#the black around the neck look so blocky

[f1-birb]

EXCUSE ME MCLAREN WHERE THE EVER LOVING FUCK ARE THE BLACK FIREPROOFS???

BRING THEM BACK IMMEDIATELY

[jungwondazed]

18+ only // jungwon gets turned on when you wear his t shirt

"i told you wearing white was a bad idea" he mutters while rummaging through his drawer to find a shirt for you.

you lightly role your eyes trying to rub the stain off your cashmere sweater knowing he was probably right about wearing this to wine night. all your friends were continuing on outside as jungwon pulled you into his room to find you a change of clothes. you didn't think a splatter of merlot was a big enough deal to excuse yourself but jungwon was too particular.

he hands you a large black t shirt and you quickly put it on getting ready to head back out before you feel a tug. you turn around with furrowed brows at his one finger hooking the bottom of his own clothing.

jungwon's eyes stay on yours for a few seconds before glancing down at your body, almost checking you out and it causes your cheeks to heat up.

"what is it?" you ask, self conscious about whether you looked too underdressed now, but it was all that he had.

"take it off" he breathes out, and swallowing so hard you see his adam's apple bob in and out.

"what?" completely thrown off at such a demand.

"i said take it off," he repeats himself, the hint of impatience evident in his eyes.

you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief before pulling the shirt off and tossing it on the floor with a bit of frustration. if he didn't want you wearing his things then he should've never offered. instead of making a scene now you plan to ignore him for the rest of the night, dealing with this way later. reaching out for the stained sweater to put on again, jungwon pulls you back once again.

"take it all off" his tone is deeper than before, the husk in his voice sends a chill down your body. there was no need to be doing any stripping right now, guests were outside and your outfit was completely fine.

"jungwon, no i can just wear-"

"just do what i say" he snaps a bit. and you listen immediately, pulling your black pants down and then slowly peeling off your undergarments.

you stand there naked, covering yourself a bit, scratching the back of your head at such an inappropriate command at an odd time. the seconds that pass seem too long, and all you wanna do is make a run for the bathroom to breakdown what the hell was going on.

there's a hunger in his eyes you recognize when you both are alone together. if it weren't for the wine flushing in his cheeks you would've thought he absolutely lost it.

he stands closer to you, reaching down for the t shirt you just took off and places it in your hand.

you look at it and back to him, and you can hear his heavy breathing even with the talking going on in the living room.

"put it back on" he says gently, and it starts to click for you.

you wear it again and it hangs on your body, not looking flattering at all. just a blocky shirt that hugs nothing, but the focus in jungwon's eyes as he rakes your figure makes you ponder whether jungwon thinks any differently. his gaze stops at your breasts, nipples peaking through the shirt and there's a small twitch in his mouth that makes you want to throw yourself all over him.

jungwon leans down to your side and to the other, really observing the entirety of you. he bites his lip as he runs his hands down your body, through the cloth, groaning as he feels your figure. he's turned on, and you have no choice but to let him have at you all he wants.

there was something deeply perverted about jungwon's fascination with you being naked under a piece of his own clothing. you were covered but him knowing exactly what was hidden under made it the perfect opportunity to sexualize you in a matter that was personal to him.

"i just wanted to see what this might've looked like," he breathes out against your neck. he spends his time feeling you up, the fabric sensitive against your nipples and everywhere it was clinging to. jungwon was groaning as if he was the one getting touched, and it made you feel humiliated to say the least. you don't know how much time passes when he pulls you onto his bed, and the socialization that was going on outside completely slips your mind.

[klaunee]

Edit 2/12/2024: I wanted to add a disclaimer to my redesigns! I really appreciate all of the likes and comments that these have garnered, but I just want to add that these aren't intended to be "improvements" or "fixes" of the original designs in any way and were done as a character design exercise for my own entertainment. Looking back on them there's a lot I'd like to change about them and I'd never claim to be anything more than an amateur/hobbyist character designer messing around with these character concepts. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Redesign of most of the main cast of Hazbin Hotel + Lucifer for fun and all that. I enjoy seeing other people's interpretations of these characters and wanted to try my hand at it. Elaboration below the cut.

(warning for some potential spoilers for Season 1 below)

Charlie

As you can see, the gist of my redesigns is exaggerating the qualities of whatever the character is supposed to be. In this case, I thought Charlie lacked qualities that identified her as a demon, and so I gave her permanent horns and a more goat-like appearance. I also gave her angel wings for a unique look and to identify her as Lucifer's daughter. Realistically these could be bat wings instead, since Lucifer was historically depicted as having said wings, but I thought the angel wings combined with demonic features would give her a unique appearance. Her outfit is inspired by bellhops and magicians. I wanted her to be based on a type of performer in the same vein as her parents, with Lucifer's supposed ringmaster theme and Lilith being a diva. This is also why I gave her red nose paint, because to me, her red cheeks and white face make her look clown-like. I gave her round shapes to represent her sweet personality while her overall body type is lanky in a somewhat awkward way, trying to depict her as a bit dorky. I made her hair a bit more prominent for a princess-y look.

Vaggie

Vaggie's moth qualities have been exaggerated here. I'm aware of the theories that she's actually not a moth demon but rather a fallen angel, but I wanted to disregard that because I really like bugs. She has four arms, black eyes, antennae, and her hair is actually a pair of functional wings. Her hair-wings have four "eye spots" on them that are actually functional eyes similar to Sir Pentious. Shape-wise I wanted to show her as a more combative, assertive character, with blocky arms and a shorter and wider physique compared to Charlie. I gave her a modern outfit with a fluffy jacket reminiscent of a moth's neck fluff.

Alastor

I gave Alastor a complete overhaul. My biggest gripe with his design is that he's not intimidating in the slightest and yet we're meant to interpret him as fearsome. Although I enjoy the idea of a character who is not physically intimidating while still being a powerful force, I wanted to depict Alastor as outwardly frightening while retaining the idea that he's underestimatable because... his entire body is shadow! Rather than having that Dr. Facilier expy (/j) shadow companion he has, I decided to make it so Alastor is actually the shadow himself. This grants him a plethora of abilities like a greater range of movement, intangibility, etc. I imagine he was disoriented when he first spawned in hell as nothing but a shadow, but slowly found that this could be exploited and became extremely powerful. His staff is based on a vintage style of microphone with the center modified to look like an inverted pentagram. No Voodoo iconography here. The skull itself does not move, rather the red light in his eye flickers in time with his voice. Outfit-wise, he's wearing a basic vintage suit with a boater hat to identify him as being from the 1920's. Of course, the most significant part of his design is his antlers, which are greatly underwhelming in his canon design (disregarding his "true form" which is still weak in my opinion). In addition to giving him a dramatic silhouette, these antlers can be manipulated by him as a pair of appendages similar to hands.

Angel Dust

I didn't change much about Angel Dust. I think he has a nice design. I just tried to make him a bit more spider-like, with pedipalps, extra eyes, and an abdomen. I tried to make the abdomen small so it's essentially like a cottontail. I modified his legs a bit like I did Vaggie's so they're bent in a way similar to bug legs. His suit has a bit more dimension to it as well. I initially wanted to make the stripes vertical for a true pinstripe suit, but the horizontal ones ultimately won out. The most notable part of his physique is his legs like it is in his canon version, but I tried to make all of his limbs longer as well.

Lucifer

This one was very self-indulgent. I wanted to make Lucifer more father-like in appearance to try and diversify the shapes of male characters in this show, similar to how I gave Alastor a stocky build. With a stouter appearance he is simultaneously less and more imposing depending on how he's depicted. I think it'd be nice if his wings were a permanent element of his design. I gave him a broken halo, which he obscures with his top hat. I modified his outfit while still retaining the ringmaster appearance, giving him a long, flowing cape for a dramatic look. He has a cane in the shape of a golden snake which can actually move freely if he wills it. I based his hair a bit on famous carnie P.T. Barnum, and I think he'd have a similar characterization as Barnum too, being an outwardly magnanimous and lovable leader while in reality wanting nothing more than to encourage hedonism, chaos and sin in his subjects. His pointy beard and moustache come from depictions of Mephistopheles. Like Charlie, I gave him red nose paint because like I said, they've got clown vibes. Charlie inherits her goat features from Lilith, who I did not draw (yet).

Thank you for reading!

I'm not 100% on these redesigns but I enjoyed the exercise. I may redo them eventually.

I'd also like to do more of these, especially Adam.

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?�� Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 31: Looking at/Taking Pictures

The fridge in the den kitchen tells a lot of stories.

Thank you so so so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together again this year, and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers. Love you guys, cannot thank you enough. I had so much fun doing this again <3

Arguably, the kitchen is the central point in the entire ghoul den. It seems like someone's always there, cooking or cleaning or making a snack, coming in from the gardens or slipping out to have a smoke.

