#still trying to come up with lore for the scars and eye

[spicyraeman]

dipping back into the band au with some wyll

[lassieposting]

Been thinkin about Astarion + vampire biology so have some headcanons and the bits of game lore they're based on

Dialogue establishes that Cazador has been successfully passing himself off as a regular noble for centuries, and Astarion confirms that while he's considered a bit reclusive, he does mingle with the upper class of Baldur's Gate and has a property specifically for hosting fancy events.

Vampires are camouflage predators, whose primary hunting strategy is to blend in with their prey until the perfect time to strike. Their ecological niche is not a particularly safe or stable one - they live hidden in plain sight, usually in sizeable cities, for easy access to prey, but they know that if they are discovered they will be rooted out and killed or driven away. They are rarely able to get away with attacking in public, where city guards might rush to the aid of a screaming victim - they have to isolate their target before killing it. The ability to blend in, to be overlooked by their target, until it is too late is essential.

Cazador is, as far as we know, the only true vampire in Baldur's Gate

This is because true vampires are aggressively territorial. Like most apex predators, they eat a lot, and need substantial territories to support them - even moreso if they have a partner or spawns. Ascendant!Astarion would need to hold onto the entire city, as Cazador did, to be able to feed himself and Tav without raising suspicion.

True vampires are relatively rare, but there are more of them than there are cities, so it's not uncommon for one to set up in an occupied city and try to oust the sitting resident. The challenger usually believes himself to be as strong or stronger than the current tenant: these territorial disputes usually end in at least one death, so they're not to be entered into lightly.

Astarion is very obviously a vampire: his fangs are visible, as are his bite scars; he's so pale multiple people comment on it; his eyes are red, etc.

Astarion is not a healthy vampire.

This is a man who has been kept on the knife's edge of starvation and tortured regularly for 200 years, and to another vampire, that would be clear from the state of him: Astarion is a camouflage predator who is so malnourished he is no longer able to blend in.

Tav will get an up-close look at his transformation over the course of the game and during the years afterwards: the more healthy and well-fed Astarion becomes, as his body catches up on its immense energy deficit and begins to recover, the better he will be able to mimic a living elf. His skin will be able to bleed, or blush, or bruise, none of which he's capable of while actively starving. Hia fangs will retract until he needs them, not invisible but less obvious - having them out all the time is a response to severe deprivation; he's so hungry his body can't risk losing prey to the split second it takes Cazador to snatch a rat back, so he's permanently in bite mode, hyperaware, ready to strike. Some body functions will come online that he didn't even know he had, the ones that are supposed to help him blend in - his eyes will start producing pigment to look darker, less scarlet and more burgundy, to be more easily mistaken for brown; his lungs will make him breathe automatically even though he doesn't need it, he'll start being able to eat normal food without getting sick again, though he still won't get any nourishment from it; he'll heal faster. He'll even be able to get drunk, though he'll burn through it very quickly. As it stands, all those extra systems have been shut down by his starving body - they're useful, but nonessential, and he needs every single bit of energy funnelled into just keeping him alive and functional.

There is probably an intentional bit of psychological warfare against the spawns on Cazador's part here - him starving them strips them of their natural defences, and every time he makes them leave the mansion to hunt, they have to do so knowing that they're poorly hidden and vulnerable. But it's established that true vampires treating their spawn poorly or outright abusing them is A Thing, so it's not the only reason - he sees them as property rather than people, he keeps them weak so they won't plot against him, he's acting out his own trauma from Vellioth on them, he just wants to - but it does feed into it.

Astarion can, at one point, identify old blood as belonging to the player character. He also gets excited at another point if an enemy character runs away, stating, "Now it's a hunt."

He says that "even stale, [he'd] recognise that bouquet anywhere." This confirms a few things for us:

He has a vastly superior sense of smell capable of identifying individuals by scent and - since he can tell who the blood belongs to even after some time has passed - following scent trails.

This confirms that although city-dwelling vampires may primarily hunt via luring a victim to a secondary location before killing it, they still have the "stalk down and chase" predator instinct. Since Astarion can't lure wildlife anywhere, this is almost certainly how he's been hunting to supplement his diet when he's not using the player as his personal caprisun.

The fact that he can scent out prey before killing it means he has this ability all the time - he can smell blood while it's still safely inside the owner's body.

So scent is probably relevant to how vampires process the world. The more time each companion spends with him, the more he gets used to their scent, starts associating it more with safety and camaraderie than with a potential meal, and so he becomes more relaxed around them. As he learns to link the player's scent with love and comfort and trust, the more likely he is to retreat to their tent over his own when he's injured or afraid or having a trauma moment. When he's fond of someone, something of theirs will go conveniently missing - he's moving their scent into his little safe space, it's comforting for him. He can tell when his lover is hurt or aroused or frightened - though not which of the three applies - from a distance, because his sense of smell can pick up the spike of adrenaline rushing into their bloodstream.

But that also means that he can never feel like he's got any distance from Cazador while he's living in the mansion - even if the man isn't in the same room, the entire place reeks of him, and it makes Astarion feel like Cazador is breathing down his neck all the same. Ascendant Astarion would have a really, really hard time sticking it out in that mansion with stale Eau de Cazador all over the place. It means that he's put instantly on edge by the faint scent of one of his siblings as he walks through the lower city - when seven vicious, territorial apex predators are confined to a single small dormitory, several hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, fights are going to be nasty and frequent, and although Cazador wouldn't allow them to kill each other, considering how many of his siblings refer to him as weak or a runt, Astarion probably didn't win them very often. So. Having a highkey advanced sense of smell is a mixed bag.

[barefoothighlander]

absolution - prologue

-simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

-warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of scars, fluff

-word count: 1.4k

-summary: you're a sniper and reconnaissance specialist in the military, secretly married to Simon, as the knowledge of your relationship would compromise both your posts. One night he comes home from a mission and you tell him that Price wants you on the team for an upcoming 141 mission.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: this is the first time I've written any sort of fic so pls bear with me, there will be smut eventually, I haven't mapped everything out so don't worry there will be spice. also, I'm not super advanced when it comes to mw lore, aside from the events that occur in the new mw2, but I really love this character and I hope I do him some justice. I'm gonna make a part two, maybe multiple chapters but I'm not sure so pls let me know if you'd read more. :)

this fic was inspired by 'The Captain' by @/as-is-above-so-below which is really phenomenal, so please read that if you get the chance.

It was late in the night when you heard the door open, usually you were a heavy sleeper, but you could always sense when Simon came home. He had been gone for six months on his last mission, somewhere in south america was all he could say about it, before packing up and taking off to leave you alone in your shared flat once again. A mutual understanding had been made during the beginning of your relationship, both of you were military personnel, and you understood that it came with perks, months off spent together, but it also came with its downsides, being separated for months at a time, never knowing what condition the other was in, and living in a constant state of worry about your partner. When Simon proposed, he promised to always come home to you, to never leave you alone like everyone else did, and you believed him, trusted him, and he never broke his promise. His footsteps were light when he came into the bedroom, still wearing his mask, but donning his less formal jeans and black sweatshirt, you caught him lingering in the doorway as you moved to flick on the light next to the bed, casting a dark shadow behind your husband. As soon as your eyes met he lifted his arms to pull his mask off, no longer the ghost, but now standing as the man you so loved. A faint smile crept up on your face as you awakened fully, happy to see him in one piece after being away for so long. You urged him over to the bed with a nudge of your head and he so happily obliged you, kneeling down beside your frame to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and lastly your lips, a deep kiss filled with longing. 

“Hello” you smirked and glanced forward through your eyelashes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Hi lovie” he responded in almost a whisper.

“What time is it?” “late, go back to sleep, ill be here in a minute” he said, as he brushed his knuckles against your cheek and left your side. You watched him cross the room into the bathroom, and close the door almost fully, you two never closed doors fully when you were home together, a sort of unspoken law that allowed you to never be separated. As you heard the shower turn on you sighed to yourself and fell back against the pillows, turning off the bedside lamp. Minutes passed before you heard the shower turn off, waiting for Simon to emerge from the steam-filled room. Once he did, he quickly crossed to the closet to find suitable clothes to sleep in. Entering wearing a simple pair of sweatpants, rare considering he typically wore nothing to bed as the man was like a personal space heater, constantly burning to the touch. He settles himself next to you under the covers and turned to his side so he could pull you close. Resting his face inches from yours, looking at you like he was trying to memorize your face as if he could ever forget it. 

“Did you buy more pillows while I was gone?” he asked whilst fussing with the various adornments you have thrown onto the bed. You smirked to yourself, “Yes, but only ‘cause I was trying to make the bed comfier” “The bed is comfy” he replied matter-of-factly. 

“Not when you aren't here,” you said as you snuggled close to him, tucking your head under his chin and settling your arm over his waist to allow it to wander over the expanse of his back, feeling over his scars, old and new, silently cursing yourself that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from getting hurt.

“Knife” Simon breathes out. You respond by simply tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at him. “ ‘sfrom a knife, this cartel was big into watching people bleed”. A meek oh was all you could manage, as you thought about him hurt in the field, a literal knife in his back as he tried to survive. “I’m alright lovie, nothing I haven’t been through before.” He was always this way when it came to his wounds, paying no attention to them after the fact, simply regarding them as an addition to the collection of marks that littered his body. You hated thinking of him hurt, but in an odd way, you regarded the scars kindly.

“You think they’re ugly?” He asks while resting his lips on the crown of your head. “No,” you respond without much thought. He tilts your head to meet your eyes, urging you to explain. “They’re reminders..” you say while looking into his dark eyes. “They prove how hard you fight to come back to me.. I could never find them ugly”. He gives you a simple hmm in response before he arched his neck down to place a kiss on your lips.

“How was it, while I was away?” Simon liked to start conversations later in the night as it meant less time trying to force his body asleep, thankfully you were still awake, which meant he could talk to you rather than staring blankly at a wall or tossing and turning for hours in the hopes of maybe getting a few hours of peaceful sleep.

“Boring” you respond “Went to work, filled out paperwork, trained some new recruits, and practiced grappling” “So nothing interesting happened” he asked. “Well, one thing” you respond moving yourself to look at him. “Price called me” you state, waiting for any change in his face to dictate whether or not you should continue your sentence, he remained stoic. “He wants me for a mission with the 141,” you say. “No” is all Simon responds.

“You don’t even know what it is yet”

“No, you know what kind of missions we get, you’ve seen the paperwork. I don’t want you in any position that could risk your safety”

“Si, every mission risks my safety this wouldn’t be any different”

“Except I would be there, that makes this dangerous”

“How?”

“I can’t do my job if I’m constantly worrying about you, where you are, how you are. It would compromise me”

“Well, what do I tell Price? He doesn’t know we’re married, I can’t just explain to him that my husband doesn’t want me in the field with him, he’ll need a solid reason, and I don’t have one”

“I’ll tell him” Simon grunts.

“You’ll tell him what? That we’re married? You’ll give up that information just because you don’t want to risk me potentially getting hurt, that's bullshit and you know it” you argue as to begin to sit up in the bed, feeling yourself getting angrier at the idea of your husband not trusting your abilities in the field. “It’s not like I would be in the middle of the action, my position is a sniper and reconnaissance, I’ll sit on some rooftop for hours waiting for all of you to clear the way before I even think about pulling the trigger.”

“And what if something goes wrong, what if one of us is compromised? What then?”

“Then we deal with it! Like we always have, we’re a team Simon, I don’t expect your full support on this but I expect a little trust in my capabilities, I have never stopped you from going on a mission just because I thought it was unsafe, I have always trusted you. Please, do the same for me.” You beg as tears begin to prick your eyes.

He stares at you for what feels like minutes as you will him to talk. “Okay”, he says finally. “You’ll come, but this, us, stays a secret. I can’t have the enemies knowing I have any sort of weakness” 

“I’m a weakness,” you ask.

“Yes, you’re a weakness. Because I don’t know what I would do if you ever got hurt. They can use you against me. I won’t let you be a pawn”

You reach your hand up to hold his cheek as you lay a soft kiss on his lips. “Okay” you whisper as you curl yourself into him, finding comfort in his warmth, as his heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep.

Simon stayed awake, listening to your soft breathing, feeling your chest rise and fall with every breath. Holding on to you like if he even loosened his grip you would fall out. He lay awake thinking of all of the ways he would cuss out his Captain, all the ways he could try to get you taken off the mission, tormenting himself over all the possible outcomes of you joining him in the field, until eventually, his eyelids became too heavy, and he joined you in sleep.

[coffeeghoulie]

If it’s possible would you be able to mix 20 and 6 together with Swiss and Phantom? If not you can choose which one you want

Thanks in advance if you come up with anything

I did my best to combine these, though I feel like you had a certain scenario in mind and I tried to follow that but my brain went "oops, Swiss angst" instead. This technically follows both my Swiss and Aeon lore from Eternal Heatstroke, but you don't need to have read that for this. Hope you enjoy!

