#switching to Alight Motion

[number1paimonstan]

I feel like god now, this took way longer than needed as well as frustrating because capcut hates me

[imp-thing]

Been a while since I edited tangle tower my fault

[kdelarenta]

guys i had to uninstall capcut and i can't edit on it anymore because of their stupid new policy. quite literally gonna cry because now i have to learn a whole new editing app and idek which one to choose AAAAAAA 😭🙏🙏

[wikipediaboyf]

trying something new

[emmiesoverthemoon]

that recent clip of jiyong in the suit THE ONE U REPOSTED HERE saying “great heavens” ngh it got me thinking

if u want to can u write a story for jealous kinda possessive in his gdragon personality yk, and in the end its like all fluffy and stuff and then boom jiyong comes out YOU KNOW im sorry if that was hard to understand 😞

oh u read my mind i thought the SAME THING WHEN I SAW THE CLIP… great minds think alike

۶ৎ switch up

Pairing: g-dragon / kwon jiyong x reader

Word Count: 2,842

Summary: A playful act of teasing while behind the scenes of filming the 'Too Bad' music video spirals into a night of fervent passion, only to be soothed by the quiet intimacy of love—where whispered reassurances mean more than any game ever could.

Tags: too bad mv, teasing, flirting, implied sexual content, jealousy, slight hurt/comfort

cross posted on ao3 here

The studio hummed with life, a symphony of movement and sound, a feverish pulse of artistry in motion. The overhead lights blazed, casting long shadows, illuminating the polished floor where bodies twisted and turned in a carefully orchestrated dance. The bass trembled through your bones, the rhythm a second heartbeat, but none of it—none of it—commanded your attention like he does.

Kwon Jiyong, magnetic, effortless, devastatingly precise. Every movement of his was calculated yet unconstrained, a masterful paradox in silk and shadow. But it was not the choreography or his voice that was the captor of your breath, nor the music that sets your skin alight. It was him. It was the way the grey outfit molded yet also hung loosely to his frame, the sharp elegance yet casual oversized fit of it, the thick red fabric draped over the long column of his throat, a single knot of silk conducting promises of things it has no business promising. And the tie—God, the tie.

Your thoughts spiralled into places they should not go, especially in the workplace. Heat coiled in your stomach, restless, insatiable. You wanted him–needed him, all of him, and preferably still adorned in at least some of that infernal costume.

The director called it a cut, the electricity of the scene dissolving alongside their call. Jiyong murmured something to the nearby crew, his expression composed, but you knew him. You knew the subtle satisfaction in the set of his mouth, the sharp glint of artistic fulfillment in his gaze. He moved toward his dressing room, fingers already loosening the pristine knot at his throat, loosening his collar as a result. Your eyes formed a glint also, but not for the same reason–an opportunity had arisen.

You followed behind him, your footsteps light, measured, inconspicuous in the sea of movement. When you reached his door, you drummed your knuckles against the wood, your voice slipping into honey, playful and teasing.

"It’s me! Hello!!"

A soft, deep chuckle could be heard from inside the door, then, “Come in.”

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the outside world. He stands with his back to you, already peeling off the first buttons of his shirt, revealing a sliver of bare skin. And there—just above the sharp curve of his shoulder blade—the wings of his angelic neck tattoo emerged from beneath the fabric, ink-dark against pale skin. 

Your breath stuttered in your throat. It was beautiful. It was him. And you want it.

Jiyong spoke, something about the scenes you had just participated in, about the next costume change, but his words were a distant murmur, drowned beneath the rush of your own pulse. You hastily crossed the space between you, slipping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against the warmth of his back, your forehead coming to rest between his shoulder blades. You inhaled, slow, deep, drinking him in—the faint spice of cologne, the lingering salt of sweat, the familiar scent of him beneath it all, intoxicating in its entirety.

He laughed, gentle and low, the vibration of it thrumming against your cheek. “Clingy today, aren’t we?”

Your answer was wordless. You tilted your head, lips grazing the nape of his neck in the lightest whisper of contact. A shiver rippled through him, almost imperceptible, but you felt it. Feeling encouraged, you continued—delicate kisses trailing upward, then downward, a slow, deliberate exploration. When you reached the ink of his tattoo, something inside of you shifted. Your lips lingered a little longer, the kisses deeper, more reverent, more possessive.

His exhale stuttered embarrassingly. “Baby—”

His hands, which had hung useless at his sides, now found yours, gripping them where they pressed against his stomach. His fingers tightened as you continued your exploration, mouth pressing lustful heat into his skin, your breath a warm ghost of promises. You could feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and the muscles of his abdomen tensing beneath your palms. Just as the moment thickened further, just as his grip on your hands turned desperate about to drag them downward toward his belt—

You pulled away. Completely.

He stilled. Slowly, he turned, pupils blown wide, expression unreadable save for the unmistakable heat simmering beneath the surface.

“That,” he murmured, panting, his voice husked with something dark and wanting, “was not fair.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. The thrill of playing with him was too exciting. “Oh? Is that someone calling me I hear? Gotta fly!”

A muscle feathered in Jiyong’s jaw. His fingers twitched at his sides. “If you leave me like this,” he warned, “you won’t like it later.”

You form a smile so syrupy sweet and entirely unrepentant, almost knowing–wanting whatever his implication was. “Try me. See ya!”

The door closed quickly, you were gone as slyly as you had slipped in, slipping through the exit before he could touch you, before he could ensnare you in whatever delicious retribution he’s concocting.

The next scene of the music video did not require you, so you lingered at the sidelines, engaged in casual conversation with one of the male backup dancers. You could barely register the words exchanged; your mind was elsewhere, thrumming with ideas of the aftermath of your own reckless provocation, what Jiyong could possibly have in store for you. But you felt it. That weight. That heat. 

Jiyong was watching you intensely. Between takes, in the in-between moments where no one else seemed to notice, his gaze burned into you, unwavering, silent. No one paid mind to it—how? How did no one see the way he was plotting? The way his fingers curled, the way his jaw tensed, the barely leashed possession tightening his frame like a bowstring drawn taut?

Your lips curled into a smirk, you wanted to push him further. You let out a laugh, just a fraction too bright. A smile, just a smidge too wide. Subtle, but devastating in effect. You could feel the restraint in him thinning, fraying at the edges.

When the recording of the scene concluded the moment the director called it a wrap, Jiyong crossed the space in an instant, sliding into your conversation effortlessly. “Hey, what’s up?” His voice outwardly is casual, composed, but beneath it, there is something else. Something risqué.

The dancer replied excitingly, oblivious to what was brewing within him, but you know. This was no longer just Jiyong standing before you. This was G-Dragon—calculated and possessive, a predator disguising his hunger for his prey beneath a smooth smile.

He manufactured an excuse for the dancer to leave you both alone—something professional, something convincing—and the dancer nodded, bidding you farewell. When he turned away, Jiyong’s expression held no difference, but his eyes—his eyes—seared into you with quiet, lethal intent.

That look. That look he gave you could pin you to the wall.

You were in for it.

The director had called your name amongst several others as the few that were permitted to leave whenever, as the filming of your portion in the music video had come to a close. You could already feel the anticipation coiling in your stomach when you pressed a chaste kiss to Jiyong’s lips in farewell. But just as you were about to pull away, you felt him grasp the back of your neck, his grip somehow simultaneously rough and gentle, and his voice dropped an octave, brushing seductively against the shell of your ear.

“If I see you in ant items of clothing when I get home,” he purred, “it will be ripped apart. I’ll buy replacements.”

Your breath faltered. A slow, ever so consuming heat licked up your spine. 

You were utterly speechless, nodding mildly as he released you. His voice returned to normal, saccharine and adoring, “See you when I get home!”

The wait for Jiyong to be released from filming was antagonising. To look at him, anyone would be none the wiser, but you and your incessant teasing in that dressing room would not budge from his mind, he wanted to get home to you now. By the time he had finally gotten the green light to exit from the set, he was gone in an instant, the sleek hum of his car tearing through the night while probably exceeding the speed limit, each second stretching unbearably.

When he arrived home the air inside was thick with steam, curling from beneath the bathroom door in lazy tendrils, the scent of your body wash saturating the air—warm, floral, excruciatingly familiar. It clung to the walls, his skin, to the very oxygen he breathed, and to him, it was a siren’s call.

His body had moved before his mind could even form a thought, like a hunter drawn to the scent of his prey. The door creaked as he pushed it open, the sound nearly swallowed by the hiss of cascading water. The mist parted just enough to reveal the blurred outline of your form behind the glass, glistening with rivulets of heat, every curve softened by the fog.

You heard no sign of his entry at first. You were enraptured and enveloped by the sanctuary of warmth, head tipped back, water cascading down the arch of your throat, tracing the valleys and peaks of your body in a way that sparked something deeply, primally possessive within him.

The fabric of his shirt slid from his shoulders, pooling forgotten at his feet. His belt clinked as it unfastened, an abandoned artifact of his haste. By the time the glass door swung open, he was already reaching his hands, strong, deliberate, searing against the contrast of your wet skin.

A gasp, barely formed, cut off as he pulled you to him, as the heat of his body collided with yours, as his fingers splay against your back, branding you with the urgency of his need.

"Jiyong—"

But the sound of his name was swallowed between you, lost in the way his lips find the curve of your shoulder, in the way his breath scorches against damp skin. The water does little to cool the fever beneath his touch. If anything, it made the heat worse—the slickness, the slip of skin against skin, the sheer, devastating intimacy of it.

His hands tightened on the backside of your thighs and lifted with no sign of struggle. The world tilted, and suddenly, you were weightless, legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. A strangled laugh escaped you, breathless, unsteady.

"You’re insane," you whispered, but your arms were already winding around his neck, fingers threading through wet strands of hair, clinging like you never intended to let go.

A low hum vibrated against your throat, the sound edging on something dangerous, something darkly amused. "You think this is insane?" he responded, lips ghosting over your pulse, the warmth of his breath sending shivers cascading down your spine.

Unexpectedly, with agonizing precision, he unwound the tie from the costume that had lured you in the first place from around his wrist—you had not even realized that he had brought it home with him. Silky cotton glided over your skin, a whisper of constraint, looping around your wrists before you can react. His grip tightened, the smooth fabric cinching just enough to send fire licking down to your core.

Let’s just say, revenge was sweet.

After the storm had passed, Jiyong was back to Jiyong—softer, reverent, loving. The fire that once raged in his eyes has dimmed to embers, but those embers glow just as fiercely, tempered by something deeper, something achingly tender.

It was safe to say you were full of hazy bliss–you had barely registered the way he carried you from the shared bathroom, you barely felt the press of the towel he wrapped it around your shoulders and down your body to dry you from any remnants of water. His hands were careful, patient, you were something porcelain, delicate, something to be cherished. 

He tucked you against his chest, murmuring endearments, fingers carding through your damp hair. “Are you okay?” his voice was a soothing balm as he kissed your forehead.

You nodded still dazed and fading in and out of sleep. He pressed a kiss there once more. “Good.”

Jiyong smiled, padding off to make you something warm. When he returned, he settled you onto the lounge, pressing a mug into your hands before curling up beside you and turning on a show the both of you were currently binging.