So naturally, it makes sense that the fridge is the pack corkboard. Magnets from just every stop the band's ever made cover the stainless steel, holding up shopping lists, reminders on bright colored sticky notes, a calendar, but most frequently, photos. Polaroids and glossy film and printed out on paper, the kitchen fridge is an amalgamation of the big moments and the little ones.

There's one right next to the freezer handle, a little blurry, out of focus. It shows the inside of the band tourbus, a soft purple blanket covering two sleeping forms. It's dark, but if you look close enough, you can make out Dew's spindly fingers, arm wrapped tight around Aeon's waist as he big spoons them. Rain had taken it, the first night they had shared a bunk, early into Aeon's first tour. It makes the little quint blush every time they see it, but the way their tail wags betrays any semblance of embarrassment.

There's one in the center of the fridge, a polaroid film, the flash bright and a little over exposed, two ghouls with their backs to the camera. Aurora is easily recognizable, her hot pink hair covering the bottom quarter of the image. Dew's in the background, sitting in Mountain's lap, a little out of focus as he throws up an As Above gesture. Rain's the star of the show though, his blue black waves pulled back into two French braids, decorated with clips and baubles and ribbons. Dew's hair is in a similar state. There's a caption written in Aether's blocky handwriting below it that reads "Playing Barbies."

A glossy 4 by 6 print is stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a palm tree, from Cirrus's disposable camera. It's summertime at the Abbey, taken from the edge of the dock. Mist's perched on Alpha's shoulders, successfully shoving Dew from Swiss's shoulders in a game of chicken fight. She'd taken it at the perfect moment of realization, Dew's eyes wide in panic just as he tips backwards. They had all laughed when she had gotten the print developed, even as Dew grumbled. He couldn't hide the fond look on his face when it had been pinned up, though.

On the side of the fridge is a picture of Omega and Terzo, the big ghoul sprawled out in an armchair during one of the pack's frequent movie nights, Terzo practically in his lap, smudging paint against the side of Omega's neck. They both had passed out within the first half hour of a particularly loud action movie, much to the snickers of the pack.

There are several from the road, new scenery and places and tourist stops, a polaroid of Aurora proudly holding up a soft drink that's almost the size of her torso captioned "Baby's First Big Gulp." One of Aeon sticking their face through a cut out that makes them look like a video game character in some mall. Swiss giving Dew bunny ears while the fire ghoul takes a picture with Rain and Mountain. Cumulus floating on a blow up raft smuggled into a hotel pool. All three of the ghoulettes squeezed onto a greenroom couch in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable but they had sworn up and down that it was.

There are close to two dozen pictures with a similar set up, the entire band and crew all lined up on stage after the last show of a tour. The lineup changes and shifts, familiar faces running through several photographs, looking bone-deep exhausted but with grins on their faces, satisfied with a job well-done.

Aether approaches the fridge, a photo in hand, searching for an empty magnet. He finds one, chuckling as he grabs one shaped like a bat but in a hot pink plastic, pinning the picture front and center. It shows Aeon and Aurora, both ghouls grinning, wearing cheap plastic party hats, the elastic hooked under their chins. There's a cake on the table in front of them, a sparkler candle lit in the middle. There's words frosted on it, in red frosting in Mountain's loopy handwriting that proudly display "Happy First Summoning Day."

He sighs, smiling at the picture of his newest packmates, before his eyes drift up to a picture pinned to the top corner of the fridge. Aether always looks to it when he's in here, feels a warmth settle in his heart as he takes in the picture. He's memorized it, it will be seared into the back of his eyelids for the rest of his time Up Top and long after that.

It's him and Dew, standing at the front of the chapel, grasping each other's forearms as Copia wraps a multi colored cord around their wrists, the fondest smiles on each of their faces. The cord was a four stranded braid of ribbon, he remembers, purple and black and blue and orange. He remembers the warmth of Dew's hand on his arm, the glint of the gold jewelry in his ears, hair soft and falling over his shoulders, every inch the ghoul he had fallen in love with the moment he had arrived Up Top.

Aether smiles, running a finger along the edge of the photograph reverently, reaching up for the bunch of bananas on the top of the fridge, breaking one off and going to rejoin the pack with his snack.

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 19: Action Figure

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19

Derek rubbed his temples in irritation as he wandered through the numerous aisles of the toy store. Aisle after aisle, row after row, brightly colored advertisements and countless useless objects with stupidly high price tags made his headache even worse.

Derek had come to the toy store to find a gift for his boyfriend, Stiles… who he had to point out was a legal adult. Stiles was just a total kid at heart and loved to collect tons of franchise memorabilia, which was something that Derek loved about him. And after falling for the whole “Oh, you don’t have to get me anything” trap last year and having to deal with the fallout, Derek was determined to get Stiles the perfect gift this year.

“Damn it,” Derek growled at the memory of Stiles giving him the silent treatment after his non-gift last year, quickening his pace as he stomped through the aisles in search of something great.

Unfortunately, Derek was having no luck.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he repeated under his breath as he entered an aisle chock full of superhero action figures. 

Derek hurried down the aisle, his eyes scanning the rows of plastic men all over. Each one of them was brightly colored in blaring blues and radiant reds, their over exaggerated muscles looking extremely round and out of the realm of anything humanely possible. Derek’s trademark frown deepened as he searched all over the aisles for the perfect one.

No ordinary superhero would do, especially since Stiles already owned so many. Derek shuddered at the thought of accidentally buying his boyfriend one that he already owned, just to get the side eye and accused of not paying attention.

“Damn it,” the werewolf repeated, annoyed. He frantically began to search the aisle, picking up toy after toy and holding it close to his face studiously. Sure, they were all painted colors and had a variety of “[Insert Random Item]-Man” across the box in bright, blocky letters. However, Derek couldn’t seem to remember which ones Stiles already owned.

In his panic, the werewolf grabbed a white box that contained a blank action figure in it: no facial features or costume painted on at all.

The second his fingers grazed the mysterious box, Derek winced at the odd spark that traveled throughout his body, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. 

“What the hell was that?” he muttered as he brought his hand up to his face to examine his still tingling fingers.

Derek’s eyes widened as he witnessed his fingers taking on a shiny quality. He scrunched up his face in confusion as his fingers gleamed more underneath the bright fluorescents of the toy store. His heart raced in his chest as they stiffened, becoming immovable as his hand apparently turned into plastic.

“Wh-what?!” Derek panicked as the strange transformation traveled down his arms. Weirder was that the werewolf swore that his muscles plumped up, becoming larger and much more exaggerated before they hardened into the same plastic quality as his hands. His signature black leather jacket vacuumed to his torso as his pecs widened and pushed outwards, becoming skintight. It then started to brighten as it went from slate black to royal blue. His jeans underwent the same changes, suctioning to his buffer legs as they brightened into a cartoonish blue that looked more apt on a superhero, not a regular guy wandering around the mall. Derek winced as his bulge seemingly shrank as it was pressed tightly against him. Derek painstakingly move an almost inflexible arm and patted at his groin, groaning as it felt flat and unremarkable like a Ken doll.

The tingling sensation spread up to Derek’s head, and the altered stud couldn’t help but try to reach up with his plastic limbs. His hair had hardened into a large plastic mold, becoming a lump of black plastic in the shape of his usual hair style. His face felt smooth and unblemished, and he couldn’t help but press both of his hands on either side of his head and give it a little squeeze.  Derek couldn’t hold back his gasp as his head squished and then popped back into shape, illustrating that it made completely out of rubber now.

The werewolf tried to run off, to seek help, but he was stopped by his massively hindered movement. Like most action figures, his limbs were stiff and rigid, their over muscled selves only posable at the main joints.

“Well, well,” hummed an irritatingly familiar voice, “that’s a nice look there, Derek.”

Derek struggled to turn around, his virtually immobile body and larger muscles making movement extremely tedious. He fought back a growl when he saw none other than Theo, the bratty chimera who didn’t hide his crush on Stiles.

The mischievous smirk on Theo’s annoying face was enough to clue Derek into the fact that he was somehow behind whatever was happening to him.

“What did you do to me?” Derek demanded, trying to threateningly stalk forward, but his posable joints made his movements awkward.

Theo shrugged his shoulders. “I was lookin’ for a birthday gift for Stiles,” he snorted, “and I know that he likes action figures, and for some reason he also likes you, so…” He gestured forward at Derek’s new plastic body. “And you’re just about done.” 

Theo snapped his fingers.

