#liberty cord

[ajl1963]

Freakin', Tiquen 2023 - Destination Detroit: Part One - The Henry Ford Museum

[my-castles-crumbling]

The Telephone

@manzis-world, here's your request! I took a few creative liberties but hopefully you still like it.

"That's a felly-lone," Sirius said knowledgably, pointing toward the red box in front of them.

"Are...are you sure?" Regulus asked nervously, eyeing the box.

"Yes. You put money in and then yell really loud. And we'll hear him," Sirius said. "I take Muggle Studies, Reg. Of course I'm sure."

"Alright," Regulus nodded, and they both crammed themselves into the box. After placing the muggle money in the slot and dialing the number James had provided, a voice answered.

"Hello?"

"EFFIE?" Sirius yelled, happy to hear a familiar voice. "HOW ARE YOU?"

A man outside the box gave them a weird look, but both boys ignored him.

"I-I'm alright, Sirius. Are you alright?"

"GREAT! REG AND I SNUCK OUT TO TALK TO JAMES. IS HE THERE?" Sirius roared, making Regulus flinch.

"Erm....hold on a mo'."

There was silence on the other end, and while the two brothers waited, Sirius murmured, "You talk first. It'll be a nice surprise. As disgusting as you two are."

Regulus looked at the felly-lone hesitantly and nodded. As strange as the device was, it would be great to hear his boyfriend's voice after such a long summer.

"Hello?" James's voice came out of the device.

"JAMES?" Regulus yelled, feeling entirely foolish.

"Reg?"

"YES, I'M ON THE FELLY-LONE," Regulus said stiffly, looking at Sirius, who was grinning encouragingly.

"Erm...Reg, love? I'm so glad to hear you. But you know you don't have to yell right?"

Both boys stared at each other.

"Sirius, I'm going to kill you," Regulus said, mortified, reaching for the cord of the phone. It looked perfect for strangulation.

[defaulttwig]

Avatar’s First Braids

Neteyam x gn!reader

Summary: Just like Spider, you have your own avatar, though you had to wait until you were older before you could use yours. As such, to celebrate your new blue, the Sullys want to braid your avatar’s hair. 

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Help, this was supposed to focus on Neteyam and it's just one big fic about his siblings instead, but I promise there's still a crumb of Neteyam. I really took my own liberties with some Avatar lore so it’s probably inaccurate lol. This is platonic/romantic, wrote it kinda down the middle. Neteyam is aged up to 20 here.

At fifteen years old, you could not describe the bizarreness of watching a tiny body, your body, float in an amnio tank. Your very own avatar, steadily growing at a pace beyond the growth rate of native Na’vi, twitched in a dreamlike state. Tiny blue hands curled around a chubby blue face. Small tendrils of nerves floated out of the base of the skull, surrounded by baby hair. You could not believe what kuru looked like before the braids. A bit creepy, if you had to be honest.

  You weren’t alone. Spider stood right next to you with Tuk in front of you two. Lo’ak and Kiri stood on his other side and Neteyam was right next to you. His forearm rested against the glass of the tank as he leaned into your space, tilting his head to observe the baby. The Na’vi half of your group each had a rebreather in hand, inhaling from it every so often. All six of you watched the small twitches, mesmerized by the little thing.

  It had only been a few weeks since you watched it grow from an embryo. You had been the most fascinated watching the rapidly growing progress of the avatar, coming nearly every day to watch. It led to Neteyam and Spider hanging around, then Lo’ak and Kiri, and finally Tuk could not be left out. You could stand around all day and watch. This was your avatar.

  “So,” Spider spoke over the silence. “What if it’s an outie?”

  Lo’ak scoffed, already biting back a smile. “Bro, that’s what you’re thinking about?”

  Spider gestured to the umbilical cord attached to the baby’s stomach. He huffed in defense of himself. “You guys all made fun of my avatar having an outie.”

  You snapped your head in his direction, offended that he lumped you up with the rest of them. “I didn’t.”

  “That’s because you’re you, Spider.” Neteyam teased, leaning forward past you to make eye contact. He pressed the rebreather to his mouth for a breath. “Besides, yours was the first with an outie belly button.”

  Tuk looked down at her stomach and traced her belly button. “I can’t imagine having my belly button out like that.”

  “It’s not that weird,” Kiri countered. “Only at first, it was.”

  “Bro, look at you. You’re fine.” Lo’ak reached over and stuck his finger in Spider’s belly button, earning a shout and a smack to the hand. Spider laid his palm over his belly button while Lo’ak laughed and straightened himself. “You know we didn’t mean it.”

  Yeah, when Spider first entered his avatar after decantation, the immediate thing the Na’vi children noticed was the protruding belly button. It was then you realized that none of the Na’vi had outies, unlike humans who could have either innie or outie. While they could excuse the appearance of an outie on a human, given the many physical discrepancies between humans and Na’vi, they teased Spider for having one on his avatar. Just another physical difference on top of eyebrows and five digits on the hands and feet of avatars.

  You rolled your eyes. “Can we stop talking about belly buttons?”

  “Okay,” Neteyam agreed. He gestured with his hand above the amnio tank. “How long does this take, again?”

  “Five years,” a voice behind caused you all to turn. Norm approached your group with a grimace. “Why are you all hanging around the test tube avatar?”

  “So why couldn’t this avatar,” Tuk pointed at the tank while inhaling from the rebreather, ignoring the question, “grow at the same time as Spider’s? Wouldn’t that save time?”

  “Unfortunately our resources are limited and we don’t have the space to incubate multiple avatars at a time.” Norm made a small gesture for which you all parted to let him through. He looked at the baby avatar, then at you six. “Now, can you please go hang out somewhere else? The lab is not a playground.”

  Per his suggestion, you dispersed from the lab. The Sullys set the rebreathers back on the rack on their way out, Tuk bouncing happily ahead of you. Spider brought the conversation back to belly buttons and you groaned, telling him to move on. Doing what any teen did, you all flocked to another area of the camp to bother someone else.

  Five years. That’s how long you had to wait.

  +:+:+:+:+

  You were going to throw up.

  Well, you thought you were. Nerves knot your stomach tight, worsened by the butterflies fluttering in it. Your heart hammered in your chest. You laid your hands over your stomach, twiddling with your fingers. The overhead lights were bright. So, so bright.

  Currently, you waited on the link bed to make your first connection. Sure, you waited years for this moment, but now that it was right in front of you, you dreaded it. Would it hurt? Would it make you more nauseous than you already were? In the coming weeks, you pestered Spider about the sensation. You had to know every little detail. Question after question, the routine grew old fast and Spider eventually repeated the phrase don’t worry about it. Not the best advice you received.

  To make matters worse, your friends were not there with you. Kiri and Lo’ak had grown too tall to comfortably stand in the lab with you and Lo’ak didn’t want Tuk’s unfiltered mouth to raise more panic in you. Spider decided to wait with them outside your avatar’s lab room. All to take in the first impression.

  “Take it easy,” Dr. Max Patel said from the computer system beside you. His eyes darted across the screen. “You’re going to be fine when you wake up.”

  You turned your head to face him. “Are you sure?”

  A great question to ask the guy who’s been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. He glanced your way. You took that as your answer and returned to your original position, focusing on controlling your breaths. The link bed wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, at least.

  When Max faced you to grab the hood of the bed, you moved your hands to your sides. He gave you a few more words of encouragement and you nodded, half listening. Really, you just didn’t want to throw up right now.

  When the hood closed, you noticed how heavy you breathed. Your stomach twisted tighter and you screwed your eyes shut. You could do this. You could do this. As another wave of nausea hit you, you held your breath.

  “Movement behind the eyelids.”

  Someone called your name. “If you can hear me, can you open your eyes?”

  You obeyed, opening them only to flinch and squeeze them closed. Damn, who turned up the brightness here?

  “You okay?”

  “The light is bright,” you supplied a bit groggy.

  Behind your eyelids, the intensity of the lights lessened. Your eyes fluttered open carefully, finding that half the room’s lights had been turned off. You breathed a sigh of relief, stomach still in knots. A moment passed before you realized just where you were.

  You sat up, immediately falling back down.

  “Take it easy.” One of the scientists set a hand on your arm. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as we’ve conducted some fine motor tests.”

  You blinked, ears twitching. Twitching. The sensation prompted you to cautiously raise your hand, brushing your fingers over your ear. A pointy Na’vi ear. It flicked back at your touch unconsciously and you let out a breathless laugh. This was weirder than you expected. Not to mention how seamlessly you connected to your avatar. Spider really could not have prepared you more for this.

  “Can you wiggle your toes for me?”

  You couldn’t say how long those tests took. A few minutes. An hour. It went by too fast but simultaneously dragged on longer than your poor heart could take. You wanted to get up and go go go but you didn’t want to fall over and embarrass yourself. When you got the okay, left alone to change out of the gown into something more comfortable, you made your way to the door.

  The door hissed open, letting the bright light from the sun filter in. You squinted and raised your hand, blue as the sky, over your eyes to shield them. Your tail flicked at the minor inconvenience you felt.

  “Whoa, check you out.”

  You looked to your left. Lo’ak and Spider leaned against the wall of the shack. Kiri sat on the ground with her hands behind her as support. Beside her, Tuk sat cross-legged, picking at grass. No Neteyam, though. He had gone earlier that morning on a hunt with his father.

  You smiled, dropping your hand to your side. “Like what you see?”

  “You’re like us, now,” Tuk said, dropping her blades of grass.

  Kiri smiled up at you. “How do you feel?”

  “Weird.” You looked behind you. Your tail had a mind of its own, though you still felt every flick of it as though it were you commanding it. “Really weird.”

  “You get used to it.” Spider shrugged and pushed off the wall. He was much shorter than you now, still human.

  Lo’ak made a sound. “I can’t believe you can’t use your avatar right now.” His hand smacked at his thigh. “Do you know what we could be doing if you didn’t get hurt?”

  “It was your recklessness that got us here.” Kiri looked between the two of them, moving to stand. “Spider’s avatar should take a few days to heal, then we can do the plan.”

  Tuk pouted. “This was supposed to be the perfect first impression.”

  “I know. I know.” Spider rolled his eyes. “Few more days and then we’ll pretend that there weren't any hiccups.”

  You watched Tuk stand. She stood a little taller than Spider, shorter than the three of you. It was weird being taller than her. Well, now only Spider was the only drastically short one of your group. At least, until he got back his avatar.

  “Should we get going?” Kiri asked before she took in the state of your hair and gasped. “Your kuru!”

  “What about it?” You attempted to look behind you without any luck.

  Kiri came up to you, directing you in front of her. “We have our braids around it as protection. Your hair is just wild and it's unguarded.”

  “Oh.”

  “Here, I’ll braid it. You sit down.”

  “Okay.” You lowered into a cross-legged position with Kiri behind you.

  She gathered a bunch of your hair, combing her fingers through the roots of it before beginning to twist strands over and around the kuru. The rest of your hair swept over your shoulders, tickling your skin as it did. Given how your avatar’s hair had not been groomed in its time in the amnio tank, it became wildly the length of the kuru. The long hair weighed heavy on your shoulders.

  Tuk stood beside you, watching Kiri braid your kuru. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, wondering what she could be thinking about. She’d aged to a dreaded thirteen, filled with mischief and still figuring things out. Despite the age when other children sought their independence, she still clung to your ragtag group, not entirely eager to break off to her own friends. Things haven't changed much, you all had to keep a more keen eye on her, given the number of bad ideas she could come up with and act out on, now. Like right now, where her expression twisted in deep thought.

  “Can I braid the rest of your hair?” She gestured to her shoulder-length braids. 

  You turned your head to see, only for Kiri to guide your head back into a straight position. “Don’t move.”

  You found no harm in that. “Sure, Tuk. But I’m not sure I want it this long.”

  “I can cut it.” 

  She pulled her knife out. The second she walked toward you, you flinched away from her. As sweet as she was, you didn’t exactly trust a child with a knife by your head.

