#i seem to recall this was the first time i tested out colors on the sketch before doing the lineart?

[finelyagedlemons]

the play is over.

[luv4berry]

earth 42 miles × reader at a dinner with the readers parents + mama rio and uncle Arron?

also when i tell u im in love with your work! that shi has me kicking my feet😭🤦🏾‍♀️

control yourself.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you go out to dinner with your parents, mama rio, uncle aaron and your beloved boyfriend, yet he can’t seem to control himself even in the presence of your parents.

GENRE: fluff <3

WARNINGS: kissing, parents being parents, loverboy miles, clingy miles, suggestive jokes, make outs in the bonus scene.

AUTHORS NOTE: ngl i struggled to write ts like shit, anyways thank you for your request and im deadass cheesing so hard rn thank you for reading!! (p.s, if you left anything in my inbox i HAVE seen it and i will get to it eventually!) hope you like it!

you zero in on miles’ eyes as they dart between your own eyes and your phone. you give him a suspecting look from the other side of the table before bringing your phone out under the table seeing as he’s already filled your notification dashboard.

miles 💓

bathroom? 👀

baby pleaseee

you did ts on purpose

holy shit you’re so fine

yk the sundress is lethal baby please 😩

you glance up giving him a stern look, shaking your head and mouthing a ‘no’ as your eyes flicker towards your parents as well as rio at the front counter of the restaurant. to the right of miles is uncle aaron, his eyes set on his phone as he took occasional glances at the two of you.

you make direct eye contact with miles for just a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat, nodding towards the family bathroom to your left. you don’t miss the hint of a smirk plaguing his lips, rolling your eyes playfully at his smugness.

to avoid raising suspicion, you stagger your way towards the family bathroom first—adjusting your slate colored maxi dress in the process. he watches as you disappear into the bathroom, brown eyes scanning the premises before he also gets up to dismiss himself.

“don’t think ion see you, player.” uncle aaron mumbles, grinning at his nephew.

“honestly don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.”

yeah, they were definitely related.

you soon feel a pair of hands curve around your waist and whisk you around, your lips immediately beginning to twitch upwards. “your moms gonna kill you.” you say as he sways you side to side, his hands resting on your waist.

“us. she’s gonna kill us you mean.”

“the hell did i do? you’re the bad influence here.”

“you been giving me all sorts of eyes ever since we got here, don’t do that.”

“or maybe, just maybe you’re deluded and nasty.”

“mhm.” he hums, his hands slipping below your waistline.

“hands goin’ a little low there bud.”

“oh im bud now? thought i was your husband?” he nuzzles his nose into your neck, recalling you calling him that earlier in the day.

“my what? who said i was gonna marry you?” you tease him.

“stop playin’ with me.” he kisses his teeth at you, his chin going to rest on your shoulder as he continues to sway you side to side. after about 2 minutes of silence, his lips begin to inch towards the skin behind your ear, placing a singular kiss to test the waters. when you don’t react, he goes in for another one. when he’s met with silence yet again he goes in for a third—but before they make contact with your skin you place your palm over his lips.

“miles, no.” you give him a forbidding look, “you forgetting where you at?” you shake your head, the clinginess of this boy was unmatched.

“keep kissing up on me like my parents won’t hang me and then you.” you side eye him, unlocking the bathroom door checking the coast.

“why you keep running from me? you scared or something?” he questions you as he crosses his arms over your abdomen, pulling you back into the bathroom with him. he softly pecks your cheek a few times before he begins to kiss up the nape of your neck, your body noticeably relaxing in his arms. when you feel your senses begin to cloud with a familiar feeling, you catch on to his underlying motive.

“morales, you trying to seduce me?”

“‘course not,” he pauses for a moment, “is it working?”

“no comment.”

he smirks against your skin as your eyes close for a moment, allowing yourself to relish in the moment for some time. you also allow his fingertips to dance along your sides for a bit before you snap back to reality. you bring your hands to your abdomen, clasping them with his and turning around to face him. he gives you an unsatisfied look, aware that his time with you is up and you’d have to return.

“i’ll go first, come back like 5 minutes after me.” you cup his cheek, placing a short but meaningful kiss to his lips. you smooth out the wrinkles of your dress, peaking out the door before waltzing down the hall.

when you arrive at the table, you get a knowing looking from your parents, shaking their heads at the antics of teenagers. before you sit down you go over to rio, flashing her your best smile as she gives you a loving kiss on the cheek. you also give uncle aaron a proper greeting, giving him a side hug. soon enough you sit down quietly as the table makes small talk, occasionally checking for miles around the corner.

you zone out for a bit before you’re nudged in the side, your mom leaning into your ear, “you can tell your lil boyfriend he can come back now, we’re not stupid. i was a teenage girl too you know.”

you noticeably jerk in your seat at your mothers comment, diverting your attention to the empty space beside you where miles was supposed to be.

this type of response wasn’t exactly strange when it pertained to miles, out of all your boyfriends he was definitely your parents favorite. before miles, you’d never had a boyfriend come over unannounced just to talk to your father about whatever basketball game had occurred hours before. nor had you seen your mother continuously pester you to invite her “son in-law” over again.

unbeknownst to you, they both recognized that same spark from when they were teenagers growing up in brooklyn, climbing into each others windows at absurd hours of the night just to see each other, or cruising home together after school hand in hand while listening to 90s r&b. they were beyond joyful you had each other to stay on the right path, to not fold into the cruelty of the streets. it was no different with miles side of the family. rio knew that her son had been through a lot, from the death of his dad, to the stripping of his childhood. she saw you as something to bring him back to life, to provide him with joy that would serve him for a lifetime when she was gone.

though, with that being said—yes, you still had to leave the door a crack open whenever he was over, no he couldn’t sleep over, no you couldn’t sleepover. yes, you had been sat down multiple times. yes, miles had also been sat down countless times. again, your parents were teenagers once too, and they knew exactly what teenagers got up to. but, you still had that benefit of the doubt not to do anything they wouldn’t do… partially.

your tense posture relaxes when you see miles emerge from the corner of your eye, approaching your mother and father with a knee buckling smile. before he greets your parents, he approaches his mother. rio stretches out his cheeks, mumbling a “adónde fuiste?”

he greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek paired with a side hug and your father with a dab up. as he takes his place next to you he nudges your thigh, a slick grin still plastered on his face from earlier. you lightly slap his hand, muttering a “behave,” under your breath.

“i gotta ask,” uncle aaron speaks, “how’s the guy doing?”

“oh, him?” you point to him using your thumb, “he’s a pain in my—” miles sends you a side eye, waiting for you to finish your sentence as uncle aaron lets out a boisterous laugh.

“you’re asking y/n? she’s just as difficult.” your father teases from the other end of the table. miles pokes his tongue against his cheek in an effort to prevent a laugh from spilling from his lips due to the truthfulness of your dads statement. you glare at the both of them, your eyes narrowing at their teasing.

“but seriously, how are you guys?” your mother pitches in, genuinely curious.

“he’s alright, i guess.” you playfully state while smiling to yourself.

“she cool, i guess.” miles fires back at you while also smiling.

you lightly punch him in the shoulder, staring at him while fighting the ache in your cheekbones due to how much you had been smiling.

your parents nudge each other in the side as their eyes rapidly bounce between the two of you, silently thinking the same thing, ‘they’re literally us.’ rio and uncle aaron also look at eachother, smiling amongst themselves at the interaction.

it was nice to see miles drop his stoic persona for once, after the death of his dad it was nearly impossible to catch him smiling even slightly. if rio was able to see her son smile like this all the time, then she would gladly welcome you into her home anytime.

“glad to hear,” she smiles, “listen, you have my full permission to slap some sense back into him the moment he starts acting a fool, you hear me?” her eyes bounce between the two of you.

“don’t gotta tell me twice, mrs. morales.” you laugh.

your parents call over a waiter to check on the status of their order, the tables attention redirected for a bit. you soon feel miles lips graze your ear, softly saying “who you gon slap? you know i’d fold you in half, stop playin’.”

after knowing miles for as long as you have, you’ve come to learn that his words tend to have a double meaning. in the rare cases that they didn’t, it would be pretty obvious due to either the tone of his voice, or by his body language. in this case, your suspicion was confirmed by the tone of his voice.

“why does your mind work like that?” you turn to face him.

“ma, you know why.”

“i really don’t.”

“it’s the y/n effect.”

“i know you not over there making moves on my daughter!” your father calls out, miles backing up from you immediately.

“never, sir.” he leans back while laughing.

— BONUS SCENE

“been waiting to do this all night.” miles says as he drags you outside the restaurant while your parents cover the tab.

you quietly laugh when he backs you up against the wall as he shamelessly attaches his lips to yours, his excitement piqued when you return the kiss. his hands trail up and down your body as they fiddle with the straps of your dress, your hands moving up to sensually caress his neck. you fondle the end of his braids, wrapping your arms around his neck.

caught up in the moment, you both fail to realize the chime of the restaurants bell till you hear the clearing of a throat and the shout of your government name. your eyes widen as you quickly shove miles as far away as possible, returning to your respectful places on the stone pavement.

“damn, in the middle of the street? have some decorum at least.” uncle aaron tuts in the midst of your parents wide eyes.

yeah, you were definitely getting the talk tonight.

love, berry.

[ozzgin]

Ozzgibz my lord may we have just one more crumb of pickle content pls pls pls🙏🙏🙏

Like I have an idea, reader as pickles mother🧐 like like like U wake up together after many many years

Not just a crumb, but an entire loaf! :D I will use this chance to finally finish all of the Pickle related requests I currently have. (At least I hope I haven’t omitted anything). So you may consider this a Pickle megathread, containing multiple requests put together.

Pickle Headcanons: A collection

Featuring Pickle and Reader: Pickle’s Mother! Reader, Pickle trying modern treats, Pickle and his newborn, Pickle x Student! Reader and Pickle x OP! Reader.

Pickle’s Mother! Reader

You wake up surrounded by heavy, intricate machinery and at a certain point it occurs to you just how long your slumber has been. Ah, that explains the peaceful, uninterrupted rest. You can’t recall the last time you slept this well. And, like clockwork, you hear the humans scream mere seconds after you stretch your rusted bones. A familiar growl jolts you back into action. Being frozen for millennia sadly doesn’t strip you of your motherly role.

With a groan, you rip the medical cords away from your body, indifferent to the frightened stares of the scientists currently unsure of your intentions. They needn’t be afraid for long. With the calculated movements of someone that has been doing this one too many times, you walk towards the source of ruckus and return with Pickle under your arm. It’s almost as if you’re wearing an invisible hero cape: the research team can finally relax knowing Pickle’s fearsome mother is here to keep him under control.

This arrangement now poses an interesting dilemma: how will the fights unfold under the watchful gaze of a protective, Jurassic mom? Should the fighters be worried about a vengeful counterattack if they’re too hasty with your son? The first one to test the waters is Retsu, and before he enters the arena you place a heavy hand on his shoulder, briefly guiding him aside. He nervously watches your gestures as you pretend to beat up an invisible opponent. Are you showing him potential punishments? Then you give him a friendly nudge and point to Pickle. Realization sinks in and he stares at you, wide eyed. You’re giving him advice on how to give Pickle a proper beating. Well, obviously. If they’re going to challenge your menace of a son, they should at least make it worthwhile. Rough him up a little. At the end of the day, it’s less work for you.