Derek felt as if his sense of gravity was thrown as he wobbled on his stiff legs. The shelves in the aisle seemed to grow taller and much larger. However, it quickly dawned on Derek that the store wasn’t growing— he was shrinking.

The werewolf was helpless to do anything besides get smaller and smaller, as his movements became harder and harder to create. Derek’s scowl softened and instead he held a stoic expression as his face hardened. Eventually, the former alpha werewolf had been turned into  ten inch tall super hero action figure, complete with big muscles.

“Perfect!” Theo laughed as he easily picked up the toy Derek, snatching the blank box in his free hand.

Derek inwardly screamed, but was helpless as Theo positioned his plastic arms in a manner that looked like he had his hands on his hips in a heroic pose. He was shoved into the box, and from his frozen position, Derek could barely make out the outside of his prison chasing colors to become bright and alluring. Unbeknownst to him, the outside of the box now read: Superwolf: the World’s Most Muscular and Cranky Superhero!

“Stiles is gonna love my gift,” Theo laughed as he walked action figure Derek over to the cashier.

The whole time Derek screamed at being turned into a toy, and he just hoped that Stiles would figure out a way to help him out… and another part of him hoped that Stiles would like his large superhero muscles.

[mx-lamour]

Costuming Strahd: Part 1 An "I thought too hard about this" adventure.

I recently picked up some fabric for Strahd (because you know I gotta dress up when my players eventually come to dinner).

A "fine black linen" for the shirt (from here if you want to grab some for yourself), and a black jacquard chenille (kind of a mid-weight upholstery fabric) for a classy vest.

I started doing some visual research on traditional clothing in Slavic and Southeastern European regions, hungrily compiling whatever I could find to build some pattern recognition.

Having a little bit of trouble reconciling traditional peasant garb with "but what would nobility wear" and "what year is it", plus the obvious influence of Dracula and his early cinematic adaptations on descriptions of Strahd von Zarovich (which are decidedly Western), and the need to remind myself that I am building a fantasy costume not some historical reenactment.

1937 print of a Wallachian peasant vs. a portrait of Vlad Țepeș noted 1466

The vague description from I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin gives me a neat little list of his layers: "cloak, outer coat, embroidered vest, and . . . a very fine black linen shirt."

The "outer coat" threw me. I suppose it shouldn't have. But it didn't quite mesh with the Ottoman influences in Vlad Țepeș portraits nor the stout vest and almost oversized coat ensembles I'd been looking at in peasant images from Romania and Hungary. Instead, that kind of layering really read Western Europe to me, so I was shunted directly back to Christopher Lee's portrayal of Dracula (in which his costume really is black-on-black-on-black, apart from the barest hint of a white shirt beneath the squarely Victorian suit, which easily consists of both a vest and jacket and, in this case, a cape).

Side note: Nowhere have I (yet) found mention of any sort of necktie. Just the Bela Lugosi style crest (but on a gold chain, not a ribbon).

There's just something about that 1930s white tie, folks. Mm.

Anyway, I figured it was safe enough to start with Strahd's shirt. Well... but, herein lies still the same conundrums: shirts aren't all the same spanning eras and regions. I did stumble on this, though:

I love me a pattern.

What I like about this in particular is that it's structured in a way that makes me believe Strahd was inspired by a man who lived in the 1400s. These sort of blocky, pieced shapes were how shirts were commonly built throughout much of history, with various amounts of gathering and whatnot, so it could be pretty versatile in terms of "what year is it".

I like the embroidery on the neck, cuffs, and over the shoulders. And I like that the split in the neckline is centered. I've seen examples with the split at the side of the embroidery panel that are really intriguing, but while a few have been noted as Ukrainian or Polish, most of the examples I've seen have been Russian, and I'm trying to avoid anything overtly Russian. (Russian garb is yummy, but it's not Barovian.)

The lighting on that third one is either ominous, suggestive, or both.

What I don't like is the open sleeve ends. There are certainly worse offenders (there are some HUGE open sleeves in some of the folk ensembles, like, unconscionably long and billowy), but even this kind of straight sleeve doesn't feel... I don't know... organized enough for Strahd.

I have a Viking style shirt with straight open sleeves like this, and it bothers me to no end. The material over the thin part of my forearms and wrists is floppy. It crumples and rides up (maybe they're just too big overall, but that's a risk to consider). I usually just roll them up to my elbows to have done with it, but that's a move for casual wear. I could see Alek Gwylim sporting open sleeves, but not Strahd. Strahd needs cuffs. Or if not cuffs, the kind of sleeve that narrows tight around the forearm and probably has at least a dozen buttons running up the length of it... but that's hardly practical, either, is it? Strahd treads that infuriating middle ground somewhere between comfortable and elaborate.

So anyway, I'm probably going to enlarge the sleeves. Not a lot; just enough to get a little bit of that "poet shirt" gathering on the shoulder and allow some extra movement in the elbow. And it's going to have cuffs that button around the wrist. Turning it into something a little more suggestive of the Renaissance (though I'm sure as hell not adding ruffles; I'm sure Strahd would think them frivolous).

Side note: Cuffed sleeves are not unheard of in folk garb from Romania and surrounding areas, but it still felt like a very deliberate choice to make. There's certainly a noticeable trend of open-sleeve styles, especially in Transylvania, if I understand correctly.

That first image is from I Do Declare. Great stuff.

Ultimately, the slightly tucked, cuffed sleeve should also bleed well enough into late-1800s suit territory, at least in spirit. The sleeves should have the approximate volume as (or perhaps a little more than) a modern button-down shirt.

Little concept sketches.

Building up from the body, the vest is the next most important thing (aside from pants, but I'm just looking at his torso for the moment; you can fake good pants, especially at the table).

Whatever happens, I knew the vest should be at least these two things: black, and embroidered. Why not blackwork on black fabric? And, since I've picked out a jacquard fabric that already has some texture to it, let's just keep piling on that subtle intrigue. That's right: get up close and personal, look at that mesmerizing detail... lol.

I do not have an actual plan for any of the embroidery yet. That's a problem for future me. (Good luck, sucker.) What I would like to do, vaguely, is take some of the traditional/folk embroidery from that southeastern region and combine it with more western Victorian elements. Haphazardly span worlds to mimick the elvolving lore.

Soutache, anyone?

The style of the vest I sketched out is based on the below examples of traditional Romanian outfits (from what region, I have no idea). The nubby little lapels reminded me of late Victorian waistcoats (which button up rather higher on the breast than modern suits), but with the added fun of a standing collar. That thick black embellishment also caught my eye, of course.

Look at that dapper little guy.

I would like the vest to be more fitted, though, rather than the boxy, open-front (and often sheepskin or fur-lined) style of traditional peasant dress.

Along a similar vein as "the man needs cuffed sleeves", having a more tailored vest seems practical and organized. Crisp might be the word I was looking for. And he's a lord, he can afford the extra effort. A fitted waistcoat would also play along with the little fantasy Renaissance lean and nods to Victorian fashion.

Strahd said trunk hose were a thing of the past, but made no mention of doublets one way or the other.

That's it for now. I was definitely just going to do a quick intro this morning, but here it is, evening again. Joy of joys. This is my work.

. . .

[Next - Costuming Strahd: Art Addendum]

[briarberrythornedhart]

“LLFIR

LUB”

Eddie x Gal!Reader

Cw: fluff with a kiss.

Black, blocky letters on his white t-shirt.

It’s all you can see as you fall backwards into the darkness.

Or - you can also see Eddie’s neck and the curly frizzy ends of his hair and the leather jacket and jean vest bracketing the text on his chest. It’s so dark in this closet but your eyes adjusted and can see some things.

You can also smell some things.

You could smell chemical cleaners at first - and now that’s faded into a soft burn in the back of your nose and mouth. It’s been replaced by Eddie. Just Eddie. The scent of Eddie surrounds you and fills you with longing.

And he’s so close. He’s looking down at you where you fell back against the wall - he whispered ‘whoa’ and caught you before you could fall to the floor - you DO NOT want to be down there. The floor was sticky on your shoes when you came in here.

You asked him to save you, so this was mostly your fault.

Just a few INSANE moments ago...

Right in front of his locker you told Eddie Munson you couldn’t frickin’ TAKE gym class today. Not Today. You wished out loud that someone would save you.

“Why don’t you just skip?” He asked.

“I’ve skipped 4 times. 5’s auto-detention.”

“I can save you from gym class, princess.” He said. “But you might not approve of my methods.”

“If only you could! I’d owe you forever.” You promised, “Unlimited tutoring sessions, bring you lunch the rest of the year, give you foot rubs in study hall...”

“Seriously???”

“Or - anything?? I don’t know?? Whatever you wanted. If only you could get me out of it...” You sighed, “Stupid fucking Gym class.”