Sensing a shift in atmosphere, both of the cats moved with feline intuition, their small bodies unfurling from the corners of the couch to slink into your laps. Their weight settled cozily against you, their purring was a steady, grounding, and rhythmic hum—like the soft, pulsing undercurrent of a lullaby. One nuzzled against Jiyong’s arm, its whiskers brushed against his black sleeve, but he held no reaction, odd. The other circled your legs, kneading tiny paws into the fabric of the blanket, but your focus was elsewhere.

Something was wrong.

You felt it before you saw it. In the way his chest rose and fell—just slightly uneven, the rhythm betraying the stillness of the moment. In the way his fingers traced the rim of his cup without taking a sip. In the way his gaze lingered—not on the screen, not on the cats, not on his drink, but on you. Then, just as quickly, it flickered away.

It was so subtle, so infinitesimal a shift, but you knew him. You knew him in the marrow of your bones, in the blood that rushed hot beneath your skin.

"Ji?" 

His name was a quiet call, spoken into the hush between the chatter of the television and the purring against your lap. It drifted toward him, catching on the edges of his hesitance, but he remained silent.

Your brows knitted together. Without breaking your gaze, you shifted closer, the blanket rustling as you pressed a hand to his chest—right over his heart. The beat was there, steady, but something about it felt caged. As if his body contained a rumbling too soft to break the surface, but strong enough to shake the foundation beneath.

"Are you okay, baby?"

Another pause. Then, his voice—low, hesitant. “Yeah.”

You absolutely did not believe him.

Your lips pressed together, your fingers spreading slightly over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the quiet thrum of him beneath. “Kwon Jiyong,” you scolded, holding no anger, just certainty, “please don’t lie to me.”

A slow exhale was released. A surrender.

“It’s stupid.”

You tilted your head, unwavering. “Tell me?”

A moment passed—a battle behind his eyes, a flicker of resistance, then resignation. His throat worked around the words, and when they finally came, they were softer than you expected.

“You don’t like that guy, right?”

You blinked, confused. The weight of the question was heavier than it was phrased, settling into the space between you like a stone that was dropped into a still pond.

“What guy do you mean?”

“The dancer. While I was still filming.”

For a moment, you do not speak. Your heart twisted—not in shock, not in indignation, but in something achingly tender, something fragile and utterly human. Because this was him. G-Dragon, global phenomenon, artistic genius, the man adored by millions—yet here he sat, Kwon Jiyong in his rawest, purest form, allowing something as fleeting as a passing conversation to plant a seed of doubt in his mind.

You shifted again, this time cupping his face between your hands, guiding him to you. The edges of his cheekbones fitted perfectly beneath your caring thumbs, the warmth of his skin seeping into your palms. He made no move to pull away. If anything, he leant into your touch, lashes lowering just slightly, as if bracing for impact.

“Ji,” you whispered, voice thick with care and assurance, “I am yours.” Your thumbs trace slow shapes over his skin, anchoring him to your voice. “No one else. No one could ever be as perfect for me as you are. As if I would ever let them try.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, his eyes searched yours, as if sifting through the syllables for any fracture, any hesitation. He found not a single one.

And then a breath, a shift. Something in him released, like the quiet collapse of tension, like a knot unspooling. His lips curved—small, a little sheepish, but real. “I love you.”

Soft kisses followed—affectionate, passionate, sweet. He pressed them over your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your hands, like he was pouring every single ounce of love he could possibly hold in his soul for you into each one. When the night ended, neither of you had made it to your bedroom, instead you drifted to a deep slumber still intertwined on that lounge, the warmth of your love wrapping you both in something safer than any blanket ever could.

thanks for reading!! :)

taglist: @petersasteria @floofeh-purpi

[st-rick]

Ough thanks 😭🥲

But trust me when I say, this is not even the average level of WIS edit

I would probably say this is a novice level 🤔

You can search in Youtube "WIS Edit" and there's like a lot of people with flashy edits ✨️ (There's 2 creators who I admire a lot, Conquestor/Shaks. You gotta check it out 🔥)

You can see the difference afterwards 💀

So the first mewtwo WIS post was uh

Kinda outdated (Or at least it kinda looked underwhelming for me :P)

So I remade it, hopfully this comes out better!

Thanks to @iu141300 I decided to remake it Xd

Oh yeah there's barely any text animation cause I'm too lazy to give each one of them animation (Even though they're presets... it's still difficult. Also because text animations makes it hard to see what category of point it is)

Shadowtwo and Huey belongs to @xxtc-96xx :]

[vinnyll-art]

Sinking city

I HAD TO SWITCH TO CAPCUT AFTER STARTING IT IN ALIGHT MOTION OMGGG I HATE AM

[dr-fizzovich]

i think their shipname should be... uhm.... bookcabbey :3 i think i should switch to alight motions for animating animations so i could animate animations easier. Either way, go my cabinets, be free

Again, they're NOT canonically related, so this ship is 100% fine!!!

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (vii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit @starmansirius @hadesnumber1daughter @directioner5life @strvngestark @hostilityghost @ofmenanduhhhwellmen // previously // next

Pairing: Kaz x Davina Rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,331

Summary: Davina and her Snakes take a chance on a job that seems simple enough. But being the Princess of the Barrel is never simple. At least there’s an ally of sorts.

You didn’t know how long you avoided the Dregs after those few days. You didn’t step foot in the Crow Club. You didn’t even look at the building. You took to entering the Poisoned Rook from a side door just so you didn’t have to see it.

You ignored the feeling of being watched from the shadows, didn’t look up to check rooftops. There was no mistaking the feeling of the Wraith watching, but you wouldn’t give in and acknowledge it. Instead, you kept your hood up and your head down.

You didn’t even reach out to the Dregs when you found the envelope on your desk at the Rook. Melli said someone brought it to the doorman and asked that it got to you, but she didn’t see who it was and they didn’t give a name.

You recognized the handwriting easily enough, so when you opened it and counted 800 kruge, you felt a new twist in your stomach. Kaz took care of Jesper’s debt. You didn’t know if it was for your benefit or Jesper’s, the former was more likely, but you didn’t care to ask. A debt paid was a debt paid, no matter where the kruge came from.

So you found Jesper’s debt form, signed it as paid, and filed it away. The deal was the deal, and you didn’t need to revisit it.

You were cleaning up some things in your office before you intended on leaving. Kol was on the door - there seemed to be less ruckus when he was - and you were waiting for Melli to arrive to switch charge. When she finally entered, her cheeks were flush as if she’d been running and her eyes were alight with excitement.

“You look like you enjoyed a good tumble.” You laughed as you pulled your cloak off the back of your chair.

“No, no.” She waved you off, though her smile stayed. “I got a tip on a job.”

Your brows raised. “Tell me.”

“It’s some sculpture, fits on a desk or an end table.” She nodded, creating a vague sized box with her hands. “He said it was taken and sold to a Merchant.”

“What kind of statue? Valuable?” Maybe you’d lift it and sell it on your own.

“Seems more sentimental than anything. He said it was from some Grisha tale. Some legendary Bonesmith?” She shrugged. “But it’s a three piece figure. A stag, some sea whip and a bird.”

“Go get Kol. Have Nik take over the door.”

She was gone in a flash so you sat back in your chair while you waited. You blew out a sigh as you dropped down. So much for leaving early. Melli returns quickly with Kol in tow and shuts the door.

“Kol, what do you know of the Bonesmith?” You asked. If there was no truth to the alleged Grisha tale, then there was no point pursuing the job at all.

“The Bonesmith?” He repeated. “He’s an old legend, a Saint. Sankta Ilya in Chains. He was Materialki but his story says he put a child back together that was cut in half.”

“What connection does he have to a stag, a sea whip, and a bird?”

“It’s said that he created three amplifiers in those forms. Why?”

You nodded to Melli.

Eagerly, she began to explain. “A man, said he’s Ravkan and was in some sort of robes, said that Karl Dryden has taken possession of a statue that belongs in one of the Churches. It’s of a stag, sea whip, and bird.”

“Dryden cares for Grisha legend?” Your brows raised.

“I doubt it.” She shook her head. “Dryden’s new to the Council so he may just have been looking for something old and pretty.”

She patted her pockets to search and pulled a paper out of her coat. She unfolded it and handed it to you.

You motioned Kol closer.

“That’s Morozova’s Stag.” He pointed to the dear in the center, sporting massive and intricate antlers. “The sea whip, Rusalye.” He traced the length of the snakelike creature around the stag’s feet. “And the firebird.” He tapped the large bird above the others.

“So we’re being asked to nab a potentially very old and potentially very delicate depiction of Grisha legend.” You put the paper down. “How much?”

“Ten thousand kruge.” Melli answered, and the excitement she’s been jittering with now made sense.

“A Ravkan monk has ten thousand sitting around?”

“I saw it myself.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“And it’s all real?”

“Sankta Ilya’s power is the greatest ever known to Grisha, and some churches receive more tithe than others.” Kol added. “And the currency conversion may have helped. But for all we know, that church drained its coffers to get that statue back.”

“Isn’t Ravka broke?” You turned to him. “I’ve heard rumors of defaulting on the loans from Kerch.”

Kol wrinkled his nose and waved a hand. You almost laughed.

“We’d need intel on where Dryden keeps it.” You said pointedly to Melli. “And we’ll need the layout of his house, security measures, occupants.”

“I can scout tonight.”

“It needs to be a small crew. Who would you take?”

“Us.” Melli gestured to the three people in the room. “Would you want anyone else?”

“No…” You looked between your friends. “No, this is fine. I’ll look into floor plans of the Dryden estate. We move on this tomorrow night. The sooner we do this, the less likely someone else can take it out from under us.”

“Someone has to send word to the Ravkan that we’ll do it.” Melli added.

“I’ll go.” Kol offered.

“Melli, bring paper. I want you to note what you can and we’ll compare it to what I can gather.”

“Who are you going to?”

“Do you really need to ask that? There’s one man in the Barrel that knows everything.”

“Be careful going back there.” Kol said earnestly and you nodded. He returned the gesture before turning to Melli. “Tell me what he looked like.” 

You shooed the two away while they discussed the man’s appearance. You waited a moment, looking down at the drawing, and sighed. There was only one person that could get you the plans of the Dryden estate that night, otherwise you’d have to wait till the morning. You cursed quietly and reached for the envelope of 800 kruge that you had shoved to the back of a drawer.

You hid it in the main pocket of your cloak and you fit it in place around your shoulders. You pulled your hood up and headed to the one place you dreaded, that you hated arguably more than the Emerald Palace.

The Crow Club.

Luckily for you, Jesper was manning the door. He beamed at your approach and nodded, tipping his hat in the process.

“Welcome back.” He said kindly as you shifted your hood back enough to show your face.

“I need to speak with him.” You said plainly.

“With the boss? Yeah, I’ll take you.” He offered you his arm and you frowned slightly. He shook his head with a small chuckle and gestured for you to follow. He mumbled something about you being as proud and stubborn as ever, though it was intended as a friendly jab.

You resisted the urge to hide in your hood as you went through the Club. Your eyes started forward, trained on a spot between Jesper’s shoulder, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel the other eyes turning on you. Partons and Dregs alike seemed to stop what they were doing to watch you pass.

Jesper took you to a small staircase in the back corner. You hadn’t even noticed it your first time in. He tapped on the door quickly before poking his head in. You could just faintly hear the conversation.

