You finished the drink, setting the mug into the side table next to you. The warmth began to leech into your bones finally and you felt immensely grateful for Celeste and her healing abilities. 

“I couldn’t stay. I had to…I just-time was running out.” The reassuring smile gave way to an earnest look of sympathy.

“They can kill you for this.” You swallowed thickly, all too aware of the dangers you had put yourself in. The odds hadn't been in your favor but you had to take a chance, to get away from home. Home. It felt a sham to even call it that. 

“I know. And I’m beyond grateful you letting me stay here the night but I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.” Celeste made a waving gesture in the air, dismissing your words.

“Don’t be ridiculous, stay as long as you need.” The kindness created a fist in your throat, you’d been friends for years, writing letters back and forth since visiting often wasn’t allowed.

Rival pack members weren’t allowed to associate with one another more than their Alphas permitted.

You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to shove down the hatred and anger you felt for your pack. To call them such a thing felt like a crime in and of itself. They were horrible and controlling, to think of yourself free from them felt exciting and terrifying. 

“You could get in trouble.” You nearly whispered, even though no one was around to hear. She brushed off the notion.

“We’ll figure out a place for you to stay in the meantime. Has it started?” You gave a brief nod, not wanting to talk about it. The temperature of your skin, the cramping, that undeniable ache that shook you to your core. Like your body was no longer your own. It was infuriating and deliciously tortuous.

“Then in a few days when it’s over we can figure out what to do from there.”

“Your brother is gonna kill you.” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“Speak for yourself.” Celeste only gave you a smirk before squeezing your shoulder in a comforting fashion.

“Alright up, I need to change these sheets. A dirty dog rolled all over in them.”

That night felt like hell, a worse cycle than you’d ever had before. The winges of pain and agony ached through your system. It felt like your body had been tossed into a blazing fire.

In fact that sounded much better than what you felt now. Heats were different for every pack member but you couldn’t recall a time when you wished you were unconscious instead of enduring it.

You had needed to get away from your town, your pack before this happened. Before you were tied to the worst man you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing.

You were his property in his mind and the idea of you turning him down, running away rather than accepting his forced mating had surely sent him into a rage. 

Maybe your body knew what had been coming and was throwing a fit in rebellion even now that you were in safe territory or maybe the strain and stress of escaping and being on the run had done you in.

Either way no matter how many cold showers you took, how many naps your forced yourself into, how many times your own hands attempted to hit their mark, it wasn’t enough.

Celeste had left a hearty brew of tea for you that was supposed to help, you’d chugged the whole thing down to the shock of your friend and still nothing. Or maybe it had helped and this was the edge being taken off.

Being hit by a bus felt less excruciating than this. 

You somehow managed to fall asleep and when you woke your mouth felt dry, the familiar ache between your legs remained unsatisfied.

You wanted to tear the pillows on the bed to pieces, watching the feathers explode and drift down around you as your screamed into the frigid air. 

You couldn’t even keep the window open for fear of Celeste's male pack members smelling you and paying an uninvited visit. Tipping off her brother that you were here, potentially getting her in loads of trouble.

Your fingers itched to tear open the window and taste the cold November breeze. Your nails scratched gouges in the white paint on the window sill as you stared longingly out at the frost bitten garden. 

A soft knock came at the door, seeing your friend slipping into the room with another pot of strong smelling tea. Celeste sat the tea down on the side table, noting your frustrating posture by the window.

“I’m sorry, I know exactly how you feel.” 

“I hate it.” It sounded like a whine, maybe it was but at this point you didn’t care. 

“I have to go out and run some errands in town but I promise it won’t be long. Drink the rest of this, I put something in it to help your frazzled nerves and maybe even get you to sleep.”

The thought of sleeping another 48 hours and waking up normal again sounded so enticing. 

“Thank you.” You crawled into bed staring out the window imagining running freely through the forest, only this time not away from something but towards something better.