“You’ll award me Anything my Jaded little heart desires? And all for this one favor??” He asked, squinting at you.

He didn’t know you’d give him anything - anytime - anywhere. You’d been pretty clever about hiding your deep desire for Eddie Munson. It lurked beneath the surface. He had no clue the size of the monster you kept trapped in your chest.

“Save me from this torment and you can name your price, Dungeon Master.” You said, throwing back your shoulders - tilting up your chin.

“Alright. Just stay close - and - do everything I say.” He licked his upper lip and nodded decisively.

He took several long strides towards the restrooms located just off the cafeteria.

You followed and (too late) you realized his plan.

You tried to stop him - but it was like one of those dreams where you are stuck in slow motion - you saw his hand going for the fire alarm and you looked around for looky-loo’s but you were alone in the hallway because the bell was going to ring any second.

Until it was interrupted by the fire alarm he pulled - and then Eddie pulled you around the corner.

He opened a door and bodily pushed you with him into ... the Janitor’s Closet??

He was laughing and panting a bit. “There. Gonna take them a while to figure out it was a false alarm and we can sneak out and look innocent and there will be no Gym for you today. Happy?”

“I didn’t think they kept this closet unlocked??”

“Bill says the lock’s been busted and Higgins won’t pay to replace it because he’s a cheap bastard.”

“You’re magical.” You whispered.

“Is that a ‘thank you, Eddie’, I hear??” He put his hand to his ear.

“You’re my hero.” You tell him.

“I know it.” he sounds smug there in the dark. But then he half-laughs, “You’d ... really rub my feet?” Eddie asked.

“My word is my bond.” You’d rub anything of Eddie’s frankly, “ Is that what you want as your reward?”

“Hmmmm... I dunno...never had a foot rub...” Eddie was fiddling with his hands. Messing with his fingernails. “It’s hard to choose because everything you offered sounded real nice. Sure would love to have you bring me lunches. Definitely need daily tutoring help with McDonnell’s class... but if you did any of those things... you know...People might think we were... together. Might seem like you were my girl, it be like almost dating...so....”

You froze. You sucked in a breath.

“Did you just gasp??” Eddie laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound, “gawd, princess - don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get the wrong idea about us.” He moved backwards.

“Eddie...”

“No - it’s okay, I know!! Believe me, I get it. I’m not your dream guy or whatever. And I would never try anything so don’t worry. Not gonna dirty your lips with mine. Not gonna sully your rep by implying you might EVER date the freak...“ Eddie was gonna keep talking and he was getting more and more revved up - and you needed him to listen. You put your hand over his mouth. “... Mmmmphh!! Mmmpph-mee- grrmmmgh!!” He complained.

“You are my dream guy, dumbass.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide - your hand was still planted firmly over his mouth.

“I wouldn’t want to fake-date because I’d want it to be real.” You hammered this home. Then you removed your hand.

“Do you wanna for-real date me, then?”

----

Eddie had not meant to ask her out like that. Not in a closet, not by yelling at her first.

He was gonna court her properly and he had a 14 step plan, with sub-steps for possible panic attacks - but that had all gone out the window.

He got very quiet as he felt her get close. She grabbed his shirt front and tugged.

Her lips found his.

It might have felt awkward that they didn’t connect the kiss without their noses bumping and their arms didn’t quite know where to be during the proceedings - but for Eddie it was an epic first kiss. He could tell she meant it.

He was her dumbass.

[dreamingofep]

For the Heart part 2

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: no not at all. This idea popped in my head at midnight the other night and couldn't stop thinking about it.

Prompt: You are Elvis Presley's latest girlfriend.

You are a new actor in Hollywood and fall head over heels with him on set and your whirlwind romance begins. | [Fem!Reader ]

TW: 18+ SMUT SMUT SMUT Sexxx. Cussing, fingering (f. receiving) teasing/tension, edging, daddy kink, dom!Elvis, unprotected p in v, cream pie, inaccurate to Elvis timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors

Do NOT Interact)

| Word Count: 5,800

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you to anyone who read part one of this! I couldn't leave this one alone and kept writing a continuation. Hope you like part 2! Please feel free to comment and message me your thoughts I'd love the feedback! Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

The soft silky sheets wrap around your body as you start to stretch and regain consciousness from your deep sleep. You let out a soft groan and twist your torso to let out a nice pop out of your spine. You feel the other side of the bed cold and empty like usual. You stretch out your legs and wince. There’s a soreness on your inner thighs and your-

Oh fuck.

Elvis came back last and surprised you… that’s putting it mildly.

Last night was one of the most intense nights you two had had in a long time and just relished in the memory. Where did he run off to already?

A pang of sadness hits you thinking he already left and didn’t say goodbye. You sit up in bed and your eyes scan the room, looking for any signs of his stuff laying around. You can't find anything of his and all you can see is the nightgown he tore off of you and your wadded-up panties thrown across the way. You flop back down on your pillow and want to throw a fit that he’s not here next to you.

You turn your head over to look over at his side of the bed when you see a folded piece of paper on top of his pillow.

Had to take care of some business baby

I’ll be back before you get up

Stay there looking like an angel

E

You can’t help but smile when you read those few last words. His blocky, capital lettered writing beautifully floating on the page for your eyes to see. The fact that he sees you as an angel when he is a perfectly sculpted man baffles you and makes you get butterflies in your tummy from that prospect.

You decide to get up and shower and try to get ready for the day. You had no idea if Elvis had anything planned or not but thought it would be best to get rid of the stickiness that was down your thighs. You walk around the corner to the bathroom and turn on the shower and get the water nice and steamy the way you like it.

After getting all ready with your hair perfectly up, not a hair out of place, and your makeup done like it's straight out of a magazine, you decide it's time for some lunch. It was two in the afternoon so breakfast was out the window. Going through your closet, you decide on a lavender v-neck sweater, black leather skirt, with sheer tights underneath will be the outfit you go with for the day. You hope Elvis doesn’t take too long with whatever he’s doing and you get to spend the rest of the day with him and only him.

As you go down the stairs, the front door opens and this beautiful tall shadow is in the middle of the door frame. Your heart skips a beat and you know that body anywhere. He takes a step in and a beaming wide smile is across his face. It’s the goofy kind of smile you absolutely adore and get a giggle from any time he gives one to you. You take two steps at a time and come running down the rest of the stairs and get into those perfect arms.

“Hi darlin’, looking irresistible as always.” He places his hand on the base of your neck and pulls you in for a heated kiss. His other hand slides down your back, caresses the swell of your ass and squeezes firmly. You press your body into his more and take in all this passion that is seeping from his lips. “E… you’re killing me. Didn’t get enough of that last night hmm?” you say teasingly.

“Baby, I was gone too long, I have lots of making up to do,” he says, giving you another hard squeeze, making you push into his body more and let out a soft moan.

“See, you just can’t help but want more,” he teases. Your eyebrow raises, shocked at his brazen bluntness.

“Elvis Presley! You are unbelievable!” you say pushing him back from you, trying your best not to laugh.

“Mmm tell me something I don’t already know,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes. You scoff and turn away and start to make your way to the kitchen as you had planned.

“You cocky son of a bitch,” you yell over your shoulder to him. “It wasn’t that good calm down,” you giggle knowing it’s going to piss him off. It’s a terrible lie to say because there was no truth to it! The way he took you and made you cum not once but three times last night has you craving him once again.

You go to sit down at the kitchen table and Mary, the cook, asks you what you felt like.

“Would you be able to make a turkey sandwich with the works?” you ask, giving her a big smile. “Of course dear. Oh Mr. Presley, would you like anything to eat too?”

Elvis looms over you, looking at you like you’re his next meal.

“No Mary, I’m alright thank you, honey.” Elvis proceeds to sit next to you and watch you eat your lunch. The heat and anger rolling off of him.

“So what are we doing today honey other than watching every bite I take out of this sandwich? Gonna watch me go to the bathroom too?” You turn your body to face his and feel him grab your thigh with his massive hand making a slapping sound when he does it.

“Well I was thinking of taking you out and buying you a new dress for my movie premiere I was gonna take you to, but I also think I need to fuck this sass out of you that you decided to wake up with today.” He growls and pulls you in closer, his hand creeping up your thigh.

“You really think you can tell me such things like I didn’t give you the best sex you’ve had in forever? How you were begging me to let you cum on me not twelve hours ago? Hmm.”

You want to put up a fight, you want to put him over the edge and wind him up so tight.

“Oh, that was just a little acting on my part honey. No big deal.” You press your lips together to stop from smiling.

His face is pure shock. He is at a loss for words and all he can do is tighten his grip on your thigh. You could end this right now and have him carry you upstairs and let him ravage you for hours. But you want to keep teasing and see what he’ll do.