“Hey, Boss. You’ve got a visitor.” Jesper said quickly. “Hi, Inej.”

“Hello, Jesper.”’ The Suli girl answered.

“Tell them to come back later.” Kaz said quickly.

“I think you’re gonna wanna take this.” Jesper tried.

“I’m busy.”

“Are you though?”

“Who is it?” Inej chimed in.

Jesper leaned back to look at you, but you noticed the positioning of his body kept you out of sight from those in the other room. Your fingers drummed along the metal railing as you glanced around the Club.

Jesper smiled at you when you finally looked back and you just shrugged. “A friend.” He popped his head back in. “Your friend.” He emphasized, likely towards Kaz.

You returned your eyes to the Club floor and your gaze met an unwelcome set of eyes already on you.

Per Haskell.

Your stomach pitched and you rubbed a hand against your chest, feeling the hard material of the blade under your cloak. If Haskell took even a step towards you, you’d slice off the pound of flesh you were owed, despite the riot it would cause. Before anything could get to that point, you put a hand on Jesper’s shoulder.

“Forget it.” You said quickly. He turned to face you and his expression shifted to confusion, either to your sudden decision change or your own expression. “Thank you for trying. I’ll figure it out some other way.”

“Davina?” Kaz asked. Your eyes darted to the doorway, something in you reacting to your name coming from his voice, but you looked back to Jesper with a pointed expression. You were quietly begging any Saint listening that he understood you wanted out.

“Hang on. What…” Jesper grabbed your arm before he looked over your shoulder. You gently tried to pull your arm away but you saw him understand. “I’ll walk you out then.”

He made a point to come around you and stand between you and the rest of the Club floor.

“Thank you.” You sighed. You wouldn’t say you needed the escort, but when Jesper offered you his hand, you accepted it. Admittedly, it was a comfort to know you’d have one.

You were halfway down the short steps when Kaz called you back.

“Wait.” He said and Jesper immediately stopped. “Bring her in.”

You cursed quietly as Jesper turned you back to Kaz’s office. Inej was still inside and she offered you a quick nod. You returned the gesture, even intended to smile at the girl, but the fight to keep the memory of the hallucinations away was at the forefront of your mind.

Jesper gave your hand a slight squeeze before he left. You only knew he was gone when the door closed behind him. You were staring blankly at the floor while your mind tried to find some sense of reality.

“Davina?” Inej asked carefully. You couldn’t figure out if it was concern or distrust in her voice. “Are you alright?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t say anything. No matter what words you tried to summon, nothing came out of your mouth. Your voice had left you.

She came closer and her hand landed lightly on your arm. The new touch seemed to snap you back to focus and your eyes met hers. One look and you understood it had been concern in her words a moment ago. You smiled sadly and nodded in thanks. You cleared your throat and pulled your shoulders back, finding your control again as Inej’s hand fell away.

“Right, well.” You said and drew your hood back. You found Kaz already looking at you, that cursed unreadable expression on his features as he leaned on the desk’s surface. “What do you know about the Dryden estate?”

“The newest Merchant?” Kaz answered with a noncommittal shrug. “Not much worth knowing.”

“But do you know the layout of the house? I need the floor plans.”

“Do you?” He stood tall, eyeing you carefully. “What for?”

“Can you only ask questions or do you answer them?” You shot back.

Inej chuckled quietly and Kaz glared at her for a moment, though the look lacked any real heat.

“How much?” You sighed.

He looked back at you and raised his brows in quiet question.

“You either have the plans or you know who does. I don’t have time to run around to offices and wait for requests to process. You also refuse to say anything remotely helpful without incentive. So I ask again, how much?”

“What do you need them for?” He asked instead and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“A job, clearly.”

“On Dryden?”

“No, on his neighbor.” That time you did roll your eyes. “Yes, Dryden, you insufferable man.”

He smirked slightly and sat back in his chair. He lifted his cane and spun it, thoughtfully examining the crow’s head. “Insufferable.” He repeated to himself.

“I have other, less kind words if you don’t like that one.” You muttered.

“Dryden doesn’t have much.” He said instead. “Do you have someone that can pick locks?”

“Well enough.” You nodded. You were no expert, but you could handle most basic locks.

Kaz muttered to himself, some sort of mockery of your answer, as he rummaged through a drawer. You glanced and saw Inej had disappeared. You had to applaud her light footedness. When you looked back at Kaz, he handed you something. You accepted the small case and flipped the top, exposing a set of lock picks.

“Well enough doesn’t mean I need these.” You slammed it shut and handed it back to him.

He leaned back in his chair, clearly expressing he had no intent of taking them back.

“The locks on the windows are simple enough, but if you don’t have picks, you won’t get anywhere.”

“I don’t want your charity.” You snapped.

“Don’t call it charity then.” He shrugged. “Call it a gift.”

You groaned and pulled your arm back to throw the case at the wall near him. He didn’t flinch but before you could let the case go, you were tapped with a rolled up paper. You flinched and gripped the case tighter, planning to use it as a weapon, but you relaxed when you saw it was just Inej. You hadn’t even seen the woman come back.

“The Dryden Estate.” She said simply, shaking the paper at you. Hesitantly, you dropped the pick case down your sleeve and took it.

“Thank you…” You said carefully. “Why are you helping me?”

“What Haskell did to you last time you were here was beyond wrong. I wouldn’t wish that type of treatment on anyone. I hope this can make up for it.”

“You’re helping me to try and make amends?”

“I’m helping you to keep us on fair terms.” She corrected. 

“You don’t like me all that much, do you?” You teased. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kaz frown more noticeable than he usually did. Or maybe his usual expression was closer to a scowl.

“No.” She said flatly and with finality.

“Why is that?”

“Davina.” Kaz warned. You waved him off but conceded to his underlying request.

“You’re right, Wraith.” You nodded to her. “I am my father’s daughter, and I’ve come to terms with that. I know that makes me horrid. Wretched. Unbearable. All these horrible things, and all his fault. Despite that, I think you and I will come out of all of this as good friends.” You wagged a finger at her.

“We have a common enemy.” She said instead and you pouted slightly, just to be a pain. “We should focus on that.”

“Do we?” You nodded and looked back to Kaz. Your head tilted, falling slightly against your shoulder, and you raised your brows slightly. “She knows, then?”

“No.” He answered tightly. He was scanning your expression, piecing together what you were planning as you straightened with a small, mischievous smirk. While it was clear he wanted to know what you were lifting from Dryden, he was also working to figure out if you’d tell Inej his secret.

You considered it, just to push your limit with him and see how far he’d really let you go. But at that moment, you liked having your limbs attached and your blood in your veins. Some other time, you decided. 

“I thought if you’d tell any of them, you’d tell her.” You shook your head. “But I suppose it’s fair. I haven’t told Melli yet, either.”

“Enough.” Kaz said firmly and stood. You sighed inwardly but kept his gaze, standing a little taller and giving a small shrug, as if to say it was his move. “I’ll walk you out.”

You made a noise of satisfaction to yourself and gestured for him to walk ahead of you. With the plans tucked under your arm and hidden by your cloak, you nodded in thanks to Inej and followed Kaz out.

“You know…” You began as you fell into stride with him. “You shouldn’t pay off his debts.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said plainly.

You pulled the envelope from your cloak’s pocket and handed it to him. You didn’t look over as he took it. “What makes you think this was me?”

“I know your handwriting.” You rolled your eyes to yourself. “I hope you don’t think this makes us equal in any way.”

“Why would I care about that?” He sounded bored but there was an honest inquiry there. It almost seemed as if he wasn’t sure why you two would need to be equal.

“The night at the Exchange.” You said tightly. “You may have helped last time I was here and your may have paid off your friend’s debt, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hold a grudge for a while longer.”

“And if I have a grudge of my own?”

“I know you do. Like I said, I know who you see in my place… How did you know about the credit? As far as I knew, only Nina knew.”

“He confessed while you were unconscious, said it was his fault you were there.”

He said it so simply, as if it was just something that happened sometimes. The sun rose, the tides came and went, you fell unconscious due to poisoning. You shivered slightly and while you didn’t return the gesture, Kaz peeked over at you.

“Humor me and take it.” You said carefully, accidentally having locked eyes with Haskell again. “Consider it payment for the plans and the picks.”

Haskell stood and you saw two glasses in his hands. Instantly, and regrettably, you put yourself a step behind Kaz. He stood a bit straighter but said nothing. Your eyes remained forward, hands folded behind you, and your hood down. As much as you wanted to hide in it, you wouldn’t appear a coward with Haskell coming towards you and Kaz. Once he was close enough, Kaz put his cane to the side to stop you, coincidentally keeping you behind him.

He looked past Haskell, who he was looking at you couldn’t tell among the crowd, and did a quick series of hand gestures. Satisfied with the response, he faced down his boss.

“Well, well, isn’t this a sight?” Haskell announced, though only a few heads turned. For that, you were grateful.

“Sir.” You nodded politely and Kaz made a small noise of amusement.

“What are you doing with this one, Boy?” He asked Kaz.

“Exchange of services, Sir.” Kaz answered with the same manners you used and you said nothing. “Just showing our friend good manners on her way out.”

“Services, eh? Yes, you needed a good tumble.” Haskell said thoughtfully, scratching his graying beard with a nod. “Bit upright lately, but I’m sure she fixed you right up.”

You had a million protests ready but Kaz reached for Haskell’s shoulder and turned him away. You opened your mouth to say something but another hand was on your back to guide you away. You reached for your hidden blade but saw it was only Jesper. You followed without question, relaxing only slightly, but you still looked back over your shoulder.

Kaz met your eyes and offered a sharp nod. You knew what he had done, he did on purpose. He took Haskell away and had Jesper ensure you left the Crow Club safely. He didn’t have to. You knew as well as he had to, yet he did it anyway. You couldn’t understand why.

Early the next morning, you and your friends planned the job. Melli’s notes aligned with what you had gotten from Kaz, moreso from Inej if you thought about it. Your trio spent most of the morning bouncing ideas off each other until the plan was set. You’d get the windows open and slip inside with Melli. Kol would keep lookout and knock out the footmen. Melli would be responsible for carrying the statue out and Kol would go with her to deliver it to the Ravkan. It seemed simple enough, until it all went to hell.

You weren’t naive enough to think Melli was the only one that had access to the job. Someone else very well could’ve heard or was even offered the job while you were all discussing. You were, however, foolish enough to believe that once you confirmed with the Ravkan, it would’ve been yours and yours alone. But it seemed the Dime Lions had a different idea.

You and Melli carefully put the figure in her shoulder bag, padded with a few extra shirts, and were heading back out the window. It was a second story window but a garden lattice was climbing up the wall beside it. You had scaled it like a ladder and were allowing Melli down first. Kol was waiting at the bottom and you saw the slight flex of his fingers to keep Melli calm.

You were seated halfway out the window, watching your lieutenant make her way down. The picks fell out your sleeve and into your hand as if automatic and you were readying to climb out and relock the window. Once her feet hit the ground, you were shifting to swing your leg out when you felt the impact of a bullet against your side. You opted to leave your hood, wearing the Grisha made vest instead with a scarf wrapped across the lower half of your face. 