Pickle tries modern treats

Pickle would probably lose his mind with any carbonated drink or sweet flavor. He never had access to this amount of sugar, so I’m wondering if he’d think it’s poisonous once he becomes agitated from the abrupt intake. Nice, exquisite smell and a vibrant color that tempts him enough to give it a try. Next thing you know, the liquid sizzles in his mouth and he panics, but eventually settles down. Then his heartbeat increases and he’s squirming under the confused stares of the fighters (who initially offered him the drink), until Professor Payne points out his body might not be accustomed to our levels of sugar. The real trouble starts once he can handle the unhealthy snacks, because someone will have to stop him from overeating. (To be fair I’ve also never had a Baja Blast, seems less popular/available in Europe but it looks nice.)

Pickle unable to care for his baby

They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die and you certainly gazed upon a delectable bunch of recollections when the prehistoric man swung his massive body towards you, growling threateningly. They were hoping the fighters could keep him entertained long enough for you to feed the baby, but it seems his fatherly instincts (that he’s otherwise lacking) trumped his need for battle. Thankfully, he stops right before his clawed hand touches your frightened face. For the first time he sees his newborn eating, the puffy cheeks expanding with each gulp of the mysterious bottled liquid you’re providing.

Well, if all you’re doing is feeding his child, he might as well keep you around. You certainly don’t look like a threat, even less so than the men he just faced in the Arena. To the relief of everyone witnessing the spectacle, you get to live and handle the baby. Not like you have significantly more experience when it comes to taking care of infants, but with the help of the scientists you manage to ease Pickle into his parenting role.

All this time spent together has reminded Pickle just how much he misses the presence of a second parent. The baby likes you, you seem to be rather knowledgeable about these matters, and you’re extremely cute if he is to be fully honest with himself. The Jurassic man can’t help the faint smile gracing his features whenever he pictures it: you make a nice family, wouldn’t you agree?

Pickle x Student! Female Reader

You’ve learned to ignore the bewildered stares. Thankfully, this time, the only unusual sight consists of Pickle’s gargantuan size and nothing else. He’s dressed in modern attire and has since learned to behave better in public. You recall the first encounters, where an almost naked Jurassic creature kept following you around and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It took you several weeks to figure out he’s interested in you, and you eventually relented. Naturally you couldn’t have gone outside with a wild jungle beast donning a fundoshi and nothing else. So you did your best to instill modern customs into your new boyfriend.

And, for the most part, it worked. He’s sitting with you on a campus bench, politely waiting for you to finish your rough sketch. He enjoys watching your drawing process, especially if he’s the subject of the piece. A giddy feeling overwhelms him, almost as if he’s being physically touched with each stroke of the pencil. The fact that you observe him so carefully, and then somehow reproduce the image so accurately on paper…It entertains him greatly. Sadly he can’t return the favor. You’ve offered him drawing tools before in case he wanted to join your creative hobby, but there was no dormant Botticelli in his soul waiting to be awakened.

While he may not share your artistic inclination, you can at least be assured that no threat will ever reach your proximity again. His hands were built for battle and he makes sure you witness this truth on every occasion. No fight begins without your presence in the Underground Arena. As much as you feel for his battered opponents, the whole ordeal results in very neat action frames. You leave the matches with brand new batches of doodles. Who would’ve thought you’d find your muse in a prehistoric man? Additionally, if you ever need some extra cash, there’s always the option of delving into erotic art. After all, you have access to any reference you could ever need and Pickle would be most eager to help you.

Pickle x OP! Reader

@mariahvilla569

So this was a little difficult because I wasn’t sure whether Reader is overpowered in relation to someone in particular or just the whole Bakiverse. I went for a Reader who’s stronger than everyone else.

Pickle was very confused when he met you for the first time, standing in the audience of the Underground Arena to observe his match with Retsu. He was instantly smitten and was about to discard any intention of a fight to immediately pursue you instead, but he was stopped by multiple men forming a barrier before you and an angered Retsu demanding his undivided attention. He assumed you must be someone’s partner and therefore he’ll have to win his way to you. He couldn’t have guessed in a million years that you were politely allowing everyone else to have their fun before you swiftly cashed in your victory.

You did have enough grace to take your time with the prehistoric man. He doesn’t doubt that if you so desired, you could’ve ended the battle within mere moments; but just like the rest of the men, you wanted your fair share of entertainment. This way Pickle was also offered a sample of your exquisite skills, which made all the fighters before you fade into nothingness. Truly astonishing that a human half his size would tower above him in terms of raw power. He was left beyond impressed and his initial crush has avalanched into a full blown obsession.

Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean he can’t fulfill the duties of a protective partner. Consider it a way to efficiently save time, as whoever isn’t strong enough to get past him isn’t worth your precious time. Not to mention that Pickle has come to view your sparring sessions as a special form of intimacy reserved for him and you only. If you need to train, he should suffice as an opponent. There’s no one else as sturdy as him, and you’re always in a great mood after a proper fight, so he’d be an utter fool not to take advantage of it.

[vilevenom]

I took a break from writing for a bit, and now I'm dipping my toes into the Sonic fandom. This is essentially just a quick little thing I wrote to try and get a bit of a handle on how I'd like to characterize them. P.S - I wrote it mostly on a whim, and a little bit while recovering from a migraine, soooo...yeah. No Ray of Sunlight's Ever Lost Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (no specific media) Pairing: Gen, Sonic/Shadow Summary: The idea of Shadow getting injured wasn't new to Sonic. But the possibility of him dying was certainly new A.K.A: These boys are emotionally constipated Warning: Descriptions of blood/injury

Blue had always been a color that brought Shadow great comfort. His memories were clouded and distorted on the best of days, but he could vividly recall the light blue dress that Maria wore as frequently as she could get away with. He remembered how soft the fabric had been as he clutched at it while Maria held him tight after an especially harrowing battery of tests, and how warm he'd felt in her embrace as she scooped him into her lap to read from her favorite book on sleepless nights.

Later, when that sweet cornflower blue became tainted with red, a different shade would emerge into his life. A stark, vivid cobalt that would enrage and taunt him at first, only to later bloom into an odd sort of warmth in his chest. It was a constant that Shadow could count on, no matter how dire the situation seemed to be. That bright blue would appear and set everything to rights with a razer sharp grin and a handful of quippy remarks.

He never truly realized just how much he'd come to value it until it was, perhaps, a bit too late.

~

As long as Sonic had known Shadow they had fought against and with one another. Even if the later was often quite begrudging on the hybrids part. It was something Sonic never meant to take for granted, really, but when push came to shove, he knew Shadow would be at his side, if the situation called for it. He knew as dour and irritable as Shadow could be, there was a heart of gold buried somewhere in his chest. After all, the chaos loved him, and he'd seen how he acted around Cream.

So, when Robotnik had attacked, and Sonic was on the ropes, he'd only grinned as a familiar steak of black and red flashed across the battlefield towards him.

"Took you long enough to get here, slow poke," Sonic teased as Shadow came to a stop next to him, his quills already bristled and a scowl on his face.

"Some of us have red tape to cut before they can take action, faker," Shadow snarked back, folding his arms over his chest as Sonic snorted a laugh at him.

"That's your own fault for working for G.U.N," Sonic said with a shrug.

"I don't have time to have such a childish argument with you again," Shadow grunted, taking off without a backward glance. He took down a badnik with, perhaps, a bit more force than strictly necessary as he went, which caused Sonic to laugh.

"Ah, Shadow, So easy to rile up," Sonic muttered to himself, before following in his self proclaimed rivals wake.

The battle went on as such for longer than Sonic would have liked, but with Shadow and his friends helping to beat back Eggman's forces, it was obvious that the tide of battle was quickly shifting and coming to an end. Unfortunately, that was usually when Robotnik lashed out in one last, desperate attempt to flip the fight back in his favor. Sonic knew this, it was how all their battles tended to go. He should have been paying better attention. He should have been looking in the other direction. He should have heard Tails shout. There were so many things, looking back, that Sonic truly wished he'd done to change the way the last moments of their skirmish had played out.

He'd been grinning at Amy as she smashed her hammer into a badnik, taking a brief moment to catch his breath, figuring his friends could handle themselves and the last few bots scattered around. His ear had twitched in Tails' direction as he caught his brother yelling something, but he didn't turn to see what it was as his attention was caught by the sudden look of horror on Amy's face. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, only to grunt as something slammed into his side, sending him flying from his perch atop a downed badnik and into the dirt. Finally, he turned his head to shout at whoever had pushed him, only to be met with a sight that would be burned into his mind eye, seeing it in vivid detail every time he closed his eyes for quite some time.

Shadow stood where Sonic once was, eyes wide as he stared down at the blue hedgehog. A choking little wheeze escaped his lips as time seemed to freeze as Sonic's mind caught up to what he was seeing. The metallic glint of silver was protruding from Shadow's chest where it ought not be, and thick rivulets of blood were oozing from the spot where the blade met Shadows fur. A stunned look of surprise was on Shadow's face, as if he couldn't quite fathom what had just happened.

As quickly as it occurred the moment was suddenly over, as Shadow was jerked backwards through the air, the blade sticking out of his chest attached to a chain that was being retracted by the robot wielding it. A scream that would haunt Sonic in his sleep ripped through the air as Shadow collided with the robot holding the blade, the impact inevitably driving it deeper through his chest.

By the time Sonic had shaken himself from his stupor and scrambled back up onto his feet, Robotnik had fled, Knuckles had crushed the robot that had skewered Shadow, and Rouge was gently lowering the hybrid to the ground with the blade very much still protruding from his chest.

Sonic rushed to Shadow and Rouge once he'd spotted them, Tails and Amy quick to follow, as both had witnessed what had happened. He skidded to his knees next to his fallen friend, Shadow hiccupping little breaths of air, foamy bubbles of blood trickling from his lips with each labored half-breath he managed.

"Take the blade out," Sonic said in a panic, reaching for the tip of the blade, only to flinch back as Rouge slapped his hand away.

"You want to watch him bleed out right here!?" she snapped, holding Shadow protectively close while being mindful of the blade. "It's got to stay put until we can get him to a doctor."

"Shouldn't his restorative powers keep that from happening?" Tails asked, fidgeting next to Sonic. "We've seen him heal from similar wounds."

"None that were straight through like this," Rouge grumbled, her ears perking up as she noticed Omega finally making his way across the battlefield towards them. "This is bigger and deeper than anything I've seen him deal with, and I am not gonna risk losing him just so Blue doesn't have a melt down."

When Omega halted next to the little group, Rouge had Knuckles help to settle the injured hybrid in the robots arms so he could be carried back to, assumedly, G.U.N headquarters. "We'll get you all fixed up, sugar, don't you fret," Rouge quietly assured Shadow, who looked dazed as he continued to struggle with getting air into his lungs and they began their trek back towards the city.

Meanwhile, Rouge's words to Sonic rattled around in his head. What did she mean by 'lose him'? Shadow would be fine. He was "ageless", after all. Didn't that mean he was practically immortal?