”Mr. Presley, you actually think that’s gonna work? Do you think you can just fuck me into being exactly how you want me to be and say exactly what you want to hear? Like a submissive little whore hmm?”

“Well from the sounds of it last night, yes, it worked perfectly and I know I can do it again and again,” he growls through his teeth. You love getting this rise out of him.

It’s like poking a bear in hibernation, you know it's a terrible idea but you still want to see what happens.

“Oh honey, I’d love to see you try. You can’t make me kneel for you that easy. Probably don’t have it in you to fuck me again like that anyway,” You tear his hand off you and get up from the table.

“So are we picking up that dress for me or what?” your voice full of fire and waiting for his next reaction.

His face was stone cold and his eyes were blazing. You know he wants to spank some sense into you but he holds his ground. He stands up calmly and walks slowly toward you, the flame ready to ignite. He grabs your chin with his hand, “sure darlin’, let’s go shopping. This should be fun,” He goes over to the phone to let his bodyguards know he’s going out. “Bring the Limo out front, we’re going into town,” he says coldly as he looks back at you with controlled rage you can’t help but look away with how much power he is holding over you and go upstairs to grab your purse.

The Colonel gifted the 1967 Lincoln Executive Limousine to Elvis a few weeks ago to welcome him home from set. You didn’t trust any of the Colonel’s intentions with Elvis. You always had a weird feeling about him and he definitely did not like you. “You know, any distraction for Elvis was a bad one,” he told you the first day you met and you were made well aware of how you perceived.

The limo pulls up to the front of Graceland and Elvis’s hand burns into your back as he leads you in front of him into the limo. You sit down and try to put as much distance between yourself and his raging body but he has a tight grip on your waist and slides himself right next to you. You look out the window trying to not give him an ounce of your attention.

“Red, roll up the partition will ya? I forgot my sunglasses and the light is killin me,” he says, annoyance filling his words.

“No problem EP.” The partition starts to roll up and make a pop when in place.

Elvis’ eyes are locked on you and the tension in the small space is suffocating you.

“Can I help you with something honey? Use your words dear,” You know you are taking things too far and you are going to pay for them later but you like this slice of control in your hands.

Elvis’ hands are on your throat quick, pushing you to lie down on the long back seat of the limo with him straddling you. He stares down at you waiting for the next smart-ass thing to come out of your mouth. You give him a coy smile and he puts his face close to yours.

“You are going to wish you never talked to me like that again little girl,” he scoffs at you.

He spreads your legs open and picks your tights up from your thigh and tears the thin material that is covering your tummy and crotch with his fingers. He presses two fingers at your entrance and pushes the fabric of your panties in. You let out a muffled moan as you bite your lip.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, darling,” his voice full of venom, “you are going to lay here, in pure silence while I eat this pussy out, showing who you belong to.” You squirm in protest but he just shoves his fingers deeper inside you to still you. “I will do anything I want to do to you today and you will learn to never talk to me like that again. No man can fuck you the way I can. You are mine. All mine. Nod if you understand.” Your body aches for him. You want him to fuck you right here in this backseat but the staying quiet part has you dying. The sounds that Elvis would make come out of you were ones you’ve never felt the need to hide! He loved hearing how good you felt and how much you loved his dick. You slowly nod and squint your eyes shut.

Your wetness is pooling and his mouth starts to trail down close to your core. You need his mouth on you.

He removes your panties and tosses them on the floor. He places one long lick through your folds and you gasp at the sensation. He looks up at you as he starts to suck lightly on your clit, examining every single reaction from you.

You’re so on edge and want so much more but you’re at his mercy now. He laps up more of your wetness as it’s seeping out. His tongue enters you for a moment and you arch your back, moving your hips forward and causing you to groan out in pleasure.

“What did I say about stayin’ quiet?” He shoots you a look that runs a chill down your spine.

“I guess I didn’t hear that part,” you smirk at him.

His mouth is covered in your juices and he makes a smirk as he’s looking down at your pussy.

“Well I’m gonna have to change that,” he shoves two fingers inside you and you cover your mouth trying to hold back the moan you want to let out.

“You better stop moaning like the lil’ whore that you are darlin’. Look at you just squeezing my fingers wishing it was my cock instead.”

You squeeze the leather seats needing to release this pent-up frustration. Your pussy flutters around him wanting so much more.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you at a faster tempo, curling them inside you and making you roll your eyes back in your head. You loved the way this was feeling but wanted to scream out his name more than anything.

Elvis places his mouth back on your clit and starts sucking on it driving you mad. He knows exactly what you like and eats you out like his life depends on it.

You can feel your climax looming and want to tell him how to get you there. But you have no idea what he’s going to do if you utter another word. Suddenly the limo stops and you hear Red yell, “EP, we’re here, ready to go?” Elvis takes his mouth off of you and turns his head toward the front of the car.

“Give me a second Red. Go ahead and just wait outside.” You hear both car doors open and then slam closed. Elvis just stares at you writhing in anticipation, your body ready to have its release.

“Mmm I feel you’re close baby, you want me inside you? Do you think you deserve that?” You nod at him, giving him your most pleading eyes hoping he will give you what you need. He twists his fingers inside you, seeing what gives him the biggest reaction. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet though dear. You have never talked to me so rudely and frankly, I’m fuckin’ pissed.” You grab at his arms, trying to get him to keep going. He’s never left you unsatisfied and you think today might be the day.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licks them, and sits back to look at you. “No you don’t get your way today and you’ll have to wait, honey,” he looks down at his hand and takes off his EP ring on his index finger, and holds it up to you, “You see this baby? You want me inside you so bad? This is all you get of me inside of you. You’re not allowed to take it out til I say so. This is what you deserve after being such a brat. You get to walk around all day begging me to take this ring out of you and put my cock inside you instead. Maybe then you’ll realize how good my cock is.”

You feel the coldness of the ring slide into your dripping cunt and moan at the feeling.

“Goddamn it E, you’re trying to kill me aren’t you?! Fuck…” You place your hands at your lower tummy where there is so much pressure forming you are craving any ounce of release. He laughs at the sight in front of him, “you brought this onto yourself, honey. Now come on let's go get that dress for you.”

You step out of the limo and Red and Sunny do a double take at you and the expressions on their faces are full of questions. You realize you don't have your tights on anymore and your hair is falling out of place. Now they both understand what was going on in the back seat and you blush and look away.

Elvis made you try on a million different dresses and none of them were up to his standards. But ultimately, he just loved to watch you squirm in public and make you wait longer for him to take you. After you tried on the fifteenth dress of the day, you had enough of Elvis’ game and stormed back into the dressing room seething.

Elvis comes in behind you and closes the door.

“What’s wrong honey? I thought you wanted to try on dresses today?” his voice full of sarcasm.

“Oh don’t even with me right now Elvis!” You go to sit down on the stool in the dressing room and slump in defeat.

“Okay, we can go now, you can get the third one, honey. That was the best one I liked.” He gets on his knees and lifts up the long floor-length dress and starts to rub your thigh, spreading your legs apart. “How is my baby doing? Being so good and patient. You still have my ring?” His words make your core throb and more wetness pools down your thigh.

Your voice is low and shaky, “yes I do honey. I’ll do anything you want me to do. Please I’ll never say such lies again.”

He places two fingers on your entrance, sliding them up and down your slit.

“Mmm, I feel how wet you are lil mama. This pussy is dying for my attention. Makes me hard just thinking about it.” He leans his head into your crotch and gives your mound a sensual kiss. You moan into the sensation and grab his hair tight. He starts to rub your clit in slow circular motions, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet dressing room. You lean into the friction he’s giving and moan out a bit too loud. “Shhh honey, don't want us to get kicked out now do we.” He teases and he applies more pressure to that sensitive bundle of nerves. He stops and lowers your dress back down and makes you change back into your skirt and sweater.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles under his breath and harshly closes the dressing room door.

Elvis puts cash on the counter and leaves with the dress in hand for you. You both leave the boutique and jump into the limo still waiting outside. As soon as the door closes, Elvis’ lips crush into yours with so much intensity. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him like he’s your oxygen. He raises your skirt and palms your wet heat. You realize you’re getting some of your wetness on the leather seats. He looks at your scrunched-up skirt with your pussy peeking out underneath and lets out a breathy sigh. He makes you straddle his thigh and continues to kiss you. He grabs a handful of your hair and the other hand on your hip, fully in control of you. He squeezes and pulls your hair tight and you involuntarily start to grind yourself into his strong thigh.

“Oh you just gonna make a mess all over me like always,” he chuckles and stills your hips. “I don’t think so, honey.”