#20: on a scar and #6: on a falling tear from this prompt list

Aeon hates when Swiss goes still. The multi-ghoul is almost constantly in a state of motion, shifting his weight, tail swaying behind him, tapping his toes or drumming his fingers. Normally, the only time he stops moving is when he's asleep, and even then he doesn't quite lay still. He's only still if he's hurting, upset and lost in thought.

The door to their room creaks, and Aeon knocks on the frame before they enter. The room is dark and they can just barely see his silhouette where he sits on the edge of the bed. "'S just me," they say as their good eye adjusts to the darkness. "Missed you today."

Swiss makes a non-committal noise, a flat hum, to acknowledge they've been heard, but he doesn't move. If it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of his breathing, Aeon could be convinced he's been traded out for one of the statues in the chapel.

Aeon chews nervously at their bottom lip, hand trembling as they start to reach out. "Swiss, can you talk to me?" they ask, voice wavering.

He still doesn't move, head in his hands. Aeon bites their lip harder, carefully making their way to his side. "Sorry bug, thought I'd've pulled myself together by now."

He'd woken up like this, quiet and withdrawn, and Aeon had done their best to cheer him up before they had to rush off to their chores. But it hadn't worked.

Aeon shakes their head, sitting down next to him; close enough that they can feel his body heat against their thigh, but far enough away that they can give him an out if he wants to take it. "If I were feeling bad," they begin softly, each word careful, "Would you want to let me sit there and pull myself together?"

Swiss looks up at that, and Aeon tries to hide their wince at just how puffy his eyes are, the pretty gold of his irises wet with unshed tears. "No, I wouldn't," he says.

"Could you just talk to me?" Aeon asks. "I- I don't like not being able to help, Swiss."

Swiss laughs wetly. "I know, buggy," he says, voice still a little distant. "I know."

Aeon doesn't say anything, just stubbornly holds Swiss's gaze, waiting for one of them to speak.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Swiss heaves a sigh, drifting just close enough that their thighs are pressed together knee to hip. Aeon leans in, still hesitant, waiting for an adverse reaction, and rests their temple on his shoulder. "Had a weird dream, bug," he says, staring at the wall. Aeon is reminded painfully of that first heart-to-heart, all those months ago. "Pit dream."

"Oh," Aeon breathes, chuffing and trying to comfort him. They know all about Pit dreams; having been plagued with them the first few months they'd been Up Top. "Alone?"

Swiss takes a deep breath, leaning over, carefully avoiding the points of their horns as he rests his head on top of theirs. "Nah, from before I left. Birth pack shit."

Aeon hums, pressing themself closer to him comfortingly.

"It's funny, missing people who hurt you," Swiss says, his words hanging heavy in the air. "Dreamt about my mother, and my sisters, and things were good. Things were really good, and I didn't know it was a dream until I woke up this morning."

His voice cracks, and Aeon looks up, eyes wide, just as a tear races down his cheek, disappearing into his stubble.

"I really miss them," he says, voice small. Aeon shifts, grabbing his waist and turning him so he can embrace their multighoul tight, fingers carding through his braids as they guide his head down. They kiss his cheek, just over that shiny teartrack, the exact spot where, before they had gotten along, Aeon had clawed. It had been healed, leaving no trace except for both of them knowing what had happened. They kiss his cheek again, the corner of his lips, before bringing his head down to the crook of their neck.

"I know," Aeon whispers, because they do know, has been held through this exact same dilemma. Swiss greedily accepts the embrace, holding them tight around their ribs as he cries against theit neck.

"Thank you, bug," Swiss whispers, once he's cried himself out. Aeon chuffs, blunt claws scratching his scalp.

"Any time," Aeon says simply. "You did the same for me."

[callofdudes]

I need to see this happen !!

Could you do a platonic Gary roach Anderson headcanon please, but with a twist. MWII 22 timeline please

My little bug boy! I'm currently laying out a timeline for him, so guys, seriously, ask me about Roach. I'm building an empire of lore for this man in MWll 22. Thank you for blessing us @itsscromp

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson headcanons

The timeline that I'm working out for my favorite bug boy is that he was forced to go KIA after a mission gone too far south a couple months after Simons return from his capture with Roba. 22 timeline, somewhere within the time Simon was still in rehab.

Friendly reminder in the og, Simon was shot and killed, Gary had to watch as both were burned alive.

So I headcanon that he shares some burn scars with Simon. And has some of his own.

When he is introduced back to our sergeant, Egg, as we now call you. It's on a whim excursion. I think I'm sticking to the idea that Simon happens to recognize him when out in public with you and that's how it started.

You start to get along well with him, even if he does stick by Simon most of the time. The two attached at the hip. He's quiet, and you often see him using sign language when alone with Simon.

Gary could talk, but was often much more comfortable with sign language. Actually talking and trying to find words a lot of times put some mental stress on him.

A lot of times, having to speak and not having the right words can frustrated him to tears.

"Roach, where are those papers you were supposed to get to the main office."

Gary opened his mouth, faced with a commanding officer than wasn't Price. Gary is strong, but when in a situation like this he can't focus. He couldn't find words. It's like he was stuttering together something in his head but he couldn't verbally get it out.

His hands moved anxiously, knowing he couldn't sign his way out. Stuck in place. He tried to speak, but nothing would come out. The officer only questioning him again, telling him to just spit it out.

Noticing Gary's growing anxiety, you came over and lightly tapped his arm. "It's ok Gary." You whispered.

Gary attempted some frazzled sign language, his own lack of communication making him frustrated, tears reaching his eyes.

You squeezed his arm. "Gary did send them in but there have been slow processing times down at the office recently. You should get it soon."

The officer seemed to accept this explanation, and you were left with Gary.

He whined in frustration and you rubbed his arm. "Hey, it's ok. It's ok, we got there in the end."

And you decided hey, if he liked to talk in sign language, what's the harm in trying to learn? So you started to spend some of your free time every day trying to learn BSL.

And eventually you had learned enough for some basic conversations, signing Hi! From your seat in the cantine, grabbing his attention. Gary gently patting Simon's arm and tugging him over to sit with you, signing back.

You smile nervously at him, attempting the sign from across the room, hopefully he'd see it.

You could see how his eyes lit up when you signed to him. He immediately grabbed Simon's sleeve, grabbing his lunch plate and tugged him over to you.

He sat down across from you and signed back. Again getting excited when you signed back. Simon sat next to you, also joining in.

You didn't know a lot, and Gary tried to keep his sign simple, experimenting sometimes of what you knew.

He was touched that you were learning sign for him so you could be a part of his choice to go nonverbal.

That's how the real conversation started. You started to ask him questions, things about himself and how things were before he left. Before all the shitty stuff happened and you arrived. And Gary is happy to talk.

I think that Gary is very selectively mute with his people. He will speak but there has to be a trust there. Whether it's the trust Simon shares with you, you learning BSL or just doing little things to help him around back on base he feels secure with you.

A life of learning to not trust people did that to him, and his family life was probably a little rocky. But he trusts you, eventually getting deep into conversation with you.

Also, you're going to have to clarify to him if you like bugs or not right off the bat before he shows you his... friends.

And while he's all about bugs, he's also a flower guy. Nature in general is his favorite topic but I think he knows a lot about flower language. Another way he conveys how he feels.

Silly, but I think he has a bunch of those fake flowers and a vase in his room, so whichever flower is in the vase the guys at least somewhat know how he's feeling without him having to use the words to express it.

Hes very athletic and flexible. He can fit into anything. It's not uncommon to see the little guy lounging on top of the fridge before Price has to swat him off. Or hearing him crawling through some of the vents by the gym or something.

One time placed a speaker in the air vent by your room and started playing creepy noises. You only called him out when you heard that little giggle.

Quiet, but I think he has the most distinct giggle. Like, you know it's Gary. It's not quite a cackle, but it is in a way. It's very distinct to him.

Once let a recruit get away with having a tarantula on base because he thought it was cute. Simon screamed at him when the thing got out.

Gary is as silly as he is tactical. Let's not forget just how amazing he is at his job. Gary is the guy who can get in and out without being noticed. Under the cover of a snowstorm you would never see him.

He's Ghost's main team up, of course he's skilled.

When you get surrounded by enemy soldiers with nowhere left to run you think you're going to die. Until the enemies start getting shot down from bloody hell know where! Precise bullet after bullet until their down. Only then does Gary pop up.

"Surprise! Miss me??"

Has bug themed pajamas.

Did a spicy pepper challenge and was crying on your lap for over an hour while quivering and blowing his nose into the thoughts of used tissues. It was not good.

Once got a lip piercing once as a 'dare'. Was sad when Price eventually found out about it and made him take it out ☹️

Took you to the zoo once, wanted to spend all his time by the bats and the snakes. They even had a tank of spiders that he desperately attempted to get you near because 'look how cool and pretty they are!'

Gary is also an incredible comforter. He's small, but he attempts to lay across you. If you're bigger than him, he'll starfish out across your chest, snuggling his head into your chest to try and keep you cozy.

If you've had a nightmare he'll wrap a blanket around you and stay with you.

He snuggled up to you, wrapping his arm around you. He tilts his head a little, pulling down his mask to offer you a crooked little smile of reassurance.

"It's ok." He whispers, trying to calm your shaking. He takes your hand, bringing it close to his chest, making sure you're ok.

"It was just a nightmare, I promise." He whispers again.

You lean against him, and he embraces it, taking the weight for you. "I got you, I won't let anything hurt you ok?"

"Thank you Gary..."

You once saw him slap Simon hard across the face (a little spat) and you thought that little man was going to die. Apparently Gary has the powers of the sun because Simon just nodded and shut up. Like what!?

You love him but you're also scared of him...

He's as cute as he is deadly, and just... Be careful with him. 😅😅

(sorry if I mentioned Simon too much, realistically I think they are brothers who would not go anywhere without the other)

[genjispeace]

Bandage My Wounds - Part 1 (?)

In which you bandage Bi-han's wounds for him.

tags (this part): bi-han x reader, gender neutral reader, you both kinda have feelings, it's complicated, sfw, tending to wounds, sooo soft and fluffy, tenderness, bi-han just wants somebody to take care of him

a/n: this just kinda happened, but i hope you enjoy it!! i may write another part, but we will see. also, this is not meant to be lore accurate

Living across the hall from Bi-han has its ups and downs. On one hand, you would never have to worry about anybody trying to rob you with him next door. On the other hand, he has a habit of slamming his apartment door when he’s frustrated, which is more often than not. Your bed seems to shake as he slams it again, and you drop the book you were reading. A sigh escapes your lips as you flip your blankets off of your bed and step into a soft pair of slippers. You’ve made a habit of checking on him whenever this happens, which usually involves him waving you off. Still, you refuse to give up on it. 

You pull a hoodie over your head and step to your door, closing it and rasping your knuckles on the door on the other side of the hall. There’s no answer, there hardly ever is, but you still wrap your hand around the handle and push the door open. He never locks his door. This is a dance the two of you have done countless times, so you aren’t surprised to find him leaning against the countertop in his kitchen, staring at the door. He’s still in his uniform, his strong arms bare and crossing over his chest. 

“Bi-han,” you start to say something, but your voice catches in your throat when you meet his eyes. A bruise surrounds one of his eyes, a few cuts litter his face. One of them is particularly long, going along his cheek and dipping under his mask. 

“What happened?” You cross the distance between you as you speak, his dark eyes following you. 

“Nothing,” he says. His face is like a mask, and it never falls. It’s always hard to see past, so you hardly ever have any idea what he is thinking. 

“Bullshit,” you say, finally reaching where he stands. He towers over you. It’s not hard to imagine how so many people fear him.

“Go home,” he says. His voice is slightly muffled from his mask, but the words are clear. Still, you shake your head. 

“You’re hurt,” you say. He sighs, uncrossing his arms, which reveals his hands that are covered in more small and jagged cuts. Your brows furrow. “Were you even planning on cleaning these?”

“No,” he says honestly, and you fully believe him. He doesn’t take care of his injuries, to the point that it is dangerous. The amount of times you’ve seen bruises and cuts, seen the scars covering parts of his body. He’s not going to ignore these injuries. Not this time. 

“Fine, then I’ll do it,” you say. You catch the way his eyes widen, just barely, before he regains his composure. 

“I don’t need your help,” he replies, pushing off of the counter. 

“Too bad.” You stand your ground, and his eyes lock onto yours. His are dark, like a swirling abyss. You could get lost in them, and you know it. You can’t be sure, but it looks like a muscle in his jaw ticks as he looks down at you. Neither of you make a move, locked in a staredown, waiting to see who will give in first. 

“Do you even have a first aid kit?” Your voice comes out sterner than you meant, but Bi-han doesn’t seem to notice.

“No.” He confirms what you already knew. You sigh again, then wrap your hand around his wrist. The movement takes both of you off-guard. It’s strange to think that you have never touched despite being in close quarters, but it’s true. The fact shocks you as you realize it, his skin cold under your touch. Something seems to flick through his eyes at the contact, but it’s gone as fast as it came, and is replaced by the cold and barren stare. 