The bullet threw your balance sideways and you gripped the window frame to keep from falling. You turned your eyes towards the room and saw no one, but the faint light from the hall allowed you to see the smoke from the fired gun that was retreating. Quickly, you turned over your shoulder and saw Kol and Melli gesturing for you to hurry. You waved them off, hoping they’d stick to their jobs instead of waiting around for you, and let the picks slide back into your sleeve, pulled a blade from your boot, and dropped back into the house.

You landed in a crouch near the window and felt the precursor of a bruise forming on your ribs. Quiet curses fell from your lips as you moved along the wall, staying in a low crouch and keeping contact with the wall. Your plan now was to get that door shut and barricaded then hurry out the window. You were only a few feet away when the door swung open, nearly knocking you off your feet. You swallowed your yelp of surprise and pushed yourself further against the wall.

“I saw her at the window, Boss.” One of the men said.

Three men crossed the room and went straight for the window. You didn’t need them to turn to recognize your father among them. You tried to make yourself a bit flatter as you crept around the open door. You were nearly out when a fourth man appeared and yanked you to your feet.

You kept a firm grip on your knife as he shoved you back into the room.

“Ah.” Your father smiled at you. “There she is.”

“Why are you here?” You asked. A simple enough question that you didn’t necessarily care to hear an answer to, but it would buy time. All you could think was whether or not Kol and Melli were able to get away.

He shrugged and stepped closer, yanking the scarf off your face. You had half a mind to bite him.

“I heard whispers of someone coming for Dryden tonight so I offered my help.” He explained and the arrogance in his voice made you sick. You wrinkled your nose in disgust but he didn’t seem to notice. “Didn’t think you were up for it thought, little one.”

“Have your guy let me go and we’ll see what I’m really up for, Papa.” You instigated but the man behind you kicked out your knee, forcing you to the ground and keeping you there with a hand pushing down on your shoulder.

“You see, Davi?” Your father knelt in front of you. You kept eye contact but you had yo force yourself not to spit in his face. “You’re not meant for all of this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You shook your head, feeling the handle of the blade in your hand. “I’ve stood against you twice already. I’ve gotten away from Dirtyhands and the Dregs. This isn’t your kingdom anymore.”

“Even if you could take it, you wouldn’t know what to do with it.” He almost sounded apologetic, like when he would explain why you couldn’t have another dessert. It made your blood boil.

“Why do you think I’ve been making friends in the Barrel?” You mocked. “My Snakes, Heartrenders, even a few Dregs.”

“Davi, Davi, Davi.” He said in disappointment. “You always were a stubborn one.”

“I believe they say I’m pigheaded, just like you.”

He waved you off.

“What’d you come here for, little one?” He asked, surveying the room for what he would perceive as valuable. His eyes came back to you when he saw nothing.

That, of course, was because the statue was already gone. The rest of the commodities in the room were of basica, Merchant luxury. Nothing worth enough to take.

When you said nothing, you saw your father’s hand tighten into a fist. If you could get him to hit you, you could start an entire brawl with all four of them. The chaos would be enough for you to bolt.

“Don’t you see?” You instigated. “If you can’t see what’s worth it in this room, then your reign really is over.” You laughed. “You’re from an older regime, Papa. Dirtyhands and I, we’re the ones who are going to hold the power in the Barrel soon enough. Once we do, you best believe we are burning the Emerald Palace to the ground first. And I am asking every single Saint that you and your heir are inside.”

“You’d wish death on your brother?” His eyebrows raised.

“He’s no brother of mine. You made sure of that.” You spat at his feet. “I share my mother’s face and I share your last name, but know that we are not the same. Everything that has happened has been and forever will be your fault.”

That did it.

He swung his fist against your jaw and the Lion behind you let you fall to the ground. You thought it was ironic that he dared to talk down on you for forgoing your relation to his son but could so easily strike his daughter. You felt a hand on your arm to sit you back up and so you swung the blade. You didn’t stop to see who or where you connected before you hurried to your feet.

The three Dime Lions stood across from you, which meant you had cut your father, and that made you smile. With the blade firmly gripped in your hand, you threw yourself into a fight. You kept close the to men, ducking and dodging more than attacking on your own. Your nimble mvoements made them hit each other more than you, which seemed to piss them off more, especially when your blade came through with knicks and small jabs. Your father was barking orders, making his way to his feet, which served as a perfect distraction.

You kicked out at one of Lions’ backs and he fell onto your father. You ducked a swing and slashed a long line down the arm of a second. The last Lion leaned down to tackle you, his shoulder slamming into your stomach. You fumbled the blade, knicking the edge of your own plam before getting it back under control.

You were slammed hard against the wall behind you and it knocked the air out of your lungs. He had a few inches off the ground so you drove your knee up hard, hitting his stomach several times. When he finally let you fall, you drove your knife up into his stomach.

“I’d make sure there’s a Healer close when you take that out.” You warned, taking deep breaths to refill your lungs. Silence fell over the room and you wondered what your father was seeing now.

“You’re dead.” The Lion hissed. Your head cocked and you drew a second knife from your boot. You flipped his arm, swatting away the other hand he tried to grab you with, and found his tattoo. You dragged your blade across it, decapitating the lion. “I’m gonna kill you myself, you little bitch.”

“No.” You looked him in the eyes, gripping your embedded knife. When it shifted, blood leaked out and over your hands. “I don’t think you will.”

You yanked it out and he fell to his knees. You forced away the thought that you had just killed a man and faced your father, a bloodied knife in either hand while the blood of his Lion dripped off your fingers. You kept your chin high and he seemed horrified by the sight.

Good.

“His death is on you.” You pointed the blade towards him. “As is the death of any Lion that comes after me or my Snakes. As is the death of my friends.”

You crossed the room and stood toe to toe. The other Lions took a step back but your father stared you down.

“Do you even remember their names?” You asked quietly. “The two boys that were my only friends.”

He said nothing. He took a step back and raised a pistol to your forehead. Your eyes went wide with shock for a second before you regained your composure.

“You judge that I wouldn’t care if your son died, but you raise a gun to your daughter. Again.” You laughed in disbelief.

“You’re no child of mine.” He said and despite the venom in the words, there was the gloss of unshed tears in his eyes. 

“I haven’t been your child in years, Pekka.” You spat and the gun cocked.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You thought immediately of Melli and Kol, how they’d fare in the wake of your death. Kol would take over as lieutenant when Melli took your place, you were sure of it. He’d be able to keep good relations with Nina, who could convince Inej and Jesper to convince Kaz to not demolish the Snakes. It may even be enough to be true allies. The irony of the one thing you’d been hoping for being more likely after your death was not lost on you, even in your potential last moments.

And then, your thoughts drifted to Kaz. The strange relationship you two held. He hated you, that much was as certain as the sun rising in the morning, but he also (maybe) still saw you as a friend. Small moments had you convinced that there was some semblance of the boy you knew was still there, kicking and screaming and fighting to be recognized. He kept you safe at your most vulnerable. He gave you the picks, the plans, and paid off his friend’s debt to you. You thought of some of the things he said to you, brief sentences that had made a little home in the deepest corner of your mind.

She isn’t like you.

Not all memories are bad.

I never blamed you.

Was that what they meant when they said your life flashed before your eyes when you were going to die? Memories and thoughts of those you were leaving behind. You thought in passing of your mother, if she’d

mourn you, but you understood she lost you a long time ago.

A sudden clatter made your eyes shoot open. Your father was clutching a now bleeding hand and his pistol was a few feet away, laying next to a small blade. You were quick to tuck yours away and pick up the fallen, familiar blade. You examined it for a second and realized it was Inej’s.

You looked up and saw a small figure creeping through the shadows while the two remaining Lions ran to the window. You slid the blade across the floor and took up your father’s gun. You stood and pointed it at him.

When he faced you, you fired and the bullet hit his leg.

The sound made the pair of Dime Lions turn and face you. You motioned them closer and waited. You held your position as they charged until you felt the quiet presence beside you. Their steps didn’t falter. You didn’t say anything or even look towards Inej, but once she moved, so did you.

You spun to avoid an oncoming punch and shot at the man’s foot. He cried out and fell to the floor, making the other one stumble over his fallen body. You glanced at your father and saw him hauling himself to his feet so you threw the gun and it hit him in the head.

Your distraction allowed for the fallen Lion to yank your foot from under you. You yelped before you hit the ground and he was quickly moving to pin you down. You kicked a blade free from your boot and went to use it, but he caught your wrist and turned the blade away. He pushed your hand down and your blade skirted down the outside of your arm. You cried out and threw your forehead forward, hearing a satisfying crack as it connected with his nose.

Inej made quick work of the Dime Lion, leaving him groaning and holding a hand to the deepest of several knife slashes. She helped you to your feet and you gestured for her to go first as you put your blade away, following her back to the window. She lept out first with that natural grace you envied and you came out next. You were reaching for the wooden lattice when the gunshot sounded and the bullet tore through your arm.

You almost fell from the impact but you just managed to get your feet in the flimsy structure. Your other arm faltered, stinging from the long knife wound, but you refused to let go. You clumsily got to the bottom and she grabbed your hand to pull you with her.

When you two finally got back to the Barrel, you got her to take a pause in an alley. You practically collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor with a thud. You reached for your torn sleeve and noticed how much blood was still on your hands.

Not all of it was yours and it was almost enough to make you sick. You knew you’d end up killing someone sooner or later, but that didn’t seem to make the first time any easier.

You forced yourself to focus and pulled your torn sleeve until it came off. You awkwardly wrapped it around the long slash until Inej came over quietly and took over.

“Why were you there?” You asked quietly. Truthfully, you didn’t quite care but you were grateful. You did need a distraction for thinking of the man you just killed.

“I knew you were going to be there, and I saw when your Heartrender and lieutenant made it back. They were talking about you and how they had to leave you.” She explained.

“Oh..”

“I thought of going back to Kaz but I wasn’t sure there was time.” She tied a tight knot and winced.

“And here I was thinking you didn’t like me.” You joked, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

“I don’t, not really, but I do respect you.” She explained and you raised a brow. “And Kaz seems to have taken a liking to you.”

You scoffed slightly. “If you knew the whole story, you’d know that’s not true.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You trust Kaz that much?”

“I owe Kaz that much. We all have a past, Davina, but that’s not all we have.”

“Is that some Suli wisdom?”

“No.” She smiled slightly. “Just the truth.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “For showing up. You saved my life.”

“I’d like to think you’d do the same for us.” She said, though the tilt to her voice let you know it was more of a question.

“A select few Dregs.” You confirmed. “I could count them on one hand.”

She glanced behind her to see the foot traffic in the street before looking at your wounds, then she met your eyes.

“The Slat may be closer.” She said hesitantly.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But it’d be better if I made it to the Rook at least. Kol can help me from there... I truly appreciate what you did for me tonight.”

She nodded. “Was that the first time you took a life?”

“That obvious?”

“Your hands are still trembling.”

“That may be due to blood loss.” You defended.

“And I saw the look in your eyes.”

“Does it get easier?”

She stood and offered you a hand. You accepted it, allowing her to help you to your feet. She walked with you for a few feet before she disappeared into the street, effortlessly blending into the crowd. But her last sentence seemed to echo in her absence. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

[fafnir19]

The Gender Switch Experience

Linus sat on his stool in the laboratory, swirling a stirring rod idly in a beaker of bubbling pink liquid. Elias leaned against the adjacent bench, eyebrow raised in amusement. Linus sighed, setting the rod down. "I just don't get it, Elias. How do women work? Why can't I find a girlfriend?"