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, just feeling the vibration of the car and the bumps in the road causing random moments of friction. The roughness of his slacks rubbing on your clit is driving you to the edge. Your wetness starts to cover his pants and make a translucent strip where you are sitting on him. You kiss him more vigorously and in your way, show him how badly you need him. Suddenly, the car stops to a halt and Elvis stills your hips.

“Goddamn it.” you moan out. He’s much stronger than you and gets you off of his leg. He looks down and inspects the mess you’ve left on his leg. Your eyes trail up and see his cock getting hard.

“Hmm, you still don’t like how I fuck you hmm? Just more lies from the look of the mess on my pants. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson upstairs, mama.”

You have no more fight left in you and just shake your head yes at him. He opens the car door and reaches his hand out to get you. Once you make your first step out, he lifts you off your feet and carries you holding your body in his arms. Going up the stairs up to the bedroom he closes the door with his foot and places you on the bed and goes to lock the door.

“Take off your clothes for me baby. Nice and slow.”

You raise the sweater off of your body and toss it aside. You stand up in front of him and unbutton the top button and slowly slide down the rest of the skirt.

He bites his lower lips and stares. “Turn around for me, let me see all of you.”

You do a slow turn on your heels and he stills you when your back side is completely facing him. He lets out a soft groan and pulls you toward the mirror in the corner of the room. He turns you around and you see red partial handprints on the middle and the side of your ass he left from last night. “Do you see that honey, that means you’re mine. Looking so beautiful,” he turns you around to face him, “Are you ready to learn your lesson baby? Ready to do anything I want?”

“Yes…, baby I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Mmm… get on your knees for me.” You listen and kneel down to him, waiting for his next demand.

He unbuttons his shirt and takes off his pants and his cock is at eye level with you.

He jerks himself off a bit, his tip dripping with precum just begging to be sucked off.

“Here’s what I want you to do honey, you’re going to take this cock in your mouth and suck me off nice and slow. Then, I'll take that ring out of you and you’ll get on top of me and try to take all of this cock inside you. You’ll ride me till you cum so hard and your body gives out.”

You whimper and look up at him, wanting all of his attention poured out to you.

“Open your mouth for me,” he says as he grabs a fist full of hair and gets you into position. You open your mouth wide and you lick the precum that’s dripping out of his tip.

You roll your tongue in slow circles around him, taking your time knowing how much he loves it. You look up at him through your eyelashes and see his mouth agape and his eyebrows furrowed together.

He starts to push your head forward, taking in more of his cock. You flatten your tongue out on the bottom of his shaft and watch as he lets out a breathy moan. You can’t help but smile that you have this effect on this man. The man that could have anyone on this planet, chose you and loves how you make him feel.

“You need to take more lil mama,” he whispers out and he starts to move your head over his cock at a faster pace. Drool is starting to come out of your mouth as you take more of his impressive size in your mouth.

You can’t help but moan out loving the feeling of him using you like this. This was the most submissive he’s ever made you and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you loved it.

“You gonna talk to me like that again honey? Going to deny me and tell me you didn’t even like how I fucked you last night?”

At those words he pushes his cock down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He pulls himself out of you waiting for his answer.

“No baby, I won’t do that anymore. I’m sorry…” you put your mouth back on him and he hits the back of your throat again causing a low moan.

“Mmm, good. Being such a good girl. Get up now honey.” You start to stand and your legs feel so weak. You want him to ravage you but you know he’s still going to tease you. You look down at the carpet and you see a pool of your arousal sitting there. You are desperate for him to get this ring out of you.

He drags you to the bed and places you on your back, legs spread wide. “You’ve been so good honey, keep still now.” He places his index finger inside you, hooking it inside you and pulling the ring out. He looks at it closely, moaning when he sees how much arousal has covered it and made it extra slick. He slips it back on the finger it came from and leans down to kiss you.

“Are you ready to ride me now? I think you’ve learned your lesson and need to be fucked. Come on,” he says as he lays on his back and pulls you on top of him.

You feel his cock rub against your entrance and the rest of it bends back toward your ass as you hover above him on your knees. You normally don’t ride him because, for one, he’s a lot to take in from this angle, and two, he always is the one that wants to take care of you and likes to be on top. You can only think about two times you’ve been on top and it was torture to try to stay on top that long.

“Come on honey, I need to be inside you.” He moans.

You can’t control how shakey you are and lean on one knee and lift your other leg to get his cock in the front of your body. You look at him waiting to get the okay to slowly sink down on him. He nods his head and you squat on your feet and stretch your body up to try and take him inside you.

You slowly sink down on his cock and love the feeling of him stretching you. The hours of teasing that he’s been doing to you has you so wet that you’re able to take him a bit easier.

“Fuck, you look so good on me baby. Love watching you take me so easily.” He starts to rub your hard nipples in between his thumb and index fingers causing you to moan and sink down more on his cock.

“Oh yes baby,” you say breathlessly. He continues to pinch your nipples causing you to squint your eyes shut.

You start to pick up the pace and slide yourself up and down on his cock a bit faster, taking a few more inches of him in. He lets go of your nipples and runs his hands down your body and grabs your hips tight. You pop open your eyes again and look at this ethereal-looking man with lust burning through him.

“Take more of me baby like this,” he groans out and lifts his hips up, and sinks his cock deeper into your pussy. You both grunt at the feeling and you grab onto his arms that are holding you down.

“Oh fuck Elvis,” you scream out, “oh god that’s so deep.”

“Oh, you like it like that honey?” He growls as he bucks his hips into you again causing you to take the entirety of him inside you. You yelp at the sudden stretching and he stills your hips. You want more than anything to buck wild on him but he doesn’t let you have that control yet. Pleasure is coursing through you and love how he feels.

“Oh yes… honey yes! Please let me move, I need to ride your cock.” You’re eyes wide, pleading with him to stop this teasing and let you make him feel good too.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just waits to find the right thing to say. He bucks up again making you roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” He demands, and moves his hips up again.

“Y-you honey.” You gasp out.

“Mhmm, that’s right. Tell me my cock is the best one you’ve ever had,” he grunts out as he bucks his hips again into you hard.

“Ah god, your cock is the best I’ve ever had, please, oh god” you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but Elvis had you wrapped around his finger.

“No, don't say it to god, say it to me. Say it to your daddy.” He growls out and thrusts into you twice and your pussy involuntarily squeezes him at the sound of his words.

“Daddy, your cock is the best I’ve ever had. The best I’ll ever have. Please let me ride this big dick now,” he bites his lower lip at the sound of your words and he thrusts into you more.

“Good baby, yes, you can ride me.” He loosens the grip he has on your hips and he starts moving you up and down.

He fills you so completely and it’s overwhelming at first. He moves his hands up to your breasts and squeezes them firmly. You bounce on him and love how he is hitting those spots inside you that make you want to see the stars.

With him fully inside you, you start to grind back and forth on his cock causing your clit to rub on him bringing your orgasm that much closer.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the smooth and fuzzy chest hairs on his perfectly sculpted body. You look at him watching every last detail; him closing his eyes, then opening them back up and nodding his head at you to keep fucking him like this.

Your legs were getting weak and couldn’t keep the same pace very well. Elvis knew you were close and watched you try to ride and grind yourself into orgasm.

“Look at you lil mama, riding this cock so good. You’re so close I can feel it. Do you want me to help you?

“Yes p-please,” you whisper.

“Please what?” He snaps back at you.

“Please daddy! Please let me cum on this cock,” you beg and claw at his arms leaving red streaks down them. This poor man will have battle wounds every time you two fuck.

He lets out a guttural moan and leans his head back into the pillows and starts fucking you faster, holding you down by the hips and fucking you hard. You can’t help the loud moans coming out of you as he’s pounding into you.

“Yes daddy, keep fucking me. Feels so good,” you cry out hoping no one can hear you downstairs but it’s probably too late.

“Cum for me honey. Let me feel how much you love this cock,” he says watching you continue to ride him and feel your walls start to squeeze him.

The release comes over you so fast and you hold onto Elvis for dear life as you ride through your orgasm. You squeeze his long girth over and over, feeling your juices run down him.

He keeps this pace making you weak and an absolute mess.

“Does my lil’ whore like it when I cum inside her?”

“Yes, d-daddy. I love it so much.” You gasp out.

“Fuck, being so good for daddy. I’m gonna cum baby mmm,” he moans out and thrusts harder and faster. The wetness that’s residing in between your thighs, echoes in the room each time he thrusts into you. He squeezes your hips tight knowing they’ll probably leave bruises and buries his cock deep inside you. Not long after, he starts to cum deep inside you, moaning your name.

“Oh fuck y/n you feel so good,” he gasps out as his orgasm is finishing.