Still, you refuse to back down. You turn on your heel, pulling him behind you. Part of you knows that he could stop this, that he could yank his wrist away. It would take nothing for him to overpower you, but he doesn’t. You lead him in silence, through the hallway, into your apartment, straight to your bathroom. 

“Sit,” you say, releasing your grasp on him and pointing to the lid of the toilet. He glances at you, then thankfully listens and sits down. He’s still silent, but his gaze is on you the whole time you pull out your first aid kit. You run some warm water onto a cloth and ring it out, sitting it on the counter next to everything else. You decide to section off his injuries, working on each of them separately. First, the deep bruise around his eye. 

“Is it possible for you to get freezer burn?” You ask, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“What?” His dark eyes widen.

“You need to ice that bruise. Normally, you would need to wrap a towel around ice, but I don’t…” Your voice starts to waver. Are you in above your own head? 

“No,” he answers quickly, and you don’t miss the way his eyes softened when you started panicking. “I can’t get burned by ice.”

“Good. I can go grab an ice pack, or you can make one? I’m not really sure how it works, to be honest,” you say softly. You know about his powers, but have never seen them up close enough to know. 

“I can make one.” He pulls his hands together, his skin turning a shade that mimics icebergs. The cold goes up his arms it seems, before he holds a chunk in his hands. A smile washes over your face as you watch him. It’s fascinating, beautiful even. 

“Wow,” you think? Say? You look up at him and see for the first time the most clear emotion on his face. Pride. The normal color of his skin creeps back, but his eyes never leave your face. Your gaze drops, your ears turning red at his gaze on you. 

“It has its perks,” he says, and you have to fight dropping your jaw. Did Bi-han just…make a joke?

“I see that,” you reply, hoping your face isn’t as red as it feels. You need to get his attention off of you, fast. “Hold it against your face until the swelling goes down.”

He does as you told him, holding it to the side of his face with the bruise. You grab the still warm cloth and start to dab the other side of his face. He looks down at you, his eyes flicking across your entire face. You try to focus on your task and ignore how his gaze gives you butterflies. 

You lean forward to get a better look, and almost regret the move, as it brings you close enough to smell his cologne, to feel each breath he takes. He smells like pine trees and the chill of winter air. It brings goosebumps on your arms, but you ignore the feeling. 

“Does this hurt?” You ask, trying to focus on anything else. 

“Hardly.”

“Really? This one is pretty deep,” you say, tracing the cloth softly over the longest cut. “Can you take your mask off so I can clean the rest of this?”

He doesn’t reply, but he drops the ice block, now that the swelling is down, and reaches up behind his ears. His dark hair has a few loose strands that move as he does. He undoes the mask, sitting it on your counter and then turning to face you again. 

Those butterflies you were trying to ignore? Their wings beat against your rib cage as he looks down at you. You’ve seen him here and there in passing without his mask, but never this close. His angular face is dotted with scars, some small and some bigger. Despite that, his skin looks soft and you ache to run your fingers along his face. That same shimmer as when he showed you his powers flicks through his dark eyes. Pride, pride, pride.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You choke out, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as breathless as you think it does.

“Like what?” He tilts his head. You shake it off, recentering yourself and focusing on cleaning the rest of the large cut. It nearly reaches down to his jawline, and it’s fairly deep. He’s lucky he doesn’t need stitches. He does still need some bandages on it, though. 

You grab a few out of the first aid kit, and lean towards him again. You have to push a few strands of his hair out of the way and you swear you hear a soft sigh as your hands touch him. No, surely you imagined that. You carefully place the bandages over some spots, angling his face to get a better look. You have to lean even closer until you are practically in his lap to place a few of them, and it’s not until you’re almost done that you notice one of his hands on your hips. It’s steadying you as you lean over him, the cold of his skin suddenly burning through your clothes. His hand feels strong against you, and your mind immediately goes to places it shouldn’t. You freeze, bandage in your hand, when he drums his fingers where he’s holding you. It’s a small motion, one you probably wouldn’t recognize had it been anybody else, but Bi-han doesn’t take physical touch lightly. 

You place the final bandage against his face. Your work isn’t the most tidy, but it’s better than nothing. Though, you can hardly focus as he holds onto your hip. You back away, and his touch falls away. Your brows furrow and you feel a frown on your face. The absence of his touch leaves your skin feeling electric. For something you have never felt before, you sure seem to notice it now that it’s gone.

The two of you don’t speak. You know that if you tried, it would come out breathless. Instead, you pull the first aid kit back into your lap and pull out a few more small bandages for his hands. He watches each motion you take intently.

“Hands,” you say softly. Despite the time since he last touched you, you still sound breathless. You hope he doesn’t notice that. He nods, reaching out to you, his knuckles up. You pull his hands closer to you, resting them by your lap. He makes the move to rest his hands against your thighs, and you shudder at the feeling. 

“Are my hands cold?” He asks, a furrow in his brows. 

“What?” You shuddered, like you were cold. “Oh, no. That’s not it. I-”

You cut yourself off. Why did you shudder? Why do you keep reacting to the smallest touches from him? You shake your head, pushing the question away. A muscle in Bi-han jaw ticks, but he doesn't push the question any further. 

The two of you fall back into silence as you meticulously clean and bandage his hands. Most of the cuts on his knuckles are small, reminiscent of injuries from fist fighting. He flexes his hands slightly, allowing you to wrap them tightly. He lets you turn his hands over, checking for more injuries on each of them. Once you’re done, you let go of his hands. He stares down at your handiwork, looking at the bandages for the first time instead of watching you. 

“You do a nice job,” he says, curling his fingers and testing the bandage’s flexibility. The praise warms your cheeks more than it should. 

“Thank you.” You start to pack up the first aid kit before you stop. You only took care of the injuries you could see. 

“Bi-han, are there any more injuries I can’t see?” You ask. His dark eyes snap to you, and his lips twitch, as if he is deciding what to say. 

“I think I may have a fractured rib,” he shrugs with the words. 

“That’s not a ‘may have’ injury,” you scold, but shrug it away. That’s a fight for another day. “I can’t do anything for that, but please take it easy.”

“Easier said than done,” he whispers, but still nods. He rises from his seat, but doesn’t walk away yet. He turns to you, his eyes full of a near-tenderness. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t reach out to you. 

“Thank you,” he says. You nod, a slight smile on your lips. You would do it again in a heartbeat, but you don’t need to say that. He moves closer to you, as if he’s apart to reach out to you, but he frowns and backs away. 

He turns on his heel, leaving you standing alone in your bathroom breathless.

[potat0bag]

someone asked for a lore dump of my sea monster au in its current state, so here’s a dump from my alt retrospring a few days ago:

TW: injury, blood mention

Frye (human) lives on a nearby bay and is a fisher with a cute lil boat. One day she gets a tip about some sunken treasure and goes out with the intention and promise of paying off a debt. She takes the map she's given and goes out under the cover of night. It's a long search, but she eventually finds the point marked on the map and lowers a hook to see what she can dislodge. She hooks up something pretty damn heavy and connects the dots and assumes it to be the treasure, but on the way up it seems to snag on something. She tries to wiggle it free of whatever kelp it's caught in, but then it starts getting pulled down. She guesses it's probably just a sea creature and, getting desperate, takes out her harpoon and makes a shot in the dark before the treasure can be pulled away any further. And the water stains darker.

Surprise surprise, she's able to pull up the crate but an injured Shiver comes with it and she's initially alarmed that she shot a diver, but when she hauls them into her lap she realises from scale and tendril that they're decidedly not human. She hit them square in the eye - they're still breathing but are barely conscious when she hauls them up. She looks into the crate and sees that it's weighed down by rock and sediment, not gold or silver. She'd been scammed. She's gonna return empty-handed, unless... she barely considers it for a second before she looks down at the sea monster weakly gazing up at her with one less eye. And she makes a decision. She covers their eyes to try and prevent them from struggling and making the damage worse but it just makes them panic more. "Hold- still- you're gonna hurt yourself more-" and just wedges the handle of an oar between their jaws for them to bite down on assuming it's her arm. The wood cracks beneath their teeth.

Frye does her best with what medical supplies she has to patch them up and remove the spear from their face, and when she uncovers their eyes and pulls away the oar they shove her away and go to dive off before realising they probably won't be able to make their way back home with their limited eyesight. So it's just this silent temporary truce, they don't say a word to her as they guide where to steer and eventually make her halt. Glances at her once, and dives away, supposedly never to be seen again. Frye just feels guilt and- faint longing. It's a fascinating encounter. And it leaves both of them curious.

The next day, she goes out fishing in the noon (having slept in from her late night antics) and something tugs on her line and startles her awake. She goes to reel it in, but a hand comes with it. A familiar, clawed one. She watches the scarred face peek up from the waters, studious gaze barging into her. And they pat the boat. And she lifts them on board, remarking how heavy they are. They snap that they're not, and conversation quickly spirals out, initially panicked and confused, but then. Softening as Shiver asks more and more questions, trying to understand her intentions. She profusely apologises, and they're fascinated by her and become a regular appearance for her.

That's me trying to break it down anyway. They're really cute. Frye has that "shot them in the face with a harpoon" rizz.

[42spideys]

BOY CRUSH - Simon “ Ghost “ Riley

photo credit: @/661ave

synopsis: ghost is known to be quiet and mysterious, but this slowly starts to crumble as he spends more time with the new rookie

word count: 656

tags: m.reader, black reader, very shy and awkward ghost, slight angst, fluff, mentions of self harm scars, simon also has self harm scars, i know nothing about this game or the lore i just like hot men

enjoy ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ !!

“boys we got a new recruit, meet ‘ Sugarcube.’” price stepped to the side to reveal you to the team, everyone greeted you with smiles and waved. everyone rushed up to talk to you and ask you millions questions, all except one. ghost stood in the corner with his arms tight across his chest, he was so still that you could’ve mistaken him for a statue. he seemed so calm and collected but in his head he was spiraling, your smile was so breathtaking he almost choked, your fluffed up fro filled with cute charms in it made his cheeks warm. he was almost scared to approach you thinking he would scare you off, he thought you would see him as some type of monster.

ghost was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you next to him trying to get his attention, when you poke his arm he tenses and looks down at you. you were told by the other men that ghost doesn’t really speak or doesn’t like speaking, so you just flashed him a smile and gave him a thumbs up. he gave you a small nod, under his mask was heating up like he was on fire, he started to sweat. not like you could see, his eyes stayed the same but he was spiraling under that mask. you scurried off with soap and gaz to watch them almost kill each other playing smash, ghost walked to his room slamming the door behind him.

he flopped face first on his his bed and shoved a pillow in his face, he tried to calm himself down. a small knock to his door snapped him out of his trance, a let out a grumbled, “…coming.” before reluctantly walking over to the door and pulling it open, he let out a weird gasp noise when he looked down and saw you. “uh hey! si- er, ghost! i just wanted to actually say hi and introduce myself.” you fiddled with your fingers in a shy way that made his heart flutter, “kid, it’s really fuckin awkward with us just standing here. cmon in.” he shuffled to the side to let you in, you were nervous by his vibe. he was staring at you in such an intense way you thought it would burn a hole through you, you sat on a small corner on his bed still fiddling with you fingers.

he sat next to you and glanced down at you hands, catching a glimpse at the many scars that littered your wrists. “how about you lay back with me, i wanna ask you something.” you nod shyly laying back on his bed, you two are side by side breathing slowly. ghost turns to you, his eyes softer than you thought were possible. he flexed his hands before pointing to your wrists, “why’d you do that for?” you quickly laid your arms behind your back and looked away in embarrassment, ghost noticed your awkwardness and rolled his sleeves down. you watched him with careful eyes as he showed you his arms, there were large scars that went every which way, you put your hands on your stomach to play with your hands again.

“look kid, i don’t know you like that, but if you ever wanna talk i’m here.” he crossed his arms tight across his chest, staring at you with you soft eyes still. your face heated up under his gaze, you gave a soft nod feeling overwhelmed suddenly. “…can i….hug you?” your voice sounded so small if he wasn’t listening fully he could’ve missed it, he opened his arms to you letting you crawl in them. you two laid down in each others embrace for the whole night, falling asleep cuddled up close together. now that you trust him he’s willing to kill for you, he’ll protect you with his life, and he’ll always be there for you and you alone.

[luniise-kel]

redesigned the evil fellas and rewrote some of their lore,,

for any1 who cares, basically donella is now a healer / medic. when she and ulla found the eternal library, they still got into an argument but this time don wanted to go home because they found what they wanted to find while Ulla wanted to keep going deeper. accidents happen and ulla is cursed to stay in the library while don is cursed to stay out of it. don then dedicates her life to trying to get her bestie out of there. The curse also caused her to get a lazy eye plus a scar. Hugo used her scar eyebrow slit as inspiration for his own eyebrow slit. Most of the people who work for her are people she has healed / provides medicine.

her muscle for hire (cyrus) got a massive design overhaul bc i thought they both looked far too Evil. He works for Don because his brother is a bit ill and he cannot afford the meds normally, so he acquires them through don instead. I think hes a bit like laios from dungeon meshi in terms of personality, kinda goofy and well meaning. when he has to attack Varian and Co, hes like keeps apologizing because he feels bad hurting kids (hes like 30is).