"I mean…Ageless just means he won't age. I don't think that means he can't die," Tails murmured next to him, Sonic jerked in surprise at his brothers voice. He hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. "He has an amazing capacity for healing, but Rouge had a point. If a wound is bad enough, and he doesn't have medical attention fast enough…well…" Tails trailed off, looking uncomfortable even as he spoke.

"I don't think that was as comforting as you thought it was, Tails," Knuckles snorted, folding his arms over his chest as the fox kit turned to look down at his brother with a wince.

"That's not to say he won't heal! They'll probably get him back to G.U.N in plenty of time, and with some surgery, I'm sure he'll be just fine!" Tails was quick to try and reassure, waving his hands through the air.

Sonic stared after Team Dark, shakily rising to his feet after a beat. "I'm going with them."

"Sonic," Amy sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder, "You know G.U.N doesn't like it when you show up at their headquarters unannounced. Rouge and Omega have Shadow. He'll be okay."

Sonic shrugged off Amy's hand, stepping away from her with a short shake of his head. "He's hurt because I wasn't paying enough attention. I need to make sure he's okay."

Before any of his friends could get another word in edge wise, Sonic took off after Team Dark, skidding to a stop and then trotting along next to Omega. Rouge cast him the briefest of glances, but otherwise didn't say anything as they walked with purpose towards a van that Sonic presumed would take them back to G.U.N. He glanced up at Omega, though the robot gave him no mind, before carefully reaching out to gently take Shadow's hand. The hybrid blinked sluggishly at the contact, tilting his head slightly so he could see the blue hedgehog keeping pace with them.

"Hey," Sonic said, forcing a lopsided smile on his lips, and forcing himself not to notice how the white fluff on Shadow's chest was now a vivid red that almost matched his quills, "Thanks for the save. I'm gonna make sure those goons heal you up, okay?"

A quiet little hitch of breath left Shadow, before he managed to make a low humming sound. Sonic's smile became a little less forced as Shadows fingers squeezed around his own.

~

Irritation and anxiety flowed freely through Sonic as he bounced his leg incessantly where he sat outside the room they'd rushed Shadow into. Predictably, they'd tried to keep Sonic from following Team Dark into G.U.N headquarters, but a quick, waspish remark from Rouge and an easy dodge from Sonic kept the blue blur at Shadow's side. It wasn't until a doctor forced Sonic out of the room with comments about sanitation and distractions that Sonic acquiesced to waiting outside.

Eventually, Rouge had Omega steal a couple of chairs from somewhere and the two sat in silence outside the room, Rouge with a book she'd produced from Chaos only knew where, and Sonic anxiously winding himself up.

The thought had never even occurred to him before that Shadow could get hurt enough to die. He'd seen the hybrid get stabbed six ways to Sunday, get beaten unconscious, hell, even falling to earth from orbit hadn't killed him! But now, the very real possibility of losing Shadow was gripping his heart in a way he never thought it would. The very idea that he could be facing a future without dragging the hybrid out of his apartment to race, or watching him zip into battle with a snarky comment shot in his direction was surprisingly paralyzing.

Finally, after what Sonic presumed was hours, as no clocks were to be seen in the hallway they sat in, a doctor exited the room. Sonic shot up from his chair as the door opened, his heart seizing in his chest at the sheer amount of blood on the doctors smock.

"He's stable," the doctor stated bluntly after staring Sonic down for a solid minute, before sauntering off down the hall like they hadn't nearly given the blue hedgehog a heart attack.

He didn't even given Rouge a glance as he rushed through the open door, halting at Shadow's bed side, his hands fluttering uselessly through the air over the hybrid's prone form. He had thought, for a moment, that Shadow was asleep, but was shortly met with a quite groan and red eyes peering up at him in mild irritation at his anxious movements. He did his best to ignore the bandages wrapped around Shadows chest and the seeping red stain slowly tinting them.

"Shadow!" Sonic breathed, "You're awake?"

"Mmm," the hybrid grunted, offering Rouge a small nod as she and Omega made their way into the room, "Can't use anesthesia on me. Metabolism is too fast."

Rouge offered Shadow a glass of water, which the hybrid took with a grateful little hum. As he drank he quirked a curious eyebrow at Sonic, who was simply staring at him with a dumbfounded little expression on his face.

"So you were awake for all that?"

Shadow simply nodded, handing the glass back to Rouge once he was finished.

"How did you not make any noise when they pulled the blade out?" Sonic blurted rather tactlessly, earning a glare from Rouge and a restrained snort of laughter from Shadow.

"I did," he said with a shrug, Rouge sighing next to him with a shake of her head, "All of the rooms in here are sound proof, though."

"Don't give me that look, Blue. You would've blown the door off its hinges if you'd heard him scream," Rouge said rolling her eyes at Sonic's affronted look. "Anyway, sugar, I have a feeling Blue wants to talk with you in private, so I'm gonna go do our paperwork. I'm glad you're okay." She leaned over and pressed a short kiss to Shadow's forehead, earning a disgruntled groan from Shadow.

"You? Doing paperwork? I must have died. There's no way you'd voluntarily do it otherwise," Shadow sniped, earning a light laugh from Rouge.

"I never said it was a free service," Rouge chuckled, blowing Shadow a kiss as she and Omega left the room.

Silence reigned for a beat after Rouge shut the door behind them, before Sonic let out a low whistle.

"So," he started, rocking back and forth on his heels, "You almost died saving me. What's that all about?"

Shadow slowly arched an eyebrow at Sonic, frown prominent on his muzzle. "..Tactful."

"I…Sorry, yeah. That was't-" Sonic cut himself off with a groan, dragging his hands down over his face. "Thank you. For saving me. I…You saved my life."

Shadow simply hummed, offering Sonic a slow nod. "Don't get used to it."

"I don't plan on making it a habit to put myself into that sort of situation."

"Liar."

"…Okay, you got me there," Sonic snorted, dragging a hand absently through his quills. "But…no, look, I…You scared me," he admitted quietly, "It honestly didn't even occur to me until today that you could get so severely hurt. What made you do it?"

Shadow sat silently for a moment, observing Sonic, before he finally shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. "I moved before my mind could catch up with what I was doing."

"Ah," Sonic nodded, a sardonic little smile on his face, "Hero instincts finally kicked in, huh?"

Shadow frowned, grunting quietly as he shoved himself into somewhat of a sitting position, Sonics hands instinctively fluttering around him once again, obviously unsure as to what he could or should do. "Not hero instinct," Shadow sighed once he was settled back into his pillows, "I didn't want to see you get hurt."

"…You roundhouse kick me almost every time you see me."

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't be difficult."

Sonic let out an almost hysterical little giggle, moving to sit on the edge of the bed with a shake of his head. "I really don't think I do."

Shadow heaved a deep, but obviously difficult sigh, shutting his eyes as he tipped his head back into his pillows. He was silent for a moment, before opening his eyes and directing an intent stare at Sonic. "I've lost people who were important to me. It was an experience I am not eager to repeat."

"…I'm important to you?"

Shadow grunted, rolling his eyes at the slow grin spreading on Sonic's face. "Yes."

"Awww, Shadow!" Sonic cooed, placing his hands over his chest while fluttering his eye lashes at the other.

"Mmm, thank you for trivializing this," Shadow sighed, folding his arms over his chest with a barely perceptible wince.

"Wh-no! That's not what I-guh," Sonic grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration at himself, "I'm not trying to trivialize it." He fidgeted for a moment, his ears pinning back at the unimpressed stare down he was getting from the hybrid. "…You're important to me, too, Shadow," he finally said after a beat, letting his hands drop into his lap. "For a bit, there, I thought…I thought you were going to die. I thought one stupid mistake on my part was going to mean that I never got to see you again, and I…That's not something I want to think about again."

"Then stop doing stupid things when dealing with Robotnik," Shadow snarked, earning a light laugh from Sonic.

"No promises, but I'll do my best," Sonic hummed, offering his hand to Shadow, who looked momentarily startled by the action. Slowly he unfolded his arms and placed his hand into Sonic's, curling his fingers loosely around the other's palm.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

[s8nny]

—WHEN Sugawara was younger, he always knew what color he wanted to paint the living room walls. He was also certain that he wanted a sofa with a chaise longue and a rug with an unconventional pattern. For his bedroom, he imagined a balcony that would let in plenty of light and blue sheets on the bed. And for his office, a large-capacity bookshelf. But as he stood amidst the scattered screws and half-assembled boards, he realized that some dreams were easier to imagine than to bring to life

She was certain there were more screws on the floor than there should be, but she didn't say anything because her husband's stress was palpable from the doorway. He had spent almost a month working on the room that was going to be his office, and more than once, he'd been so blinded by the excitement he felt for carpentry that he forgot he was never good at DIY projects.

"How's it going?" she asked softly, hoping her voice would ease his tension.

"Well, it seemed easier to put together when we saw it in the store, I'm not going to lie." Without diverting his attention to the figure behind him, the young man continued assembling the shelves, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, usually so steady when typing at a keyboard, fumbled with the unfamiliar tools.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gently caressed the space of his back that led up to his neck. Knots of stress were noticeable beneath her fingers. “We can always call Daichi,” she suggested, her voice a mix of concern and teasing.

Suga snorted, partly out of frustration and partly out of the stubborn pride that always flared up when he was in over his head. “We’re not going to call Daichi to put together a shelf.” Standing up, he looked at the three wooden boards he had managed to assemble, trying to convince himself that he could still pull this off. “At least, not yet.”

- TWENTY minutes. Daichi Sawamura had put together the shelf in 20 minutes. And he had even enjoyed a cup of coffee while trying out the new coffee maker that Koushi was dying to test. The pout on Sugawara’s lips didn’t disappear until his old friend was out the front door.

She grabbed his elbow and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and said, “You have no right to complain about your students.”

Returning to the office, they both began to open boxes and fill the bookshelf. The first shelf would be for bank paperwork. The second, for medical documents. The third for photo albums. And the last, for the drawings.

Sugawara had always been very aware of how quickly time passed throughout his life. But ever since he started teaching, he was even more conscious of it. His first students would be moving on to high school the following year, and he had known them when they still drew the sun in the corner of a piece of paper. He could still recall the way their small hands gripped crayons, and how their eyes sparkled with pride when they presented him with their creations. So he decided to keep every drawing they made. Probably, in a few years, he wouldn’t remember their faces, because they kept changing from one day to another, but he would always have their scribbles. It was a way to preserve their childhood over time, to hold onto a piece of them even as they grew up and moved on.

“Look, this kid drew me with a puppy he found on the street because he said I looked like it,” he said, his voice filled with fond amusement.

Sitting on the floor, they amused themselves with the colorful papers they were finding, each one full of creativity and innocence. As she placed them in folders, carefully sorting through the vibrant collection, the young woman began to admire the way her husband’s eyes lit up when he talked about the little devils he had as students. She could see how much they meant to him, how deeply he cared for each of them, and it made her heart swell with affection.

When the floor of the room was almost completely tidied up, she noticed two large folders that remained empty. Unlike the others, these were bright yellow, standing out cheerfully against the more subdued tones of the other folders. Suga placed them on the shelf and smiled proudly, as if he had just completed a task of great importance.

“What drawings are you going to keep in those?” she asked.