  Kiri forced you to keep still, catching you mid-cry. “Don’t move,” she repeated with an edge, not so much bothered by Tuk’s eager knife-wielding as she was your jerking.

  You raised your hand, unable to properly block Tuk’s oncoming knife.

  Lo’ak took initiative and intervened. He towered over Tuk and grabbed her wrist. “Are you crazy?”

  Tuk pouted, fighting against his hold. as her voice raised in a whine. “I know what I’m doing.”

  He took the knife from her. “Let me do it.”

  Tuk stomped her foot. “I wanted to do it.”

  “You can still braid my hair.” You tried to mediate. It did the job as she pouted off to the side but relented with crossed arms. She stuck her tongue out at Lo’ak. A shiver crawled up your spine from Kiri’s braiding.  “You can make them look like yours.”

  She smiled. An excited nod and she grabbed the ends of her braids, twisting them between her fingers. “Yeah, we can look like twins.” She spoke to Lo’ak, “don’t cut higher than the shoulders.”

  “Sure.” He nodded, hunching down to his knees.

  Lo’ak took bundles of your hair away from your face and held it away. He worked away the knife. Already, your head felt lighter without the extra weight. You relaxed, letting the siblings work at your hair.

  Spider took his own knife out from where he stood. Since he had nothing better to do, he opted to busy his hands by flipping his knife in hand. You watched him flip and catch it with ease.

  He hummed, “you gonna bond with an ikran?”

  Your face twisted in horror. “Uh, no. I just got my avatar.”

  Kiri agreed. “You need to take baby steps.”

  “Yeah, or your avatar will end up like Spider’s.” Lo’ak teased.

  Spider rolled his eyes with a nod. They weren’t necessarily wrong.

  After Lo’ak had cut the hair on the other side, Tuk took her rightful place by you. Not before Lo’ak returned her knife and she sheathed it. She made some comments about your hair being softer than hers, a result of the amniotic fluid you guessed.

  In a moment of excitement, by now half your hair had been braided, Tuk blurted. “you’re going to look  just like one of us!”

  You half-paid attention, too focused on your tail. It smacked at the ground, batting away a small amount of dirt with each lackluster slap. The sight hypnotized you, drawing you out of your stupor with each flick. You could not describe the sensation of having a tail, let alone one acting on its own. Reaching out, you brushed your fingers over your tail. Goosebumps littered your whole body as you shivered. More sensitive than you would have expected.

  Your ears flick at the sudden commotion Lo’ak and Spider made. Looking up from your tail, you watched the duo roll on the ground in a playfight. Another of Spider’s attempts to catch Lo’ak off guard and win a fight against the Na’vi. 

  “You’re going to like being in your avatar,” Kiri said. Her hands neared the end of your kuru. “Once you get used to this, of course.”

  You hummed, tearing your gaze from the boys. “Yeah, I won’t lag behind when we’re out.” You touched your palm, tracing the lines etched in it. It tickled. Your neck began to hurt from holding still for so long. “Too bad Neteyam isn’t here.”

  “His fault,” Tuk said, her voice just a touch hurt and uncaring. She wanted her big brother here as much as you did.

  Kiri finished the braid, tying a spare thread around the end. She ran her fingers down the braid once, admiring her work and ensuring it was compact. Her tongue clicked, quick to remind Tuk. “You know how he is with dad. He can’t say no.”

  “But this is a big deal.” Tuk weaved her hands through your small braids, letting them swing around your face. “Done.”

  You set your hands on the ground and pushed yourself to a stand. Your body swayed momentarily, supported by Kiri’s hands on your back. You thanked her, still getting used to the extra weight to balance. Then, you turned away and shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Kiri would not buy it. She stepped around you to face you with her hands on her hips, head cocked in disbelief. “Don’t downplay this. Your first time in your avatar is important to you. So, it’s important to us.”

  You relented, knowing better than to deny the obvious. Instead, you smiled and took her comment to heart. “Thanks.”

  Kiri smiled back, nodding once in finality.

  “Are you guys ready to go?” Lo’ak called back, getting off the ground.

  Spider also pushed off the ground. Both of them were covered in dirt. “Yeah, we need to get going before the eclipse.”

  Kiri glanced back your way. You nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “Finally.” Lo’ak took the lead, waving his hand for you all to follow. “Don’t fall behind.”

  He took off running. You followed, all laughing at your wobbly run. Despite his tease, Lo’ak never strayed far. The group of you dodged and weaved around humans and avatars alike until you reached the edge of the human camp. Then, the real fun began. Daring across the forest for the first time as a Na’vi. It was exhilarating.

  Tuk, ever the youngest, called out to you guys as you ran across treetops. “Wait up!”

  You leaped across a gap between trees, laughing loudly while your body buzzed with adrenaline. This was something you could get used to.

  +:+:+:+:+:+

  For the fifth time, you skidded to a halt, bending at the waist while your shoulders rose and fell rapidly. Taking big, deep breaths, you now understood why the scientists wanted you to take it easy. Not only did you stumble and nearly crash into anything and everything, but you also dragged the trip on longer than it needed to be.

  Spider caught your hunched form out of the corner of his eye, hands on your knees and panting like an animal. “Hold up,” he called up ahead.

  Lo’ak groaned, grabbing an overhead branch as he turned around. “Really? We’re going to get in trouble if we’re late. We’re almost there.”

  “Don’t wait up.” You waved your hand dismissively, only for it to fall back to your side. “I’m good.”

  The group took the time to wait five minutes, nonetheless. 

  By the time you made it to Hometree, the village had been gathered for mealtime. Heads turned in your direction, some Na’vi greeting you. They were certainly kinder than other times you’d come by. As you walked past to find the rest of the Sullys, you leaned down to Spider and spoke in a hushed whisper.

  “This is weird.”

  He shrugged. “Told you they treat you differently when you’re in an avatar.”

  You stood straight and did your best to ignore the stares to the back of your head.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find the family. Neytiri and Jake smiled from where they sat, chatting amongst themselves while Neteyam lent them an ear, preparing the meal. Tuk ran ahead of you, crying about how starved she was. Lo’ak and Kiri soon sat, you and Spider sitting farthest.

  “You’re late,” Neytiri said.

  Lo’ak nodded his head in your direction. “A certain avatar lagged behind.”

  Neteyam looked up from beside his mother. The Na’vi’s eyes widened, taking you in. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His tail swished behind him. You merely smiled from across the fire. When he did find the courage to speak, his father beat him to the punch.

  “You look different.” He smiled, looking you in the eye. It felt weird to be at eye level with him, too used to him towering over you. “How’s your first run?”

  “I think I’m handling it okay.”

  Spider laughed. “No way. You ran like a baby using their legs for the first time.”

  “It was for the first time,” Kiri replied and shook her head. “We probably shouldn’t have rushed out.”

  Jake raised his brow. “That bad, huh?”

  Plates were passed around. Tuk dug into her food while you all talked. No doubt this was from today’s hunt. While you ate, Spider sat back and talked with Lo’ak and Kiri.

  “You will learn,” Neytiri had told you between her own mouthfuls. “Jake had been no better.”

  “And that’s without the years of training.” Jake shook his head. “Those were the days.”

  After eating, you split off with Neteyam to catch up. The others understood for the most part to not follow, distracting Tuk before she could tag along.

  For the most part, you walked normally. Without the pressure of running, you could balance yourself correctly. Neteyam was quiet, never moving past your side, letting you set the pace. You reached a section of Hometree untouched, quiet, and tucked away from the rest of the clan. When you stopped, Neteyam looked your way.

  “Are you tired?”

  “No.” You shook your head, tickled by the concern he displayed. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Just checking.” He followed your lead and sat down beside you, overlooking the view of Pandora. His tail flicked patiently. “So, you think about what you want to do, now that you have an avatar?”

  “Honestly-” You leaned back on your hands, humming in thought. “I never thought this far. It didn’t seem like this would ever happen. I mean, I had to wait five years.”

  “Yeah.” Neteyam looked away. “We can figure it out on the way. There’s so much you’ll be able to do now that you have a kuru.”

  “I guess.” You reached behind you, bringing your kuru braid forward. The tendrils of nerves opened, wiggling in the open air. It was an out-of-body experience, watching nerves that belonged to you wriggle in the air, feeling the sensation wave at nothing and near tasting the air deep in your nervous system, but unable to believe this was yours. You set the braid aside. “First, I have to master how to run. Can’t get anywhere around here by just walking.”

  “We’ll build your stamina.” He smiled and nudged your arm with his elbow. “Then, we’ll get you an ikran.”

  You grimaced. “Not for a while, I hope.”

  “Certainly.” Neteyam grew quiet again. You turned to look at him, finding him already staring at you. His face was caught in a mesh of wonder and awe. He furrowed his brows. “Who did your hair?”

  You blinked, thinking of the braids. “Tuk.”

  “Tuk cut your hair?”

  Oh. “No, that was Lo’ak.” You cringed, thinking how close Tuk was to committing to the act. “She almost did. Why is it bad?”

  He laughed shortly. “It’s uneven.”

  “How should I know?”

  “Here.” Neteyam got up, moving to get behind you. “I’ll fix it.”

  You realized he was undoing your braids in order to do so. “Tuk won’t like you ruining her hard work.”

  He hummed. “She won’t know.”

  “She’ll know.”

  Neteyam’s fingers weaved through your tresses, unwinding them. Loose waves of hair cascaded around your face. Tingles crawled up your spine from the care and gentleness of his hands. You may have even closed your eyes to fully take in the sensation.

  You twisted the braid of your kuru as he held your hair. His knife hissed against its sheath, your rather sensitive ears twitched at the sound. Inhaling deeply, you relaxed your shoulders. You trusted Neteyam, more than Lo’ak or Tuk, to cut your hair.

  Truthfully, Lo’ak had done a moderately good job cutting your hair on the spot. Neteyam did not have much to work with, only fixing the small, unnoticeable imperfections in your hair. You wondered if it was an excuse to just touch your new, soft hair. His siblings seemed to love your hair.

  “There.” Neteyam put away his knife. “Now, it looks even.”

  You let out a half-hearted puff of air. It didn’t seem like that big of an issue. “Thanks.”

  You heard the smile in his response. “You’re welcome.”

  He took his time putting your hair into small braids similar to Tuk’s. With each new bunch of hair gathered, his knuckles would brush along your neck. Pinching your fingers over the braid of your kuru, you fought against the goosebumps that crawled along your skin. A rhythmic smack hit the ground, constant and unwavering. Out of the corner of your eye, you realized it was your tail, not Neteyam’s. It gave away your flush of emotions.

  Your ears twitched and you forced another even breath, looking at the orange sky above. 

Eclipse approached soon. Far in the distance, you spotted the flapping wings of wild ikran, flying as a group to another perch. Pandora, as much as you didn’t belong here, was your home. You could not imagine trading it for Earth, which you heard from Norm looked nothing like this. Pollution and greed had stripped away the beauty it once had, he said, but it had nothing compared to this moon light-years away. You agreed with his sentiment.

  Soft puffs of air fanned the baby hairs on the back of your neck. You contained your shivers, letting your eyes flutter closed. His fingers were nimble, expert in the craft. Body heat permeated from him onto your back, the proximity throwing your heart to the ikrans. Your tail smacked at the ground playfully, betraying the excitement in you despite your trying to quell it. Neither of you spoke of it.

  When all was said and done, Neteyam returned to your side. You let go of your kuru and run your hands through your hair, appreciating the work done by him. This time, your tail swayed anxiously as you looked him in the eye.

  “Does it look okay now?”

  His eyes roamed from your hair to your face. He was quiet, the sunset’s reflection casting a warm glow over his blue skin. A small smile broke onto his face and he nodded. “You look perfect.”

  You returned the smile. Your tail once again whipped to and fro in excitement from the flattery. Neteyam’s smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way you found endearing. Neither of you said anything, turning away at the same time to face forward. The light of day retreated over the horizon.