Hugo comes to work w don bc of his arm (in me and my sister’s rewrite, hugo doesn’t have his left arm no more (blonde and no arm trope) ) and don is the one who made sure he didnt bleed out so he kinda owes her. also she helped to Make his arm. She tends to set him up with jobs here and there, before she sends him on the Eternal Library quest mostly to test his trust.

In terms of visual design, don gives people that weird metal wrist band to show other rogues and criminals that they are under her protection. She gave hugo one but he mistook it for a Strange hair tie and uses it as such. He uses a wrench to tighten it btws. anyways, don doesnt say anything about it because she dgaf.

uh sorry for the long ramble, i just have a many of thoughts about vat7k (specifically my ver) uh but yeah, i have more to say but just so the post isnt too long lmao (also funny snufkin doodle bc i was watching moomin)

[meguwumibear]

wc: 3k and contains: Vash walks in on Nico and female!reader having sex and is invited to join. piv sex, tit play, some instructional fingering, cum eating, virgin!vash, light angst re: Vash's scars...happy to add warnings as requested but i don't believe it needs any unless threesomes aren't your thing!

There are…noises coming from inside Vash’s apartment. Not the usual sound of tv commercials or Spotify ads—ads that he hears quite often since Nicholas refuses to just pay for premium—but the sound of something throatier, something base and primal.

A pair of guttural grunts and groans fill the air, one deep and masculine, the other lighter and almost feminine in nature. They compliment each other, so in sync it’s like it’s been rehearsed. A symphony of unrestrained ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s and the occasion ‘fuck’ seep out from under the doorway and worm themselves into Vash’s brain, imbedding themselves so deep he doesn’t even realize he’s slipping his keys into the lock until it’s too late.

The sight before him gives him pause. Okay, sure, he could probably guess from the needy whines and desperate cooing that Nicholas was having sex, but hearing his roommate fuck and seeing his roommate fuck are two entirely two different things.

Shirts and pants and underwear—his and yours—litter the floor, like crumbs meant to lore an ant. The two of you hadn’t even made it to the bedroom. Nicholas has you shameless pressed against their shared sofa. A sofa that Nai and Meryl and Milly sometimes crash on when they’re in town.

The violation of the shared space should bother Vash more, but all he seems able to focus on right now is the wonder that is Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s bare ass. Plump and round and firm. Not quite as dark as the rest of him, but still a beautiful, tan color. So muscular it barely even jiggles as he pounds away at your pussy.   

It’s you who sees him first as you angle your head back to nibble at Nicholas’s shoulder. Your eyes widen in surprise as they catch sight of him. He figures he should probably leave or apologize or do literally anything other than stand there like a stupid fucking statue, but that’s all his treacherous body seems capable of at the minute.

“Nicooo,” you whine—and, hang on a minute…Nico? Nico?!—“ugh, fuck, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty roommate.”

You blink at Vash through long, thick lashes, eyes wide and inviting. If his best friend and roommate wasn’t already balls deep inside you, he might think you were trying to seduce him.

“Fuck,” Nico grunts as he continues to slam into you, hips smacking loudly against your ass. Vash’s presence has apparently had little to no effect on either of your libidos, “little bugger’s supposed to be at his brother’s this weekend. Guess he came back early.”

Neither of your movements halt, but you’re both looking at him now. He can feel his cheeks heat with what he tells himself is embarrassment. The flush creeps along his whole face, all the way to the tips of his ears which he imagines are as red as his favorite jacket by now.

He isn’t sure what to do with himself. Can’t figure out where to look. Anywhere other than at the two of you would probably be a good place to start, but he just can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Nico’s heavy, swinging balls, or the little sneak peak he can see of Nico’s thick cock pistoning in and out of your quivering hole.

There’s a heat pooling in his belly now, stronger even than that of his cheeks. He’s so sexually inexperienced it takes him a minute to understand what’s happening to him. Watching and listening to the two of you fuck has his dick half hard.

He shifts his weight a bit from foot to foot, pondering how to best handle this. It isn’t too late for him to turn around and leave. He can always apologize to Nico later. He’s not usually the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He grew up Catholic or some shit, so his people are all about forgiveness.

“Oi,” you shout, snapping him out of his stupor, “you just gonna stand there all night wondering at your semi, or are you gonna make yourself useful and join us? I got more than one hole you know. Nico’s only occupying one of ‘em.”

“Shit,” Nico swears, his thrusts unsteady, “keep milking me like that and I’m gonna blow before the brat even gets the chance to whip it out.”

Vash sucks in a breath so quickly he chokes on it. Fuck, he can barely think let alone breathe with the two of you staring at him like that. He still has half a mind to bolt and slam the door behind him, but the other, more pertinent half of him can’t stop wondering what Nico’s cock would taste like now that it’s all covered in your slick.

“Think he needs some more convincing, baby,” Nico says, maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now seated on the sofa with his chest pressed against your back. The two of you didn’t break stride once during the switcheroo, which does give Vash some pause. There’s no possible way he could join the two of you; you’re way out of his league.

“Still watching, Vash?” Nico asks, roughly palming at your tits. “You can touch her you know. She wants you to. Her pussy gripped me so fucking hard when she caught sight of you. Who knew I snagged such a dirty little exhibitionist?”

Vash watches Nico pinch and pull at your already swollen nipples with rapt curiosity. It’s shameless the way you arch your back, encouraging him to pluck and prod at you. He wonders if this is all a performance for his benefit or if you really do enjoy having your nipples tweaked like that.

“Vashhh,” you keen, “c’mere, pretty boy. Wanna know that the mouth feels like wrapped around my teat.”

Vash no longer cares if you’re acting or not; an invitation is an invitation, and he’s dying to do the very thing you’ve just goaded him to.

He makes his way to you slowly, like he’s still not sure about the whole thing. He figures there’s no need for his hesitation; you clearly don’t startle easy. But he’s nervous damn it! Watching Nico paw at you has his dick standing at full attention. It bulges uncomfortably against the cotton of his boxers, restricted and aching and already starting to leak.

“Atta boy,” you coo encouragingly as he drops to his knees. Vash is taller than the average man, so even kneeling like this he’s eye level with your perfect tits.

“C’mon, baby,” you whine, reaching out to grab his hair and deciding against it. You must be waiting for him to make a move.

His touch is gentler than Nico’s, soft and curious as he glides the smooth pad of his thumb across your puckering areolas. Your reaction is immediate and seemingly genuine. A shiver skitters down your spine, and at this distance he can see the way you tighten around the base of his friend’s cock.

“Like that?” he asks just to confirm.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” you smile.

“Tch,” Nico grumbles from behind you, “you don’t gotta be so fucking gentle. She’s not gonna break.”

Vash frowns, rolling your swollen bud between two fingers, “what if I wanna be gentle?”

You seem to like it anyway. His eyes are glued to your pussy and its puffy lips, mesmerized by the way it flutters around Nico’s impressive length as he works your nipples. He squeezes and you clench. He releases and you relax.

“Suck, Vash,” you moan, “Suck, Vash. Please. Please.”

Who is he to deny you? Vash hasn’t sucked a tit since he was still in diapers and breastfeeding, but he figures you never really lose the instinct. He wraps his lips around you, careful of his teeth and begins to tenderly suckle on your left breast. You throw your head back and moan so loudly he’s sure even the neighbors can hear you now.

His still clothed crotch is pressed against your leg. He’s been absentmindedly humping it ever since he dropped down before you, but his thrusts are purposeful now. It takes him time to find a rhythm that he likes. It’s tricky, balancing his own pleasure with yours, but he wants to make sure this is as good for you as it is him. When you realize what he’s doing, you shift your leg encouragingly, coaxing him to grind against it.

“Such a good boy,” Nico laughs.

“Like a bitch in heat,” you return, twisting your fingers through his hair, blunt nails biting into the skin of his scalp.

You use the hair you’ve gathered to yank him off your tit and slot his lips against yours. He has to rise a bit to reach you, and when he settles again it’s over your thigh which feels somehow even better than your leg.

He licks into your mouth experimentally and you kiss back with enthusiasm, running your tongue along the tips of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, anywhere the muscle can reach. He tries to mirror your actions, but they’re foreign to him. He swirls his tongue around your own a few times in practice.

When he pulls away, your lips are red and plump from the friction, a thread of translucent spit connects the two of you. He leans back and back and back until the thin thread snaps completely and what’s left of the liquid dribbles messily down your chins.

“Nico,” he whines as he grabs at Nico’s hair. He isn’t as coordinated as the two of you, but he manages to pull Nico into a deep, heated kiss. Nico smiles into the kiss, wrapping his large palm around the back of Vash’s neck to push him impossibly closer.

The moment Nico’s fingers graze the back of Vash’s neck he’s cumming. Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of him, soaking his underwear and likely seeping through the denim of his jeans as well. He ruts himself through the orgasm, using your leg as a toy to get off while he wantonly moans into his roommate’s open mouth.

When he finally pulls away from Nico, you’re grinning at him.

“Did our cute little virgin cream his pants?” you tut, but there’s no real bite to it. Not while you’re on the verge of cumming yourself, hole creamy and brimming with an off-white mix of your arousal and Nico’s pre.

You wind your fingers into his shirt as if to rid him of it, and he pulls back so violently he falls from your lap, hitting the hard ground with a deafening thud.

He’s absolutely mortified. If it were physically possible for his face to get any redder it would, but luckily, he hit max redness while he came all over himself.

When he dares to look back and you and Nico, the two of you have stopped fucking. It’s the first time all night the two of you have called it quits. Nico’s still balls deep inside you, but neither his focus nor yours is on that.

He’s the only one still wearing clothes, but he feels bare before you. Clumsy and stupid, like the awkward man child Nai always accuses him of being. He’s ruined both your nights in one, dumbass move. He feels so bad he could cry. In fact, he can feel warm, wet tears beginning to pool in the corner of his eyes.

“Sorry!” he manages. “I’m sorry. I just, uh, well I’ve got some pretty gnarly scars is all. Didn’t want to kill the mood.” He rubs soothingly at the back of his neck, taking deep breaths as he wills the tears threatening to spill away.

“Vash-” Nico starts, but Vash cuts him off again.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry. Ha, I, uh, I’ve never done anything like this before. It was super nice of you guys to include me. Didn’t mean to fuck it up. Anyway, I really did cream my pants lol, so the two of you should go ahead and finish. It’s only fair.”

You exchange a look with Nico he can’t decipher before saying, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I’ll ask next time before trying something.”

Fuck, now your apologizing?

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Really! It’s okay. I don’t need you to apologize. Sex is kind of a clothes off activity. It’s a pretty fair assumption. I don’t mind watching you guys finish if you’re okay with me staying. I’d, uh, I’d like to learn actually.”

You turn back to exchange another undecipherable look with Nico.

“Christ,” Nico swears, “have you always been this cute?” The question must be rhetorical because he’s adding, “C’mere then, pretty boy. Let me show you how to make a woman cum.”

“What about you?” you and Vash ask in tandem.

“Already did,” he smirks. “Twice.”

As if to prove it he quickly slips out of you and without his cock to keep you all plugged up ropes of silky, white cum gush out of your pussy, painting your pretty lips and even slicking up the puckering hole of your ass.

“She’s definitely close,” Nico says, pushing his spend back inside you with two thick fingers. “But I’ve been neglecting her poor little clit.” He flicks your swollen nub for emphasis and you immediately cry out.

“Hush,” Nico coos, “I’m gonna get you there, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure he’s watching. Don’t be selfish now, you’ve been so good for me all night.”

He sneaks an assessing look at Vash whose eyes haven’t once left the two of you.

“Most women can’t cum from penetration alone,” he says when he’s certain Vash is watching, and really, it’s not like Vash was going to turn down his roommate’s generous offer. “You gotta stimulate them here too. Different women are going to like different speeds and shit, but once you get a feel for woman it isn’t too hard to read them.”

He’s circling the edge of your swollen clit with his thumb, not quite touching the throbbing thing yet. He teases the skin around it, playing with the mix of liquids gathered there.

“Best to make sure you're lubed up when you touch her. Clits are sensitive. They like the lubrication. I’m using my cum and her juices, but spit works too if you haven’t got her off yet.”

He’s thumbing at the bud now, slow and teasing, as if he wants to see just how long he can keep you teetering on the cruel edge of pleasure and pain.

“There are toys you can use to help you out, but we’ll save that demo for another night.”

Your body visibly jerks as Nico begins to pick up the pace.

“She’s sensitive even though she hasn’t cum. It happens sometimes. Especially after a cream pie’s been bullied into them. Penetrative sex is pleasurable for women, despite the fact they can’t usually get off on it alone. It’s even better for them when they’re with a man who knows how to hit all the right spots.”