Something that felt intangible right now. Tossing back a long swig from the tea pot and letting your eyes shutter close for however long they’d allow.

The hours crawled by and you felt yourself somewhere in a slumber and waking titration. Eventually you could see the sun was lower in the sky, mid to late afternoon maybe?

Your body groaned in revolt as you got up from the bed, joints creaking and popping, clasping the now empty teapot in your hands.

You could feel the sweat dripping down your brow, swiping at it, rubbing at your eyes anything to avoid feeling how warm your whole body felt.

Celeste hadn’t come home yet and you managed to scrub the pot clean, place it in the drying rack and wash a dish or two more. Just to feel useful for once.

Wanting to be the least invasive houseguest as you could, moving over to where the washroom was and folding some of the sheets spilling out of the dryer. The small menial tasks actually helped contain the disjointed feeling your body was experiencing.

The sound of a key being inserted into the side door, unlocking and closing alerted your ears that Celeste was home. You felt too tired and pained to call out to her, instead waiting to see her face pop around the corner, but it didn’t. 

Footsteps echoed across the wooden floor and sounds of bags being dropped onto the kitchen island, accompanied by the soft sound of items, perhaps fruit, falling out and rolling along the granite. Then you smelled it.

The most intoxicating scent that had ever graced your nose. It was pine trees and fresh crisp air, like looking up into the night sky on a winter evening. It had a bite at first that smoothed into a warm rich earthy quality. There was even a hint of spice, it overtook every one of your senses, like you’d been bathed in it.

This wasn’t Celeste. 

Your ears strained to listen to anything this visitor was doing, whoever it was they had a key. Fuck. Celeste hadn’t told anyone you were here. Your muscles tensed, noticing all sounds from the kitchen had ceased.

Attempting to pad as quietly as you could out of the washroom, venturing a quick look into the kitchen. Sure enough there were grocery bags with oranges spilling out onto the island but no one around.

Silence.

If you could just sneak to the back door, you could see it from your point of view. One quick leap and you’d be gone and able to shift and disappear into the fast approaching night.

One step, then another. You were always known for being quiet in your pack, able to sneak up on any prey. This was no different.

Another few steps and you’d be home free. You felt the cool wooden floor kiss the tips of your toes before the strongest force you’d ever felt knocked you from your feet.

Your legs barely touched the ground before your back was slammed into the nearest wall, tauntingly so close to the back door. Large strong hands held you in place, your shoulders pinned against the drywall.

The scent you’d smelled before consumed you, your traitorous body arching against the wall towards the source.

“Who are you?” The voice was deep, a hint of gravel. Male. You felt your vision clearing from your head smacking against the hard surface to see sure enough a large man in front of you.

He was tall, towering over you, lean and athletic, muscles strained under his white shirt, corded along his forearms down to his hands that stilled you.

You felt the anxious pull to look down, to not meet his eyes. The undeniable mark of an alpha, it irked you to no end. Taking a steadying breath you fought your body, looking up into his face.

He was handsome, carved from rock and earth and dusted with something you couldn’t quite place. 

Dark brown hair that fell across his forehead, the sides were closely cropped but the rest hung longer, down to eyes that were such a deep brown you could lose yourself in them easily.

You could only imagine how radiant they’d look, flecks of gold catching the light when he smiled, but right now they were cold, calculating. The air caught in your throat, a choking noise all you could muster.

Your arms flexed against the wall, knowing you couldn’t escape but dying to, begging to. His nostrils flared, you watched the pupils in his eyes dilate, consuming the already deep brown gazing back at you. His fingers gripped you tighter.

“I said…who are you? Why are you in my sisters house?” 

“I…I.” Your brain couldn’t form words, not now. The scent of him, the feel of his touch against your heated skin, you could feel dampness spreading between your legs, the slow ache building inside your body clawing to get out.

Your inner wolf was barely continued under your skin, a popping sensation in your ears, the room felt like it was spinning.