Elias chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "You know, Linus, sometimes intelligence can be intimidating for some people. Plus, you can be a bit too deep with your scientific explanation of the universe. You need to be a bit more approachable and light-hearted." Linus huffed, running a hand through his blonde buzz cut. "But isn't it frustrating? Women seem to go for these brainless muscle masses, like that arrogant Aron from sales.

It's like their brains shut down in the presence of biceps and a charming smile." Elias arched an eyebrow. "Are you jealous of Aron?" Linus blushed. "Of course not! It's just... frustrating. I wish I could understand them better. And on top of that, my parents keep pressuring me about grandchildren. I'm their only hope to carry on the family lineage. It's like the weight of the ancestry rests solely on my shoulders."

Suddenly, Elias's eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait a minute, Linus. Remember our research project? What if we use our machine on one of us to understand the female perspective better?" Linus blinked, intrigued. "You mean the gender switch device?" Elias nodded. "Yes! We've been on the verge of a breakthrough, and this could be the perfect opportunity for you to walk a mile in a woman's heels, metaphorically speaking." Linus's eyes widened with realization. "You really think this could help me understand women better?" Elias grinned. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be a fantastic test run for our breakthrough project. Think about it, Linus. You could become Lina for a while and experience the world through a new lens." Linus hesitated before nodding resolutely. "I'll do it." Elias clapped him on the back. "Great! We'll do it on Friday evening when no one is in the lab. We'll keep it a secret, just between us." Excitement and nervousness swirled inside Linus's mind. What would it be like to inhabit a different body, to see the world through a different set of eyes? He couldn't wait for Friday to come. 

As the laboratory fell into a hushed silence, Linus positioned himself before the formidable transformation machine.

Nervously, he squared his shoulders, anticipation and trepidation intermingling within the depths of his being. Elias, his stalwart companion, stood poised to assist, his eyes alight with a fervent intellectual curiosity that mirrored Linus' own. "Do you truly wish to proceed with this, Linus?" Elias inquired, his voice tinged with a blend of caution and excitement. Linus met Elias' gaze, his own filled with unwavering determination. "I must understand, Elias. I must experience firsthand what it means to walk in a woman's shoes," he replied, his words resonating with resolute conviction. With a nod, Elias initiated the sequence, setting the transformative apparatus into motion. The contraption hummed to life, casting an otherworldly glow as it enveloped Linus in its embrace. Time seemed to stand still as an iridescent aura unfolded around him, bathing him in an ethereal luminescence. The air crackled with anticipation as Linus felt a strange, almost imperceptible tugging at the very essence of his being. His form contorted and shifted as the machine worked its mysterious alchemy, imbuing him with a profound sense of transformation. His heart quickened as he became increasingly aware of the subtle, yet undeniable rearrangement of his physicality. A surge of emotions coursed through him as he observed his chest swelling with newfound fullness, the contours of his physique assuming a delicate femininity. He gasped in astonishment as his once-familiar genitals underwent a profound metamorphosis, inverting and reforming into the embodiment of womanhood. A flurry of sensations, both exhilarating and disconcerting, washed over him, signaling the irrevocable completion of his transformation. Elias surveyed the scene with an analytical fervor, his eyes aglow with exhilaration. "It's working, Linus! You're becoming Lina!" he announced, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze alongside a glimmer of incredulity. Indeed, the profound metamorphosis had come to fruition, and Linus had been reborn as Lina, her spirit pulsating with the complexities of her newfound identity.

With an unyielding resolve, Lina prepared to embark on a journey teeming with uncharted territory, her gaze alight with an insatiable curiosity. "Elias, I need to immerse myself in the world as a woman, to truly comprehend," she declared, her voice resonating with a fervent resolve. Acknowledging the weight of their audacious experiment, Elias met Lina's eye with a nod of acquiescence. "We must exercise caution, Lina. This is unexplored terrain, and we must tread with utmost care," he cautioned, cognizant of the gravity of their endeavors. As the evening unfolded and the initial shock of her newfound identity began to subside, Lina found herself filled with a sense of empowerment and curiosity. She wore a radiant smile as she thanked Elias profusely for his part in the experiment. "We should celebrate this momentous occasion, Lina," Elias suggested, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let's go out, have some fun, and truly experience life as a woman." Lina's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "I'd love that! Let's make the most of this opportunity." Together, they ventured into the vibrant city, the evening air filled with an infectious energy. They found themselves in a lively bar, where the gentle clink of glasses and laughter mingled with the pulsating rhythm of music. Lina savored the feeling of newfound freedom and embraced the thrill of the unknown. As the night progressed, Elias and Lina indulged in a few cocktails, their lighthearted conversation punctuated by fits of laughter and the occasional insightful observation. It was a rare and cherished moment of unburdened joy, unmarred by the weight of responsibility and expectations. However, their carefree revelry was interrupted when a familiar presence entered the bar. Lina's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Aron, the very object of her frustration earlier.

She felt an urge to flee, but fear and defiance warred within her. Elias noticed Lina's unease and leaned in to whisper, "Let's leave, Lina. We can find another place to enjoy ourselves." Lina hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head with determination. "Yes, Elias. I want to dance. Let's go to a club." Elias raised an eyebrow, surprised at Lina's sudden resolve, but he acquiesced, understanding that she needed her space.  In the pulsating ambiance of the club, Lina lost herself in the dance, her body moving with a fluid grace that she never knew she possessed. The music resounded in her veins, infusing her with a sense of unbridled liberation. Elias, on the other hand, felt out of place in the thumping rhythms of the club and approached Lina. "I think I've had enough," he said with a strained smile. "Do you want to head home?" Lina, intoxicated with her newfound freedom, shook her head. "I'm going to stay a little longer. You go ahead, Elias. I'll find my way back." Elias hesitated, his concern evident in his eyes, but he eventually relented, knowing that Lina needed this night of self-discovery.  As Elias departed for the sidelines, Lina lost herself in the music, the vibrant allure of the night sweeping her into its enchanting embrace.

However, when an unexpected figure approached her amidst the dance, Lina's enthusiasm faltered. Aron materialized in the midst of the crowd, his confident strides carrying him closer to Lina with a charming smile playing on his lips.

Despite her initial reluctance, Lina found herself tentatively entertaining his approach, a strange sense of curiosity seizing her. "What's a vibrant beauty like you doing all alone on the dance floor?" Aron inquired, his blue eyes glimmering with a warmth that caught Lina off guard. Lina hesitated, caught in a curious dance of conflicting emotions. "I was planning to leave, but the music got the better of me. I couldn't resist the allure of the night." Aron's smile widened, the playful glint in his eyes stirring something unfamiliar within Lina. "I'm glad you stayed. Care to join me for a drink? I'd love to get to know you better." Lina's thoughts swirled in a tempest of uncertainty, her resistance slowly eroding in the face of Aron's undeniable charm. "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt," she acquiesced, allowing herself to be swept up in the enigmatic allure of the night. As the evening wore on, Lina found herself entangled in a captivating conversation with Aron, his charming manner casting an unexpected spell over her. The vibrant energy of the club intertwined with the heady allure of Aron's company, stirring sensations within Lina that she struggled to comprehend. Though she had harbored resentment towards Aron, Lina discovered a surprising charm and warmth in him as they conversed, his laughter infectious and his wit surprisingly disarming.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of emotions, and before she could comprehend the gravity of her actions, she found herself in Aron's embrace, succumbing to an unexpected wave of desire. The next morning dawned with a disorienting haze of regret and bewilderment. Lina struggled to come to terms with her unexpected liaison with Aron, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her. 

Eventually, Lina reunited with Elias, the gender switch machine restoring her to her original form as Linus. However, amidst their joyous banter, Linus divulged the startling revelations brought about by his time as Lina. "Elias, you won't believe what happened," Linus confessed, his expression a concoction of incredulity and astonishment. "As Lina, I found myself overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations, and I… I slept with Aron." Elias arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well, well, Linus. It seems that Lina had quite the adventure. And with Aron, no less!" Linus scowled, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. "It was a mistake, Elias. I don't know what came over me." Elias chuckled, offering Linus a reassuring pat on the back. "Relax, my friend. It's all part of the grand expedition of life. And I must say, this will make for a fantastic story to tell." 

As days turned into weeks following the experiment, Linus noticed a newfound vitality within himself, an inexplicable surge of energy and a fervent inclination towards physical activity. In a departure from his usual demeanor, he delved into rigorous physical exercise, his frame gradually gaining strength and definition.  Elias observed Linus's remarkable metamorphosis with a mix of awe and curiosity, remarking on his friend's newfound dedication to fitness. "I must say, Linus, the change in your lifestyle is truly astounding. Your commitment to exercise knows no bounds. What ignited this newfound passion?" Linus, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, beamed with a newfound confidence. "I can't quite put my finger on it, Elias. It's as if this surge of vitality has engulfed me, propelling me to embrace physical activity like never before. I feel like a whole new person." Elias raised an eyebrow. "A whole new person, you say? Are you certain it's simply the result of amplified endorphins from exercise?" Linus chuckled, the resonating tones of his laughter carrying a semblance of unfamiliarity. "Sure thing, man!" In the following weeks, Linus's fervor for physical activity yielded undeniable results. His physique underwent a stunning transformation, his once slender frame honed into a chiseled form that exuded an air of confidence and vitality. Rumors of his newfound allure rippled through the research facility, prompting admiring glances from colleagues and an influx of attention from female acquaintances.

One fateful day at the gym, Linus found himself face-to-face with Aron, the very embodiment of the idealized image of masculine vitality that Linus had previously begrudged. The air buzzed with an unexpected tension as Aron regarded Linus with a glint of recognition and intrigue.

Aron's eyebrow quirked up in surprise as he studied Linus's physique. "Well, well, well, Linus. Look at you, morphing from a bespectacled scientist into a swole stud. Quite the metamorphosis, I must say. What's your secret?" Linus paused, acutely aware of the newfound strength that surged through his being. "It seems that I've stumbled upon a penchant for physical exertion, much to my own surprise. Perhaps I should be asking you for workout tips, Aron." Aron chuckled, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "I must admit, the transformation suits you, Linus. Embracing the ways of the jocks, are we?" Their encounters at the gym became a regular occurrence, and soon, Linus found himself embarking on training sessions alongside Aron, their banter filled with a surprising sense of camaraderie. As they delved into rigorous workouts and exchanged jabs and jests, a bond of unexpected companionship began to burgeon between the once unlikely allies.

It was during one such training session that Aron inquired about a peculiar detail. "Say, Linus, I couldn't help but notice something. Your eyes are typically brown, yet they seem to be blue. Are you wearing contact lenses?" Linus furrowed his brow, a flicker of perplexity dancing in his gaze. "That's odd. I haven't donned any lenses, so this alteration is indeed perplexing."  

Seeking answers, Linus approached Elias. In the dimly lit laboratory, Linus paced nervously as Elias fiddled with vials and beakers. "Elias, you have to help me figure this out," Linus implored, his brow furrowed in worry. "My eye color has changed, and I don't understand why. It's like I'm turning into someone else." Elias adjusted his glasses and peered at Linus intently. "Hmm, let's run some tests. We'll get to the bottom of this, Linus," he assured, his voice laced with determination.