“Nicooo,” you whine. “Please. Wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad.”

“Yeah, princess?” he hums. “Wanna cum all over my fingers? Wanna ruin this fucking couch? It was expensive you know. Might have to pitch in and help us buy another.”

“Anything. Anything,” you cry, clear, crystalline tears streaming down your face. “Fuck, Nico, ‘m so empty. I need, ah, I need-”

“I know what you need, baby,” he says, stuffing two fingers back inside you and curling them against the sensitive flesh of your walls.

He’s able to hit the exact spot you need him to, and the motion along with the circles he’s drawing into your clit has you cumming so hard you see stars, nails biting so harshly into the skin of his thighs you draw tiny beads of blood.

He fingers you through the orgasm, fingers unrelenting until he has you screaming and squirting around them.

When your orgasm finally ebbs he shoves the two cum covered fingers into your mouth and you obediently began to suck on them as he orders you to clean up your mess, savoring the salty taste of both your releases.

He slips some of the cum into his own mouth too, and into Vash’s when the nerd finally works up the balls to ask. He doesn’t stop shoveling cum into your mouths until he’s certain there’s absolutely no cum left to swallow.

It’s Vash who suggests a shower. Nico calls dibs but you run in there after him, still a ball of energy despite the orgasm.

Vash contemplates waiting until the two of you have finished to wash up, but his living room feels oddly lonely without the two of you in it. Plus, the drying, flaking cum in his own pants is starting to itch.

The door to the bathroom isn’t closed, but he enters meekly, head down, eyes averted, like a dog with a tail between his legs.

He takes his time undressing. Peeling his shirt off first followed by his jeans and ruined boxers. His back is to the mirror as he undresses. If he sees he’ll chicken out. If he sees he’ll just slink back to the quiet of his room, trying and failing to block out the soothing sounds of you and Nico.

There’s laughter from the shower. Yours and his. The curtains they have are thin, dainty things, and he can tell the two of you are wrestling over the shampoo bottle. If he doesn’t get in now, he’ll lose his nerve, so he rips the tattered curtain open and slides in wordlessly behind you.

The water is mercifully warm against his back. He stares at the way it swirls around your toes. Fizzy white suds circle the rusted drain, probably from the open shampoo bottle the two of you keep fighting for control of.

“Glad you joined us, pretty boy,” you say. When he manages to look at you, your eyes meet his. They aren’t prying or judgmental. They don’t roam along his patchy skin. “Nico’s hogging the shampoo, but he’s got a soft spot for ya. Bet I could convince him to let me wash your hair.”

“Tch, as if,” Nico tuts, shoving you aside. “You’re too small, squirt. I’ll help him with his hair.”

When the three of you are finished washing up, Vash is the first to leave the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. The fabric doesn’t cover much since most of the damage is on his chest and back. He somehow feels less self-conscious now. Maybe because you’d pointed out he’d seen so far up your pussy he knows the color of your cervix.

Of all the girls Nico’s brought home, you’re his favorite. None of the others have ever bothered with him before.

He comes back to the room fully dressed with a pair of his boxers and an oversized t-shirt clutched to his chest. He holds them out for you, struggling to maintain eye contact.

“For me?” you ask, eyebrow quirked in genuine surprise.

He nods, “Yeah, for you. The clothes you came in didn’t look very comfortable. Figured these would work as pajamas.”

You exchange a look with Nico. It’s another look he can’t fucking comprehend. He doesn’t understand how the two of you managed to develop a language of your own so quickly. You’ve only known each other a few hours.

“Pajamas?” you ask, as if you’re unfamiliar with the concept.

“Yeah, it’s like 3am. You’re spending the night, right?”

You hesitate for a moment more before grabbing the clothes from him with a smile. “Not on that sofa I’m not. Which one of you boys wanna cuddle with me tonight. Or am I getting a room to myself while the two of you spoon?”

“You can sleep with me!” Vash offers immediately. “I’ve got the space.

“Tch, for the three of us I hope,” Nice says. “There’s no way I’m missing out on cuddles.”

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved. Concept inspired by this AU, Push. Trying to stick with established lore but taking some liberties to make the drama work. Multiple headcanons from various sources I’ve come across included as suits the story. Starts roughly five years before Murder Family, I’m making assumptions about the timeline]

[18+ rating for language, implied sexual content, violence, alcohol consumption and general Hellaverse-ness]

[Part 1/?? Word count: 3761]

———————

Moxxie’s back slammed into the rough wooden bed frame as he heard the distinctive clang of prison bars rattling shut. He still couldn’t believe Chaz had just left him there. Grabbed the goods and ran. The imp realized his boyfriend was just as shitty out of bed as he was in it. He started tearing up as he climbed on the bottom bunk. Moxxie knew his dad wouldn’t bail him out or anything. He might have been the boss’s only (legitimate) son but he was also the most junior member of the family. And Crimson was not a sentimental imp.

Moxxie had been caught red clawed too, pinned by the security gate. No need for any formalities like a trial in the Greed Ring. A mugshot, strip down, and forced into a jumpsuit before the cops tossed him in a cell. Of course, Greed’s police force was basically a mafia on a wider scale.

“Soooo, what’re you in for?” A voice drawled from the top bunk. Moxxie hadn’t realized he had a cellmate. Oh crumbs, had the other demon heard him crying?! If there was a way to ensure you didn’t get out of prison in one piece, it was letting others know how weak you were the moment you were locked up. His tail reflexively whipped closer, as if trying to hide himself.

“Okay, not much of a talker, are you?” The voice almost sounded jovial. In prison? A squeak of the mattress and the other prisoner launched himself to the floor with theatrical flair. Before he could do more than sit up and blink the tall imp gripped his hand to shake. Not the vice-like grip his father used, hard enough to make claw shaped indents into the other’s hand. It was a firm, friendly shake.

“I'm Blitzø, the "o" is silent. I'm sure we're going to get along just fine. So, what's your deal? What'd you do? Who'd you diddle? You look like someone good with a gun. You look like someone who could shoot up an office-“ Moxxie tried to interject, but the other imp plowed on.

“-and I hope you are 'cuz I got a plan to get us out of this dump but I'm going to need some help, you think you can give me a hand? I need to get out to my daughter. The babysitter will kill me if I don't get back soon. Also I got some business scheduled in Pride that I gotta get back for. Do you like kids? 'Cause lemme tell 'ya. They're a-fucking-dorable.” Moxxie felt his eyes warming up with more tears but his lips were forming a shaky smile. He realized he hadn’t smiled like this since… well he could barely remember. At first he thought since Chaz ditched him, but really it was since his mom “disappeared.”

It took a couple of days for the cellmates to enact Blitzø’s plan. Moxxie had to learn the complex’s layout and they had to make sure they could get to a weapon cache. Their escape was successful, both of them got banged up, and Moxxie’s body count tripled as a result of the escapade.

A few things they learned about each other: Blitzø’s circus background made him extremely agile and prone to acrobatic feats in a fight. He was batshit crazy once the ichor started flowing but he kept his eye out on his partner. The scarred imp backed up Moxxie more than once when he floundered while they fled for the Pride Ring. His plans were grandiose but he was quick to adapt and quicker to protect his cohort.

On the other claw, Moxxie was even better with firearms than Blitzø thought. So long as the kid kept his composure, he didn’t miss a shot. It was almost magickal and he saw more magick than most of their kind. The kid seemed quiet and well mannered for the most part. He could get absolutely fucking feral in a fight, becoming an even better shot if that was possible. But he was insecure and desperate for approval. The pure shock on his face when Blitzø told him “nice work Mox,” after they got out told the older imp that he’d probably never been praised in his life.

One bonus to no trial before you were thrown in prison? No one was too keen on dragging you back if you got out. Especially if you massacred 80% of the guards on your way out, traumatized 18%, and awakened some very interesting feelings in the final 2%. It wasn’t worth spending hard grifted money chasing down someone who would just do the same thing even if you managed to catch them. If they’d run off from Mammon, the escaping prisoners would be hunted down. But otherwise, even the police mafia didn’t give that much of a shit.

The duo had snagged a couple of overcoats so their bright orange jumpsuits would stand out less. The plan was to get to Blitzø’s apartment, check up on his kid, grab some cash to rent Moxxie a room for the night and change before Blitzø had to be at his appointment.

Except once they got to the Pride Ring, Blitzø started freaking the fuck out. “Shitshitshitshitshiiiiiiitfuckingdammit.” A stream of profanities just kept coming out of his mouth as Blitzø picked up his pace.

“Um, sir?” It was drilled into Moxxie to address superiors as sir or ma’am; Blitzø had taken charge during their escape and didn’t seem to mind being called sir. “What happened, you started panicking once we got here.” This was presumably the older imp’s home turf, yet he was more off balance than at any other point in the past three days.

“FUUUUUUUCKokay Mox, change of plans.” He spun around and grasped the shorter imp by the shoulders. “I lost track of the time and I can’t miss this appointment. Do you know anyone in this ring that can put you up for the night?” Blitzø doubted it. It seemed like the kid had stayed in Greed up until now. A quick head shake confirmed that. “You got two choices, cause I don’t have time to get you someplace first. You can head off alone and we’ll meet up tomorrow or you can come with me, play along, and hope it’s not worse than prison.”

Moxxie was taken aback; first off that was the most words in a row without swears he’d heard from Blitzø. Second, “Where are you going that’s worse than prison?”

“A Goetian estate.”

Moxxie’s jaw dropped. He might as well have said he was meeting up with Lucifer. Yet… Blitzø had an appointment to be there. And it was important enough that he couldn’t even check on his kid first. Not to mention, wandering around an unfamiliar area wearing a prison jumpsuit was next to suicidal. “I’ll stick with you sir.”

“Ballsy! I knew I fucking liked you Moxxie.” He whirled around and started loping toward the fancy ass side of the city. “Keep up Mox! We gotta go!”

It took about half an hour of running and weaving through crowds but they made it before…whatever time Blitzø was so intent on outrunning. He had started running even faster about halfway, his desperation more than apparent. Once he passed through the gates, all the tension left his body. He slumped to the ground; Moxxie hesitated as he gaped at the ornate fencing. The gate and elegant fence had the symbol of the Goetia family (a crowned heart) emblazoned every few yards.

Moxxie had grown up a privileged life, especially for an imp. Servants, tutors, a well stocked manor. But the building in front of him was on another level. It was more of a palace than anything; multistoried with heraldic banners hanging, multiple manicured gardens, statues strategically placed and the master’s sigil glowing prominently on the wall. And that was just what he could glimpse in the full moon’s light. This was the difference between money and royalty.

“Last chance Moxxie. C’mon in or head off somewhere and I’ll meet you at my office at noon tomorrow. If you’re still standing around here in a few, those fuckers will drag you with me anyway.” He gulped and stepped onto the grounds next to the other imp. “Still ballsy.” Blitzø’s grin was back.

“Here’s what’s going to go down. Any minute now some beefy hellhound fucks are gonna show up to haul me in. They might grab you, might let you walk. Either way, keep your mouth shut and just back me up if I ask. Hopefully we won’t see that overdressed bitch tonight but if she’s around don’t make eye contact. And-“ whatever he was about to add was cut off as four hellhounds jogged up.

Blitzø wasn’t kidding about them being beefy. They were all different breeds but they all had biceps as big as his head, wrapped in artfully ripped suits. The matching suits, earpieces, sunglasses, and crisp posture gave them an air of professionalism that was a sharp contrast to his dad’s goons.

“Oh look, it’s the Chucklefuck squad and the Douchenugget duo. Who’d you piss off to land the night shift?” Blitzø taunted the Hounds, seemingly indifferent to the fact any one of them could snap him in half. Two of them grabbed Blitzø by the arms, grinning sadistically at the thought of manhandling the smaller demons.

“Lady Stella specifically requested we escort you in, Blitzø.” Blitzø winced “Satan fucking dammit.” Apparently Lady Stella was the overdressed bitch he’d mentioned. “She’s got a party tonight so she doesn’t have to hear your scrawny ass getting pounded. But she knew how much you’d like friends to bring you home.” The Hellhound punctuated his words with a sharp snap of his teeth.

Home? Moxxie backpedaled in confusion, only to bump into the leg of another security Hound. Said Hound grabbed him around the torso, easily pinning both arms and leaving Moxxie’s hooves dangling far from the ground. He struggled, trying to at least get back to the ground. The size difference and Moxxie’s lack of weapons meant he didn’t stand much chance at the moment. The pair with Blitzø took the lead, not caring that his dragging hooves were tearing furrows into the lawns or creating sparks on the paths.

Blitzø let them, worn out from the prison break and subsequent dash back to Pride. He was too tired to try to keep pace with his “escorts.” He kept glancing back to Moxxie, trying to reassure him. The younger imp was clearly terrified. He couldn’t really help the kid at the moment; the bulldog faced Hellhound carrying him lifted his lip whenever Blitzø looked back.