“The most special ones,” Koushi replied, smiling as he gently squeezed her hand, “the ones our children will make.”

a/n: I have this cute notebook in my drawer, full of colorful and creative drawings made by my students and two siblings I used to babysit. At the time they made the drawings, the only thing most of them knew how to write was their names, so the pages are filled with their little signatures. They all know how to write and read now. I like to keep these drawings in the notebook so I don’t lose them. So I can remember them as kids. My mom also keeps a folder in her wardrobe with all her kids' crafts. I like to think Sugawara also keeps the things that kids give him safe.

[the-guilty-writer]

Statistics, Rubix Cubes, and Waiting Rooms

Request: You can read the original request and headcanons based off the request here.

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: Your dad, Spencer, sits with you as you wait for your psychological testing to begin.

A/N: I think Spencer with an autistic daughter who is late to get a diagnosis is my favorite thing to write about because it's self-indulgent for me as well as the people who gravitate towards my blog. Also, I made it so the reader is going in for psychological evaluation rather than just for autism since in my experience a psychologist will evaluate for multiple things rather than just for a target diagnosis when the screening process first starts (but this is just my experience and it may be different for others). Please note that autism comes in a spectrum (or rather a pie chart) for a reason, so this is by no means is a representation of the experience of every AFAB autistic person.

CW: talks about autism, misdiagnosis, reader recalling that she's been told that she just has anxiety, waiting room atmosphere, picking at skin

---

You never thought that a place could be too silent or too still. For years you had sought comfort in the quiet corners of libraries to avoid noisy lunch rooms and wrapped your arms around yourself on the metro to deaden the sensation of constant movement. But today, sitting in the near-empty waiting room of a psychiatrist's office, you strained your ears to hear something and looked around for movement that wasn’t there.

“(Y/N),” your dad, Spencer, whispered gently in your ear. “Sweetie, you’re picking at your fingers again.”

You looked down- the nail beds that your Aunt Penelope had so perfectly manicured just a few days ago were now ruined. You had pulled and picked away at the skin so much that it was fraying. There were a few places where you’d managed to pick away at the layers until it was pink and raw and close to bleeding. All without you even noticing.

“Something soft or something hard?” Spencer asked you.

“Hard,” you replied instantly. If you got something too soft, too moldable, too easy on your hands now, you might scream.

Your dad produced his old rubix cube from his pocket. The thing was ancient- older than you were- but that just made it more special. The joints rotated easily, but always snapped into place where you wanted them to. And it made just enough noise that it disrupted the deafening silence.

With the cube already mixed up you got to work. Part of you wanted to rush, but part of you wanted to take your time. Part of you wanted this to be over and part of you wanted it to never stop.

When you got to the last few moves and the colors still weren’t in place, you stopped your work and squeezed the object.

“Do you want help, or do you want to do it on your own?” Your dad asked.

“I want help,” you said.

You handed him the cube. Spencer twisted the cube a few times until it was the last move- the one that would put all the colors back into place. He handed it back to you and you rotated it one more time- the cube locking into place with a satisfying click. 

You breathed out, trying to let the tension in your shoulder go, but it didn’t seem to want to leave.

“What if-” you weren’t sure if you could articulate what you wanted to say. “What if it comes back as nothing we haven’t heard before?”

Lucky for you, Spencer Reid could basically read minds.

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said. He gently took the cube from your hands and misplaced a few of the colors- ones that you could easily put back in place- then handed it back to you. 

Thankful that your dad seemed to know exactly what you needed right then, you put the colors back in place. “But you’ve gone through all this trouble and taken all this time off work. What if all the tests say that it is just anxiety?”

You gave the cube to your dad again, who began to mix it up as he talked.

“I couldn’t find a definite statistic,” your dad said. “But it’s estimated that over 40% of girls with autism are misdiagnosed at least once with a mental illness or disorder before receiving an autism diagnosis. And most girls don’t receive a proper diagnosis until they’re in their late teens or early twenties.”

“So I’d fall into that statistic,” you said.

Spencer sighed and put the cube away. “You’re more than a statistic,” he said. “You’re my daughter. And that means I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that no matter what diagnosis you get it’s the right one so I can help make your life just a little bit easier.”

Your capacity for eye contact fluctuated- sometimes you couldn’t look at anyone or anything and sometimes the reflex to hold eye contact was so intense it felt like if you didn’t you would die. This was one of those moments, when you looked so deeply into your dad’s eyes that you could see your reflection and it felt like that was the only thing keeping you from exploding.

“(Y/N) Reid,” a nurse called from the door. You looked over to her and felt your hand shake nervously. “We’re ready for you.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Daddy?” You hadn’t called Spencer “daddy” since you were five, but at the moment it felt like you were five again- small and defenseless against the world with only your father (and his revolver) to protect you. “Can you come with me?”

Spencer smiled, tight-lipped and gentle. “Always.”

And just for a second, it didn’t matter what you got diagnosed with, because no matter what your dad would always know what you needed and he would always fight for you, no matter what.

[fly-pow-bye]

The Lost Blossom Shampoo Commercial

During my very early days on Tumblr, I was loving all the GIFs and I wanted to join the community. Along with my love of video games, I love animation and I love Cartoon Network, and I wanted to contribute even if my main Tumblr, which is all that I had back then, wasn't animation focused. I wanted to give something that nobody else has posted. I knew non-American commercials have unique animation not seen anywhere else, so that felt like a good idea. I decided, to add some unique Cartoon Network GIFs to Tumblr, to look through various Cartoon Network commercial reels on YouTube and Vimeo. One of the videos I found on Vimeo was this reel from Brendan Rogan, a producer at Cartoon Network Latin America. I found a clip of the Powerpuff Girls I had never seen at 0:32.

Wait, is this...a shampoo commercial? Seems really fitting considering the Blossom hair wave scene in The Mane Event, and I shouldn't be surprised someone decided to use something inspired by that scene in advertising. Not going to lie: I was intrigued.

After the break, my entire history of my attempt to track down this commercial.

Right after this part of Blossom that I made the GIF from is this clip of three superhero-like mascots flying around three different bottles of different hair products. The one on the left has a bubbly hairstyle that is the same color as the bubbles shown in the Blossom part, suggesting that these two clips are from the same commercial. I did not want to believe it at first, but it did fit pretty well. The Powerpuff Girls are 6 years old at the most, and they could still be using baby shampoo.

After my searches went nowhere, I e-mailed Brendan Rogan back in 2015, who was pretty much my only lead at the time, about it. Rogan asked me why I wanted to see the "full spot". I immediately recalled one YouTube video about people trying to find the guy from Active Enterprises of Cheetahmen infamy only to be met with an all caps "WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THIS INFORMATION" and no further replies, and I was hoping it was not going to end like that video. I did e-mail him with honesty, saying I just wanted to see the context of the full spot, and I'm a big Cartoon Network and Powerpuff Girls fan.

Rogan did not reply back.

I did not e-mail him again because I did not want to pester someone about a baby shampoo commercial, and I was holding onto the hope that it'll appear in a upload of commercials on YouTube so I do not have to test my anxiety. Of course, it'd be in way higher quality if I got it from someone who worked on the commercial rather than a VHS recording of commercials, but I was not thinking of that at the time. At least he indirectly confirmed a full spot exists.

Years later, I found a promotional reel based on the Toonix era of Cartoon Network Latin America, dated to 2011. It advertises The Amazing World of Gumball and Johnny Bravo Goes To Bollywood, both from 2011, so I can believe the year. It seemed to be made for investors and advertisers, showing off Cartoon Network's programming, and how they can have synergy with other brands. This includes a bunch of cross-promotion. Showing up at 4:52, to my surprise, is the Blossom ad. It was almost the exact same clip seen in the Rogan reel. The keyword is "almost." I got out my video editing software, and this is what I can see:

The Cartoon Network reel does have more of the commercial we did not see in the Rogan reel, though it's just more of the mascots flying in from outside of the frame and a little bit less of Blossom waving her hair around. This does confirm to me that neither reel was showing a single clip from the full spot, but two clips from different parts of the spot, showing the Cartoon Network character and showing what that Cartoon Network character was advertising. It also reconfirms that what I am looking for is not a Cartoon Network promo, but a baby hair product line commercial.

I also notice that even with these two different appearances, we only have 2.5 seconds of what could be a 15 or 30 second commercial. That alone does make that intriguing even with the possibility that Blossom only appears for that one second and the rest is just a generic baby shampoo ad. I hope that's not it, but it would explain why the full spot was not uploaded.

I did find one other piece of this campaign. It's not from the commercial, but it is related. Maybe it was an extremely lucky Google Image Search, or I just somehow stumbled across it in one of my searches. This was from a company named Bau Print, who specializes in different kinds of printing, including printing on vehicles, and, hey look!

There they are! It's even a photo taken from a camera that wasn't edited, meaning I could see from the metadata that it was taken in April of 2010. That does narrow down the beginning end of my search, though I had no doubt that the spot was at least post-Powerpuff Girls Movie. It also made me realize a bit of lore about these three super obscure mascots: they each represent the three different kinds of intense hydration: shampoo, conditioner, and combing cream. There are no Powerpuff Girls, showing either these superheroes were not just made for the commercial, or they wanted to use them without having to contact Warner Bros. or Cartoon Network.

This picture does prove that this campaign, at the very least, got to the point where it was advertised on trailer trucks. I did have a feeling this was a part of a scrapped campaign; maybe Johnson's got cold feet for having their clean baby shampoo brand be associated with girls that have beaten monkeys, criminals, talking dogs, and clowns to a pulp. However, wouldn't it be false advertising if a campaign that fell through ended up in a video that seemed to be made for advertisers?

And that's where my search runs cold. I have searched a lot of Cartoon Network Latin America commercial breaks on and off over the years, and I even used Filmot to search YouTube's subtitles for phrases that could be a part of it, like that "salud es belleza" tagline on that truck, and the full spot remains elusive after years of searching. I guess I could just imagine what the rest of the commercial could be.

The City of J&Jville, where our heroic trio responds to a dis-tress call: Blossom, superheroine of Townsville, is having a bad hair day and won't have the confidence to beat up Mojo Jojo and stop his "turn everyone into chickens with his chicken ray" plan. Lather, Rinse, and Repeat are called to action, and with their ultra-cleaning powers, they go into Blossom's hair as she stares at the mirror, and her hair magically turns luscious again. With her newfound confidence, Blossom flies to Mojo Jojo, and knocks his teeth out, bruising him with all of her techniques, her flurry of punches, her eye lasers, and the dreaded ponytail whiplash! The day is saved thanks to Blossom, and Johnson's Baby Hidratación Intensa! (Warning: Baby shampoo will not give your baby superpowers, do not let them fight crime.)

...okay, maybe that violence wouldn't have happened, but there is only one way we can find out for sure, and I can only wish I could find that way. So uh, here's another shampoo ad starring Hanna-Barbera characters that appears to be unrelated. Yes, the Powerpuff Girls are technically Hanna-Barbera. Bye.

< n/a - Part 2 >

[starrygetou]

I AM Your Girlfriend

tags: yuri!nanago (finally branching out, we cheered), H.I. trio are all happy and besties, college au

w.c: 700ish

a.n: originally this was gonna be stsg but somehow the nanago train hit me and they just made more sense w/ this scenario. i’ve been thinking about this scenario nonstop the past like … 3 days. and, i wanted to go deeper and ?maybe? get a lil smutty but i decided to keep it classy for once. (divider creds)

satoru, for the last time, she is NOT your girlfriend. there’s absolutely zero chance,” shoko instills as she grabs another drink from her bag.