With deft movements, Elias collected samples and scurried off to the lab equipment, his mind whirring with potential explanations. After a few days of anxious anticipation, Elias bustled back into the room holding a sheet of paper. "Linus, I have the results," Elias declared, his eyes ablaze with curiosity. "It's... unexpected." "Spit it out, Elias," Linus urged, his nerves on edge. He braced himself for the impending revelation. "According to the DNA test, it seems that Lina, well, she was... she was impregnated by Aron," Elias stuttered, his shock mirrored by Linus's gaping jaw. "Aron? But... but that's impossible! How could this have happened?" Linus spluttered, his mind swimming with disbelief. "And what does this mean for me?" Elias paused, choosing his words carefully. "It seems that transforming from Lina back to Linus triggered a fundamental change in you. Because the lack of a uterus has prevented you from growing a child, it appears that your own genetic makeup has been irrevocably altered.You, my friend, are now technically considered Aron's son," Elias explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "No, that can't be right," Linus protested, his fists clenching in denial. "I refuse to accept that I'm anything like him. I'm not his son." "It's common for offspring to resist acknowledging their similarities to their parents," Elias chuckled, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "But Linus, when we really think about it, you've taken on a lot of Aron's traits, haven't you?" Linus fell silent, his mind grappling with Elias's observation. He couldn't deny that over time, he had mirrored Aron's behavior, finding a newfound confidence that had eluded him before.

Unbeknownst to them, Aron had overheard snippets of their conversation and sauntered over, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. "What's all this fuss about genetic makeup?" he inquired with a curious glint in his eyes. Linus flinched at the sight of Aron, his newfound anxiety clashing with his unease. "It's nothing, really. Just some absurd test results that we're trying to make sense of," Linus replied hastily, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. Aron folded his arms across his chest, casting a knowing smirk at Linus.

"So, does this mean that you're no longer part of your own family line?" he prodded mischievously. Linus squared his shoulders, determined to refute the assumption. "Children carry the genetic traits of both parents. I can't just be solely considered like you," he asserted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Elias shifted awkwardly, the weight of the revelation sitting heavily on his shoulders. "Well, the test results did show that about 90% of your genetic makeup is now paralleled with Aron's, with only 10% retaining aspects of your old self," Elias confessed, unable to meet Linus' gaze. Aron raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Does this mean that Linus' family line has now been wiped out - he is an only child?" he asked mischievously, his eyes glinting with mischief. Silence enveloped the room as Linus struggled to grapple with the enormity of the truth. How could he come to terms with the fact that he was more akin to Aron than himself and that his ancestral line has been vanquished?

Aron clapped Linus on the back, his expression brimming with amusement, "Look at that, you're one of the cool kids now, Linus! Embrace the change, buddy." "This is absurd," Linus muttered, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Over the next few months, Linus noticed a change within himself. His once-keen intellect seemed to wane, and he found himself drawn to activities he had never before considered. Linus clasped his hands and stared into the distance, "I never used to enjoy sports or casual conversations. What's happening to me?"

Elias patted Linus on the back, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, "It seems the transformation has altered more than just your physical appearance, Linus. Your interests, your behavior, they're all shifting." Linus shook his head, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the changes taking place within him. "I don't want to be like Aron," he muttered, despondent. As days turned by, Linus found himself a sudden desire to be more outgoing and social gnawing at him. "I never thought I'd say this, but Aron has become my best friend," Linus admitted to Elias, a sense of bewilderment lacing his words. Elias sighed, "It seems like you're embracing more and more of Aron's traits with each passing day, Linus. It's like he's become your role model."

In the nine months that followed, the change in Linus was palpable. His once razor-sharp intellect dulled, morphing into a shadow of its former self. No longer was he the dedicated scientist engrossed in groundbreaking research, but a husk of a man, devoid of his former brilliance. It was a bright Monday morning when Linus trudged his way into the sales department, a world away from his beloved science department. He was greeted with slaps on the back and hearty cheers from his new colleagues, among them, the suave and charming Aron. "Hey, Linus! Look at you, all dapper and ready to conquer the sales world!" Aron exclaimed with a roguish grin. Linus barely managed a dim smile in return, his once keen eyes now glazed over with vacant emptiness. His transformation was complete, and Elias could only watch in despair as his best friend slipped further and further away from him.

As the months went by, Linus' days revolved around sales pitches and closing deals. Gone were the days of intellectual pursuits, replaced by the pursuit of fleeting pleasures and hedonistic indulgences.

As Linus strolled into the sales department, a noticeable swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eyes, Elias glanced at him with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "Linus, what in the world has gotten into you?" Elias asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, bro, check out my new watch. It totally seals the deal with the ladies," Linus drawled, flashing a blingy timepiece that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Elias's mouth gaped open. "Linus, you were a prodigy in the science department. A budding genius. And now look at you. What happened?" Linus chuckled smugly. "Who needs all that nerdy stuff when you've got charm, huh? Aron showed me the way. Now I'm living the dream, man." He slapped Elias on the back with a booming laugh, his once soft voice now laced with a newfound bravado. Elias's eyes widened as he watched Linus saunter over to the water cooler, surrounded by a flock of female co-workers hanging on his every word. Elias, torn between disbelief and resignation, approached the boss of the sales department, hoping for a glimmer of some solidarity. "He's dumb as a rock but knows how to use his good looks for successful sales. I guess, you should produce more of them, Elias," the boss remarked casually, not a hint of recognition for the man Linus used to be. In a moment of resignation, Elias turned to Linus, his once-friend, now a mere shell of his former self. "Linus, I need your help with something," Elias began, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "I need a sample of your...cum." Linus, now devoid of his former depth, chuckled thoughtlessly. "Sure, man. Anything for you," he replied with a vacant look in his eyes, his once keen mind reduced to nothing but a mindless echo of Aron's.

And so, Linus and Elias drifted apart, their once unbreakable bond shattered by the cruel twist of fate. What was once a story of scientific discovery and friendship had now morphed into a tragic tale of lost intellect and shattered dreams.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Donatello's First Love—Splinter's Talk

mostly bayverse, could be 2003 if you squint hard enough. did it a little different with this one compared to the others :0 word count: 1.6k

Spanning his messy corner of the Lair, Donnie's many monitors mounted to the wall were alight with a blue glow. The same few camera feeds rotated between the locations outside of their home and other places, monitoring, and allowing surveillance to take a backseat in his mind while he worked. At his desk, he gently squeezed a pipette into the mouth of a breaker, waiting for the reaction he was looking for to occur. 

"Interesting," he mumbled to himself, "I wonder what happens if I were to supercool the mixture." 

He placed the substance in a tray and prepared another batch, this time, much more concentrated. There wasn't much to do around the house besides experiment with the materials he'd salvaged. That was fine; he enjoyed the process, and filling notebooks—and his walls—to the brim with chemical equations, notes and mathematics that hardly anyone but he could read. 

Careful with his large fingers to not drop the pipette, he sucked a few drops up from the test tube, going in to add to the mixture. He squinted, almost there. And then the startling alarm pinged on the screen next to him, making him jump and squirt the chemical on his work surface. He quickly wiped up and looked over at the computer. "'Motion detected: [y/n]'s apartment complex'," the screen read, switching camera feeds to one of the multiple tiny cameras he had set up. He only put cameras where he thought it mattered; he was paranoid about an ambush, and even more so at her place than theirs, now that she was coming and going from the Lair. The likelihood of their enemies finding out her association with them was about a fifty-seven percent chance, fifty percent too much for Donnie.

He scanned the monitor for signs of anything suspicious, but it turned out to be only a friend dropping by with a key to put a package inside, with [y/n]'s permission. 

"Oh," he muttered, suddenly feeling silly. He made sure the person left her apartment—and locked it back—before quickly switching the feed. That was his one secret nobody had managed to catch him out on yet. Even so, he felt slick and a little guilty for spying. But, justifiably, they needed to know if she ever was in danger! He dismissed the notification and rotated the feeds manually. "Whoops. Sorry, [y/n]...yeah, I'll just switch that back." 

He shuffled around to resume his work titrating. Except Splinter stood curiously behind the desk, eyes trained close on the monitors, and then Donnie. Donnie flinched—Splinter usually didn't come in or near his lab. In fact, none of his family normally bothered him when he had his nose in his work, because none of them understood it. Not even Leo bothered to try to get the details. The details went over their heads. 

"So, Donatello, what is it you are working on?"

"Oh, Master Splinter," Donnie greeted him, glancing back to make sure the monitor was no longer on the door to her apartment. He picked up the pipette and test tube he'd knocked over before, "What is it?"

"Refer back to my last question," Splinter replied. He leaned calmly against his cane and looked all around the cluttered lab. Notes taped, tacked, even glued to walls. A whiteboard full of impossible equations, various pieces of technology in disrepair he'd picked up from trash and things going to recycling. Quite the mess, but Donnie knew where everything was. Splinter cocked his head slightly. "What disorganization," he commented.

"Disorganized to you," Donnie corrected with a smile, "but I can find anything I'm looking for—it's actually 'unorganized', implies that it never was organized. The definition of 'disorganized' suggests that something once was organized but now isn't, but I never once had this place in order," he rambled. 

"Donatello," Splinter interrupted. Once his son got talking, it was hard to stop him. He just had to interject to get a word in. "What is it you are doing? You have been very unfocused lately. This is strange for you."  

"Unfocused" was an understatement. With a mind already running miles per minute, he was getting caught up in his own head. Getting his work station back to a functional state, he set up his tube tray, answering, "Titrating these and writing out their chemical equations. The brain's like a muscle, gotta exercise it and stay sharp," he said. And with all that sharpness, he was only half-suspicious as to why Splinter was suddenly interested in what he was doing. 

Splinter nodded. "Then I must not have seen miss [y/n]'s apartment complex on your screen. Carry on." 

Donnie froze, watching Splinter out of the corner of his hazel eyes. His stomach dropped. So, it was one secret—they weren't going to understand, he was just as protective of their home, too! What if she couldn't call the police, or even them in time if someone broke in? Her apartment wasn't in a good area, Donatello already didn't like that. What if someone grabbed her? He couldn't put his mind at ease without knowing. 

"I—well, this was a recent development, you see," Donatello stuttered, fidgeting with the purple wraps around his hands. He realized then how weird it all looked and panicked. He'd never meant for it to go this far; his cautionary measures just kept escalating more and more with his feelings for her. "I swear, it's just outside of her place! I would never put a camera in her apartment, that would be creepy, and way overstepping," he explained. "I told her I'd always look out for her and that she can count on me."

"Oh, I suppose it's no problem, then, since she gave you such consent," Splinter said, looking away momentarily to scratch his chin. His eyes snapped back over to his anxious son and popped a hairy brow up as he knocked the end of his cane on the floor to grab his attention further. "Is that right, Donatello?" 

He wanted to go into his shell. I'm busted, this is not good. "Don't tell her! So, I, um…I didn't exactly…" The thought trailed off. He didn't need to finish that sentence for both of them to know. 

"Precisely my point. Now that we have made that clear, would you like to tell me what this is really about?" 

"No! I mean, I will, since you're asking, but—agh, I swear, I'm not a creep," he said. "I just wanted to make sure she'd be okay. That's it." 