It was like he could sense everything going on in your body, the way his eyes roamed ravenously over your flushed skin, his fingers flexing against your arms, the intensity of his gaze.

It was a split second but you could feel his face pressed into the crook of your shoulder, hear him inhale you deeply. Groaning as he exhaled, there would be bruises on your body where he gripped you so tightly.

You couldn’t hide the gasp that left your lips feeling his hips pressed against your own, his arousal evident. You felt your hands reaching for his back and his grip lessened enough to let you, your nails scraping against his muscled back through his shirt.

The noise he made rumbled in his chest, you could nearly feel it reverberating through your own body. The scratch of stubble scraping against the soft skin of your neck as he breathed deeply the scent of your heat and your legs yearned to be wrapped around his waist and carried to the nearest flat surface.

A bed, the couch, the floor-

“Hey, HEY!” You felt his hands fall from your arms as another voice rang through the room.

Celeste was wedging herself between the two of you, arms out protectively in front of you. “Billy! What the fuck are you doing here?!”

The man before you took a step back, his eyes were still pitch black, his chest heaving, fingers clenching and unclenching as if testing that they were truly not holding you anymore. 

“Celeste. You know this woman?” 

“I do! This is Aurora, she’s-she's my friend.” His eyes narrowed on you.

“I don’t recall ever being introduced to her before.”

Celeste glanced worriedly between the two of us, I nodded at her, the most encouragement I could offer at the moment.

“She’s…uh…. She left her pack.” His eyes widened a touch, lips parting, taking a solid deep breath before looking back at Celeste.

“Celeste….” His words were a warning, tinged with anger, frustration, concern…

“I know! But she needed to get out of there, they were gonna force her to mate with a homicidal maniac of an alpha!”

“An alpha?” His tone was harsh and abrupt, rubbing the bridge of his noise, lines forming on his brow. “Jesus Christ, Celeste. Do you know how dangerous this is? To us? To the pack?”

“Forced Mating, Billy! That’s barbaric!” He sighed, leaning back against the kitchen counter, running a hand through his already mussed hair. 

“It is. I know that as much as you, but some packs…still participate in the old ways…” his words weren’t convincing anyone, you could see it in the strained expression on his face.

You drew a steady breath , hesitantly pushing away from the wall you had just been pinned to. You missed the feeling of heat from his body being so close to yours already.

“I…I can leave. No. I think I should, Celeste, he’s right. This is dangerous you guys can get in a lot of trouble hiding a rival pack member. If you were to get caught it could be…it could be bad.” 

Billy and Celeste both were looking back at you, you could see the similarities between the two. The dark hair and long lean stature, Billy’s eyes were significantly darker, but they shared similar noses and mannerisms. How they stood, staring you down, intimidating and beautiful.  

“Rory…where would you go?” Your friend sounded so incredibly sad, it broke your heart. “Plus it’s not safe…”

“Once my cycle is over, I’ll leave.” Billy watched you with the focus of a pack leader and in the way only a wolf could. At the mention of your heat you noticed how his nostrils flared, chest rising into a territorial puff. “I’ll find somewhere to go.” 

Celeste walked over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a hug. You held her tightly, the overwhelming feeling of fear and frustration from your body and emotions beginning to take a tighter hold of you. 

“Wait.” A deep sigh came from where Billy stood. “We can figure…something out. Until you have a safe place to go.” His dark eyes were no longer black orbs but the brown had returned, a softness, and something else danced across them as he spoke to you.

“But-“ he raised a finger, the look of admonishment towards his younger sibling. “Do NOT let anyone else know she’s here until I say, and make sure she stays in the house until... well until it’s safe.” 

You watched as he gathered his keys from the island, turning to walk across the kitchen, his heavy motorcycle boots louder than they had felt before, followed by the sound of the door closing behind him.

You knew what you had seen in his eyes, because you could feel it just as deeply. Longing. And something just below the surface, barely concealed but there nonetheless.