“yeah. considering how you treat her in econ freshman year, there’s no way she’d even think about hugging you, let alone dating you.” geto chimes in as she finishes up her lunch, packing her trash and bag away into her bag. satoru lets out a lengthy groan, swishing around the last of her strawberry milk that suddenly doesn’t seem sweet anymore. “so people can’t change? you guys make it seem like i’m a menace,” she pouts.

“because you are,” the other two say in unison.

satoru just sits there, dumbfounded that her two best friends wouldn’t believe that kento is her girlfriend. sure, the two have had a rocky start but things changed after a recent study session between the two.

satoru invited kento over since she needed some help for their literature class, which, satoru didn’t really need help. she just wanted to see kento. and the fact kento said yes?! she would’ve kicked herself for the next 5 years if she missed a chance like this.

everything was going well too! in fact, it felt like kento’s walls were down for once. for the first time, she actually enjoyed being around satoru. finally being able to see past her antics and clown facade she puts on every day before school. sure, kento had a minuscule crush on satoru, but she never let it grow more than a ‘wow, she looks really great today’ which turned into an every day thought.

all these new feelings came rushing to the front of kento’s brain after satoru opens the door, taking note of how blue is definitely her color with these pjs. and how she was also possibly mid night time routine with a paper face mask on, hair pushed back with a cinnomoroll headband with cute floppy ears.

did i come late? no..it’s only 7:30.

maybe she goes to bed early?

did i dress properly?

i think i misunderstood the dress code.

kento, no, there’s no dress code for a study date.

who said this is a date?

why is it so hot??

did i really wind myself out from 3 steps up to the door???

this shirt feels so clingy…

do i wanna kiss her or—

“kento? kento hello???” is what finally bings her back to reality. a hand gently on her shoulder and a separate hand waving in front of her face. “are you good?”

“i’m…great actually. thank you, for inviting me over.” kento smiled at satoru before finally entering.

before satoru is able to recall more of that night, she feels a pair of arms gently wrap around her shoulders from behind, a gentle kiss also being placed on her temple. and that’s when satoru finally loosened, scooting over a bit at the shared table and moving her backpack aside.

“sorry for being a hermit all lunch, i have a—“

“—statistics test. yea i remember that’s today” satoru finishes for her, gently wrapping an arm around kento’s waist as she sits and gets comfortable. “you’re gonna do great! just try to remember the tricks i taught you and you’re golden,” satoru beams up to her girlfriend, the two pecking lips together after which leaves their audience across the table completely dumbfounded at the scene playing in front of their eyes.

“so…you weren’t lying…” suguru breaks her silence in what feels like an eternity.

“that’s a really weird thing to lie about dude. besides! i don’t need to feel insecure about what others think about us,” satoru says looking at suguru before glancing to kento, resting her chin on the other’s shoulder.

“but you…and her…?” shoko stares at kento, not even being able to finish the rest of her chips.

“i will admit, i was *not* a fan of you in the beginning,” kento finally speaks up. satoru responding by pretending to be stabbed in the heart. “but..things do change. and i’m glad they did.”

[ddejavvu]

you’ve probably done something like this before but stepdad hotch when the reader comes back late after a hookup or smth and he’s just pissed off cause like..what??

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+ and dark, minors dni.

You're a master at opening the door silently, but it doesn't matter, because Aaron is sitting in the living room when you get back.

You freeze up when the door swings open and reveals him, and at the sight of your too-short shorts, he does too.

Then he speaks, voice low and sharp, "Where have you been?"

"Out." You shrug, slipping your keys back into your pocket, "I don't have a curfew. I'm not a kid."

"Out? Oh," He chuckles, but there's absolutely no humor in the sound, "You mean out in the driveway? That engine was loud. Did you really think no one would see you two through the windows? You really thought it was a good idea to fuck in the backseat like some cheap hookup?"

"It was a cheap hookup!" You fume, "All he had to do was pay for dinner."

Aaron's jaw clenches, and he squeezes his eyes shut, "You are worth more than that."

"What, you think a hookup determines my worth? I know I'm worth more than dinner, Aaron," You huff, "But I don't define my worth by my body, or who I give it to."

"I'm not saying that you're only worth your body," He scoffs, "I'm just saying you deserve better. You deserve someone who takes you inside and doesn't bend you against the center console."

Your nose scrunches, your chest hot, "Were you watching?"

"No! I wasn't watching," Aaron insists, his eyes blazing, "All I'm saying is that you don't have to cram yourself against a car door to get a quick fuck."

"No one's offering anything else," You laugh, sarcasm bleeding through the raw cracks in your voice, "What am I supposed to do, huh? Who's lined up to romance me, Aaron? You know someone?"

He looks to the ground. It's the first time he's broken your gaze since you stepped through the door, and it makes you feel like you've won, somehow.

"Go to your room," He murmurs face faintly rose-colored, "Clean up. You need to rest."

"What?" Your stomach churns slightly at his shift in tone, softness not a typical component of his grumble.

"Did he- are you... okay?" Aaron glances back up at you through his lashes.

"I'm fine." You mumble cautiously, "It.. it was fine."

He stalks off to the kitchen without another word, a scowl on his face.

You walk up the stairs with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You like testing boundaries with him; he's easy to rile up and some rebellion leftover from your teenage years helps your case. But this seemed different, he... broke.

Changing into your pajamas feels nice, the soft fabric a stark contrast against your skin from the jeans and sticky underwear. When you step out of the bathroom with a clean body but a muddled mind, Aaron is sitting on your bed.

You stiffen at his presence, and he stands.

"There's water there," He motions to your nightstand, "And a cookie. Just... rest. Okay?"

You eye the chocolate treat on your side table warily, "Thank you?"

"Yeah. And sleep in tomorrow," He orders, stern once more after his strange lapse of grouchiness, "I'll tell Jack to leave you alone."

You slip under your bedsheets in lieu of a response, reaching for the water to take a sip. It only delays your response more, and Aaron stands there awkwardly.

"Thanks," You finally breathe, throat refreshed and muscles relaxing against your mattress.

He looks like he wants to tuck you in, fingers twitching at his sides. He stares for just a moment too long, then meets your eyes once more to nod silently. Once.

"Goodnight," He murmurs, letting himself out and shutting the door behind him. He's such a presence that your room feels empty without him, too empty. The cookie helps, though, heart-shaped and chocolatey, just as gooey as the feeling in the pit of your stomach as you recall Aaron's pinky cheeks.

[glossolali]

i feel you and your precious soul

shadowidomauk, shadowmauk

hurt/comfort, sci-fi au, cyberpunk au, relationship negotiations, touch aversion/ sensitivity/starvation, essek pov

gift for @wanderingbasilisk 💜

6k

AO3

—

“How are you feeling?”

Molly sits across from Caleb, and both hands, prosthetic and natural, lay in Caleb's outstretched palms atop his knees. Molly flexes the natural one easily enough, but the other is in a tight fist, and he's frowning at it, seemingly frustrated.

At Essek's prompting, he looks up, and it takes him another moment or two to focus his gaze on Essek’s face proper, who stands in the doorway, his own hands clasped together anxiously. Essek is patient and steady as he can, and even if his heart aches for him, he sequesters that away to a private place. He would hate to seem anywhere near pitying of him.

“I'd love to say I'm right as rain, but that is not quite the case.” Molly tries for a smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and falls too quickly, and he ends up revealing instead how tired he is.

“Uhm... I'm still numb in some places, and in others, it hurts. And I can't stop twitching since yesterday. This hand,” and he gestures to his left, the mechanical one, “Has been locked in a fist since last night. It usually takes a few hours to unlock on its own, but it seems to be stuck this time.”

Molly's left arm has been jerking intermittently, a clearly uncontrollable motion that shifts his whole body and translates all the way down to his clenched hand, and seems to be bringing him some distress, and pain.

Caleb's eyes follow the motion and turn a shade more somber, though he secrets that away swiftly while Molly is turned around. Essek can almost see Caleb's heart take a tumble and break into pieces as Molly speaks, as upset as he himself feels. Caleb's circuitry scarred hands squeeze Molly’s lightly, then return to their former position where they cupped them.

Essek can't help but feel utterly awful. After all, he's the one that did this to him.

He recalls with a pang the distressed message Caleb had sent him, then Jester's, begging for his help to save their friend, Mollymauk. He'd met the tiefling in passing, finding a chaotic and colorful being who never stayed in one place for long enough for Essek to parse him out properly.

A few days after the Message, the entire Mighty Nein appeared at his doorstep. When they ensured Essek's lab was secure, Caleb fetched what was left of their dear friend's bloody, mangled body from an Amber Vault – a digital, portable safe– and handed that over to Essek, alongside a memory drive that had Molly's mind uploaded to it in a combination of efforts by Caleb and Caduceus.

Essek had been terrified at the responsibility inherent in saving such a precious person's life, but he had done his best to focus on the cybernetics puzzle at hand and to take the anxiety out of his mind. There was no room for mistakes or missteps.

He was successful, much to his relief, and his friends’ collective joy.

The tears and yells as Molly had opened his eyes for the first time rang clear in his memory. The tiefling had startled, covered his ears, and ran from the room– only to collapse in a heap a few steps into the next one.

It wasn't an unexpected sign of failure by any means– the collapse, that is, not the fleeing– after all, Mollymauk’s body was half machine now, and it had yet to be calibrated and tested properly. More specifically, it was costly, state-of-the-art cyberware mods and prosthetics, provided for free of course, connecting what of his ravaged body Essek and his team could salvage.

As a scientist who'd lived through the last hundred and twenty some years watching the world and its technologies develop at an alarming pace, he'd slowly grown more and more doubtful of the ethics of the now normalized practice of cyber modification, or ‘cybermods’. It's even worse that his current patient– ward, friend, whatever their odd relationship now was– hadn't been able to consent to these operations at all.

It made Essek hate himself just a little bit more, made him doubt his work– political and scientific– his family, their wealth, their entire society, his everything, even more deeply, despite how thankful all his friends, and Molly, were in the aftermath of that incident.

“Essek?”

Molly's voice has now taken on a subtle digital tone to it due to his voice-box being modded, and in addition, he sounds… lost, exhausted. Nothing like the person he once was.

Essek tries not to wallow right now. That can be for later, when he's done his job and is alone once again.

“My apologies. Just thinking.”

He goes to them. A person he is helping take care of needs his care right now. He has a function to serve, and that is the priority.

[Read the rest on AO3]

[maaarine]

My Brain Doesn’t Picture Things (Marco Giancotti, Nautilus, Oct 04 2023)

"My whole life, I’ve been aware—sometimes painfully so—of my own peculiarities, strengths, and weaknesses: A terrible memory, a good sense of direction, and what I felt was a lack of “visual creativity,” among others.

I always thought these were just random, disconnected traits, and didn’t think much about them. Who doesn’t have their quirks?

Then, some time in 2021 (not coincidentally, I forget exactly where or when) I read about aphantasia for the first time, and it hit me hard: When people say “picture this scene in your head,” they aren’t speaking metaphorically!