Fuck this fucking farce and fuck Paimon with a rusty crucifix for doing this, Blitzø thought to himself for the ten thousandth time in his life. Best to go through the motions as quickly as possible. The group arrived at one of the drawing rooms and Blitzø was dumped unceremoniously on the thick carpet.

The whirlwind trip through the estate proved to Moxxie that royalty had a whole different definition of luxury from what he knew. Paintings, mosaics, sculptures, exotic plants were just the beginning as they rushed through hallways wider than his bedroom at his dad’s. He’d lost count of how many doors they passed before they reached one in particular.

Blitzø was thrown to the ground but the one holding Moxxie didn’t loosen his grip. Blitzø glared back at the Hellhounds, hissing. The Hounds responded with low growls. Everyone went silent when a lithe figure snapped the cover of a book shut and unfolded itself from a lounge by the fireplace. This had to be one of the Goetia, presumably the master of this estate.

His extreme height was the first thing Moxxie noticed. Moxxie was about average for an imp in height; the glimpses he’d seen of imp servants in this maze were all much smaller. Blitzø was on the taller end of the spectrum but the Hounds were easily double his height. This royal demon towered over them all. You could stack Moxxie, Blitzø, and even one of the small servants on a Hellhound’s shoulders and they still would barely be eye level with the demon’s glowing eyes.

At least the bottom set. He had two sets, a large bottom pair and a thinner set above that could have been mistaken for elegant eyebrows if they hadn’t been glowing red. Glowing eyes weren't unusual for hellborn, but the deep red pupil-less aura was still intimidating. The white facial disc only enhanced that aura with its contrast.

What could be seen of the demon’s form was covered in smooth grey feathers, sheening in the firelight. The plush robe he wore was lightly cinched at the waist and barely clung to the shoulders, showing the feathers covered the majority of his body. He stalked deliberately to where Blitzø was climbing to his hooves, features set in a stern expression.

“St- Master Stolas,” Blitzø stuttered as the avian demon loomed above him. Master?! Oh crumbs, what in Satan’s name is going on?! Was all that talk about a daughter, starting up a business, growing up in the circus, everything just a lie? “I got back as quick as I could, I didn’t even have a chance to check on Loonie first…” Stolas cut him off with a gesture. Apparently the daughter talk wasn’t a lie at least.

Stolas glanced at the Hound carrying Moxxie. “Put the little one down,” he ordered in clipped, cultured tones. “I’ll deal with them from here.” The Hounds exchanged glances and grins. Suddenly Moxxie was on the ground when his captor opened his arms. “As you wish, Prince Stolas.” The imp was getting serious mood whiplash. Stolas wasn’t just a member of the Goetia but one of the princes. Maybe Blitzø was right; this was worse than prison.

The guards hadn’t left the room before Stolas leaned over Blitzø, foreheads nearly touching. “What the FUCK were you doing in the Greed Ring that landed in you prison!” The Hellhounds grins grew wider as they shut the doors and Moxxie was sure he heard the slap of a high five. “Are you not being careful enough in the other Rings? You know if you get in trouble I have to get you out of it. And we don’t want that, do we my itty bitty imp?” Stolas punctuated his words with taps between Blitzø’s nostrils. His words were furious but Moxxie could see his expression softening once the doors clicked shut. He had plenty of experience being berated and threatened by Crimson, but he was getting so many mixed signals he didn’t know what to do.

“A job went bad, Master. It won’t happen again.” Despite just having a royal yell at him, Blitzø’s smirk was back. Without guards around he was able to give his companion a double thumbs up while replying. His voice sounded utterly defeated but his posture had perked up.

“Luckily for you, what passes for authority in the Greed Ring isn’t likely to give a shit about a couple of escapee imps. Speaking of which,” four dazzling red eyes locked onto Moxxie. “Who is this that you’ve dragged along?”

“Moxxie got tossed into my cell, I couldn’t just fucking leave him there. He’s a crazy good shot, figured he’d be a good candidate for that project we talked about.”

“Hmmmm,” Stolas seemed to be looking the young imp over. It was hard to tell without any pupils. “We will discuss this later. For now,” the prince continued in a haughty tone, “we need to establish the punishment for your little slip up during your extraneous activities. Both of you, follow me.” Stolas turned, his robe and tail feathers swirling dramatically around him. Moxxie looked nervously in Blitzø’s direction. There was a faint glow under the older imp’s shirt collar as he replied “Yes Master Stolas.” He gestured for Moxxie to follow, not at all concerned about what Stolas might have planned as “punishment.”

Apparently the room they’d been delivered to was the first and most public in the master suite. They entered what looked like a well appointed bedroom with a huge canopied bed adorned with blankets and a nest of deep cushions. There was a bookshelf inset in an alcove next to a chaise lounge and chairs, a small desk, and hints of a bathtub on a raised dais shrouded by curtains. Candles and moonlight made the Goetia emblem glimmer wherever it was stamped or embroidered.

The door locked shut behind them, nearly making Moxxie jump out of his skin. As soon as the door was shut, Stolas swooped down to Blitzø, cupping the imp’s cheeks with a tenderness that made his yelling in the drawing room seems like a hallucination. “Are you alright dearest?” the prince cooed as he stroked Blitzø’s head. “Mmph, I’m fine Stolas, really.” Blitzø’s voice was muffled from Stolas’ talons smushing his face. “Just tired from that last sprint. Almost didn’t make it in time. Fucking Cinderhella bullshit.”

“I’m sorry darling. I’ll keep working on it. I’ve been so worried the past few days.” Apparently satisfied that Blitzø was unhurt, the owl demon moved to nuzzling and preening the imp’s particolor skin.

Blitzø gasped at the soft feathers brushing his neck. “Stolas, if you wanna fuck as part of my “punishment” I’m on board, but I don’t think Moxxie wants to watch.” He looked at the other imp over the prince’s head. His face was flushed and a lazy lascivious smile spread across his lips. “Unless you wanna watch Mox. I’ve always liked an audience.” He waggled his eyebrows; Moxxie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Stolas’ eyes jerked open. He let out a surprised hoot before shooting up to his full height. “Ah! Um, yes, o-of course! We can pick this up later Blitzy.” Blitzy? Within moments Stolas had shifted from a pissed off royal yelling at his property to a flustered loverboy using pet names. “Apologizes for not properly introducing myself earlier.” He bowed with a deep flourish, putting his face eye level to Moxxie. “My name is Stolas, Prince of Ars Goetia.”

Blitzø stretched, popping vertebrae all down his spine and tail. “Didn’t your daddy tell you not to bow to imps?” The same jovial tone Moxxie heard when they first met was back in his voice.

Stolas snorted. “My father, the shit eating bastard that he is, can go fuck himself. Preferably with something full of splinters to join the stick up his arse.” The prince was just as foul-mouthed as Blitzø, with the addition of a fancy vocabulary. He guided Blitzø to the lounge and offered a nearby easy chair to Moxxie. It was built for a Goetia, meaning any imp had to jump to climb up and their feet would dangle childlike once seated. However Stolas produced a step stool from the book alcove, so he could seat himself with more dignity.

“Hi, I’m Moxxie Knolastname.” Hopefully neither of them would recognize the name of one of the Greed Ring’s crime families. “Sir, what the fuck is going on? You didn’t mention any of this before we got to the gates. What was all that about?” Moxxie gestured wildly to the rest of the palace, hoping to indicate everything that had just happened.

“Eh, guess you deserve some explanation. Not the best time but fuck it.” Blitzø rubbed at his forehead, specifically the All Imp Circus brand in the middle. In the space of a blink it changed from a black skull faced heart to a white heart topped by a crown, flanked by decorative lines. “Short version, my dad fucked me over and sold me to the Goetia. His dad,” he jerked a thumb at the lanky owl reclining next to him, “decided to add to the jackassery and bound us.”

“And I am not about to copy his example so I give my darling Blitzy as much free reign as I can manage.” Stolas wrapped his arms and legs around Blitzø with a look of glee. It was simultaneously tender, protective, and possessive. “Unfortunately, members of both my family and staff are quick to spread word to my wilted prick of a father and other members of Ars Goetia, so we maintain a semblance of the master/slave dynamic outside my chambers. Hence, all that.” Stolas vaguely waved in the same direction as Moxxie had before latching back onto Blitzø. “Eugh, Blitzy, you smell awful. That prison cannot have been sanitary. Please get cleaned up dearest, you and… Moxxie, was it? Hopefully we have something clean that will fit you; you’re a bit taller than much of my household staff.”

“I’m sure we’ve got some of my old stuff that’ll work. But seriously Stolas, I couldn’t check on Loonie before this. Can I pop out real qui-”

“Loona is fine.” Stolas interjected with a comforting tone. “I had one of the maids check up on her and the ‘babysitter.’ She let them know you were delayed and offered overtime pay to the young lady.” The maid, one of the few who was loyal to Stolas and Blitzø, relayed that the imp girl, while possessing a distinct country charm, was “thoroughly pissed” at having to watch over an angsty teenager without pay. She’d been all smiles again when informed of the extra money she was being advanced.

Blitzø took a deep breath of relief. He’d adopted the nearly adult Hellhound just a few months ago and they were still getting used to each other. He didn’t know what she’d do on her own yet, hence the babysitter. She was an imp from Wrath he’d gotten to know during the Harvest Festival Stolas had to officiate. She decimated opponents in the Pain Games so Blitzø knew she could handle just about anything.

“Thanks Floof,” he gave Stolas a quick frenching before heading through an inconspicuous door near the bed. He pushed Moxxie along and heard Stolas’ trilling voice call out. “Make sure you put those jumpsuits in the laundry hamper. I look forward to having a little prison bitch around later.” All of Blitzø’s spines stood up at the thought and a tingling warmth raced over him. Not about to let Stolas get the last word, he shot back through the closing door, “I’m sure Mox’s will fit you like those slutty rompers you like to prance around in.” He could hear hooting chuckles from the other room while Moxxie clapped his hands over his head.

—————

Moxxie blinked as the lights flickered on. As if one suite of rooms wasn’t enough, here was essentially an apartment sized for imps. It was much like a studio apartment with one large area for sleeping, eating, relaxing, and a mini kitchen. The furnishings weren’t a match for the rest of the palace, but decent and sturdy. There was a closet and one other door leading to the bathroom. No windows. The only exit was through the master suite. Moxxie started breathing hard as he realized this was basically an upgraded cell.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda freaky. But it’s one of the safest places in the building.” Blitzø opened the closet and started tossing clothes on the bed. “We set this up after Stolas married that bitchy feather duster. Only people that can get in are me, Stolas, his kid, and one of the maids. Oh, and the people I bring in.” He took the pile of clothes and dropped them on Moxxie. “These are all too small for me now. We could raid the servant’s closets buuuuuuuut…screw that. Now let's see if there’s anything to eat.” A quick look in the fridge produced beers and a comically large cheese wedge. “Oh fuck yes, that woman deserves a raise! Or a good dicking if she wants it again.” Blitzø had the cheese in one hand, a beer in the other hand that was unzipping the prison wear and his tail wrapped around another beer. “You wanna eat before you clean up? There’s more beer, some fried chicken, and I think a salad if you want it.” He stuck out a forked tongue at the thought of vegetables. “Maybe a good enough fuck will get her to stop putting salads in here.”

Food, real food not prison slop, sounded great but a bit of time alone sounded better. “I’ll wash up first sir, I can’t stand this thing anymore.” Blitzø chomped away while giving him another thumbs up. Moxxie caught a glimpse of white scars covering patches of the other imp’s neck, arms, and torso, and what looked like a gold choker at his throat. He closed the bathroom door and dumped the clothes onto a bench. The bathroom wasn’t ostentatious like what he glimpsed in Stolas’s room. It had all the basics in a reasonable size. One thing he did notice was the horse decor. Horses and horseshoes everywhere. The rubber devilduckie was even a cowboy.

It was probably more polite to take a quick shower. Moxxie needed some time to regain his footing though, so he soaked in a bath. He’d been off balance since crossing the gates. Of course, nothing could have prepared him for anything he’d come across here. From everything he’d picked up Blitzø and Stolas were in a shitty situation and trying to make the best of it. It didn’t mean Moxxie had to stick around though.

Yeah, the older imp had broken him out of prison and talked about hiring Moxxie at his new startup. But he also hadn’t mentioned anything about being connected to Hell’s royal families.

Then again, Moxxie hadn’t mentioned his mafia family. He really didn’t want to either. He’d be just fine if his dad thought he died in the prison riot they’d caused during the escape. He could disappear in Pride and leave his own fucked up family behind. Blitzø and presumably Stolas were grateful for his help. Even if he didn’t want to work for them in the end, they probably wouldn’t just kick him to the curb. He wasn’t good at making deals. Crimson hadn’t let him join any important talks yet. But maybe he could leverage some cash out of the pair before finding his own way.