  “Eclipse is bound.” Neteyam pushed off the ground with a grunt, standing on his feet. He extended his hand down to you. “Come on. Can't let you stay out too late in your avatar.”

  You agreed and took his hand. With little effort, he managed to pull you onto your feet. In the five years you’ve waited for your avatar to grow, Neteyam gained muscle fit for his physique. The twenty-year-old warrior still stood taller than you, much like his father, but the height difference was not as drastic in your avatar.

  On your way down the Hometree, you bumped into Kiri.

  Neteyam regarded her. “Have you seen Spider-”

  “He went back to the camp a while ago.” She looked between you two. “Better get going if you don’t want to be out late.”

  “Right.” He nodded to her. “Thanks.”

  You waved goodbye to Kiri and walked off with Neteyam.

  Sticking to the high ground, you both made your way back to camp. The journey was quiet, apart from shared looks and quiet laughter, for no other reason than you both feeling a strange high. You returned to camp safely and sound as Neteyam walked up with you to the avatar sleeping quarters. Eclipse had just encased the land in darkness and outdoor lights illuminated the camp’s shacks. You stopped by your building, turning to him with a hand raised.

  “I can walk the rest on my own.”

  He smiled. “Can you?”

  You rolled your eyes, unable to contain your own smile. You gently pushed at his shoulder. “Go. Or, will you get lost?”

  He accepted your teasing with a flick of his tail. “I think I know my way.”

  “Alright then.” Your expression softened. You had to stop or else you’d never let him leave. “Goodnight, Nete.”

  His smile widened. “Goodnight.”

  You waved him off before walking up the steps and into the shack.

  Some avatars were still up. Others sound asleep. You made your way to the unclaimed hammock, reserved for your avatar, and climbed into it. Your smile remained even as you closed your eyes.

  When you woke up in the link bed, moments passed before the hood rose and you could sit up. Max looked from you to the screen. “Was being an avatar scary like you expected?”

  You shook your head, smiling again. “It was weird, but I liked it.”

  Norm walked into the room. “Yeah, and next time, don’t stay out late without a head’s up. All avatars have to be accounted for.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  You left after bidding them goodnight, heading to your sleeping quarters. For the rest of the night, you lay there, touching the base of your skull. You could feel it, the kuru, like a phantom. Turning onto your side, you closed your eyes.

  Today was a good day.

[scuttlingcrab]

So it's pretty obvious that Raphael would be a massive fan of luxury items. How would he react to Tav being able to make certain luxury items from scratch (such as lotions, massage oils, perfumes, soaps, etc.) and is really freaking good at it.

Maybe he learns this little fact about Tav when he receives a bundle of custom luxury items from one of his warlocks and it has a note which says, "To: Raphael. From: The mouse. A 'thank you' for the food." (assuming Tav filled a plate of food during the group's first encounter with the fiend)

Thank you for this awesome prompt. I took a liberty with this one, wanted to try something that maybe a writer hasn’t done before re: what luxury item Tav would make Raphael. I also referenced a few characters from my other stories. Marin, the composer from A Night at the Symphony and Dolofina, the warlock, from A Warlock is Born. I couldn’t resist! Hope you enjoy! And send on the next prompt if you haven’t already! :)

Summary: Raphael receives an unexpected gift from Tav.

Warnings: Mild violence/torture

––

A Perfect Fit 

(Image via violadesdragons)

The screams were like music to Raphael’s ears.

The torment that resonated from each shriek, every wail that echoed into his House of Hope, if directed well, could create a symphony that would feed Raphael for weeks. A melody almost as magnificent as Marin’s concertos. Raphael mastered what buttons to push, what minute threads to pull, to achieve perfection.

Every human was an instrument in their own right. They had a unique cord, an unsung talent, that Raphael knew how to excavate and mould. He had spent millennia fiddling with mortals, experimenting with different techniques to inflict pain or even less conspicuous means to really persecute his poor unfortunate pets. 

Nevertheless, Raphael despised it all. Torturing these creatures was so below his station, another idle role he had to play to keep up appearances in this never-ending farce to reach his objective, to reclaim the Crown of Karsus. He longed to see the players of his saga, his glorious ascension, leave the dark confines of the wings and enter the proscenium for all the planes to see.

Raphael listlessly looked up towards his current unfinished task, a withered mortal impaled on rusted spikes. No matter how hard Raphael stared at this rat, how tirelessly he worked his mind to calculate new methods to inflict agony, all Raphael could do was muster an apathetic groan in response. 

He was almost relieved to hear footsteps approaching the dungeon, identifying the bouncy gait of one of his warlocks almost immediately. Dolofina. 

Raphael smiled to himself, letting out a shallow breath as the doors slowly creaked open. He snapped his fingers, and another spike appeared, slowly lifting to meet the others.

“I do hope you have some interesting news for me. And think hard on your answer, or else I might swap you out with poor Boris.” 

Raphael turned to greet Dolofina, the whimpers of the tortured human slowly rising as he approached her. She stared back at him without any emotion, unmoved by the threat. He taught her well.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but a woman was insistent you receive this. She wouldn’t leave Korrilla alone until she confirmed we’d deliver it to you.”

Dolofina lifted the basket in her hands with a sigh, offering it to Raphael. 

“Pah! Which insolent creature is it this time? If it’s that damned–” 

“She only referred to herself as the, and I quote, ‘little mouse.’”

Dolofina seemed perplexed at the name, rolling her eyes as she waited for his response. Raphael’s mouth parted, his eyes instantly becoming more animated at the mention of her.

“Could she be crawling to me already?” So fast, and such a pity. He had been looking forward to a tussle.

Raphael gingerly picked up the basket, holding it in his hands and carefully inspecting every inch as if it was an ancient relic. What a simple little offering, merely a straw woven basket. Its contents were hidden under gold wrapping paper and held together delicately by a red bow.

“Don’t worry, we’ve already inspected it for traps.”

Raphael gave Dolofina a flat stare. 

“Do you think the creature would be so daft?”

Dolofina shrugged.

“I am merely a mortal, what would I know?” 

There was a hint of mischief in Dolofina’s eyes as she smiled back at Raphael, so pleased with herself. He growled, pointing towards the threshold of his dungeon. The skin on his human disguise hissed, verging on transformation. 

“You have overstayed your welcome. And might I remind you, I am your master. I can terminate our agreement whenever I see fit, be it from the smallest lapse in your performance. You know what that means for your future.”

“Yes, master.” Dolofina responded through tight lips. She promptly made her leave, but not without slamming the doors behind her. 

“Must every creature under my employment be so thickheaded?” Raphael whispered, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose. 

When Raphael was sure his boiling blood had cooled, he proceeded to focus his attention on the basket, now weighing heavy in his hands. It would’ve been a shame to have accidentally incinerated the gift with his temper, which was nearly uncontrollable in recent months, without even knowing what was inside.

Raphael started with the bow, carefully untying the knot. Once it was removed, he brought it to his nose, slowly taking in its scent. Cloves and roses. Oh how he relished it. Raphael placed the bow in his pocket and removed the wrapping paper. He discovered a small envelope sitting on top of a golden gift box. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through his veins as he opened the letter. 

To: Raphael  From: The Mouse  Thank you for the food. Please accept this gift in exchange for your hospitality. If the measurements are not sufficient, perhaps we can schedule a fitting. You know where to find me.

Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving the letter floating in the air beside him as he continued with the box. His fingers, usually so calm and still, twitched with excitement. 

Raphael gasped, removing a single doublet from the box, its red colour as dark as blood. The silk melted in his hands, the article of clothing sparkling against the roaring flames of the dungeon. Gold and silver markings were intricately embroidered throughout the jacket, infernal designs suiting Raphael’s tastes. The cuffs of the doublet were adorned with devil tails that swished and curled on a constant loop. 

“My, my, the little mouse has been busy indeed.”

And what artistry! It had been ages, no centuries, since his eyes fell on such an alluring piece. Is this what it would feel like once he held the Crown in his hands? 

Raphael snapped his fingers, the doublet now on his person. He sighed, oh it fit him perfectly, as if that creature knew Raphael’s body like the back of her hand. He raised his arms, bowed, did every possible movement that could come to his mind in that instant, and yet could find no imperfections. 

Raphael was a generous devil, perhaps often too generous. He wasn’t opposed to receiving such luxurious gifts on occasion, but it was dangerous to play with his food. He considered for a moment being harsher to his future clients. The little mouse had a long road ahead of her if she was to help Raphael get what he desired. She needed to focus. No more distractions. No more gifts. 

And yet… 

Raphael clapped his hands and a mirror appeared before him. He gave himself a little spin, grinning. It was a suitable doublet. Cursed creature! Perhaps he could make other uses of these tadpoled yet. What was that mortal saying he heard so often? Ah yes, all work, and no play… 

Raphael was pulled from his thoughts at the howls of the tortured mortal, still impaled above him. Raphael’s cheeks burned, he had been sloppy, overlooking that he was not alone.

He angrily snapped his fingers and the mortal combusted. Their screams died with the flames, leaving no signs of their previous existence as the ashes fluttered away. A waste of a soul, Zariel be damned. She’d never even notice it was missing. 

And with that, Raphael stormed out of the dungeon, proudly wearing his new doublet. 

[piracytheorist]

The Forgers' Kitchen

It's very interesting to me to spot small differences between manga and anime in Spy x Family, considering how closely and faithfully the anime adapts the manga. That way, small differences stick out and sometimes I have the need to document them and share with the world!

So in the manga, the kitchen is basically a long room, with an opening on the wall that connects it to the dining area and living room.

The stove is at the far end, with the fridge on the left side.

Above the stove is a simple ventilation fan, with a cord to turn it on and off. The fridge has separate doors for the main fridge and the freezer. Comparing it to the height of the counters, it looks like it may have a base that makes it higher, judging also by this screenshot here.

It looks like to the left are the counters, and the red circle is where the fridge is. A quick search for "60s fridges" gave me this

so it's entirely possible Endo saw something like this that inspired him for the fridge design.

Finally, the sink is across the fridge, right by the opening in the wall.

A cool design, if you ask me. Washing dishes can be way more pleasant if you're facing a window or open space in general, than facing a wall.

The anime follows the design pretty closely, with two basic differences; the placement of the fridge and stove, as well as the design of the fridge.

This time, the fridge is at the far end, with the stove on the wall next to it, across the sink which is again facing the opening in the wall. The fridge is also of a different design, being the single-door type, I'm guessing with the freezer being inside it and smaller, like this.

And a small difference too. This time for ventilation there's a range hood (I hope that's the right word, I actually never had to use that word in English before so I never learned it, haha) instead of a simple vent with a fan.

It looks like the stove has three hobs, while in the manga it has four. It does, after all, only have three switches for the hobs in the manga. Though it has seven switches in the anime, with the one in the center being further from the other ones. That's a little peculiar, since the switches for the hobs would usually be close to each other, with the hobs for the oven a little further away, if there's any distance at all. In both cases, however, they are gas hobs and the stove is quite spacious!

Almost ridiculously spacious, I'd say XD Look how small Yor looks in front of it, it almost looks like it's two stoves merged together, with a combined oven space!

A few more details:

Note the Bondman magnet on the fridge! I do find the placement of the utensils weird, since they're mostly needed during cooking so you'd need them right by the stove. On the left side of this screenshot, behind Loid, you can see another small appliance. Judging from the above anime screenshot, it's missing from the anime. I checked later episodes too, and it's still not there.

At first I thought it's a microwave since it seems to have a glass window, but it looks too bulky, so I think it may be a countertop dishwasher. After all, the buttons are above the window, where dishwashers usually have them, while in microwaves it's usually next to the window. A quick search shows designs of such dishwashers that include windows to see inside, (though not from the era Spy x Family is inspired from, but I can get behind artistic liberties!).

I'm not super familiar with kitchen designs from that era, but it's certainly interesting to spot all the small details! Reminder that I don't read manga chapters that haven't been animated yet, so please don't spoil me for any further developments!