People can actually invoke shapes and colors in their minds.

The shock of this realization was followed by a piecing together of many of those little idiosyncrasies of mine into a single, coherent phenomenon that fit with the scientific description of the condition.

By the time my formal diagnosis came, I was already quite sure I was aphantasic. (…)

The biggest source of confusion with aphantasia comes from the assumption that “imagination” and “forming mental images” are one and the same thing.

This is, of course, incorrect.

I’m able to imagine anything, except it is all devoid of sensory representations.

The imagined objects exist in my mind as interconnected concepts, like bullet lists of facts about things. (…)

Past episodes of my life—when I can recall them at all—feel distant and non-sensory.

SDAM is a new discovery, still unknown to most practicing psychiatrists, so people like me have to rely on self-diagnosis for the time being.

But the symptoms described by the researchers match with what I’ve always taken for granted.

I would describe my recollections as summaries of key facts rather than first-person “mind movies.”

When asked, out of the blue, about an experience I’ve surely had—say, any childhood birthday party—my mind first responds by drawing a blank.

It feels as if my episodic memories were filed into a “mental cabinet” without an index.

Many memories are in there, somewhere, but retrieving them is a daunting task unless I’m provided with very specific prompts.

With some groping work of deduction (where did I live at the time? Who did I hang out with?) I can gather enough hints to bring out some locations and non-visual facts: I had a big party in our countryside garden when I was 11 or 12; there was cake; a lot of kids running around and … that’s about it. (…)

Suddenly, your performance in every other aspect of life comes under scrutiny, and blaming your congenital aphantasia for it is almost irresistible.

Is drawing without a reference so difficult because of my aphantasia? Could SDAM be why I’m so bad at keeping in touch with people? Would I be less socially awkward without it?

Very few of these supposed connections have been tested yet, let alone confirmed by solid scientific studies.

Yet almost every aphantasic I’ve talked to does this. But everyone seems to focus their self-doubt on whatever they don’t like about themselves, scapegoating different shortcomings."

[andrigyn]

Chapter Five

Putting out two chapters this week for @nestaarcheronweek !

The Vanserras don’t exactly roll out the red carpet for their new house guest, but Nesta is fascinated nevertheless by Autumn. Cassian has trouble coping with the fact that Nesta is now gone, but he must set that aside to deal with the rebellion in Illyria.

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Link to AO3

Nesta recalled Eris’s parting words again, when he told her that she ought to look her best. She wasn’t sure what precisely he meant by that, but she picked out one of her nicer gowns to wear. It was pewter colored, with a neckline that swept just under her collarbone. The dress was simple, yet it was fitted enough in the bodice to accentuate the prominent curves of her chest and waist. She also decided to keep her hair in its usual coronet, but sat in front of the vanity to pull it loose and rebraid it. By the time she was finished, there wasn’t a strand out of place. 

She could tell by the time on the clock that Eris would be there any minute, and soon she heard his quiet knock at the door. “Come in,” she said. 

Nesta looked up from the mirror to steal a glance. He had changed into a more formal double breasted green coat with a white shirt peeking out from underneath. His hair had been tamed, and his pants were more fitted than what she’d seen him in earlier. It wasn’t just the clothes that made him look so utterly aristocratic, but they did help. 

She rose from her seat. “Do I look acceptable?” 

Eris’s gaze moved from her head all the way down to the hem of her dress. “Gray is such a drab color, but you are lovely enough to make it look elegant.” 

She raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Vanserra.” 

“I don’t do flattery, I only tell the truth. We should go, we’ll be late as it is.”

She walked up to his side, and once he knew she was ready, he led her into the corridor. 

“Another piece of advice I have for you,” he said, flashing those deep brown eyes in her direction as they walked side by side, “is to stay silent unless you are addressed directly.” 

“Fine by me,” Nesta said brusquely. She thought she would have preferred scooping her eyeballs out with a rusty spoon than talking to them anyways. What could she possibly have to say? She found it exceedingly difficult to find any common ground with the inner circle, and the Vanserras were likely cut from the same cloth. How foolish she had been when she first came to Prythian, and assumed that her expertise as a human socialite would help her here. 

“I’ll do my best to answer for you when possible, because my father in particular can be rather sensitive, it would take you decades to learn every little thing that could set him off. Here, take my arm,” he said, extending his forearm. 

Nesta linked hers with his, and felt through the layers of fabric how solid it was. She couldn’t help but wonder what his arms might look like. He didn’t seem like the type to parade around shirtless like some certain males she knew, which made her all the more fascinated. The pair strode into the dining room together. It was a grand space with a vaulted ceiling. Colorful tapestries and pendants covered most of the stone walls, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. It was even more impressive to Nesta, because she now knew that each of those flames was lit by magic. 

Judging by the full table, they were the last to arrive. The Lord and Lady of Autumn both sat at the two opposing heads of the table, and Eris’s five brothers occupied the remaining places. There were two empty seats to Beron’s right, which she assumed were meant for the newly engaged couple. Eris led them there, and pulled out her chair. She sat down, and so did he.   

A servant came around with wine to fill everyone’s glasses, and Nesta instantly felt on edge. She was not allowed to drink anymore, and her first thought was that this could have been some kind of elaborate test. She assured herself that nobody from the Night Court was here to tell her what she could or could not drink, but even so, she did not want to take that first sip. There was no telling whether or not she’d be able to control herself if she introduced alcohol again. But on the other hand, it might be strange, rude even, if she refused. So she reached for the glass, and took the smallest sip she thought she’d ever taken in her life. She still felt guilty afterwards. 

“You’re late,” Beron remarked in an unimpressed fashion. He looked at Eris with a casual disappointment. 

“My apologies, father, we lost track of time,” Eris said. Hearing how docile his voice became once they were in Beron’s presence was unsettling to say the least. 

“But you’ve brought us the lovely Nesta Archeron, who needs no introduction.” The High Lord looked directly at her when he spoke, with a piercing gaze that made her feel uneasy. He stared at her so intently, that maintaining eye contact felt unnatural. She did it anyway though, and even offered an affable smile. 

“Does she speak? I recall her having more of a mouth on her the last time we met,” he said, turning to face Eris, who was looking at Nesta. She knew that she’d have to say something, so she let the words fall out. 

“I truly am quiet, please understand that stress got the best of me during the war. Once you get to know me better, you’ll see that.” 

“Are you questioning my judgment?” Beron asked. His tone shifted, but it was impossible to discern whether he was being sarcastic or not. 

Nesta wanted to throw her head back and laugh at the thought of someone so easily offended by an explanation that he wasn’t owed in the first place. There were so many things she wanted to say, as he was practically inviting her insults with a statement like that. However, before she could say anything, Eris kicked her leg softly with his foot under the table. She could sense that it meant something along the lines of ‘Stop talking’.

“Of course that isn’t what she meant. Nesta is deeply regretful of the way she acted during the High Lord’s meeting, and wishes for you to give her another chance,” Eris said. 

Nesta nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t miss the opportunity to kick the male, even if it was petty. Eris’s face didn’t change at all as he anticipated Beron’s response. She didn’t have to look around the table to know that the rest of the family was collectively staring her down, she could just feel it. 

“It shouldn’t matter anymore, Prythian was reborn after the war with Hybern. There’s no need to carry grudges into this new era,” Beron said. 

Nesta thought that was a strange thing to say. She took a real sip of her wine this time, because it seemed like she was going to need something in her system. Dinner was served eventually, and she took a few bites before pushing the rest of the food around her plate in silence. There was more conversation, but no one addressed her again, so she stayed out of it. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ 

After the meal was over, Nesta and Eris left the dining room. Once they were in the hallway and out of earshot, Eris turned to her. “You need to choose your words more carefully.”

“That was me choosing my words carefully.” 

“Try harder next time, then.” 

Nesta scowled at him. “Why don’t you try harder to divert the attention away from me in the first place? Isn’t that what you said you’d do anyways?”

“You’re a novelty, get used to it. Or better yet, use it to your advantage.” 

“There are no advantages to speak of, I’d give it all up if I only had the chance,” she snapped. Just the insinuation that there was any benefit to being thrown into the Cauldron filled her with rage. It had broken her completely, to the point where she cried every time she took a bath, she drank to forget about that power lying dormant inside of her, begging to be used, as it slowly drove her mad. 

“Don’t be a fool, Nesta. You have been gifted with magic beyond what I could ever dream of possessing.” 

“But I cannot wield its power, Amren gave up on training me months ago,” she said. This was true, albeit not the whole truth. She did spend many long days with Amren, who took her on as a project out of curiosity. Through all of her exercises and tests, she was never able to perform, although Nesta had been holding back. 

“I never imagined that such an ancient being could be so impatient, but perhaps Amren just isn’t a very good teacher.” 

“The power has surfaced before, multiple times even,” she explained, “But it seems to be triggered by strong emotions, like anger, and I have no control over it.” Nesta recalled the first incident, when she incinerated her room in the Townhouse with silver flames. The fire blazed, and threatened to engulf the entire building before Rhysand put it out. All caused by one measly nightmare. 

“Would you like me to engineer a situation designed to make you angry, then? Is that what you’re asking?” 

“No, I don’t want that. You don’t understand how dark this magic is, it’s unnatural.” 

Eris smirked. “I urge you to reconsider, but when you change your mind and decide you do want my help, just say so. I still owe you a tour though, don’t I?”

“You do,” Nesta said, and those were the only words he needed to hear before his demeanor shifted. Perhaps he’d broach the subject of her magic again soon, but in that moment all he was concerned about was showing her the house. 

She thought that Eris must have loved the sound of his own voice, because in every room they visited, he regaled her with some story about it. She couldn’t complain, because she rather liked listening to him. This house was ancient. It contained so much history, because so much life had been lived here. 

“And this is the main ballroom, which is mainly used for special occasions.” 

Nesta nodded as they walked past the tall, arched entrance. They traveled to the end of the hall, and down another set of stairs. 

“And this is the library,” he said, pushing the door open to reveal a spacious room full of books. It was larger than the library she had come to know in the House of Wind, and there were no priestesses to tend to it either. The dark green walls were barely visible behind the rows and rows of dark wooden bookshelves. A large couch and some chairs sat in front of a large fireplace, and fortunately Nesta didn’t hear a fire crackling and blazing inside of it. 

“Nobody should bother you in here, my brothers are not exactly the intellectual type. They are far too busy with their hunting, drinking, and womanizing.” Eris rolled his eyes. 

This place would seem empty without Gwyn to keep her company, but at least she wouldn’t have to stack and organize books any longer. There were many things about this realm that she ought to know, but didn’t. She was allowed to be ignorant in Velaris, because the place was just an elaborate bubble, but those days were over. Now, she had endless time to conduct research, or to see how the romance collection here compared to the House of Wind. 

“And there’s one more thing,” Eris said, “Do you like dogs?” 

She nodded. 

“I should introduce you now then, it’s not often that they meet someone new… unless they’re attacking,” he said. 

Nesta’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help that his words put her on edge. Despite this, she followed him through the halls and out the door. They came to a vast yard enclosed by a simple log fence. There was probably no fence that could restrain a magical dog, so she guessed it was a pasture for cows, or goats at one time. When she looked out, she counted twelve of them darting to and fro, more rapidly than she had seen any animal move before. 