You look down at him and see the fire in his eyes slowly start to dissipate. You get to enjoy the moment with him and calm each other down from the intense feelings going through you both.

You lay on his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat start to slow down to a normal pace.

He runs circles on your back and you let out a low hum. You loved how close you were and the feeling of touching his sweaty, sticky skin.

You get up off of Elvis and his semi-hard erection slaps on his tummy. He gets up to get you two a towel and you lay there on the bed completely spent. He comes back and looks at how you’re laying out on the bed. He kneels next to you and wipes you clean, giving your forehead kisses.

“So, was that just okay for you?” He quips with so much sass filling his voice. You can’t help but smile and shake your head at this man.

“Yes, daddy, it was so good I loved it.”

“Good darlin. I love hearing you call me daddy,” he leans over you and kisses you, slipping his tongue in your mouth. You moan into him, loving how there is a tingle throughout your body. “I think you’ve learned your lesson to not talk to me like that again,” he smirks at you

“I did, I promise daddy.”

He kisses your nose and smiles that perfect smile you’ve loved for so long.

“So, not sure what you want to do for the rest of the day but I’m leaving it up to you. I already told you what I wanted from you,” he chuckles and you throw the pillow at him turning beet red.

“Maybe we can watch some movies together later hun how does that sound?” You say hoping he has nothing else to do today and can just relax with you.

“Sure honey, I just need to take care of something first.” He says as he goes into his closet to grab some pants and a shirt. You roll your eyes at him, there’s always something with this man. You huff hoping he can hear you from there.

“Don’t start huffing at me,” he points his finger at you, “I need to go downstairs and explain to everyone that there wasn’t a woman getting murdered in my bedroom just now and apologize for the disturbance it caused everyone.” He grabs your face with his cold rings pressing into it. He can’t help but let a smirk come out and you do the same.

“Sorry…daddy…” you whisper looking up at him for forgiveness.

“Good girl” he coos and kisses you again before wrapping you up in the blankets.

“I’ll be right back honey, stay there looking perfect.” You nod at him and wink, loving how this perfect man makes your heart so full.

Tagging

@plasticfantasticl0ver @aconflagrationofmyown @powerofelvis @returntoelvis @burninlovebutler @lindszeppelin

[ice-cap-k]

*I Always Had Been Partial to the Color Blue (Part 1)

Hey! Got a new story for part of the 2024 MCYT Horror Gift exchange ( @mcythorrorgiftexchange ). This is for the amazing @spicypotstickerbliss. I hope I did your request justice. I went a little wild with the prompt...

It's longer than my old whumptober stuff, so feel free to read it on AO3 here: I Always Had Been Partial to the Color Blue

CH 2

__________________________________________

“Keep running, Tommy!”

“But Wil-” “Don’t talk! Just Run!”

I shoved Tommy’s shoulder. I had meant to give him a boost, but he teetered mid-step and I panicked, digging my fingers into his shirt to keep him from falling forward. I didn’t let go. Couldn’t let go. It almost felt like I was dragging him forward, but his feet kept moving and he stayed in front of me. We were running as fast as our legs could carry us, even if my lungs burned and my feet were numb with cold. 

The cold. It seeped through my coat and fought against the heat wafting off my skin, the uncomfortable difference between hot and cold practically stinging me. Ultimately, though, it felt good. Like it was the only thing keeping me from passing out.

Tommy was only in his T-shirt and trousers. The petulant child had refused to put on something warmer when we first left the house to go see Tubbo. Then again, neither of us had imagined we would have gotten chased off the main path through the woods.

This was only meant to be a short trip. 

Awoooooooooooooo!!

That sounded like a wolf. 

It wasn’t a wolf. 

The howl was coming from right behind us. The baying of beasts calling for both of our blood had picked up in tempo. They knew that the two of us would have to tire soon. We couldn’t outrun them forever. How long had we even been running? Minutes? It felt like an eternity. 

Our only saving grace was the snow. As much as it weighed on my feet and made it more difficult to put one foot in front of the other, it seemed to be even more troublesome for our pursuers. 

When I dared to look back, just for a second, I caught sight of burning pink eyes and steam emanating off of brimstone tentacles. Something hissed and growled like an angry cat when one of Tommy’s steps kicked up a spray of slush and hit one of the figures following us square in the face. Claws flashed, and red pulsed purple-black, it fell behind another few steps, and I looked away, trying not to gag. There wasn’t time to stop and worry about losing the contents of my stomach.

“What the fuck?!! Wil! There, look! ” Tommy grabbed my wrist where I was still gripping his shoulder and pointed. I didn’t have time to see what he was referring to when he wrenched my arm to the side. Now he was the one pulling me. 

I stumbled over the snow, nearly running face-first into a low-hanging branch. “Tommy, I-” I cut myself off this time. Despite being fully aware of the things breathing down the back of my neck and swiping at my heels, it dawned on me that there was light up ahead. Tommy was still pointing, though the action was pretty shaky considering the fact that we were running. He wasn’t the best at holding steady, even on a good day, but throw in the need to dodge around trees and uneven footing down a hill in the woods meant Tommy was actually kind of all over the place. I followed the line of his finger as best as I could to the center of the blue light flickering and flaring down the slope ahead of us. 

“Is that a castle?” I asked between heavy breaths. 

That was the only thing I could think to call the massive building tucked away at the bottom of the valley. It was a crooked thing, made up of stone bricks stacked up on top of each other. The blocky center build took up most of the space with steeped roofs and swooping arches, while turrets that looked more tacked on than anything rounded out the corners. Long, tunnel-like wings swept off the sides and followed a frozen river that cut through the trees. The slate and copper-lined roof was sunken in places and completely collapsed in others. Vines and moss threatened to overtake the lower walls as if the forest was reclaiming it. 

Still, there was light. Torchlight. Lamp lights. Fires. Blue lights glowing behind windows that could have still had glass, or been covered over with paper for all that I could make out. Bright blue lanterns marked a small path of inlaid wood steps leading up to a front door where the snow had fully melted away. Someone had to be around to light those fires. Someone had to live there.

“Change of plans, Tommy. We go there and we call for help.”

“Already ahead of you, big man.”

We half slid, half stumbled our way down the rest of the hill. It was only by some miracle that we hadn’t slammed into a tree trunk on the way down. Some of our pursuers weren’t so lucky. Snapping tree branches and howls of pain and frustration assaulted my ears as we bottomed out at the end of the slope. 

“They’re stupid, Tommy. They’re giving us an opportunity. Don’t let it go to waste.” 

We both took off towards the first light along the muddy path. The trees were thinner here. Almost non-existent, and it didn’t take long for the creatures behind us to right themselves after the slip down the slope. Some of them were still hot on our trail. I could hear the panting of their breathing, and the sound of the snow sloshing beneath their feet as they struggled to stay on our tail.

A shape loomed out of the white ahead of us. There! On the trail further along. Someone riding horseback.  I was too focused on running to get a good look at them. Besides, it was too dark to make out their features. When they turned their horse around on the path to see me and Tommy barreling towards them with several terrifying creatures after us, their horse half-reared.

“Heh?!?!”

“Please help us,” Tommy screamed.

The stranger turned their horse around. I caught sight of a glint of moonlight on steel by their waist as they pulled on their reigns. “Phil,” came a deep-throated shout. For as loud as it was, they didn’t sound particularly concerned. “We’ve got a bit of an issue.”

‘A bit of an issue,’ sounded like an absurd understatement to me, even in the moment. I probably pulled a frown, not that I could see my own face, or that Tommy was looking at me to tell me what sort of expression I wore. I just remember thinking about how strange the horseman’s words were considering the situation. I had never seen anything like what was chasing us before tonight. Not in any scary campfire story or wild nature documentary on TV. And here Tommy and I were, accidentally leading their reaching claws and snarling fangs right to this guy.

Of course, I didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts when my luck ran out.

Something tightened around my ankle.

I went down hard. All the air rushed out of my lungs as I fell belly-first against the first few stairs in the path. Deep, heavy, throbbing pain bloomed to life on my right side. It felt like someone took a sledgehammer to the bottom rib. Instinctively, I went to curl up to cover the spot, but when I did my fingers slipped from the snow-slicked edge of the stair and the thing on my ankle YANKED.

I screamed. I screamed Tommy’s name over and over as if he could help me. A voice in the back of my head worried it had gotten him to, but that was impossible. I could see him come to a stop alongside the horseman, who had drawn something razer thin and gleaming out from his side. Tommy’s blue eyes flew wide, mouth gaping open as our gazes locked for a millisecond. Then the grip shifted and I ended up on my back. From this angle, I couldn’t see Tommy anymore, but I could see what had gotten ahold of me.