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 20, 17 mai 1914, Paris. Capes du soir et d'après-midi. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Cape du soir en liberty vert, capuchon satin blanc, bord velours vert foncé. (Evening cape in green liberty, white satin hood, dark green velvet edge.)

Cape en lainage à damiers noir et blanc, cordelière avec gland. (Black and white checkered woolen cape, cord with tassel. (Cloth cape with pleats in the back and front, tapered trim, cord with tassel in the back.)

Cape en drap à plis dans le dos et devant garniture d'effilés, cordelière avec gland dans le dos. (Cloth cape with pleats in the back and front, tapered trim, cord with tassel in the back.)

Cape en taffetas, pain brûlé, col et revers formant bretelles en velours noir. (Taffeta cape, burnt bread, black velvet collar and lapels forming straps.)

Cape en petit drap mastic, empiècement rond dans le dos formant bretelles se croisant à la taille et se nouant sur la jupe. (Cape in small mastic cloth, round yoke in the back forming straps crossing at the waist and knotting on the skirt.)

[3rdeyeblaque]

On August 30th we venerate Young King Brother Fred Hampton on his 75th birthday 🎉

Deputy Chairman Fred Hampton was the one of THE greatest orators, leaders, and visionaries to join the Black Panther Party Of Self-Defense 🖤✊🏾

Fred Hampton was born & raised in the Chicago suburbs of Illinois. Civil liberties, rights, and laws were always of great interest to him. After graduating high school, he enrolled in a pre-law program at Triton Junior College in River Grove, Illinois. He joined his local NAACP branch to get involved in the civil rights movement. He rose to the position of Youth Council President for his strong leadership and organization skills. In this position, Brother Hampton mobilized a racially diverse group of 500 young men/women who successfully lobbied city officials to create better academic services and recreational facilities for Black American youth.

In 1968, he joined the Black Panther Party of Self-Defense, headquartered in Oakland, CA. Shortly thereafter, he was selected to head the Chicago Chapter. Here, he created strong personal and political ties with his mentor & chaplain, Father George Clements at the [then] Holy Angels Catholic Church; which served as a safe haven for the Panthers targeted for police surveillance or harassment.

Brother Hampton accomplished a great many things as a young, prolific leader of the BPP Chicago Chapter. He successfully negotiated a gang truce on live television.One of his greatest successes was an unprecedentedly integrated approach to sociopolitical unity; he formed a “Rainbow Coalition”, which included: the Students for a Democratic Society, the Blackstone Rangers, a street gang and the National Young Lords, a local Puerto Rican organization. He was the first leading Panther to achieve this. This alliance is what truly struck the cord of fear in the Chicago P.D. & the FBI. In an effort to neutralize the Chicago Chapter of the BPP, the Black Panthers were placed under heavy surveillance & were subjected to several harassment campaigns.

By 1969, several Black Panthers and Chicago cops either suffered injury or were killed in shootouts across the city, which resulted in the arrest of over 100 members. On Dec 4th of that same year, under the FBI's initiative, the County PD & Chicago PD conducted heinous, unlawful, and unnecessary raid on the Black Panther Party's HQ in the early morning hours while Brother Hampton, leader Mark Clark, and other Panthers slept. They fired over 100 rounds into the apartment without warning. Twelve officers executed Brother Hampton as he slept, drugged by a sedative slipped into his drink by "Panther"/FBI informant O'Neal. Naturally, in Jan 1970, the County Coroner's office ruled the Black Panther leaders' deaths as "justifiable homicide".

Over 5,000 souls attended Brother Hampton’s funeral. Many civil rights activates eulogized him, including his good friend and mentor Father George, who also held a Requem Mass for him at his church.

After many years of coverups, internal investigations, lawsuits, raids, and conspiracies confirmed, the FBI, County PD, & Chicago PD finally admitted to the wrongful deaths of Brother Hampton and Mark Clark. In 1990, and again in 2004, the Chicago City Council passed resolutions commemorating December 4th as Fred Hampton Day. Today, Brother Hampton rests at the Bethel Cemetery in Haynesville, LA where his parents are from - which continues to endure violent desecration from White Supremacist vigilantes/supporters.

" You can kill a revolutionary but you can never kill the revolution. People have to be armed to have power" - Young King Fred Hampton

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his love of our people, his relentless dedication to the BPP cause, and his young yet wise spirit that lives on. May be the find restful peace in spirit that he was/is denied in the physical.

Offering suggestions: flower offerings at his grave, libations of water, prayers and frankincense toward his elevation

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[gyusimp]

hiii,

first of all I LOVE your work and your writing, it’s incredible how you capture your writing and I find your gyutaro fics to be very spicy yet creative.

I would love if you could make a college fic (or a high school fic, which ever one your comfortable with) where the reader is a shy, nerdy girl who has volunteered to work at the library during summer break at night time. As they’re working they bend over to fix the printer and get stuck or they ask gyutaro to hold some cords so they can reach into the printer to fix something inside the cabinet.

anyways use your imagination I know you wont let me down <3

°•Library nights with Gyutaro•° (Nsfw)

Thank you so much sweet little anon! I'm glad you like my horny nonsense lol. You said you liked spicy so I took the liberty of making your request NSFW since you didn't specify, but if you had something fluff and SFW in mind please don't hesitate to tell me and I'll rewrite a version for everyone, ok? 🍬

⚠️WARNINGS: NSFW content | Smut content | Kimetsu Gakuen AU but both are adults for some reason | MINORS DNI!

Art credits: @ bluethebone on IG

Summer vacation was just around the corner at Kimetsu Gakuen. Some teachers would take turns to rest and to work on planning their classes and some projects for when the students had returned, some students would even take turns to support the teachers in their tasks. It was a task that no one wanted to do, besides you, the only ones who accepted were a red-haired boy with flashy earrings, another with long black hair with mint eyes and a little black-haired girl with blue eyes and a soft voice. It wasn't because your greatest desire in life was to help the teachers, you found out that extra points would be given in some subjects and that would help you maintain a good average in your classes as you did until now, besides, your mother was all day at work just like your dad so being at home all day would be quite boring.

That led you to volunteer as an assistant at the school. Principal Amane introduced you to your classmates and assigned each of them a time and place where they would be collaborating. Tanjiro would help with some repairs inside the cafeteria, Muichiro would be in the playground and gym, Makomo would be in Kimetsu Elementary, and you would be in the library. The others seemed to be very nice and they were, they all ate together with you at lunch time and as the days went by you became very close, Tanjiro even brought you all some cookies from his family's bakery. Today you would be on the afternoon shift, after another boy named Murata joined the volunteering later, you would take turns with him to help in the library. The afternoon shift was very quiet, generally you only had to organize books in their areas, clean and keep everything in its place, you even took the liberty of listening to some music on your airphones and reading a book that was of interest to you .

Today you would continue reading that romantic novel you found yesterday but when you arrived your plans changed. You entered the library with your things, it was always empty but today you found someone inside, a student. And not just any student, it was Gyutaro Shabana.

The guy was known as a delinquent within the school, he always spent time in detention or causing problems for students and teachers, especially the art teacher. Despite that, you embarrassingly had to admit that you found him quite attractive despite his reputation and everyone else thinking otherwise so your heart skipped a beat when you found him here and saw how he examined you from head to toe with one look

"H-hello," You barely said, entering and walking towards your spot at the library reception.

The boy didn't respond, he simply continued doing his thing next to a pile of books and sheets on the table, biting a pencil between his crooked teeth. You couldn't stand it, being so close to Shabana made you nervous. You tried to do anything to keep yourself busy but at the same time admire him from a distance. His hunched posture working in the chair, his blue eyes looking down and his thin fingers writing notes in hasty and poorly legible handwriting. The guy had something that made him uniquely attractive, interesting, sexy in your opinion. Doubt gnawed at you to know what he was doing here on vacation, but it wasn't until the next day that you dared to ask him.

"Summer school and shit" he replied.

Gyutaro was very intelligent but very lazy at times so that led him to get unsatisfactory grades and having to attend remedial classes during the vacations. He thought the same thing happened to you but he didn't hesitate to shamelessly mock you when you told him that you helped the school of your own free will. According to him it was the most pathetic decision he had ever seen someone make in their life. His comments were cruel like a joke but you didn't dislike it at all, you usually joke in a similar way with your closest friends so the time you started spending with Gyutaro wasn't anything new or offensive. You spent this entire week talking to him, he told you that he preferred to go to school in the afternoon since in the morning he was in charge of spending time with his sister and preparing lunch for both of them, then his mother would come home after work and she would take care of Ume while he studied here. Well, in theory, Gyutaro ended up procrastinating most of the time in the library after his math classes with Mr. Shinazugawa, on more than one occasion you found him asleep on the table, playing something on his cell phone or worse, watching videos too spicy even if you were around; you had to call his attention after a woman's moan broke out in the middle of the silence of the library when he thought his airphones were connected to his cell phone.

It was Monday again but this week you wouldn't be seeing Gyutaro because Murata would cover the morning shift, your shift was from 7:00 am - 2:00 Gyutaro's classes started at 3:00 pm then one more hour in the library until he got tired and went home so you could only talk to him via text. Yes, you gave him your contact and he gave you his, which is very unusual for him unless he really likes someone but either way neither of you ended up writing anything to the other. Embarrassment consumed you when you opened his chat so you preferred to talk to him until next week in person. Next monday arrived and you were eager to see him, your heart was beating a mile an hour and as soon as you entered you took care of greeting him and sitting next to him at the usual table, that was the same until Wednesday. On Thursday you were planning to do the same but your plans were affected. Mr. Rengoku needed some printed handouts with readings, exercises and questions for his students in the summer school History class, the man arrived with a smile before going home that day and handed you a USB with the document to to print 20 brochures for tomorrow. Each brochure had approximately 12 pages so your entire afternoon had been taken up next to the printer thanks to the young blond man with the loud voice, you got to work so you wouldn't have to stay late.

From time to time Gyutaro would get up from his chair to hover near you and ask you what the hell you were doing, why you were surrounded by sheets, a whole valley of paper around you. You explained as you organized everything on the computer and programmed the 20 copies on the printer. The device was not very recent and you had to monitor each of the sheets that came out so that it worked correctly until the most feared thing happened. The paper jammed. You tried with your life to move and fix it but the damn thing just didn't obey your orders so you swallowed your shame and went to find Gyutaro to give you a hand.  Both of you examined the machine, checking inputs, cables and so on until it made a very strange robotic noise. 

"Some printers open from the back, have you checked there?" Gyutaro asked while checking some cables.

"You're right, not yet." Gyutaro moved the device to give you access to the back, you leaned over the wooden furniture and began to look for a door or removable piece to unclog the paper.

Gyutaro was trying to help you by checking cables and other things until he finally got grumpy and gave up before smashing the printer against the wall. He took a couple steps back and crossed his arms as he watched you, cursing on the other side. His eyes were on the printer but then they went to your hair, to your arms moving repetitively, to your legs and the pressure that your white stockings caused on your thigh fat and then to your skirt, your butt peeking out shamelessly from under it and it seemed like you didn't know it. The movements you made made Gyutaro's mind fly much further, Shabana is an undoubtedly perverted guy and that was not a secret to anyone. A pressure began to build under his pants, colliding with the beige fabric of his uniform, making him walk towards you and was about to grab your waist with both hands, but he was interrupted by your voice.

"I got it!" You said excitedly, after hearing the printer return to work.

You sorted the paper and made sure to count the pages to resume printing, you were about to return to your chair but Gyutaro cornered you against the desk with both arms next to your hips, it made you very nervous seeing him so close.

"Wow, you have very skillful hands..." he said, smiling at you with many hints.

You didn't know what to do, were you imagining everything? Your cheeks burned in a second and something inside you made you play along.

"I know, I know how to do some things."

Gyutaro smiled mischievously at you, looked at you from head to toe and dared to caress your leg, bringing one hand to your butt under your uniform skirt.

"Really? Why don't you show me instead of bragging, huh?" He said, lifting you onto the desk with both hands, positioning himself between your legs.