“Don’t worry, Nesta, they only attack if I say so,” he said. Once the hounds realized their master was present, they ran immediately to his side. “So don’t piss me off.” 

She looked at him intently, and he only laughed. “Go on, you can pet them.” 

Nesta extended a shaky hand to stroke one of them, and once she felt comfortable enough that it would not bite, she scratched behind its ear. 

“Phobos is his name,” Eris added, although she wasn’t paying much attention to him. Nesta was fully focused on the hound in front of her, and once it seemed that she had shown she was to be trusted, the rest of them approached and nuzzled against her. She couldn’t help but smile at the attention, and there was genuine joy behind it. 

“Well they’re very cute,” Nesta said. Her voice was raised a few octaves, and she was still facing away. Eris couldn’t tell whether she was talking to him, or the hounds, but he looked pleased to see her so happy. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It did not take Cassian long to realize that his days were now empty without Nesta by his side. It didn’t matter that he had spent hundreds of years without her company, because everything changed the moment that he first laid eyes on her. The regret that he felt for not trying harder to prevent her from being sent away in the first place weighed on him so greatly that nothing could ease his stress. The reason was simple: before she left, the mating bond snapped. 

It snapped into place, and all Cassian could think about was her, how he could stay close to her, touch her, smell her. If only they were still in the House of Wind, then they could, well… 

He was certain that Rhys could sense it as well, which was why the High Lord didn’t just tell him to go away. No, he pushed through the barriers of Cassian’s mind to compel him to leave, before he could act on the violent desires that now gripped him. And the thoughts of Nesta still overwhelmed him, but he had no means of seeing her, as the Autumn wards were too powerful for him to fly through uninvited. For now, his only outlet was training, although even Azriel was quickly growing tired of sparring so frequently. 

It wouldn’t be long before Rhys gave him something productive to do, although they continued to train the Valkyries. His orders were to travel to Illyria, and bring the High Lord’s royal decree to the camp leaders whom Az claimed were most disloyal. It had to be the general who was sent, because there was nobody else that was trusted and liked by the Illyrians, even if Cassian had already lost most of their respect. There was still time, after all, to quell the revolutionary spirit that was spreading in the north before blood was spilled. 

That was why he sat across from Devlon now, in a drafty tent, trying his best to explain why he should listen to his High Lord. The absurdity of the entire situation was made evident by the fact that Rhys would not simply come here himself, although Cassian noticed how reclusive he was becoming. He was not as difficult to spot as Feyre these days, but his absence was felt regardless. If the Illyrians decided that his focus was drawn elsewhere, why wouldn’t they rebel? 

“Things are not looking good,” Devlon explained, “I don’t recommend you travel further north, you won’t be welcomed by any of the camp leaders. They see you as a traitor..” 

“But I have brought their grievances before their High Lord, and he has agreed to the following concessions, in order to avoid a civil war,” Cassian said, passing the signed piece of paper over to Devlon. He inspected it for a moment before shaking his head in disapproval. 

“Lowering their taxes isn’t enough, why would they care about this when there is talk of forming an independent country? There would be no taxes at all then, no troop quotas… You’re better off touring the southern camps, and convincing them to remain loyal to the crown. This is a mockery-”

It was true that the south was more prosperous, and therefore far less likely to risk their security in a bid for independence. Not only did they have more flat land suitable for farming, but their camps resembled something more like the towns or large cities in other courts. They had real buildings, and were far more industrialized than their neighbors to the north, thanks to capital investment from Velaris and the Hewn City. However, the northern camps were not to be underestimated when it came to combat. 

“Those were not my orders,” Cassian said. 

Devlon raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I cannot stop you, but at least take one of my men with you if you insist on going. There’s safety in numbers.” 

He nodded in reply. Azriel would have journeyed this far north with Cassian, but he didn’t want to ask that of him. The trip would be sure to bring up old memories for the shadowsinger that ought to stay buried. 

“Balthazar!” the camp leader shouted, and a young male walked through the entrance to the tent. He was of average height and build, but his face had a boyish quality to it. 

“This is my companion? He looks like a child. Has he even completed the Rite yet?” Cassian scoffed. 

“Looks aren’t everything, general. He is to participate in the Blood Rite this year, but he is a skilled warrior who hails from farther north, so he will be an asset to you.” 

“I was born and raised in Stansonview, sir,” Balthazar said. He stood straight, almost too straight. Cassian wondered if he fought in the war, or if he was yet untested by battle. Although this mission didn’t require combat, the Lord of Bloodshed’s presence was meant to be a show of strength on Rhys’s behalf, and Balthazar didn’t quite look the part. 

“It’s your lucky day then, because that’s stop number three on my list. You can tell your mother how much you’ve missed her,” Cassian said. He rose from his chair and clapped the younger male on the back. “Are you ready to leave?” 

“Give me an hour to gather my things,” he explained. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As soon as Balthazar was ready, the pair left. The trip would take a day and a half, so they spent hours and hours soaring in the air above the rugged terrain of Illyria. It was impossibly cold, but Cassian didn’t mind. In fact, this was exactly the type of distraction he needed so that he couldn’t focus on the fact that his mate was with another male. He could see it all unfolding so clearly, Eris would lie to her like the snake he was. He would turn her against the Night Court, and seduce her. Surely he would want to keep the female for himself, even after Beron was killed, because she was made. No, Cassian would raise hell before he allowed that to happen, and he would have the support of his family. Rhys would never stand by as his brother was separated from his mate. 

Once dusk fell, he signaled to Balthazar that they should stop flying for the day. Once the two males landed at the clearing, they began setting up camp. 

Balthazar stood above the pile of sticks he had just gathered, and worked at starting a fire. He glanced over at the general, who was pitching his tent. “You’re awfully quiet,” he said. 

“What would you have me say? You could very well be a spy for all I know.” 

The younger male shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s not everyday I’m asked to accompany the Lord of Bloodshed on a mission. I think that if I didn’t say anything, my friends would never let me hear the end of it.” 

“You’re little more than a boy, you’ll meet people far more interesting than me in your lifetime,” Cassian said. 

They finished setting up camp, ate a quick dinner, and retired early. At the crack of dawn the next morning, they set out again. The plan was to start in Windhaven, and move from camp to camp until they reached the northernmost settlement, but Telpont would be a good place to start. Cassian anticipated that they might not be too far gone. Perhaps they would listen to reason. 

Once they arrived, they were led by the sentries guarding the border to the only stone building in town, where the camp leader Faolan resided. The older, graying male was seated behind a table, which was covered in maps. Cassian walked through the room slowly, until he was standing at the edge of the table with Balthazar to his side. 

“I should have ordered my men to shoot you down from the skies when they saw you,” Faolan said. 

“But you didn’t, perhaps because you know that they are not capable,” Cassian said. His austere tone let the male know that he was indeed serious, although it was mainly his physical size that the general relied on to intimidate others. 

Faolan scoffed. “What I know is that life amongst the high Fae has made you soft. My men could kill you and the boy that you’ve brought along without breaking a sweat.” 

This type of posturing was not unusual among Illyrian males. Cassian wondered if people truly did think of him as weak, and made a mental note to ask Az and his shadows. This reputation that he had built for himself was all he had. He was certainly not of noble birth, and he depended on Rhys for all of the money and companionship that he did have. The only person who was truly his was Nesta, and the Cauldron has decided to play a cruel joke and rip her away as soon as he recognized the bond.

“Enough pleasantries, I’ve brought you a list of concessions from your High Lord.” 

Faolan laughed. “Concessions? Your Lord has nothing to offer me. Have you considered what your father might say if he were here, if he could see his spineless son?” 

Cassian was fuming at the mention of a father he would never know, who never had the opportunity to be proud or ashamed of his son. However, he didn’t let his temper get this best of him this time. He took the letter and slid it over to Faolan with a blank stare. “Don’t worry about what my dead father might think, worry about your people and their future.” 

“Believe me, I am,” he said, “Because I respect you and your position, I will allow you to stay the night, but you are to leave first thing in the morning. Do not return, and tell your High Lord that the people of Telpont do not find his terms acceptable.”

Tag List: @tuzna-pesma-snova​ , @majestythewraith​ , @acotardeservesbetter​ , @joonsbratz 

[burning-fcols]

"Baci di dama!" Shouted into the relative silence of Angel's room, Husk, who had been hanging head first off the bed, watching the spider do...whatever at his vanity, had sat upright just as abruptly. Which made him dizzy, but that was rather par for the course with him. "That was th' name 'f those fuckin' cookies yer Ma used t' make!" Information that seemed to have him excited, Husk looking as if he'd just drawn the game winning card for life itself. "Knew it was somethin' like that, seein' as you used 'em as an excuse t' kiss me all the damn time up there." 'Up there' meaning life, of course. "Been tryin' t' think of that shit all fuckin' day, was drivin' me nuts. Hey, she ever teach you how t' make those?" The request not so deeply hidden as the cat looked to Angel with hopeful eyes. Such a heartwarming emotion now seen more and more lately, after getting with Angel Anthony for the second time in both life and death. //cookies name means 'ladies kiss' btw 😘 - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hells-fvry 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Startled by the sudden shout, Angel's arm spasms. Lightly scoffing at the streak of deep pink now marring his complexion, he grabs a tissue and wipes at it. Lipstick comes off his fur easily enough, nary a hint of color to betray it was ever there at all. A mark in its favor, Angel remembering all the failed attempts that left him with faint smudges. Not world-ending, but unacceptable for someone of his ❛ status ❜ . Looks like Velvette actually took his notes to heart.

For one of the Vees— which means she’s as self-centered and egotistical as the rest —she does know how to take criticism. Provided it’s coming from a place of objectivity and not a personal vendetta. Maybe that’s why she leans on Angel so often when it comes to testing out her products… He can imagine the sort of spineless ass-kissing she has to contend with on the regular. Luckily for her, all HIS ass-kissing is reserved for Valentino.

Fixing his make-up, he tilts his head to see how the newest shade looks in the light. Glossiness is alright… Not too blinding but nothing to overlook either. ❝ An’ you fuckin’ loved it~ ❞ He teases in the midst of Husk’s revelation, chuckling at the fond memories it invites. Angel visiting the other man, bearing gifts courtesy of his mom’s baking prowess and Angel’s ability to snag treats from the kitchen without her being any the wiser… At least, he used to think so. Looking back on it now, with the clarity of years and wistfulness, he’s near-certain she knew and just never said anything.

It would explain how there was always a surplus of sweets… Enough for his heists to go ❛ undetected ❜ .

❝ Y'know, you could'a jus' asked me. 'Stead of drivin' yerself up th' damn wall all day... ❞ He chuckles, getting up from his vanity with a final brush of his attire, straightening his blouse and readjusting his chest. Pleased with the results— despite having nowhere to actually go today —he makes his way over to Husk, playfully ruffling his boyfriend's hair in an effort to mess it up. ❝ She sure did~ Pops wasn' too happy— ❞ A displeasure the man made KNOWN, Angel recalling how sore he was from the beating. ❝ —but it was worth it. Now I know how ta make 'em almost as good as Ma. ❞ Which is something that bastard can NEVER take away from him.