That would have to wait for the morning at earliest. From the sounds of it, Stolas was very enthusiastic about keeping their “appointment” tonight. With at least a glimmer of a plan, Moxxie finished washing and started digging through the clothes. There were a lot of t shirts, tanks, and leather pants. Skinny fit pants at that. Almost all the shirts had some sort of horse design; from one that said “Wild Horse” in messy red letters to one with a trio of sparkly pastel horses rearing under a full moon. Eventually he found a button down with a tailcoat that was pretty close to his normal clothes. It wouldn’t be tailored perfectly but it would do for the morning. For the night he found pajama pants with a horseshoe pattern that he didn’t mind sleeping in. He wasn’t about to sleep nude in a room with a horny couple he barely knew one wall away.

“All yours sir.” Blitzø was flopped on the couch, having finished both the beers and cheese. He was working his way through beer number three, which he took with him to the shower. Moxxie rummaged through the fridge, finding not only what Blitzø had mentioned but the makings of sandwiches and a container of soup. A little more digging around the miniature kitchen and he found various dry goods that would make a decent meal. By the time Blitzø came back he was plating the spaghetti with cheese sauce he’d made. He topped it off with some chopped up fried chicken for some added protein. He made a sizable batch; he doubted a cheese wedge and beer was enough for Blitzø.

Blitzø himself emerged from the bathroom, dressed in horse print boxers (which didn’t hide his slight erection) and a fitted black tank. “Thank fuck, Stolas was right about the stink. Laundry’s gonna have fun with those jumpsuits.” His nostrils flared suddenly. “What the dick? Where’d you get all this Mox?” His eyes were shining at the food and Moxxie could swear he was drooling.

“In your kitchen sir. There’s plenty of dry ingredients for easy meals, probably so you don’t have to disturb the main kitchen during your… ‘appointments.’ I would have liked some mushrooms or fresh herbs for flavoring, the ground and dried ones just don’t quite measure up but I can understand the maid not wanting to have too much perishable food here if your stays aren’t consistent. In any case making a bechamel sauce is fairly simple, it is one of the mother sauces after all and the cheese was perfect for melting into it. I did cheat with the chicken and used the microwave but it works out since there’s not too much cookware here either-“

“Wait wait wait. You made this?” Moxxie nodded. Blitzø yanked open the door and yelled “FLOOF CHECK THIS SHIT OUT MOXXIE CAN COOK!”

There was an undignified squawk before the owl demon cleared his throat. “I hope this is more impressive than the ‘ghetto nachos’ you presented me with.” He had to dip his head to enter the room but once he was in the ceiling was high enough that he didn’t quite brush it with his crest feathers. “Oh! Oh my! That looks delightful! And it smells excellent.” He closed his bottom set of eyelids and inhaled deeply.

“Hey! Ghetto nachos are damn tasty.”

“I’m not saying they aren’t but microwaving processed cheese slices onto tortilla chips does not count as cooking. This on the other hand,” the prince opened his eyes, a pleased expression that had nothing to do with sensuality on his face. “This is incredible. Do I detect some mustard added to the bechamel?”

Moxxie hadn’t expected anyone to notice. “Yes, your highness. With the chicken already being breaded, I felt it would compliment nicely.” He’d never been able to talk to anyone about cuisine before. Everyone at his father’s house had laughed at him. Maybe his mom would have liked to talk about it…

“Please, call me Stolas in private. Might I try a taste?” Moxxie twirled noodles around a fork, making sure both meat and sauce were included. Stolas savored the bite, his eyes closing and his feathers fluffing up. “As delicious as I hoped. As I’ve had dinner already, I won’t keep you from such a well made meal.” He nuzzled the base of Blitzø’s horn before bowing out of the room. “I’ll be waiting Blitzyyyyy.”

Blitzø was already diving headfirst into his plate. “Christ on a stick Moxxie, this is amazing. And that’s not just a week of prison food talking.” How he could taste anything shoveling his food in his mouth that fast, Moxxie didn’t know. He did notice that Blitzø was eating with more enthusiasm than at any other meal they’d shared.

Before Moxxie had more than half his portion, Blitzø was slurping down the last noodle.”That was great, thanks Mox.” He dumped dishes into the sink. Stifling a yawn, he headed back to the master suite. “Make yourself comfortable. Sheets should be clean.” That lascivious grin came back. “Unless watching is the kinda shit you’re into. Stolas’ bed’s big enough for all of us if you feel like joining.” Moxxie nearly choked on his pasta.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this! The fic is in process and currently around 25k words so there’s a lot more coming. Next part will open up with NSFW content, heads up.

Next>

[literallylexa]

Dr. Monster

(Sam x Dean x Cas x Reader)

Chapter 2: “The Prophecy”

🩷•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🩷

Should be a longer storyline. Has a bit of a mystery aspect to it. Specific chapters will be for certain romantic interests which I will put in the beginning of each chapter. This story is about (Y/N). Think of it as an entire season about YOU! Still developing a storyline but has lots of ideas. Will have to rewatch some seasons to get the lore right. Debating if I want to “spoil it” in the description of what the fanfic is about or leave it a mystery. I think I’m going to set the story around season 7-8 but of course I’m changing up some of the things that happen so it will be off script from the original spn show.

I’m going to switch to second person rather than third. Easier to write when it’s in (Y/N)’s POV.

Saving people, killings things, it’s the family business. During one of Sam and Dean’s hunts, they came across a small town in Oregon. Strange encounters happen is this town frequently, however there hasn’t been any killings or missing persons until now.The boys find their way to a veterinary hospital and find the cause of it…

🩷•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🩷

The group arrives back to the hospital. The boys follow you to your office. “This town has many supernatural beings in it. None of them would hurt any of the people here. We all work together to make this community safe. All of them here have nothing to go back to. They either lost their homes, families, or they were turned forcefully. They all came to me for help. I provide them medical care if they were hurt, jobs, a new life. In exchange, they protect us.” You say.

“Was that woman last night also supernatural?” Dean asks.

“Whoever is killing these people specifically know that they are supernatural.” You sigh. “Maybe it’s a hunter?”

“Or another supernatural being.” Castiel replies, “I feel a presence here, something strong.”

“I feel it too. Ever since the night at the diner, the energy in this place has been off. Like somethings here…watching us.” You add on.

“That makes no sense though. Another monster killing monsters?” Sam says.

“We killed the bitch, Eve.” Dean sighs, “Sent her ass back to purgatory. None of her freak shows should be around anymore. Unless some flew under the radar.”

You gasp, “Eve?” You’ve met a woman named Eve before. Dark brown hair, green eyes wearing a white dress. She came to the diner one night, asking about this town- she never been here before. Her presence was off, making you nervous as you talked to her. She was scary, demented almost. She talked like a serial killer would. That was many months ago, however that encounter you remember like it was yesterday. Prior to Eve visiting your town, you were already involved with the supernatural. However, you’ve also been different since your encounter with Eve. Visions, actually feeling the presence of monsters, sometimes even seeing demons true faces. You’ve never dove into your new abilities, as it scared you. Are you a monster too?

🩷•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🩷

THEN:

“Excuse me ma’am?” The woman places a hand on your shoulder. A shiver runs through your entire body when she touched you. It almost stung. You gasp out, confused from the sudden sensation. You turn around facing the unknown woman, setting (your fav drink) down onto the bar counter. You look at the woman, she wears a white dress with no shoes on, hair clearly not brushed for a while. “Are you okay?” You ask her.

“I’m Eve.” She says, doing a closed mouth smile staring at you.

“Uh yeah nice to meet you.” You say, creeped out by the situation. “How can I help you?” Looking around the bar, trying to see an escape out.

“I was told to come find you. I heard you help some of my children out.” Eve continues to smile, “I’m so thankful for you. Even monsters deserve someone to care for them.”

Your eyes widen, who is this?

“Don’t be scared, (Y/N). I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just trying to show you some gratitude.” Eve chuckles. “I’ll make sure that you’re protected. A war is coming.” Eve says. “Between everyone. Watch out for yourself.” Eve stands up to leave, touching your hand. “Besides, you’re one of my children now.”

🩷•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🩷

NOW:

“You’ve spoke to Eve?” Cas asks, wide eyed.

“Holy shit.” Dean gasps. “You’re the person they were talking about in purgatory. They were saying that she’s our savior. That every monster is going to be back on Earth because of you.”

“What the hell?” Sam asks, incredibly confused.

“Hold on a second. I know what’s going on.” Cas speaks up. “Whoever is killing your friends, is actually out to get you. A lot of the monsters wanted to stay in purgatory.”

“So basically…whoever is this is coming to get me because I’m some sort of savior? That’s ridiculous.” You laugh nervously, “There is absolutely no way that I would ever let monsters out of purgatory.”

“This makes no sense.” Sam says looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

You clear your throat after making eye contact with him. He’s so handsome.

“Hold on a second. Everything is coming together now. We need to talk to Kevin. (Y/N) are you up for a road trip?”

“Who’s Kevin?” You ask, mind racing and twirling around.

“He’s a prophet of the lord.” Castiel says blankly.

“Ok first an angel, now a prophet…please don’t tell me God is real too?!” You exclaim, hands shaking.

The boys look over at each other with a shrug. “Yeah uh, his name is Chuck.” Sam chuckles.

You sigh, placing your hands down on the desk while looking down. Everything has just gotten so much more complicated.

Dean and Castiel watch outside while Sam stays with you as you pack up your things. He stood against the door frame, trying not to watch you too intently, however he couldn’t look away from you.

“I never thought I’d be in this situation.” You say, grabbing some clothes and stuffing them into a suitcase. Sam looks away as he sees you stuffing your panties into the side of it, barely fitting.

Sam gets out of his trance, “uh yeah. I mean how did you even get yourself into all this? Helping monsters?” Sam asks, looking at you intently, wanting to listen to you as you talked.

“Long story short, a shapeshifter saved me. Really bad car crash. Had to go to the hospital and they drove me there. When I saw them again, they were in another skin- ya know wanting to stay low radar. I started to look up the supernatural and I noticed it was all around me. Something about this town is special.” You say, looking at Sam.

“Not all monsters are evil.” Sam laughs, “I once fell in love with a werewolf…and a demon.” He scratches his head. “The demon was definitely evil.”

“Been there done that.” You laugh, recalling previous romantic encounters with supernatural beings. “How’d you get into hunting?”

“Well-“ Sam stops his sentence, hearing a scream from outside. “Pack your things now.” Sam runs over to the window and looks out. Dean and Castiel are fighting somebody.

“Shit.” You hiss out, hands shaking. You close you suitcase and grab your gun, cocking it back. Sam looks back at you and nods. The two of you run out to the Impala where Dean and Castiel are fighting. Your vision becomes blurry as you look at the faces of the people. Demons. Your head hurts and the back of your eyes sting, Sam grabs you by your shoulders and rushes you over to the car.

“Let’s go!” Dean yells, throwing himself into the driver seat, Sam and Castiel joining. You and Sam share the backseat as Cas is up front with Dean.

“What the hell was that?!” You scream out, “Are demons after me?”

“Maybe the demons are working for something.” Cas sighs looking back at you. “We need to get somewhere safe.”

“We’re heading to the bunker now. Kevin is meeting us there.” Dean says, driving faster.

•••

The team stops at a motel for the night. Sam puts together demon warding around the motel while Cas takes care of the look out. “So it looks like there’s only one bed.” Dean looks at you and smirks. You laugh, slightly charmed by Dean’s character. His smile was enchanting. You would never admit this, but his smile made your panties wet. His voice, his body, his eyes are all too much for you to handle. You know you shouldn’t think these dirty thoughts about him but you can’t stop. Looking at his lips and then back at his eyes you smile, “Looks like you and Sam can share the bed and I’ll take the couch.” You place a hand on his shoulder and bite your lip, dragging your suitecase to the couch.

“I would rather sleep on the floor.” Sam comments, pushing hair out of his face.

“Oh please I’m a pleasure to sleep with.” Dean winks at you.

“I’m sure you hear that all the time.” You laugh and shake your head. Sam seemed almost angry watching Dean flirt with you.

“Please take the bed. Dean can take the floor and I can lay on the couch.” Sam says.

“That sounds perfect.” You smile at Sam, smirking at Dean as his mouth is agape. Sam and Dean’s eyes watch you as you go from one side of the room to the other. You felt like you were walking weird from the eyes staring. However it did put a strange sense of confidence in you.

That night you couldn’t sleep. Many things were on your mind. Demons, angels, purgatory, God…what will happen when you see this Kevin person. What is your role in all of this? Not to mention the three handsome, sexy men that are taking you on this journey that kind of seem into you. What will happen next?

🩷•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🩷

[devourable]

I am not normally someone who obsesses over people’s OCs but something about Rhodes has been on my mind for days… they would be the one yandere that I would be absolutely smitten with. Can we have some more information about Rhodes please? NSFW or SFW, I just need more of them if possible! Give us that lore and their likes/dislikes please!

every time someone expresses love for rhodes i get an extra year on my lifespan 🫶 here's some headcanons for u beloved

🥩 the butcher | rhodes williams

· they're incredibly lowkey as a yandere. while their eyes will linger on you when you're not looking and go out of their way to hurt anyone that hurts you, you wouldn't know they have any sort of affectionate feelings for you until either you express them first or they find the right moment to tell you. their expression is ever unchanging and they're a master at hiding how they feel.