Something warmed inside you, the speed in your chest made you smile back at him and grab him by the back of his neck to kiss him on the lips as he approached you. Gyutaro kissed you with desperation and inexperience but that didn't mean it didn't feel fucking good, the blue-eyed boy licked every part of your mouth, kissed your neck and left wet, hungry marks on your collarbones while making you choke on moans when he rubbed his member in the middle of your thighs.

"G-Gyutaro...someone could come." You said, trying to push him away and make him see reason.

"Do you think anyone is still here?" He scoffed. "Don't be stupid, that's why teachers offer high scores if you come to volunteer, everyone is at home while the stupid students do the work they should." He huffed between kisses on your neck.

"B-but, what if a student comes?" Your voice sounded worried despite the desire in it.

"Then they will learn not to mess with my woman."

Hearing him say that turned you on so much, you didn't know if it was because Gyutaro was also aroused that he said that but without a doubt that he claimed you as his without giving a damn about the others turned you to a pulp in his arms. 

Gyutaro's hands went to your shirt to get rid of your green tie and open each of your buttons to leave more desperate, wet kisses on your breasts, leaving red marks on your soft skin and shiny trails of his hot saliva, you grabbed his shoulders and you unbuttoned his shirt too to see his torso. He looked like a very thin boy, actually, his waist was quite small but his chest and arms were very strong. You brought both hands to his chest and caressed him sensually, lightly running your nails over him and playing with his nipples while he devoured you with kisses and nibbled you, with his hands never leaving your butt under your skirt for a second, playing with the lace of your panties. You leaned a little to kiss his neck and trapezius, Gyutaro's collarbones were very pronounced and while you licked his skin in the middle of kisses, you moved your hands towards his back to grab his butt and try to put your hands under his pants but he quickly stopped you. He grabbed both your hands tightly and didn't allow you to move forward.

"I thought you wanted me to show you my skills," you told him, mockingly.

"I changed my mind. I'll show you, okay?" He spoke firmly and authoritatively, making your panties wet.

Gyutaro brushed the hair from your neck and kissed your shoulders roughly until he slowly pushed you to lie down on the desk, leaving your legs dangling. Your hands tangled in his greenish curls, you couldn't help but moan at every touch of his long fingers, he lifted your skirt up to the top of your thighs and began to unbutton his belt and pants until he left his naked member exposed. Looking down and noticing how big he was, the blue eyed boy spit into his palm and began pumping his cock so it dripped more between his fingers, eager to fill you completely. Seeing the "V" shaped lines on Gyutaro's abdomen just above his member made you shiver with pleasure, just below his navel you could see a small trail of black hair. You desperately hoped that Gyutaro would take off your panties or you would do it yourself but when you saw his hand reach towards your core and feel his fingers sliding down your slit it was a much bigger relief. Gyutaro was aware of the risk that someone could get in, so he decided to leave your panties in place and just move them to the side with his index finger, watching with desire how wet you were and how you filled his fingers with small, slippery transparent threads.

"I bet you're really tight." He told you, licking his fingers and pulling your panties aside again.

Gyutaro stimulated your hole with his fingers with a couple of movements but when he felt your soft walls taking him warmly, his ambition made him take his cock and insert it directly into you, making you moan loudly, arching your back, instinctively opening your legs wider to receive him. You could feel Gyutaro stretching you, your moans accompanied his gasps and the sound of the printer doing its job, your uniform was a complete hindrance to both of you until you changed positions and Gyutaro put you face down on the desk. He entered you again and gave you a couple of spanks making you gasp his name.

"I love how you beg for me, you nerdy little bitch." He hissed, drunk with pleasure.

Gyutaro's moans were increasing, he took the audacity to lower his hands to your chest and put both hands inside your bra to massage your breasts while he fucked you. Your legs fought to keep you firm but each thrust weakened you more, you felt your clit throb and your hole get wetter and wetter until a lot of wet sounds filled the library, sweat ran under your knees and you felt drops running between your thighs without stopping, you didn't know if they were your juices. You clenched roughly making Gyutaro moan and curse, picking up speed as you were hit by your orgasm, an electrifying and abundant one that left you trembling beneath him, creating a slippery ring around Gyutaro's cock inside your swollen pussy. You were empty-minded, blinded by lust until you suddenly felt empty all of a sudden. You looked back and realized that Gyutaro had cum all over your thighs and part of the desk. So he pulled out of you before his orgasm.

Gyutaro was agitated just like you, his chest rising and falling and his bangs falling messily over his sweaty forehead, the perfect feeling of your tight pussy still had him seeing stars. You composed yourself and organized your panties and uniform, you noticed that even the 20 pamphlets had finished printing so you reluctantly organized them to finish stapling them tomorrow.

Your face began to burn, becoming aware of what had just happened, you didn't know if Gyutaro had done this because he was simply horny or because he actually liked you. It was something that you would analyze with your pillow tonight so you preferred to say goodbye to him briefly.

"See you tomorrow." You said, grabbing your things.

Gyutaro didn't say anything, he left his backpack where it was and began to walk towards you without taking his eyes off you, for a second you thought he was going to kill you until he took you by the waist and gave you a kiss on the lips, slowly and delicious making you melt again.

"We just fucked and that's all you're saying?" He scoffed, making you blush. "I love you as much as I love your pussy, stupid girl. At least say 'thank you' or some shit."

"I-I... me too- i mean...ok."

Gyutaro couldn't help but laugh at your inability to speak and the deep red painting your face, he finds you very adorable. "Next time we can do it completely naked, okay?" Gyutaro said, giving you a small spank.

That night he offered to take you home on his motorcycle.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lord Devlon x Illyrian!reader: Give Me What I Want.[*]

A/N: I thank you so deeply for making this request and opening my eyes to this male, oml—

Warnings: slight brat taming (woah!), wing play, dom/sub dynamics (kinda)

Arms fly over his shoulders, gripping to steady yourself as you jerk your knee upward, aiming at the soft organ between his legs.

A low snarl rips from his chest, a broad, calloused palm biting into your thigh, keeping you from slamming it home. He twists your leg to the side, pulling it up over his hip, stepping into you so you’re tipping backward—forced to desperately cling to him to keep from falling to the kitchen floor.

“Let me go, brute,” you hiss, digging your nails into the muscle cording his shoulders, hanging from his strength. “I would sooner sleep outside this winter than visit your blasted brother again. He makes a pass at me every time you look away.”

“If you’d stop seducing him with those eyes of yours, there wouldn’t be a problem,” he growls, free arm wrapping around your waist, keeping you within his warmth. “I can’t take you anywhere without something happening.”

“You’re putting this on me?” You snarl, arms aching from holding him so tight, having spent the afternoon drying the various pots and pans from lunch, then immediately switching to preparing dinner, which is laying untouched atop the table. “Don’t you feel any sense of protection for your wife? Your own brother is trying to steal me out from right beneath your nose, ‘Lo. Aren’t you embarrassed? Ashamed? I’m not some common whore to be traded about, no matter how you like to say so.”

Rough fingertips splay across your ribs, skating beside your breast, possessively. “He knows what would happen to him if he so much as touched something of mine. If advances have been made, you have only yourself to blame, temptress that you are.”

“That’s your answer?” You hiss. “That it’s my fault your brother keeps trying to take liberties with me? You should train your dogs better.”

Devlon growls in warning. “He is my brother, and you will show him the respect he deserves. He is a fully fledged warrior, and you will do well to treat him as one.” He pulls you tighter to his body, your back straining with the curve, gritting your teeth against the ache. “Or do I need to remind you of your placement in this world?” You snarl your disagreement, hands raising to the thick, dark locks of his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. “I will submit to my husband, and my husband only. If you know so thoroughly that I am yours, why tolerate any other male attempting to put his hands on me. Do you have no sense of possession? As your wife, I would expect more aggression from you, but clearly this brother of yours has something over you if you’re at his mercy—”

“I will not have you sewing discord within my family, witch.” Lip curls at the title, hands lowering from his hair, trailing down his back, just grazing the great wings—

The second you do, Illyrian instinct kicks in, and he goes for the throat. Muscle tenses, then you turn soft and pliable in his arms. Calloused fingers stroke over the sensitive skin placatingly, as if calming a beast through scratching behind its ears. Heat flushes your cheeks, legs trembling, arms turning weak and limp as the stimulation settles in the pit of your belly.

“Don’t… Quit it, ‘Lo,” you pant, shooting him a scathing glare. He can’t just do this every time you have an argument. And yet it always seems to end with you flipped on your back, a larger pair of wings hiding you from the world, your fingers running through his hair while his hips grind against your own.

Hands fall away from his wings, instead pulling to your chest, attempting to squirm out of his dominating hold, feeling all of a sudden as though his hands are all over your body, touching the curve of your hip, the softness of your waist, the hollow of your throat. “We aren’t done with this argument,” you manage, heat already pounding between your legs.

“Argument?” He pulls you tighter to his chest, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you speak of a children’s sparring match like it’s a war.”

Grit your teeth. “Stop infantilising me. You don’t give me proper attention, or the topics I bring up. A good husband listens to his wife.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says dismissively, though his hands have slowed on your wings. You’re grateful for the reprieve.

“You’re being dense,” you snap, regaining enough to control to steady yourself with the one leg that’s still planted on the floor. “I would’ve though as warlord you would understand when to pick your battles—you’re always saying that makes a good warrior.”

“You think we were battling?” He sneers, pulling your thigh tighter over his hip. “You’d be on the floor painted black and blue if we were.”

“This house is my battle ground,” you hiss sharply, anger flaring in your blood at the nonchalance he spoke about hurting you with. “As your wife, home and family are my designated areas. You don’t hear me asking what you spoke about during those meetings of yours, because I know my place. And I don’t expect your help in the kitchen other than perhaps giving me coin to buy the necessary materials, because that isn’t your place. Your brother’s actions are an attack on our family, and as a relatively dignified male, I expect you to defend it.” You finish, keeping your attention locked with his sharp hazel eyes.

Dark brows furrow as his attention pierces into you, the edges of his mouth twisted in an almost permanent frown. You fight to keep from shifting in his hold as he judges your points.

“Unnervingly sound reasoning, as usual,” he mutters, relenting at last. Lips quirk in triumph, making him shoot you a dark glance, fingers biting into your thigh. “I suppose it’s not acceptable for him to put his hands on my wife, even if provoked.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you snap, heat finally receding enough for you to be rational. “Where did that idea even come from? I’ve been nothing but loyal to you.” He snarls roughly at that, hips pressing into your abdomen. “Don’t lie to me, wife. Do you even understand the strain you put on me to resist taking you before our wedding night?”

Lips part as heat flows between you, something hard and stiff pressing into you, the shape of his arousal more prominent that it was before. “What are you talking about?” You breathe, his mouth poised to devour your own. A muscle feathers in his jaw, and you can feel the strength contained within his warrior’s body seeping into your own. “You know what I’m talking about,” he growls. “You are female. You should hold no power over me.”

You can do nothing but stare up into his hazel eyes, two siphons glittering on either shoulder, blazing storm-cloud grey. “And yet every day drove me deeper into madness. Every day I was denied you, deprived of you.” Lips brush over your own, a roughened promise whispered in secret. “I could have killed on our wedding day, with how intense that strain was.”

He had seemed ill-tempered—you’d assumed he was simply innately miserable, rather than it being out of impatience. “‘Lo…” you plead, softly, breathlessly.

“It should not be me that feels that way alone,” he growls, hand sliding up between your wings, your spine arching. “I should not be the one subject to you.”

“Yet here you are,” you manage, wishing he would shut up and put his mouth over your own already. He snarls, silencing you. “Can you even comprehend the need I have for you? Understand a fraction of the longing I feel for you? How my bones groan to have you near?”

The world around him falls away, negative space. “Show me,” you breathe, “show me.”

Hot lips press over your own, hand releasing your leg in favour of sliding beneath your ass, hauling you upward. Thighs wrap tight around his hips, your hands cupping his jaw as he groans up into the kiss, head tipped back to go deeper. Fingers thread through the thickness of his dark hair, rolling your hips against him, hands dipping lower. Skating over his shoulders, down his back.