Splinter crossed behind his desk, slipping an arm around his son's shell. Donnie wanted to pull away. "Come with me. Let's take a walk." 

He led them out of the Lair into the tunnels outside their home. They could loop around easily and end up back at the Lair, and Splinter knew Donnie was going to resist talking if the others could be around to hear. Sometimes, you must play on other people's terms, he thought, listening to the quiet drip echo as they ambled through the sewer. He figured it was time to do a little damage control, although he normally pledged not to interfere with his sons and them making their mistakes. However, he didn't want to see Donatello make a potentially hazardous one to himself. 

"Now, you must understand, my son, you cannot know everything at once," Splinter said, avoiding an accusatory tone. "You have a brilliant mind, but you certainly don't tend to see the obvious." 

"What do you mean, master?" Donnie questioned. The "obvious" being under any other circumstances, his actions would definitely be seen as "creepy". The notion flew right under his radar as something to worry about, as their circumstances were anything but normal. 

"Of course, you are a young man, you want to watch out for the one you love," Splinter pointed out. Donnie cringed, even though he hasn't made much of an attempt to hide that fact. He was excited to explore something new, why should he have hidden thos feelings? He didn't shout them to the world. But it was well-known among their family that he'd beaten his brothers to the punch when it came to her, and no going for it was an unwritten but understood boundary. Still, this wasn't a conversation he was prepared for have tonight; his mind was still back at his lab.

"About everyone but Michelangelo has noticed you've been retreating to your lab more often recently." He chuckled. "And your antics around her are obvious, again. Loosen your grip a little. You are annoying your brothers vying for her attention." 

Donnie felt a rush of embarrassment come over him. Yes, he was showy—expressive, maybe too quick to whisk her away to demonstrate his new inventions, the stuff he'd discovered. Donnie knew he could hyperfixate on and obsess over things; she was on his mind more than not. As for annoying his brother, he wasn't the strongest, but he was the smartest. He was much more eager with his staff and putting his siblings back in their lane when she was around. The electric component on his weapon came in handy for quick corrections, and goofing around. 

Through all of that, he remembered having a moment of clarity when she was inspecting his computer setup one night and the camera almost flickered to hers, to which he scrambled to shut it off. Conveniently, he brushed that aside. 

Donnie lifted his goggles, rubbing his face sheepishly. "I guess you're right," he admitted. 

"The things you do for love," Splinter shook his head. "Be sure you do not push her away by accident. You are fortunate I had the mind to come talk to you about this before you made a mistake and a fool of yourself. Consider it a fair warning," he said as he looked over at his son, who waited quietly for him to continue, "to not overstep." 

"I understand, loud and clear." 

Splinter nodded in agreement, "Good. I trust you will take this advice well. You have a good heart and good intentions, Donatello, do not be clouded by your mind. Your brain is not your only quality."

"Thanks, master Splinter. I'll let up on it," Donnie relented with a small smile. He was still uncomfortable, feeling a bit dumb. He always was so caught up on making predictions, keeping everything running smoothly and safely that he didn't always consider how that worked for other people. Just because it made sense to him, didn't mean it made sense to them. Note that for later, Donatello, he reminded himself. He turned around to head back to the Lair. 

Splinter stopped to take in a little sunlight from the grate above his head, stopping Donnie in his tracks. "Oh, and Donatello," he called. 

"Yeah?" 

Splinter assumed parental status, and Donnie knew that scolding tone all too well. "Tell her about it, or turn that damned camera off." 

~wooOoOOOoooOooOooo partitionnnnnnn~

Side rant: I actually hate it when people portray Donnie (except for 2012 iterations) as shy and unconfident. He is literally the opposite in 2003 and Bayverse. Donatello is not "a little baby uwu" and I'm tired of people making him look so meek 😭

[clockwork-ashes]

Sparks and Shadows

Summary: Eris is surprised when Azriel comes looking for him at the Forest House (one-shot).

Note: Thank you to @ninthcircleofprythian @cauldronblssd and @teddyhoneybear for just being really nice :) Thank you to everyone who reads <3

“Don’t move.” 

Eris listened to the command, but he knew it would take very little effort to simply set the Night Court’s best spy alight. Half a thought, and Azriel, along with his strange shadows, would be nothing but ash. 

Their centuries-long dance of sorts, and Azriel would be acting as the lead tonight, Eris thought. 

The torches in the room flared in warning as Eris leaned into Azriel’s touch in a silent challenge, one that the shadowsinger seemed prepared to accept.  

Azriel kept a gloved hand tightly against Eris’s mouth, pressed the sharp point of truth-teller between his shoulder blades. Eris felt as the edge cut through his thin white shirt, he had been ready for bed, had not been dressed for such a guest. 

Lips just touching the arch of Eris’s ear, Azriel murmured, “I’m going to move my hand.” Eris felt as truth-teller cut his skin, as the smallest drop of blood made a trailing path down his back. Azriel continued, “I don't want to hear a sound.” 

Eris rolled his eyes, even though he knew the other male was unable to see the gesture. He grunted in response, and the hand fell from his mouth, instead wrapping around his throat. 

Eris wondered if Azriel was doing that just to irritate him, as a reminder of the last time the other male had found himself in the Forest House, when their positions had been… switched. 

Eris arched his neck, lifted a brow. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Azriel’s hand tightened uncomfortably around the Autumn heir’s neck. “I thought I told you to keep quiet.” 

“That’s no fun,” Eris’s voice was strained, his breaths smaller. The fireplace on the room’s other side dimmed in response. Eris did not truly believe Azriel had come to kill him, he had had plenty of chances over the years and had never taken any of the countless opportunities to do so. 

Azriel’s tone suggested he was serious, perhaps even desperate, unbelievably easy to read. “Nod if you know anything about the human queens.” 

Eris tilted his chin, and Azriel said nothing for a long moment before loosening his hold. 

“Then you’re still of use to me,” Azriel spat, shoving Eris away and stepping back to put some distance between them, truth-teller now in its sheath. “Tell me what you know,” he ordered, hazel eyes dark. 

Eris rubbed at the sore skin of his neck and shrugged, looking at Azriel over his shoulder, lips tilted up in a mocking smile. “Why would I do such a thing?” He walked towards his dresser, grabbing an already opened bottle of cognac and filling the glass he had left there.

“Don’t play games, Rhysand is asking.” Eris scowled as he remembered the Night Court’s promise to support his bid for the throne. He offered the glass to Azriel who simply scrunched his nose in distaste. 

“Be specific about the things you want, shadowsinger, I won’t be revealing all my secrets.” In a swift motion, Eris drank all the contents in the glass, setting it aside and relishing in the way it burned. 

Some of the liquid had dripped down the corner of his mouth, and Eris flicked his tongue out slowly, letting it linger. Azriel tracked the movement with his eyes, wings flaring almost involuntarily. Eris had to fight to hold back a grin. 

Azriel’s hands clenched into fists at his side,“I’ve heard whispers that your father has allied with a few of the queens.” 

Eris watched as some of Azriel’s shadows danced around him, he leaned against his dresser, strong arms holding his weight and long legs stretched out, comfortable. “You’ve heard correctly.” 

“Why?” Azriel asked through his teeth, clearly annoyed. The blue siphons he had in his leathers brightened for a moment.

Eris hummed elegantly in response, tracing the carved wood of his dresser with a finger. “When I find out, I’ll tell you.” Beron told him very few of his plans, especially as of late, but Eris always learned of what was happening within his own court. 

Azriel took a few large steps towards him, wings wide to make himself seem larger. Eris looked up at him, but made sure his chin was tilted arrogantly, enough so to get on the other male’s nerves. 

“Don’t lie, Eris.” His words were accusatory, perhaps even a bit disapproving. 

Eris merely scoffed, “Don’t tell me what to do, shadowsinger.” Even though he had been telling the truth, Eris rather enjoyed being contrary. 

Azriel sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Meet with Rhysand and Feyre the next time you find yourself in the Hewn City.” Shadows began to whirl around him, his feet completely enveloped in inky darkness. 

“Going so soon?” Eris drawled, toying with the laces of his shirt. “No kiss goodbye this time?” Eris was mocking, he had spent enough time around males like Azriel, too wrapped up in their own thoughts, confused about what they wanted. 

Eris had been surprised the last time Azriel had come to his chambers, had kissed him after questioning him about the High Lord’s plans. Eris had been even more surprised at how easily he had been able to get the other male into his bed, at the desperate sounds that had fallen from the shadowsinger’s lips as he had let Eris do as he pleased. 

All of the control had been in Eris’s hands, just as he enjoyed it. 

Azriel seemed to have other plans this time, giving Eris no warning as he grabbed Eris by the back of his head, roughly pulling him so that their lips could meet. 

Frantic, desperate, Eris gasped in disbelief and Azriel took the opportunity to lick at the seam of his lips, to stroke at his tongue with his own. The back of Eris’s thighs pressed into the dresser behind him, his arm came up to wrap around Azriel’s neck, fingers carding through the dark locks of his hair. When Eris pulled at the short strands, Azriel moaned against his mouth in approval.

Azriel’s wings came up around them, cutting them off from the rest of the world as their kiss deepened. 

Eris felt as the shadowsinger’s hand tugged at his shirt, grabbed at the fabric clumsily. Pulling Azriel’s bottom lip between his teeth, Eris bit hard enough that he felt the skin split, tasted copper on his tongue. 

Azriel flinched back, almost as though he had remembered where he was and who was with him. Wings snapping back quickly, he took a few quick steps away from the heir of the Autumn Court. He brought a hand up to wipe at the trickle of blood that dripped down his chin, raising his brows in shock. 

Eris grinned as he watched Azriel, his voice thick with desire as he spoke. “We can continue this another night,” he said, waving a hand lazily. “I didn’t put on my silk sleeping clothes for you.” Azriel blushed, the tips of his rounded ears turning a dark shade of scarlet, but Eris continued. “I’ve promised my time to another, and I don’t know how she feels about sharing.” 

Azriel simply cleared his throat, nodding in response. Eris found his embarrassment endearing. Amber eyes tracked the shadowsinger as he took a few more steps back.

“Good night, Azriel,” Eris added embers falling from the tips of his fingers as he waved a hand. In truth, he had not been expecting the Night Court spy to respond, he hardly ever did, letting shadows completely envelop him before he winnowed away. 

As Azriel left the Forest House again without a word, Eris scowled at the disappointment that bloomed in his chest. 

[rosedforbes]

🥧 OF THE DAY: klaroline with "Lacy" !