· their back is covered in massive, jagged scars. they don't talk about where they came from

· the majority of their income comes from selling their product in bulk to restaurants and bigger food related businesses; hence why their deli is still running despite not many people coming to it

· additionally, they're an incredible chef and offer catering services too. but they mostly prefer restricting their culinary skills to their deli and personal life.

· they're in an area where a lot of strays live, so it's not uncommon for them to take a few in for a bit; especially during colder days when they need the shelter. they have and will continue to lose sleep trying to ensure a litter of kittens make it through the night.

· they love spicy food but hate hot sauce. they'd rather go through the effort of cutting up peppers to add to their food than add hot sauce to it.

and heres a sprinkle of nsfw headcanons for you 😌

nsfw below cut // mdni

· while they are a switch, they're naturally more dominant personality wise. bratty behavior will get punished out of you straight away. they're not mean by any stretch, but they're incredibly firm.

· this is accentuated by how strong they are. they get a massive kick out of manhandling you and moving you into any position they want, using their size/weight to pin you down and take whatever they give you, generally just being enough to restrict your movement in any way they see fit and you not being able to stop them (or wanting to).

· if you really get them going while they're on a shift, they have no problem bending you over one of the dining room tables and bringing you to the edge with their mouth. but they'll stop just before you cum, separating themself from you and heading back to the kitchen while muttering about how they have work to do. no matter how much you whine about it, you will not finish until they're done.

[wrongcaitlyn]

wrongcaitlyn masterlist

decided to make this for anyone coming from greatest of luxuries or new to my works in general, in case anyone wants to check out my other stuff! my ao3

my name's tawny (not caitlyn, lmao, that's actually from caitlyn kiramman from arcane), i use she/her pronouns, and i write pjo and marauders fics!

asks are open, i love rambling abt any of these fics (or general fandom stuff) <3

i currently have two main wip's that i'm working on:

the greatest of luxuries (is your secrets): solangelo, part of the dear reader series, popstar!nico, and a sequel to talk your talk. updates every sunday! may these memories break our fall: jegulus/wolfstar, percy jackson au, and follows the quest of heroes of olympus. on hiatus!

and several completed fics (both multi-chaps and one-shots)!

PJO COMPLETED FICS

dear reader series - popstar au - talk your talk and go viral (i just need this love spiral) - 34 ch, 145k words, solangelo - still hoping that the fire won't burn me (just one time) - one-shot, 11.1k, valgrace

keep your eyes open series - hunger games au - staying on guard (every lesson forms a new scar) - 6 ch, 40.2k words, solangelo, MCD - i've got a lot to pine about (a lot to live without) - one-shot, 2.2k words, solangelo/will solace-centric, graphic depictions of violence, psychological torture

because i'm a mirrorball series - will solace-centric, canon-verse - i've never been a natural (all i do is try, try, try) - one-shot, 10k words, will solace from pre-tlt to botl, not tsats compliant (written before that was released and my own version of will solace lore) - i'm still a believer (but i don't know why) - one-shot, 9.2k words, will solace from botl to tlo, not tsats compliant, canonical MCD - when i break, it's in a million pieces - one-shot, 1.7k words, will solace-centric, battle of manhattan aftermath, all canon/tsats compliant - i'm still tryin' everything (to get you laughing at me) - one-shot, 3.5k words, solangelo from ttc to end of boo, mostly tsats compliant - i'm still on my tallest tiptoes (shinin' just for you) - one-shot, 2k words, solangelo during toa, all canon/tsats compliant - all along there was some invisible string (tying you to me) - one-shot, 1.3k words, solangelo pre-toa, missing scene that's referenced in tsats (their first kiss), all canon/tsats compliant

let's go (battle royale) - one-shot, 7k words, solangelo fortnite streamers au, lots of references to the greek gods-themed season

on a wednesday in a cafe - one-shot, 2.3k words, solangelo college/coffee shop au, an absurd amount of taylor swift song references

like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss - one-shot, 1.1k words, aroace reyna-centric during toa, reyna's pov of rejecting apollo

i'm a mess (but i'm the mess that you wanted) - one-shot, 5.1k, solangelo arcane/timebomb au, nico as jinx and will as ekko but canon divergent from what actually happens in arcane (you don't need to watch arcane to understand it though)

midnights become my afternoons - one-shot, 3.3k words, aroace leo-centric on the argo II, with a bit of leo & nico friendship, canon compliant

MARAUDERS COMPLETED FICS

reputation (regulus' version) series - celebrity au - starry eyes (sparking up my darkest night) - 16 ch, 113k words, regulus as rep era taylor swift au, james as joe, marauders as a band, background wolfstar and dorlene - baby, let the games begin - one-shot, 1.7k words, bonus chapter to starry eyes, jegulus (in between chapters 15 and 16)

clear blue waters (high tide came and brought you in) - 7 ch, 32.1k words, jegulus cruiseship au, background wolfstar and lots of teenager tonks, very fluffy

[dizzystqrs]

personal h2o lore & mermaid rules explanation

disclaimer: h2o: just add water is by no means a scientific show, the creators even said that they didn't put much thought into the specifics of anything, but if you are like me and Upset that they didn't, this is for u <3

disclaimer 2: these are my personal best-of-my-ability explanations, but they r Not canon at all, and absolutely feel free to disagree!

here we go!!

1. are the girl's human forms and mermaid forms separate bodies?

short answer: no, they aren't--but the episode red herring does make it seem that way, when emma's red hair is only in one form. however, if they were separate bodies, emma's finger cut in season 1 and rikki's head injury in season 2 which they both got in mermaid form would not have stayed when they transformed back (but they did!) it's more of a bodily permanent-to-not-permanent basis on what stays and what leaves during a transformation.

long answer: opalsiren also has a detailed post on this if you're curious (and i do highly recommend giving it a read bc it changed my life, reshaped my reality, watered my crops, etc etc) but i'll try to explain it here too

if we look at what stays and what leaves during a transformation, we can sorta see a pattern

freckles, scars, wounds, hair texture/length, bodily proportions (mermaid forms age along with their human forms) and eye color all stay the same, meanwhile clothes, accessories, makeup, hair dye, etc, all disappear. furthermore, anything permanent, genetic, or breaking the skin keeps, and anything temporary or sitting on top of the skin disappears, and then reappears later. (ex: hair length stays consistent because hair follicles penetrate the skin and go beneath it, semi-permanent hair color doesn't cuz it inly sits around the hair follicles. would dying your hair fully & permanently transform too? mayhaps!)

a scientific way to explain this would be that the transformation process takes into account genetics and then the current state of your body before making the switch into either form. so, during the 30 seconds it takes to transform, the process involves reading the genetic code (eye color, skin color, face shape, etc, and also perhaps it only does this the first time, and saves the information for the future?) and then the state of the body (wounds, age, weight, hair length, etc) and then proceeds to alter the genetic makeup to the incoming body type with the new information. (and all of this needs to be read so that the transformation doesn't mess with anything integral or unnecessary, and doesn't cause unwanted changes!! for example i like to think a mermaid bleeding out would not transform back, in order to preserve the body's energy and resources)

2. how do the girls get clean?

this is by far the most common question i see and. u know what... it is a good one to ask LMAO

as i went into before, anything that doesn't permeate the skin will disappear when transforming. this includes dirt and grime!! it will just disappear, then come back like everything else. while they could wash their face and arms in mermaid form, their legs will still be grimy cuz theyre unaccessible!! so like,, how is no one complaining that the girls smell all the time?

so first, fun solution; i like to think that a good solution is that the transformative process is cleansing, as in they straight up Turn Into Water so every single impurity on their skin (such as dirt, oil, makeup maybe, etc) is washed away in both human form and mermaid form in the 30 seconds it takes for them to fully turn. this is a little hard to explain scientifically but i think it would make more sense when given the magic treatment--it just does it bc it can.

semi-boring solution, probably the canon one: their mermaid skin IS their human skin, so cleaning a mermaid tail is just like cleaning their human legs. would make sense as to why they all take baths w their tails! this is also probably the canon explanation, because when dr. denman transforms a scale in her lab, it shifts right back into skin, meaning it is, essentially, the same material. this conflicts a teensy bit with previously established lore in my opinion but . yknow. it is a mermaid show for kids 💀

actual boring solution: there is a canon specific amount of water content that transforms them, which i believe is like above 32% or something. if a liquid contains 32% water, boom, tail. however, it wouldn't be too hard to find alcoholic wipes that contain less than that water content, which they could use to clean the parts of their body that the mermaid tail obscures. straight bars of soap are sometimes less water content than that too, so they could pretty easily just scrub then dry-wipe it off. is it... more sanitary/safe than just washing with water? probably not! but it's an option! and if you dont vibe with the above options, this is a p good alternative

3. hey, what the Fuck is the moonpool

fantastic question. literally no one knows. they are soooo vague with this piece of lore it actually makes me upset considering how COOOL it is that there is an ancient magic pool in a volcano on an abandoned island. they fumbled the bag so hard guys

heres like, pretty much everything we know canonly abt it (in h2o lore only, not mako mermaids, all my homies hate mako mermaids)

- it works hand-in-hand with the moon & planets

- it, or the water in it, is sentient, and is aware of any dangers to it

- it seems to have a connection to fate (as in, the 1950's mermaids & their connection to the 2000's girls)

- there are several of these (implied, but there could just be only one other in ireland)

- each one has a specific set of water-based powers to give out, evenly divided among each person that jumps in the moonpool in a full moon, and these powers can be amplified on specific nights. (this also seems to correspond with personality)

-it is magic. (this is a point because it is Very hard almost near impossible to explain it scientifically)

and yeah! i personally have a few headcanons for What the moonpool is and how it works, but i think it's a lot more fun to make your own so go crazy (and there is no way i could explain it cuz i have like 8000 thoughts abt it and None of them fit in a tumblr post) !! if youre curious u can read my fic about it tho B) xoxo

anyway that's all!! feel free to tack on any questions or answers slash disagreements about this silly little mermaid show as well !! <3

[quitealotofsodapop]

The statue cracks open like an egg and out falls a now very much real monkey that looked exactly like the stature, free from his 'prison' at last and unconcious on the floor cuz thatbtook a lot of energy. I imagine Wukong would, at first, just be confused for a regular monkey demon. He wouldn't be wearing his fancy clothes, and what clothes he does have would be ratty at best and probably the equivalent of just a pair of trousers. Homeboy knew he'd be in there several centuries, he ain't gonna wear his best outfits and risk them getting ruined, those are packed away with a preservation charm for when he woke up while he wears something he doesn't mind getting ruined.

So as a result it isn't until Tang, with he help of the dragon parents who found Sandh and Pigsy, got Wukong out of the cave and cleaned up in the airship that he noticed the telltale signs that this wasn't just some random demon who got sealed away.

Namely, a certain scar left by the Filet right on the monkey demon's brow. Wukong would normally keep that hidden with glamour, Wukong doesn't gave the energy or ability to apply it after spending 500 years in stasis, pregnant, and still not awake after being dug back up.

Tang naturally freaks out.

Tang (with help from baby Mei), digs up what he thinks is like a staute or a fertility symbol (a pregnant monkey in lotus position - very cool). And is trying so carefully to brush off the dirt and clay that he only notices at the last moment that the "ceramic" layer is cracking from within...

Wukong def either buried himself naked, or in some super comfy clothes that could stretch as his body changed. Either way the possibly-dead/mummified monkey freaks out Tang super hard, so much that he tries covering little Mei's eyes before Sandy and Pigsy arrive on scene.

Sandy manages to find a pulse and the gang are freaking out cus they have no idea how this works! They're either dragging the monkey onto the boat and hoping to make it to a doctor, or they take him down to the monkey demon village at the base of the mountain for help.

As they relocate him (confusing tf out of PIF, who showed up at the cave a few minutes late) and encounter the Ao-Longs (panicking but glad to have found their pup) who let them in on the lore of the island.

Pigsy: "Wait. I thought only monkey demons could pass through the barrier. How come all of us are allowed here?" Ao Yi: "You don't know? This island has special permission given to the Western Sea royal family. We assumed it was a thank-you gift for my ancestor Ao Lie's loyalty to the Monkey King." Tang: "M-m-monkey king!?!?! Are we on Huagoushan itself?!" Long Cháo: "I thought it was obvious... We assumed you knew you had same kind of access. You're all dead ringers for the original pilgrims." The reincarnation gang: "..." Sandy: *calmy lifts the locks of hair covering the unconcious monkey's forehead, revealing a long pressure scar across his hairline* Tang: *promptly faints at the reveal* PIF, bursting to their locations: "What are you doing with my brother-in-law?!" Tang: *unconciously makes fanboy sound*

Btw my idea is that Redson was the reason Mei had wandered off in the first place. PIF had just gotten him home from the Southern Ocean and little man snuck off to do some exploring when he found another firey toddler to play with. They had been playing hide and seek when Mei found the waterfall.