He snarls into your mouth as your nails graze the base of his wings, the tendons shuddering beneath the feather-light touch. His hold loosens, allowing you to slide down a little, his arousal pressing flush to your centre. Hips buck as you attach your mouth to his neck, your Lord stalking from the kitchen, prowling through your house so he can bed you. Teeth scrape over a pulse point, hands squeezing your ass in response, shifting you in his arms so your centre rubs over him.

Forearm slides beneath you, hand gripping the nape of your neck, unlatching your mouth from his throat. Siphons burn the colour of thunder-clouds, hazel sharp as it pierces into you. “Hands and knees,” he grits out. “On the double.”

Neither of you dare waste a second. The moment he releases you, ties are loosened, clothes are strewn across the floor, wings flare for balance as you’re practically shoved onto the bed. Feel the heavy weight of his cock between your legs, one arm sliding down your front, calloused fingers plying you apart enough so you’ll be able to take him. “‘Lo, please…” you pant, tightening around his digits as they slide in and out, curling softly against spots he knows you like.

Pleasure weakens your muscles, lowering onto your forearms, wings twitching near their tips, shuddering as heat pulses between your legs. “I need you relaxed,” he grits out, your spine curving at the rough drag of the syllables. “I am relaxed,” you pant, “do it.”

Your Lord curses under his breath, then pulls away; you whine at the emptiness. It’s transformed into a moan when the tip of his cock presses to your entrance instead, poised to fill you up—if he would just push his hips forward. You hiss, telling him to get on with it, but he only slides in the first inch or so, nowhere near enough yet. “What are you doing?” You manage breathlessly, attempting to shift to peer at him, but he holds you still.

“Do you feel how badly you want that?” He growls, pulling out a little more. You could scream at him to slam in, but it won’t get you anywhere, so you nod your head instead, choosing compliance over disobedience. “Imagine constantly feeling that need every time someone so much as walked in the same room as you. Do you see how cruel you were?” A moan slips from your lips, his hand rising from between your legs to grip your breast, thumbing at the sensitive peak of your nipple. “I’m sorry, ‘Lo,” you pant, practically trembling beneath his hands. “I’m so sorry…”

“I bet you’re fucking sorry,” he snarls. “Not so nice being on the receiving end, is it?”

Swallow thickly, heartbeat spiking at the vulgar language. “Please, ‘Lo. Please, I need you.” Fingers pinch the sensitive skin. “Of course you do.”

Then he slides in, and you’re pressed forward, making room for him until his hips are tight against the backs of your thighs. Eyes roll with pleasure, harsh pants of relieve spilling from your lips as you clamp down on him. Words blur and fumble, a strange mesh of pleading sounds pouring into the air, the duvet doing nothing to muffle them. “That’s better,” he groans, drawing his hips back in favour of slamming in. You cry out, pleasure rocking your mind as he sets a punishing pace, hips smacking against your thighs, cock touching those previously stimulated spots, having you tighten around him.

Canines scrape over the junction of your neck and shoulder, finding the part he likes, where you’ll struggle to conceal the mark. Teeth bite down and you moan, wings fluttering in pleasure as he presses against them, pinning them to your back. Vision blurs with the stimulation, tears brimming along your lashes, bursting with the need to have him this deep inside you at all times, to be so utterly and completely full there’s hardly room for breath.

Your husband pulls away, gripping you by the hips, slamming you back against him in time with the rough pace he’s chosen. Cries spill helplessly from your chest as he puts his weight behind each thrust, grinding his hips against you so he’ll touch more of the lovely, mouth-watering places inside you. You try to cover your mouth but he’s having none of it, one hand fisting in your hair as he tugs you upright, forcing your spine to curve to his will as he pounds into you.

Waves of dizzying pleasure crest over your skin, a scream whimpering from your mouth as you flutter around his cock, sending him over the edge. He snarls as it hits him, release spurting into you, feeling the thick liquid spill deep inside, filling you up and stuffing you full. Eyes slide shut, pushing tears down your cheeks while muscles spasm from overstimulation. The last waves finish, and his grip loosens on you, allowing you to collapse down into the mattress, exhausted.

The bed dips to your left as he settles beside you, one great wing splaying across your back, tucking you beneath it. Take your time to regain your strength, before rolling closer, your own wings folding to allow you to press into the sturdy heat of his side. “What about supper?” You question quietly, eyes still shut as you bask in the aftermath. He grunts noncommittally. “We can eat later.”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbles, hunger beginning to make an appearance now your mind is unoccupied. You groan, brows narrowing into a frown before you sigh, making to push up from the bed. His wing presses you down, keeping you laying comfortably on your front. “I’ll get it,” he mutters, standing and moving to kitchen.

When he returns, you’ve burrowed under the covers, closer to his side than your own, eyes shut, breathing deep and even. He rolls his eyes, setting the plates down on the tables either side your large bed.

You’ll wake up in an hour or so, once you’re sufficiently rested.

Then it’ll be time for round two.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Now You See 'Em, Now You Don't (18+)

Part 1 of Ghosts and Mirages

Warning: Heavy mentions of blood, gore, violence, and smut. Choking, finger fucking, mirror sex, voice kink. Plenty of smut.

!Please beware!

Summary: After a dangerous encounter leading towards your own capture and torture, you; Codename "Mirage", went from one of the best snipers on the task force with a bubbly sense of humor and strong wit, to a stone-cold demeanor woman who let her vendetta get the better of her, almost costing her the lives of her teammates.

Ghost wasn't too happy about this, and based off experience, he refuses to let your mind head down that path any further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Mirage can be many things: A body of water in the middle of a desert, an assassin in the dead dark of the night on a rooftop, a glimmer of light reflecting off hot pavement before the sun set, all disappearing from the eye the moment you get too close.

People could say that the words ghost and mirage have pretty similar meanings, but not towards those who took the names to identify themselves by.

You wished you could say you worked hard to earn that name, which you slightly did. Once the name was put to the wind, it permanently stuck to you ever since.

Your top specialty was your excellent aim, always volunteering yourself to take the liberty of helping the squads you were assigned to. If there was a group of snipers, you would take the lead and give orders. If you had to work alone, you gladly did so.

Your actions didn’t go unnoticed, gaining the attention of those who took an interest in your talents. You couldn’t fully admit publicly that you were proud of your skills, believing that karma could come back and bite you in the ass one day, but you definitely felt a swell of pride with every compliment that flooded your earpiece.

You couldn’t exactly remember when you found yourself working alongside the men of Task Force 141, eventually fully assimilating yourself into the team. While being unaware if any of the higher ups had officially approved it, you doubt they were going to say anything against it now.

Price definitely wasn’t complaining, that was all you really cared for.

After a short while during a mission, an interesting game of name picking occurred after completing your objective to eliminate any enemy snipers. While the option of using a suppressed rifle was possible, there were only five camouflaged snipers along the cliffs, allowing you to sneak up on them one by one and jam a knife into their necks, severing vocal cords before they could even scream.

Soap had taken the liberty of giving you the name “She-Ghost,” which caught you off guard as you hid in the dry grass, a few feet away from your recent victim. Why She-Ghost? None of your enemies saw you coming.

You’re pretty sure Ghost had his own name and reasoning trademarked. You were alright with the man, but you never saw anything between the two of you that you shared in common, let alone enough to share a code name. Price shut down any future commentary on the topic before reminding everyone to focus on the mission at hand.

“She-Ghost sounds kind of sexist, by the way.” You couldn’t help but pitch into the silence that followed after.

“It does not.” Soap retorted.

“It does.”

“Enough,” The gruffy voice of Ghost spoke up. “Calling her She-Ghost makes her sound like she’s my sister.”

“You’re right. I just remembered yer’ old enough to be her dad.” Soap retorted, making you bite your lip to suppress a laugh.

“Thanks for making me feel young, Johnny.”

You wish that night ended much easier than it sounded, but it wasn’t.

Somehow, you missed a sniper to kill, who then alerted his comrades of the lone assassin hiding up on the cliffs. The loud struggles and muffles were heard by everyone through your earpiece before connections were cut, your attackers knocking you out with the butt of a rifle to your right temple.

Where you were dragged off to was a mystery. Where you had woken up was also a mystery, but not the enemies who surrounded you when you were woken up via water being poured over your head, bound and gagged to a chair. You were stripped of all your equipment, leaving you in your simple garments. The room smelled dank, the air heavy with expensive, putrid cigar smoke. The only source of light hanging from a bulb over your head, your vision too blurred to fully make out the faces of the men standing in front of you.

Their were four people in the room: one of them you recognized straight away as your crew’s target. He grabbed ahold of your jaw and forced you to look at him, speaking to you in a language you didn’t really care to learn all that well just yet. He stepped to the side, directing your head towards a camera stand a few feet away pointing straight towards you. A tiny red light confirmed that whatever was to happen was all being recorded.

Saying you were scared was a ridiculous understatement. You were at mercy to the men inside this room inside a building in the middle of god knows where, who planned to torture and kill you before sending the video off to your team. Hell, it might even be broadcasted live to those who fought for the enemy, setting an example to what happens to enemy soldiers, especially women such as yourself, for fighting against them.

You were tortured inside that small, dimly lit room for hours, maybe even longer. There was no way you could tell the time, your hands kept tightly bound behind the backrest of the wooden chair. You were pretty sure they even took your watch away.

After constant punches to your face and body, the leader began speaking to you again in his common language. When you didn’t answer any of his questions, you were beaten even more until he tried again. This process went on for a good while, not a single word leaving your lips.

Then, he got smart enough to speak to you in broken English, but the only response he got from you was a wheezy laugh. He wasn’t satisfied with the response, extending his hand, being gifted a knife by his comrade. After asking you one more time and receiving nothing in return, he dug the blade down the side of your face. The sharp sting of the knife scraping your right cheekbone down to your bottom lip made you cry out.

What made it worse was their unique creativity, forcing you to talk once more while slicing the tips off Cuban cigars before igniting them. When you didn’t, their leader proceeded to blow smoke in your face before deciding to cauterize your fresh wound with the burning end of the cigar, laughing at your screams when they twisted it deep into your cheek.

“Hurts, no? You talk now?” He questioned you, gripping ahold of your chin.

“Go... to fucking hell!” You gritted out before spitting blood to his face, making him wince and retort. You laughed at his reaction, seeing him wipe it off with visible disgust before grabbing ahold of your neck, squeezing hard and tilting your attention upwards. He held the end of the blade right in front of your right eye before pulling it back, preparing to kill you right then and there.

Seeing you weren’t afraid, or he was just as chickenshit as he looked, He lowered his hand, clicking his tongue before handing the knife back to his partner, who carelessly left it on a table near the door. Gesturing towards the two others, they yanked you off the chair and dragged you out of the room, leading you to god knows where in this building.

You would think that their expensive taste in cigars meant that they could afford better quality tape. The water they had thrown on you prior had weakened the adhesive just enough for you to allow your wrists some wiggle room.

Releasing one of your hands, you yanked yourself from the men's grips, pulling the tape over the closest man’s neck to act as a last-minute choker. You tugged hard, hearing him choke while his partner quickly pulled out his gun. The bullets he fired naturally hit your new man-shield, quickly pushing the slumping body towards his partner before wrestling for the gun, headbutting the man before firing half the mag into his skull.

Faint bursts of bombs echoed from the outside, letting you know that you were close to an exit, and something was definitely happening outside. The exit was reasonably tempting, but with you now being in possession of a gun, you proceeded to stumble back the way you came from.

A man quickly stepped out of the room when he got notified of the commotion, immediately getting shot in the head before he could draw his own weapon.

You fired the last two bullets towards the only remaining man in the room, sending him to the ground in agony as the bullets punctured the back of his knees. Throwing the weapon aside, you reached for the knife from the table, getting down on the ground to turn the man over to his back.