I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT PIE OF THE DAY 😭😭 anyway, I switched the editing program! goodbye Alight Motion, hello After Effects 😋 this is my second AE edit and I think I'm starting to get somewhere 🙌🙌

friendly reminder that i also posted this on Instagram ! please, leave a like if u can 🩷

[slightlyunconventional]

its 2am and op needs sleep (2.1k)

hi d/abihawks nation here is your food for the day (more to come in the foreseeable) aaand yeah. this is from an ask i got that i didn’t answer with this because it had three parts to it and i wanted to actually do all three ?? idk. anyway if youre the anon who asked for d/abi inducing with his piercings then this is for you :)

The fuck kind of time to wake up is this? Dabi thought, squinting at the digital alarm clock beside the bed. 4:16AM, it reads. Still dazed, he rolled over with a huff and got ready to go the fuck back to sleep - until it hit him.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” he hissed, as an itch that felt like wildfire crashed into his sinuses like a freight train, rendering him unable to form a coherent thought for a good few seconds. He sat up. The motion somehow made the burn triple in intensity. He scrunched up his nose forcefully, waiting for it to succumb, for the itch to peak, but it didn’t. It felt like it was taking over his entire face, an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t back down, half-closing his eyes and forcing him to keep his nose held in a permanently-crinkled position. Dabi dared to rub at it, knuckles pushing back and forth rather aggressively, and instantly regretted what he’d done. The contact seemed to set alight a million different nerve endings, and he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck me,” Dabi managed to breathe out. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the whole way squinting against the inferno plaguing his nose. The burn was near unbearable now, like flames licking at the tender inner walls of his nostrils, yet still nothing came of it. Even switching on the horrendously bright bathroom light in Hawks’ apartment, which usually managed to tease a sneeze or two from him, had no effect. Christ, he just wanted to go back to sleep. Eyes narrowing further due to the harsh transition from dark to light, Dabi moved to the sink and turned on the faucet. With a deep breath in, he splashed the cold water on his face a few times, and gave his full face a rather aggressive scrub with both hands for good measure. He stood up to find it had done absolutely nothing, and now he just had a wet face. Awesome. Why, for the love of fuck, was this happening? he thought in frustration. Could it have picked a more inconvenient time?

He grabbed a towel and dried off his face, rubbing with particular force at his nose (though still keeping low expectations that it would actually make a damn difference). The itch burned with ferocity, but remained stagnant; Dabi just wished it would either do something or piss off. For a man who normally despised sneezing - everything about it, the feeling, the loss of control, the vulnerability of it all - he seemed pretty desperate to do it now. He was running out of options, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to go wake up Hawks and make him stick a feather up his nose. There was probably a box of tissues in here, somewhere, he was sure, judging by how awful Hawks’ allergies got in the spring… bingo. It didn’t take long to find, just a few moments of staring into the medicine cupboard with one hand knuckling absently at the side of his nose. The dark-haired man pulled a few from the box, irritated, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The ever-present itch had his nostrils practically pulsing with need, and a handful of tissues suddenly pushed up to his nose really didn’t help. Hell, it was almost stinging now, and it was torturous.

“Shit,” Dabi breathed, as he began to rub his nose in slow, deliberate circles through the tissues. The sensation was all-consuming - he became completely laser-focused on the way the itch prickled ever so slightly with his movements. It was like the light at the end of a tunnel. He just had to will it to rise in intensity, just enough to make him– “...h-hhuh!” His breath caught, even if only slightly. Fuck, he was close, so damn close. In his mind he was begging for it, for relief, and he daren’t even move, for fear of losing the– damn it. The sting backed down just as quickly as it had come about, forcing Dabi to let out the breath he was holding in a short, irritated sigh. He couldn’t just go back to bed, not while this itch was still wreaking havoc in his face. But, it wasn’t like he had many choices left. The only thing he knew that really set him off was cats, and he was fairly sure bathrooms didn’t come preinstalled with a litter of kittens. Stubborn as ever, he refused to just give up and go sleep again - but what could he really do? Sit and wait it out, hoping it would just go away? Or go back to trying to make himself- hold on. Dabi suddenly remembered the absolute mess he’d been when he first pierced his nose (in this very bathroom, as a matter of fact). The needle had hardly been halfway through the cartilage before his chest was stuttering with rapid hitching breaths that had very quickly turned into fits of desperately itchy (and bloody) sneezes, untameable to the point where he had no input in the, well, output. He’d simply had to sit and let them barrel through him in awful tickly waves. He didn’t know why he’d sat through three rounds of that just for a triple nose piercing. One would have been plenty. 

Dabi pushed himself up from the edge of the bath, binned his tissues, and moved back to the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, running a tired hand over his face and sighing. His hand brushed lightly against the side of his nose, sending jolts up his sinuses, and he decided he couldn’t tolerate another second of such torment. The thought to pierce his nose again flitted briefly through Dabi’s mind, but was quickly dismissed. Imagine how that would go down. “Hey, you’ve got another piercing,” Hawks would say. “Oh, yeah, I had to sneeze really fucking badly last night so I did what any sane person would do - gave myself a fourth nose piercing!” Dabi rolled his eyes at the thought. He went for the next best thing - messing around with his current piercings to try and make something happen.

He leaned in closer to the bathroom mirror, well aware that he looked an absolute sight for sore eyes, red-rimmed nostrils and an oversized t-shirt hanging awkwardly around his frame proving an… interesting combination. Christ, what am I doing, he thought, as he took a silver stud between his fingers and began to twist it - and, hell, the effect was instantaneous. Immediately, the tickle reared its head, intensified tenfold from before, and all but consumed him. There was nothing he could do to stop his jaw from slackening, his eyes from fluttering shut, his nostrils from flaring to nearly twice their size– “Shit, shit, s-shiihh–!”

Breaths rising in his chest, pitchy and desperate, Dabi let out a string of curses and stumbled backward, almost losing his balance as the need to sneeze took over him such that he couldn’t possibly think about anything else. He braced a hand against the edge of the sink to keep upright, drew in an immense gasp, and pitched forward at the waist– “hh’hhahH’DDSHHhhew! Hohhh, God, fuck me…” The sneeze that followed was harsh, scraping, and instantly relieving. But Dabi soon found that he was nowhere near done, and snapped forward with a trio of back-to-back sneezes, equally intense as the first.

“huhH’HDJJSHHh! ‘gGKSHHh’uh! hah’DSHHh’iew!” He straightened up to try and catch his breath, but his nose tingled in a way which meant there was guaranteed to be more sneezing to come. He was about to cast his gaze up to the light fixture on the ceiling to try and coax it out prematurely, until he saw a glimpse of red in his peripheral vision - Hawks. Shit. How long had he been standing there? Dabi looked at him, unsure of what to say. The hero was sure to have a barrage of questions for him, he could already imagine it: Are you getting sick? Allergic to something? Oh my god–is it me? Did I use a new… something? I’m so sorry, are you okay? He was leaning on the doorframe in a loose-fitting shirt that Dabi had sacrificed (cut holes in the back of to accommodate Hawks’ wings) and wearing an expression that was a blend of sympathy and amusement. Dabi opened his mouth to speak.

“Bless you,” Hawks said, with a lopsided smile, before Dabi had the chance to say anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t-to… wake you up,” he replied. Fuck, he still needed to sneeze.

Hawks exhaled a little laugh. “It’s okay. You were sneezing pretty damn loudly, it would have been hard not to.” He took a few steps forward and wrapped his hands around Dabi’s arm, absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles with his thumbs.

“Are you okay?” he asked, more of that sympathy now shining through. As predicted, questions. “Yeah, I– fuck, I-I, hhah– needtosneezeagaiihHGKSHHhew!” He sniffled, then used his free hand to rub his nose, hard. “No idea what it is, just… started.” At least it was partially true. He did have no idea what it was, but he wasn’t about to admit to Hawks that he’d actually been trying to make himself sneeze for the best part of half an hour. Hawks frowned. “Bless you,” he said again. “You aren’t sick? A cold, maybe?” There it was again. “No, dumbass, it’s May.” “Who says you can’t get colds when it’s not winter? I get colds when it’s not winter!” Hawks said indignantly. Dabi huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s you though. Your immune system’s shi-sh-hhahH’dDTSHHh’uh! Shit.” “Shut up,” Hawks said, swatting his arm. “Sounds pretty itchy.” Dabi pulled a face at that. “Sounds itchy? How can– how– Jesus, fuck, always when I’m trying to t-talk…” “Bless you-!” Hawks said prematurely, tipping his head to the side. “-hhHRRSHHHhew!” The smile on Hawks’ face widened. God, Dabi had thought this would just be one and done, but now he couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if he’d opened some metaphorical floodgates in his sinuses just by twisting his nose studs a bit, and released sneeze after terribly violent sneeze. It would be infinitely easier to deal with without his overly enthusiastic witness, that was for certain. He couldn’t say it wasn’t at least a little endearing, though, in some bizarre way. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze this much before,” observed Hawks, in such a tone that made the statement sound like it was some earth shattering discovery (It wasn’t. Dabi was eternally thankful that Hawks had never bore witness to the explosive fits he got when cats were part of the equation).

From behind the hand scrubbing at his still-burning nose, Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Right…?” he said slowly, “Is that supposed to h-hah–!” This was getting ridiculous. He pinched his nose tightly, brows furrowed and eyes nearly shut. Absolutely not. “There’s no point holding it in now that I’m awake, you know,” Hawks said, a mildly teasing tone creeping into his voice. “Just wanna get a full f-fucking… hhuh– sentence out-! hh’ehHDSZZHhew! h-hhH’RSCHhh’uh!” “Bless you, bless you,” Hawks moved closer towards Dabi, evidently starting to feel drowsy again after having been out of bed, judging by the way he rubbed lazily at his eyes with one hand. “What were you gonna say?” “What?” “Before you sneezed again. What were you gonna say?” Dabi averted his eyes. “I don’t remember.” Hawks snickered quietly. “S’okay… you gonna come back to bed? I’m getting cold,” he said, his head now resting on Dabi’s arm. “Not your personal heater,” was the response, punctuated with an irritated sniffle. Hawks shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Even so, I don’t think you’d really want, well…” Dabi gestured vaguely at his face. He didn’t particularly want to say it out loud. “I don’t mind,” the hero replied softly, “I just want you to get some sleep. Besides, the pink nose is a cute look on you.” He added the last part with a wink, and it earned him a rather affronted scoff and a flick to the forehead. “Fine, let me just–” Dabi pulled a couple of tissues from the box and blew his nose with some force. It seemed to shift something high in his sinuses, which of course triggered a sneeze. The floodgates really had opened. “hh’hehHDDSHHhiew! Jesus Christ, can’t catch a break…” Hawks hummed. “Bless you,” he mumbled again, before starting to lead Dabi out of the bathroom and back to their bed. He paused, however, halfway to the door, and turned around. With a nod towards the tissue box on the counter, he said, “You’d better bring those with you.”

[lilmeowzsworld]

anyone order yoongi x ac/dc ???

kinda basic-ish but im getting used to alight motion since i switched editing apps recently

@ktownshizzle i hope you like it

i'll post a hobi edit i did laat night too 👀

[desktopdinosaur]

Sorry if you have answered this before but, I was wondering what do you use to animate? Or what drawing app/software do you use?

Hello! No bother- I should probably make some kind of intro with this stuff-

But I won’t-

For drawing I use Ibis paint x, the free version- 

For frame by frame animation I mainly use flipaclip,

And for tweened animation I use alight motion

but I’ve been using toon boom more recently and might switch? Probably not- I heard toom squid is also really good

For editing I use a mix of alight motion and capcut

Capcut is really good for basic editing like camera movements or colour corrections

Alight motion is for the heavier stuff, compositing, adding rim lighting and shadows

Tip. If you don’t want the alight motions watermark just export it twice, one with the water mark on the bottom and one with it on the top

Than add those video to capcut with one being an overlay and use the mask tool to cut out the watermark for one of the videos-

Sorry if that sounds confusing-