❝ It's been a while, but I'm sure I still got th' hang of it... ❞ Upper hands cup Husk's face, bringing it closer as he bends down. Planting a firm kiss against the feline's cheek with an audible ❛ mwah! ❜ he smugly studies the make-up cartoonishly left behind. Pulling out a compact mirror from his fluff, Angel checks his lipstick. Still perfect. Tucking it back into his chest, he makes his way to the door, sway of his hips and tone of his voice performatively-casual ( as if he hadn't just marked the other man ) ❝ We betta' make enough fer ev'ryone, otha'wise Charlie is gonna hit us wit' a lecture about sharin' or some shit. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[counterfeitphantoms]

aj short story

uhmm a short story regarding the queen in OITT and plasm... little drabble :]

-

Given the other options, the Queen had thought she had made a great decision; bringing another king around- a mimic, no less! A king that could finally squash those pesky animals' trust in one another, a master manipulator who could tear the Alphas apart from the inside out!

What she hadn't considered, though, was just how bothersome this young king would be.

Sure, she thought. They've all started a bit... uncertain. Weird, even. Chloro, with her ever-growing disdain towards other phantoms. Golgi, with their awkward, geeky demeanor. But those two had- mostly- grown away from those traits as they aged.

And so she expected that to play out the same way with this new king, Plasm. She waited for them to find their place within the hive.

And waited.

And waited.

And yet, here she stood. Carefully observing each and every phantom in her most hardened, battle-ready battalion. Her gaze fixed carefully on each troop for at least a few fretful minutes, before shifting over to the next tense phantom in line. 

Plasm hadn't been seen around the hive for a few days. That never happens- it couldn't! 

They always had to show themselves at least once a day, be it by scaring the soul out of some poor ground soldier by taking the form of an armed animal, or awkwardly informing the queen that they- in their foolish, reckless stupor- had broken yet another vital cog in the fortress.

They had to be up to something. And the Queen wasn't stupid! Busy? Yes. Frustrated and about to snap? Absolutely. But not stupid. She knows her kings, like the back of her tentacle!

Wait.

She blinks back over to the heavy soldier she'd just examined. A deep orange heavy, whose name is Sludge, if she recalls correctly- a loyal soldier, with scars to show it!

...But this heavy had no scars. The color was right, the size, the behavior. But it seemed to lack Sludge's battle-worn demeanor.

With a quick, sudden movement that gained shouts of terror from her soldiers surrounding her target, she scooped the heavy up before it even noticed her suspicious once-over. 

" Young King! " She chided, her singular eye narrowed in a specific kind of certainty many residents of the Hive knew all too well. The previous terror covering the faces of the surrounding soldiers melted into amusement.

" Do you think this is appropriate? " 

A pause from the faux-heavy, then a plea;

" Your Highness- I, uh, don't- " 

The Queen cut them off, quickly, and firmly,

" Plasm. I know it's you. Don't try to act coy with me. "

The heavy stiffened a bit. Shit. They had been caught.

With a childish, frustrated groan. The form of the large phantom simply seemed to dissolve. First into goo, and then slowly but surely, into a much- much larger form. Their previous burgundy color changing to a much more vibrant, ombre violet.

"Mom! I was having fun- it was harmless- Sludge allo- " They were cut off, yet again.

" No excuses! I don't have time to hear it, you know the hives have been especially busy these past few weeks with the planned invasion! Right now is not the time for your shenanigans! " The Queen snapped, hoisting the king up with one tentacle.

Sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders if she made the right decision with hand-raising each and every unique king. This one was certainly testing her patience. A constant thorn in her side that never seemed to-

She blinked.

" ...What did you say, dear? "

" I said Sludge allowed it! He's off with his buddies somewhere in the fortress! " Plasm blurted, defensively. Their defiant leer never faltering.  

Her one eye narrowed further, somehow. Into genuine, unfiltered rage.

Plasm could wait. She thinks maybe, just maybe.

She would have to have a talk with someone later.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

15 Questions: Character Edition

Tagged by @words-after-midnight! Using this for OCs as well as writers is a fun idea.

Going with everyone's favorite repentant bloodborn and fish dad, Renato (who just got some lovely new art):

(Thank you again to @/littlestpersimmon for taking the commission! I love the background and fish details especially. Go check out more of Caleb's beautiful art and his comics if you're not familiar with them already!)

1. Are you named after anyone? My given name came from my Portuguese great grandmother on the Dimas side of the family, my father's side. I chose "Renato" as a teenager because the meaning (reborn) applied to both my transition and future as a bloodborn. Anyway, it shares the first letter and same number of syllables with the old one, so I also just liked how it sounded.

2. When was the last time you cried? I...honestly can't remember. Really. I'm not trying to sound tough or cool or anything. I must've cried when I was still a child of course, before the break. I can recall afterwards, though, watching the harbor get farther and farther away as my family fled the destruction on a ship. My eyes were completely dry. I still felt...still feel despair, anger, sadness. But after the world changed, I did too. Crying just seemed like a waste of water. It wouldn't get me anything, so my body just...didn't bother with tears.

*shifts, visibly nervous* But I think...I think I'd like to cry again someday? Is that a strange thing to say? Nevermind--forget it. Next question.

3. Do you have kids? No, but I have the next best thing. *opens wallet with photos* The goldfish is Tesoro--Tes, for short. They can roll a tiny football into a mini net. Ah, they're so talented! Then there's Beija, the pleco. She's nocturnal like me, but rather shy. And of course I can't forget the Venerable Order of Lady Guppies: Sisters Dolores, Joan, Hildegard, Leonella, Mary Celeste, Teresa, and Abbess Malfada. They're named after nuns since there aren't any male guppies in the tank and, well, you get the idea.

4. Do you use sarcasm? Occasionally, to make a point maybe. I prefer saying something outrageous with a serious face, though. I've gotten quite good at it over the years.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? It's going to sound terrible...it is terrible, but true. I try to see if they have a weapon, and assess their vulnerable points, gauge which would be best to strike first. You know...to incapacitate. Or kill, if need be. It's ingrained into you as part of becoming an Aquila. But I'm sure you don't want to listen to such a dark subject.

6. What's your eye color? *sighs* They're blue-green, or aquamarine, or sea-green, or whatever you want to call them. I honestly don't find them that special. The way dark brown or black eyes shine is much more appealing, in my opinion.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Hm. I'm just as likely to be annoying and complain about either one being unrealistic. I think the execution and style is what matters to me, not the category.

8. Any special talents? Winning people's trust. Being deserving of it... that's another matter. I've been told I pick up languages rather quickly, at least as far as basic conversation goes. Of course I grew up being a strong swimmer and diver.

9. Where were you born? On the Pacific, in a ship's medical bay, while my mother was accompanying my father to the States. That meant I was a default Brazilian citizen, although both my parents had dual citizenship.

10. What are your hobbies? Looking after my fish, making a nuisance of myself, finding what little pleasures I can take. I'm starting to realize just how much of my identity was tied to being an Aquila, honestly. Without that...well, I suppose I'll just have to test things out and see what sticks.

11. Have you any pets? Oh, do you want to watch all my videos of Tes and the others? [A/N: I advise you to decline. There are a lot of fish videos.]

12. What sports do you/have you played? I practice various styles of fighting and marksmanship, but that's survival rather than friendly competition. I never had a real opportunity to play any, given the world descended into chaos when I was ten. I mean, Ollie and I used to play a game where we'd dare each other to touch sharks while scavenging. Does that count?

13. How tall are you? 5'5". Many of the deadliest predators are smaller than their prey.

14. Favorite subject in school? I only attended about five years of Catholic school. My parents found me tutors for various subjects after the Break happened. I did fine with math, reading, science, all of that, but I preferred learning and honing skills. Spear fishing, sailing, foraging, those sorts of things I could use in a practical sense.

15. Dream job? *grins* Indolent concubine of a lofty noble or conquering warlord (gender neutral). Perhaps if things work out with these supposed merfolk they'll have some openings available.

Dysthanasia Taglist: @thecyrulik @thatndginger @space-writes @sunset-a-story @scoundrelwithboba

[kuraikyu]

@kuroyrii : Quietly places flowers in his hair, she quickly turns to conceal her laughter only to snicker, "The colors go well with your complexion"

In the miscellany of woodland monoculture, she found him once again in the embrace of solitude listening to the sound of the water falling and the sighing of the wind in trees, malformation of mossy stairs carved to the mountainside reminding of an old stronghold long forgotten. His targets less inclined to drive to natural places for enjoyment, now laying lifelessly on the pile not far than a halfcropped kilometer. There will hardly be an ounce of anything but bones and ashes consumed soon either by flames or rot. Monkeys still refuse to put envy of his people behind them, they may still begrudge Sorcerers in their relics and things of beauty; he remembered such fact with each wipe of crimson from his face.

Blood was a peculiar thing that made even most cultured and neat man look like a wild beast in stillness, it could bore cute pink blush or deep brown spots. His sense for restoration dark yet mighty, carrying visual trademarks like insignia of battle on sword. Eyes like pits of smoldering opiates after ferocity of fresh kill.

A kindred spirit dances among trees, her every cadence a bravado breaking etiquette in moonlit gait, stalwart and dependable from both sundry and mirthful times of their storied history, masterful in the art of hunting and stealth, stiff-necked and suspicious only by wit of her tongue, the black lily that comes seeping with fanged smile more liberated than ever before, intruding reverie of his seclusion with ignorance to the carnage behind. The God Hand must have followed the track from sudden outburst of cursed energy evoked by his special grade. She would not ask what had transpired there, instead, it was her hands that spoke louder secrets in her stead, and he almost understood their unhinged language where he recalled distinct soothing. Captivity may prove too great a strain for bunny, so her crimson rather concealed on him colors that came to life and blossomed with his dark excellence when the odds were stacked against them. Something entangled among straight carbon strands. A brisk blink of fluttering lashes sorting inventory in perceptional warehouse of thinking, evoking perplexion, discarding creeping mildew, and awakening consonance from grim tidings. What is this? There's something on his head. Hand wandered up to test out his new enlightened image, caressing something soft and what's next in line for commendation when he realized what kind of structure formed under his fingertips, touch becomes light as a caterpillar's footsteps, drinking in the aromas of velvets producing scent from each little twist. Those were petals from vivid flowers, from what still left of seasonly green; jewel gift of flora that loomed on him like a black crown. Heartbeat skipped up with increasing pulse into his very throat. Sayuri might be the first step in some scheme crammed into small rooms. He breathed out in realization, '' Today I am all soil and ruin and yet you still can't help yourself but to be personally accountable for my beautification? Thought you'd have more urgent errands to undertake like entertaining snoozy patrons. If you ever decide to repeat such practioning in public be wary; it could make some women jealous. '' From string of defense, chuckle preceded deficit in melting venom. Thank you. Rivulets and bouncing waterdrops provided natural a reflection pool for him to lean in closer and check his new decoration. An apparition emerges from behind large oak; manifesting several meters away from them; offering a lined humanoid grin covered by sleeve of vermilion kimono.

'Well?' - a grin the one she could not see while he seemed so distracted and enchanted by blossoms in his strands. Or he purposely pretended to be distracted. 'You want her, don't you? Try and get her.~'