It wasn’t the leader, you quickly realized that. It was just some goddamn man dressed in a similar uniform. The man you were after had gotten away after you were dragged off.

He pulled a gun from his belt, pistol-whipping you to throw you off guard. He fired, the bullet barely grazing the shell of your ear, making a piercing ring rattle your throbbing head.

You jammed the knife into the man’s neck before he could shoot you again, shouting in his face while you pushed his arm away. Refusing to stop there, you pulled out the knife to embed it straight into his chest, puncturing his left lung. You repeated the action over and over, watching his mouth fill with blood as major arteries were struck. The substance stained your hands and blade, splashing onto your face every single time you retracted. You screamed out your rage with every stab, feeling the knife repeatedly scrape against rib bones and puncture his heart.

The camera had fallen over from the chaos, the cracked lenses capturing an angle of your body sitting over his, witnessing the bloodshed that stained the ground.

A sudden rush of footsteps came running down the hallway towards the room you were in. Those who entered first witnessed firsthand when you jammed the blade into the man's right eye, your throat raw from screaming.

You looked up, seeing familiar looking clad soldiers entering the room, led by an all too familiar man scoring a black mask with a white painted skull standing beside another familiar mohawk wearing man.

“What... took you so damn long Lieutenant?” You panted while raising yourself from the corpse, tasting blood on your tongue from the throbbing gash on your bottom lip, bleeding even more after your consistent screaming.

“Been here for a while actually, I was just enjoying the show.” Ghost set aside his rifle, watching you finally release the knife, wiping your stained hands on your ruined shirt before tugging the remnants of tape dangling off your wrist.

“Sorry it ended so soon,” You muttered, bringing a hand over to your chest while catching your breath, feeling it grow difficult as a tight, painful sensation started under your ribs. You stood slowly, stumbling onto your feet as your relief diluted your adrenaline rush, reminding you of the pain your body was experiencing prior.

“Woah, woah... easy.” Soap brought you into his arms after you took a couple steps forward, allowing you to lean on him for support. “Easy there, lass.” Soap gently held onto your sides, feeling your sharp wince and immediately relaxing his grip. You trembled a bit, your breathing growing raspier than a few moments prior.

“I think they broke one of her ribs Lt.”

“If they did, she’d still be screaming. Punctured lung sounds more like it, go easy on her.”

“I didn’t think.. I just didn’t think you guys would come for me.” You admitted with bated breath, feeling Soap hoist your arm over his shoulders to provide additional support while you stood.

Ghost picked up the abandoned camera from the floor, pulling it off of its stand. It had still been recording this entire time, wondering what kind of footage this thing had received: Important discussions between the enemies next hideout location or our torture. Most likely both. The time he saw in the far corner of the screen showed just how long you were left victim to these men, finding it a miracle you were still alive before it could’ve gotten worse.

He wasn’t a fool to how these men treated women, especially female prisoners.

He dreaded having to watch every single minute of the footage later.

“And lose the best sniper we got on my watch? Don't think so little of yourself, (Y/n).” Ghost came closer, black painted eyes staring at the state of your face. Despite the bruises hidden underneath your ruined clothes and along your jaw and left eye, the intense gash across your face looked nasty, darkened with dirt and ashes as it continued to seep thin ripples of blood, trailing down to the bottom of your jaw.

“Let’s get you out of here, kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy the chapter so far? Full (smut) version on my Ao3!

Read here as well on my Wattpad!

[aquagirl1978]

Petals in the Wind - Kagari Amagase x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Thank you @judejazza and @candied-boys for giving me ideas on what to write for this new prince. Part of the Falling For You Content Creator Challenge hosted by @nightghoul381 and @judejazza

Pairing: Kagari Amagase x Reader

Prompt: sudden downpour (ok, i took some creative liberties with this prompt - sorry!)

Word Count: 609

Tags: fluff

“Kagari!”

Running down the steps, the sleeves of your dress fluttered in the wind as you tried to catch up to him without stumbling down the long flight of stairs. But there were many steps, and he had already walked away by the time you ran down. 

Looking in both directions, you tried to figure out which way he had gone – one way was empty, the other a few men milling about. You followed a pathway dotted with sakura trees,  their branches covering you with a fluffy pink canopy, voices growing louder with each step you took. 

And then you heard a familiar voice, one that tugged at your heart with every word spoken.

Leaning against the trunk of a tree, your breath hitched as you spied him unseen. Green eyes sparkled like emeralds under the twilight sky, ruby red hair neatly tied up, his face as striking as it was alluring. Your gaze drifted, lingering on his narrow waist, wanting to wrap your arms around his slender torso.

His head tilted like a curious cat, his gaze meeting yours. No longer unseen, you stepped away from the tree as he approached you. 

Your body filled with warmth as you watched him walk towards you; as the wind blew, the tree branches gently swayed and petals filled the air. Stilled in your spot, you were filled with awe, admiring his ethereal beauty as he walked towards you, his steps as graceful as a cat’s, through a shower of pale pink. 

He didn’t stop walking until he was so close to you, so close you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, loosening his braid and letting his hair fall in waves like a waterfall.

His eyes went wide and his lips parted, an audible gasp escaping, as you gently tugged on the cord twisted around his neck, its bell softly jingling as you pulled him closer. His expression softened as your lips met in a sweet kiss that soon grew to more. 

Pressing your palm against his cheek, you gazed into his green eyes adoringly. You stroked his skin with your thumb, but quickly removed your hand from his face.

When the kiss was broken and your lips parted, your eyes were still closed. Your breathing heavy, your fingers released the tassel that was tied around his neck. 

Your eyes fell to your trembling hands, the fingertips of one streaked with crimson. Your gaze lifted, fixing upon the dark red spot on the tassel hanging from his neck. 

The same tassel your fingers were just wrapped around.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s just a little blood,” he said, his face filled with fascination as he wiped your fingers with the tips of his gloves, the red of the blood blending into the red of his gloves. “It’s nothing,” he added, tilting your chin up so he could look into your eyes. 

It wasn’t nothing, you reminded yourself. War was a daily part of Kagari’s life here in Kogyoku. And if he was to be a part of your life, that was something you had to get used to. Fast. 

“Let’s go inside. You can inspect my body for any injuries and tend to my wounds,” he teased. Heat rose to your cheeks, your body eager to remove his clothes and inspect every inch of him. 

He twined his fingers with yours, a sweet tingle traveling down your spine as thoughts of Kagari danced in your head. The wind picked up as you walked, encouraging you to hurry your pace, a small downpour of petals covered your joined figures in pink as you climbed the steps to privacy.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @judejazza @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu

[atlaculture]

Cultural Fashion: The Razor Pt. 2 - Clothing

Since the girl representing the archetype of “The Razor” has yet to be named, I’ll simply be referring to her as “Razor” for this post.

While previous Avatar Legends characters I’ve analyzed have designs that allude to less prominent cultures in ATLA, Razor’s design calls back to a more popular source of inspiration for Avatar: China’s Tang Dynasty (618-907).

Her dress comes from the Tang Dynasty--- although it’s modified to accommodate her bending. Like the women in the painting, she wears a qixiong ruqun (齊胸襦裙) or “chest high robe-skirt”. As the name implies, the flowing skirt is worn at the chest and over the robe. It’s held in place by a sash and cord combo. The final component of the outfit is the thin scarf wrapped around the arms called a pibo (披帛).

As you can see, Razor’s outfit takes some artistic liberties with its inspiration. The sash is tied under the bust, rather than over the bust, allowing the top of the skirt to peek out; this gives her a more empire waist silhouette, rather than a traditionally tubular one. Her skirt is ankle-length rather than floor-length, for ease of movement. Her pibo is weighted at both ends, which just looks awesome. Maybe she can use the rings as weapons? Like slapping people with them. Finally, and most obviously, her sleeves are cut short to accommodate both her disability and her bending ability. Overall, I really enjoy her design.

According to Avatar Wiki, Razor was raised to be a weapon, a tool for her master to use against enemies. But she saw a better way forward, and now seeks to make up for the terrible things she has done and was taught to do. When you take into consideration both her backstory and character design, she gives off the impression of a deceptively cultured assassin-type. I also just love the contrast between her brutish body language and her delicate dress.

I actually think her character embodies the spirit of the Tang Dynasty really well. It was a time of much opulence and high fashion, but it was also a period of relative freedom and empowerment for women. It was during this dynasty that China saw its first and only sovereign female emperor, a princess became a successful general to an army of 70,000 men, rough contact sports like polo were all the rage with noblewomen and women’s social & political rights were expanded. It just goes to show that a love of beauty and fashion doesn’t invalidate a woman’s strength and competence.

[kit-williams]

Hoof Care

Yes I was really thinking of Baldamort's voice for Drar (Watch his video on the Master of Executions and well you can probably figure out where I got Drar's voice from)

Husbandry tag list: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

thank you @squishyowl for the 40k themed dividers

It was that time of the month again where you'd get a call to go to them they paid you quiet a bit and of course you weren't the only person going... it was always a big big event. You head to the Iron Warrior's base near the city... most Chaos Space Marines' don't have bases but their loyalist counterparts do... though Iron Warriors are an exception not a norm. Though you weren't sure as the Iron Warriors didn't have too much friction with their "traitor" selves? You didn't understand nor really bother too.

The norm would be the fact that there is a Night Lord base being built somewhere given that there were now enough loyalist night lords demanding it. But you made sure your tools were sharp and everything was ready... you knew the only downside of the Iron Warriors was the fact that both loyalist and traitor elements kept pushing and vying for power within their own... faction?

As you backed your truck in and got out you could hear his crooning... he was old had that slightly withered lit to his voice as it croaked out of him as if he had ruined his vocal cords time and time again. "Missy so nice of you to join us." Drar the Warpcutter spoke and if you remembered he said he was the leader of a warband known as the Malefactors of Sin.

"Lord Drar... and hello Helios." You politely said as his Master of Executions followed. The big man behind him looked at you and you swallowed... you didn't get the feel good vibes everyone else got. Your eyes flicked to their weapons... to the skulls up their belt... and you had a feeling Drar enjoyed the fact you were afraid of them. "Where is Vasso..." You ask for the current "chapter master" and you watch Drar wave his hand.

"Busy. The child is going to work himself to death at this rate and I... took the liberty of playing host for him." He says with a grin, "But enough pleasantries... you're the final one to arrive." You flinch as his massive hand pushes against your back and you move into the hanger.

Chaos Space Marines of countless chapters and warbands were here all highly mutated. Heavy hooves clipped and clopped against the floor as centaurs made their way to the designated zone. You headed over to the other ferriers as Drar trilled his goodbye and Helios just gave a nod. You could see where other space marines were watching and learning how to take care of their mutated brothers and cousins as in the far corner you could see iron warriors guarding feral marines that took the offer for maintained care but do not want humans touching them. You could understand as it took you a long time to get over the wrongness of your clients.

At least they behaved better than horses, the massive hooves were clipped and trimmed even polished if they wanted too. The utterly massive Black Legionary stallion... Troc was his name, he would have been such a pretty black horse, brought his own shoes... shiny brass things. He liked his hooves painted a nice solid black.

You could hear Adamatar bellowing as the white minotaur had hurt one of his hooves and so trying to get him to behave enough to put a block on his hoof was feeling like an impossible task. You could spy long tails wagging as fur coats were being brushed... a canine centaur of a Night Lord was half asleep as he was getting his jet black fur coat groomed and nails trimmed on his paws. You trimmed the frog of Troc's hooves just shaping his hoof as he was currently gushing about his bonded... a little girl who had a habit of calling him "pony" or "horsey" when she got overly excited and also calling him "Truck".

The shiny iron horseshoes of a bulky draft of an Iron warrior caught your eye. They certainly liked to feel pretty.... you shiver as a heavily mutated space marine lumbers past... organized chaos of it all and you're getting paid enough that it makes you not have to worry about the slower times of the year.

You could see someone with their body leaning into a massive stomach maw just cleaning the teeth of the marine. You stop looking as you hammer in his shoe and work on cutting the nails and then applying the black hoof polish.... rinse and repeat.

Sure they cooperated more then an actual animal but it was still a lot of hard work. "Hey!" You snapped at someone's apprentice. "Don't just walk behind them!" You said pointing out the fact that they were just walking right behind the centaurs. Which if he was working with actual horses was bad practice.

"They won't kick." They countered back.

"Yeah but they still can't see you and when you work with an actual horse they will kick if you walk right behind you. Give them the same berth as you would an actual horse because if one of these boy's kicks you're going to die." You huff as you resume working on the hooves of the Iron Warrior as someone was working on his horns... it was sometimes easier to do multiple tasks on the same marine as they kept still.

Lunch was provided and it was nice... it felt normal to have that lull in working as you grabbed a coffee as you worked in shifts... went around inspecting other's techniques... watching how some of them were teaching their apprentices, in various fields, or how they were teaching the Astartes on how to take care of their own. Sometimes a feral marine would be brave and try to get taken care of by one of us "mortals" but you never volunteered you had plenty of Astartes asking for you to work on them personally.

But the day blurred on by till you were getting handed a stack of cash of a few thousand dollars with the hope that you would come back same time next month and as well as the cavate that if something changed they would inform you. Again you see Drar as you head back to your trunk and a cup of coffee, that looks so small in his hands, is given to you. "What's this for?"

"Job well done?" He croons.

"Ah yes the usual hush coffee so I don't tattle on Vasso of you playing chapter master huh?" You say ignoring the scowl on his face as you sip the coffee, "or... is it hush coffee to keep me from tattling again to Vasso because you enjoy scaring people?"

"Mouthy little mortal aren't you." He hisses as you cow slightly, far too tired to not be filled with dread as he moves far too smoothly for something so big. He spat to the side, "But something like that."

"And like usual I'm going to be the last one to leave because you like chatting." You say tiredly as you drink the hot brew that made you feel tired. You had enough for a hotel in the city for tonight though... beds were always available here at the fortress. "I have a feeling you're going to chat me up so long I might just have to spend the night."

Drar laughed, it was hardly a pleasant sounding thing... it was dark and ominous... it was downright an evil sounding thing that ended rolling in his chest till it quieted. "You look exhausted."

You just drank the coffee to prevent yourself from making a 'captain obvious' joke, "I might stay tonight or at least get a few hours of shut eye."

"Then let me play the good host once more." He crooned and you just locked your car after placing your tools inside... just a few hours of sleep then you'd make the drive home.

[0fantasma0]

Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.

[clinicallyinsanedumpsterrabbit]

Weremoth Dave!

I shall now proceed to go into way too much explanation for this one off drawing under the cut that potentially turns this into a whole ass au

Now, time to talk about the backrooms where this drawing au thing takes place, more specifically death moths.

So, death moths in the backrooms are kinda like giant bees, but moths, so they make a honey like substance called moth jelly that has a ton of benefits in small amounts but can be addictive and detrimental in larger doses.

So naturally dave the known drug addict gets hooked on the stuff and eventually ends up drinking way way too much moth jelly which has a side effect in that large of a dose, causing moth like mutations, so tada, weremoth Dave, a weremoth that appears to be tame-able but just Jack, because while the weremoth mutations definitely reduced his ability to speak by messing with his vocal cords, because of just how much his brain is already tainted, it stayed relatively unaffected just purely because there wasn't much to affect in the first place.

I definitely took some creative liberties as I could find hardly anything about weremoths, which I take personal offence to /silly

So in short, dave drink too much moth juice, become moth, jack have to take care of moth dave, moth dave only able to make cute squeaks as words

Also because dave was a hermaphroditic species before the mutations he may be able to produce his own moth jelly, because I said so. And hey a nice little extremely valuable income source for the two goobers, yippee

[odditycircus-2002]

Shang Tsung x Medusa!Reader Part III: Aftermath

PREV

FIRST

For some reference, this takes place around MK11: Aftermath Story Mode. What happened between that and the last post is up to you to decide. Oh and in this scenario, Sindel isn't a villain (Let's be honest that ret-con did her dirty), rather she'll be aware of what she's doing BUT, you, the reader basically are controlling her like a puppet. While perhaps unnecessary, I suggest reading my other posts to understand what's happening here. Now, on with the show!

You were tossed in the Void similarly to Shang Tsung, Fujin, and Night Wolf because you, too, refused to take Kronika up on her offer. That and you were taken first before them as Kronika's Insurance so that your husband would complete her Crown of Souls. In fact, your entire existence was made and written so that you were essentially a carrot on a stick for Shang Tsung.

Understandably, you're more than a little bitter about this being true. Still, whether or not your love for Shang Tsung changes(Though, let's be honest, you were bemused and absolutely jubilant when you found your DEAD husband not dead and alive), that doesn't stop you from conspiring with one another to bring Kronika to her knees. A fact that Fujin and Night Wolf suspected while trapped within the Void, without knowing you two are married.

Then again, how would anyone really know? The demigod brothers were used to your glamor and mask that made you look more human rather than your gorgon form.

Plus, it helped that while Shang Tsung still wore his wedding ring, you kept yours on a cord around your neck, hidden beneath your clothing.

In front of the others, such as Lui Kang's allies, you two also acted formally with one another, with brief and curt exchanges if you needed to interact. Leaving others to believe you both used to be in Shao Khan's court.

Shang would be adamant about not needing your medicine or help whenever he gets injured in any battles you face. Yet, you wouldn't have any of it, you just got back your husband, and you are sure as FUCK not gonna lose him again.

"Shang, you old fool, you're useless to anyone if you can barely walk or see straight!"

Although, you didn't let any of your actual concerned sentiment seep out from you; instead, you just assure Shang that he can "pay" you back later. This works in both your favor as Shang Tsung openly healing you can also be seen as chipping away his tab with you.

While neither Night Wolf nor Fujin suspected your marriage to Shang Tsung, they still were wary of both of you. So they would try and keep you physically separated. Shang Tsung's honesty track record is abysmal at best, and you're already known to be a notorious dealmaker that lives in a cave.

Still, when both of you can slip by their watchful gaze, you'd both would exchange hushed, tender, and encouraging words to one another. Yet, words aren't enough for you to express just how much you've missed his presence. His company has always been far more entertaining and fulfilling than any souls you've bargained with or stone slaves you kept in your cave as security.

Shang Tsung can only use many words to express his pride in you. He would make many promises and vows to you to give all you desire in his new Era, to make up for all the years he's lost with you.

Despite a few hiccups regarding restoring Sindel to life, mainly in the form of you turning one Tarkatan to stone and shattering another, the process was successful thanks to you, Shang, and Fujin. Or so it seemed.

You took the liberty of briefly snatching the Jinsei Fujin collected to add just a few drops of venom you specially made to those that can't hold up their end of the bargain into the bottle. So whether Sindel realized it or not, you pulled the strings.

Funny, some of you almost felt bad for what you'll put Sindel through. Here's a loving and heroic woman who lost her husband and realm to Shao Khan, then her life to ensure Earthrealm's protection. Only for that sacrifice to be reduced to meaningless when Quan-Chi resurrected her to force her to act on Shao Khan's will, including brutally murdering the very people she tried to protect. Only for her leash to be passed to Shinnok and Quan-chi after her second death at the hands of Night Wolf. Finally, after years as a pretty little puppet, she has restored memories and body. Now reunited with her daughter and able to apologize for leaving her alone with Shao Khan as a young child. Well, almost being a keyword here.

You first had her free the man she hated the most, her "husband" Shao Khan, from his imprisonment. You can imagine her horror when her body started moving beneath the Kolosseum, without being prompted. When she tried to open her mouth to shout for help, you made sure no words could escape her. The next time she opened it again, well it was to let out her banshee scream, peeling back the flesh of his Shokan guards. You give her some reprieve by letting her kick Shao Khan in the face, hard. Enough to break his nose and a few spikes of his.

You laughed through your enchanted crystal when Queen Sheeva saw the gruesome scene before her, with horror and disbelief in her eyes. Sindel could only get a few words out, insisting that she was not in control of herself, before you had her let out another scream and put the Shokan Queen out of commission before quickly using Sindel as your mouthpiece to spin a tale to convince the rest of the Shokan that Kitana Khan was to blame and to swear loyalty to her to avenge Sheeva. Sindel could only watch the scene unfold from her eyes in horror.

You have to give it to the former Queen. She fought hard against your control, thrashing against her invisible strings harder than anyone before her to the point it seemed physically painful. Even managing to snap out of your control briefly to rectify her actions before you ultimately took back her strings. You chalk that one up to her willpower and the fact she made no soul-binding contracts with you.

The pieces began to fall into place after using Sindel to explain to Shao Khan the plan you and Shang Tsung had concocted to restore them both to their rightful place. With Sindel as your puppet, Shao Khan was slowly able to take back Outworld's armies. And because you were in a good mood, you allowed her some control over her voice again, enough so she may speak her true thoughts and motives. Apologizing in tears for all she's done and wishing she was stronger, letting her daughter know she loves her more than she'll ever know. There were still tears in Sindel's eyes when you retook her voice to command Kitana to be put in chains. Nobody on the other side knew it was you except for Shang Tsung, not when you were fighting alongside Raiden and Fujin against the Netherrealm's army.

When Shang Tsung tricked Fujin into finally giving him the crown, his first move after putting it on was to embrace you in his arms and unabashedly passionately kiss you. He ran his fingers through your snakes that affectionately curled into his touch with your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Fujin, Raiden, I believe you're familiar with my wife?"

Saying you had a diabolical grin on your face, made more evil-looking by your boar-like tusks jutting from your upper lip, would be an understatement.

After feasting on Fujin and Raiden's souls, you turned them into stone to preserve them for later. However, that's when Sindel finally broke free of your control, first to briefly brawl with Shao Khan for harming her daughter before you pulled her into combating you. In the end, you not only beat Sindel in combat but, to ensure she can't do anything further, have her look into your gaze and turn to stone.

"Do not worry, your Excellency. I can reverse the spell later and make it so she's devoted to you for all eternity. "

Not surprisingly, both you and your husband betrayed Shao Khan and drained him of his life force until he was nothing but a barely breathing husk of what he once was.

When Shang Tsung defeats Kronika, and before he starts working on the Hourglass, he takes your wedding off from the cord around your neck to lovingly put the jade and nephrite ring in its rightful place on your hand. You both share a loving kiss before he starts getting to work, well before Fire God Lui Kang arrives.

If your husband wins, he makes good on all those promises he made you earlier, including making you a throne of your own right beside him. Because you had such fun with Sindel and Shao Khan, they, too, become your personal servants, similar to Shang Tsung with Raiden and Fujin. While Kronika is long gone, Shang Tsung is forever grateful that she made you. You are his Empress, his equal in power and mind, his beloved wife. Now, there'll be no one in all of existence that can ever separate you two.

If Lui Kang wins, you can only fall to your knees amongst the dust that once was Shang Tsung. Lui Kang would look upon you with pity as tears start pouring from your eyes, a first for you in eons. You touch your damp cheeks before closing your eyes, taking a breath, and looking toward the Fire God with a strained smile.

"Can I please join my husband too?"

"Are you sure, Y/N?"

"I'm certain, he was my life after all. Whether or not I wanted him to be."

Lui Kang acquises to your request. You whisper "thank you" as you turn into dust and join your husband.

In the Fire God's new Era, he will ensure you turn out differently and, hopefully, kinder. And to keep you and Shang Tsung as separate as possible. However, even if you manage to meet through oceans of time, then at least it'll be your choice whether or not you fall for the Sorcerer.

Playlist while writing this:

"Poor Unfortunate Souls" by Pat Carrol

"Judas" by Lady Gaga

"Momento Mori" by Fish in a Birdcage

"Mary on a Cross" by Ghost

"Queen of White Lies" by The Orion Experience

"Look what you made me do" by Taylor Swift

"I'm the Bad Guy" by Andy Bean and Noel Wells