I vaguely recognized one of the creatures that I had seen chasing us from amidst the pack. A dark-skinned creature, so black it was near impossible to make out most of its features. I could still see its eyes and mouth, though. Those were bleached completely white. They practically glowed compared to the rest of its complexion, and when it opened its mouth to snarl, I could make out long fangs where they left dark gaps in the stark white. Its clawed hand was wrapped around my ankle, and its grip was reinforced with a red vine or tentacle wrapping from its wrist onto my leg. 

Try as I might to kick and scream, I knew that there was no getting out of that grip. All I managed to do was knock the hood off of its horned head as the others from its pack began to draw closer. 

There was no consistency to them. The one on my leg might as well have been a demon. That one over there,  a giant cat, and the one with red eyes looked almost like it could be human. It certainly moved more like one than the others, glaring at me past blond bangs as if I was a particularly interesting bug.

In a desperate attempt to do something, anything, I swept my arm out and up, tossing an arc of snow up onto the thing gripping my leg. 

“Let go of me!”

The snow hissed and sizzled where it came in contact with pitch-black skin. The thing squawked in pain. The grip on my ankle loosened slightly, Clawed fingers loosened when it tried to shake the snow off so that only the red tendril remained. 

I kicked out against it. Pulled at the ground with my nails. Even tried sitting up to unwrap it from my ankle with my hands, but I couldn’t stay upright long enough to manage. There was a dull throbbing running up the length of my leg since the thing let go of me, and that pain was starting to drown out the waves of aches washing over my side. I blinked against it, surprised to see a dark shape pass across my vision. Was I seeing dark spots already?

SHING!

The pressure on my ankle disappeared. 

It still throbbed, but when I pulled my foot back towards the rest of my body there was no resistance. Part of the red tendril lay squirming in the snow. The other part was probably still attached to whatever had grabbed me, but I couldn’t make it out past the broad silhouette that now stood between me and the monster. 

And what an intimidating figure it was. From the back, I could make out a heavy cloak billowing in the late winter breeze, white diamond patterns appearing and disappearing in the shifting folds like whirling snowflakes. When the wind moved the cloak just right, I could make out heavy black boots and pale blue fabric that almost blended into the snowy landscape. Even further beyond that, I could make out the terrified gaze of the creature that had been chasing me as it backed away. Fur trim lined the top of the cloak where the black fabric shifted to red. And at the very top, a blue and white striped bucket hat sat atop a mop of loose blond hair. 

Their arm was positioned at their side. A steel blade hung from their hand, the very end dripping bright red dots into the white snow. 

Their shoulders shifted and the tip of their sword bobbed as they spoke up in a voice so cold it rivaled the winter air. “Looks like someone’s trespassing in our domain.”

I crawled backward, attempting to put some more distance between us. “I’m sorry,” I found the words tumbling out of my lips. 

The person in front of me turned to look over their shoulder. It was a man, old enough to be my father with stubble on his chin and eyes that first glinted like ice but warmed like the summer sky when they fell on me. 

“Oh, don’t worry. Wasn’t talkin’ about you. As for the rest of you lot, though…” His words lowered into a hiss as he turned back to face the pack of creatures that were backing away. All of them. Not just the one that had grabbed me. They all stared at the tip of his sword as he raised it, and flinched when another red drop fell from its edge. “I’d suggest running back to your own domain before the issue can become…” He spared another side-eyed glance at me. “Complicated.”

The creatures froze. They didn’t back up further, but they showed no signs that they were interested in approaching, either. They shared a few torn looks between themselves. 

“Oh, so you intended to trespass?” The man took a step forward and brought the blade out in front of him.

Their eyes flew wide. Any hint of doubt in their expressions vanished. They turned tail and fled back up the slope, clawing and leaping over each other to get away faster. Taking up the rear was the dark-skinned monster that had grabbed me. It ran with its wrist cradled in its opposite arm and its wiry tail tucked between its legs. 

“You alright mate?”

The man slid his stained sword into a loop at his waist as he turned to look at me. From the front, he looked warm and friendly. He wore a lopsided grin, and the brim of his hat was a little lopsided over his forehead. The warm clothes he wore looked fine enough to be meant for royalty, but yet still retained an almost militaristic air that did not match the casual slouch to his shoulders. He held out a hand.

I blinked at it, so stunned my brain needed a moment to catch up to what had just happened. I shot a glance down at the tendril that now lay still in the snow, then at the hill where the last of the monsters disappeared over the crest, before realizing he was offering to help me up. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I croaked, taking his hand. He pulled me up easily. Surprisingly so, considering that once I was up on my feet it became clear that I was considerably taller than him. Even Tommy would have towered over this man. 

His eyes screwed shut as a wide smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “No problem. Those guys can be such a pest sometimes. Far less friendly than us. I’d recommend steering clear of them if you can help it.”

“Sounds like sound advice,” I said with a laugh that was one part nerves and two parts relief. “The name’s Wilbur. To whom do I owe a thank you to?”

“I’m Phil.”

Phil? Like the name the gentleman on the horse had shouted? The guy that Tommy ran to? 

Wait… Tommy? Oh God, Tommy!

I pivoted on a heel to look behind me, but as I did so, I moved my leg and the throbbing pain came rushing back up my leg like bolts of electricity. The ankle gave out and the whole world tilted as I went down again. “Agh!”

“Careful there!” Phil’s arm managed to wrap underneath mine just in time to catch me before I could hit the ground. 

“Tommy,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Wilbur! Wilbur are you alright?!”

Relief washed over me, even as I struggled to blink back tears. Snow crunched as Tommy came running. He gripped a bright red cloak, similar to Phil’s, over his shoulders. It covered his exposed arms. A hulking shadow of another man walked behind him at a much more laid-back pace. The horse stood back at the side of the path, tied by the reins to a wayward fence post. 

“I take it this is Tommy?” Phil asked with a chuckle.

I nodded. “I’ll be fine, Tommy,” I said. The pain made my voice come off strained. It wasn’t doing much to assure him, but my words were true. The worst of the danger seemed to have passed. “I think I’ve got a sprain, but that’s the worst of it.”

“That thing did have you by the ankle, didn’t it,” Phil asked, but didn’t seem like he was expecting much of an answer. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the tendril lying in the snow.

The reassurance seemed to be enough for Tommy, who launched himself at me and wrapped his arms around my torso in a tight hug. There was a twinge as his arms brushed my ribs, but nothing worse than that. It would probably have a bruise there by morning. “Don’t ever do that shit again. You hear me?” he demanded. “I won’t have it. Next time I might not step up to protect you and what are ya going to do then, huh?”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Protect him?”

“Pretty sure it was Phil who scared them off, kid.” At that point, the man who had been following behind Tommy came to a full stop an arm’s length away. He was dressed similarly to Phil with fancy pale blue winter attire. There was no fur-trimmed cloak, though Wilbur assumed that was where Tommy had gotten his warm new cover. Unlike Phil, though, this man’s expression and demeanor seemed a better match to his outfit. He held his head high and his shoulders stiff, pink hair pulled back in a perfect braid. Not a single hair was out of place, even around the gold circlet that sat above his brow. He was tall. A couple of centimeters taller than me, even. He looked down at me and Phil through wire-framed glasses. 

His expression was blank and stony. When I looked a little longer, though, I could have sworn I saw a spark of amusement in his eyes. 

“Well I was the one who thought to come here and called for help,” Tommy huffed. “I saw the castle, and I saw you, and you called for this guy.” He pointed a shaky finger at Phil. “If I wasn’t as big and strong and smart as I am, that wouldn’t have happened. So really, it’s because of me that Wilbur’s alright.”

Phil and the other man shared a glance. I rolled my eyes and reached out with the arm that wasn’t being supported by the sword-wielding, bucket hat-wearing man at my side so I could ruffle Tommy’s hair. The teen pulled away from the touch, but I just smiled. “You did good, Toms.”

“Of course I did.”

The man with the braid shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. Where did you guys even come from?”

“Over the ridge,” I said, jutting my chin back in that direction. “There’s a path leading through the woods back to the town over there. Those things chased us here from the other side of the forest.”

“There’s a town over there now?”

Phil shot the pink-haired man a glare. “Sorry, about my friend,” he huffed. “This is Technoblade,” he said, bobbing his elbow in the other’s direction. “It’s been a while since we’ve been that way. You guys must have made it pretty far.”

“I’ll say,” Tommy whined. He pulled the cloak tighter over his shoulders and leaned away from me, kicking at a clump of snow. “My feet HURT.”

“Welp. That’s a shame.” Technoblade crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was an intimidating man at first glance, but the change in posture broadened his shoulders and made me want to shrink out from under the shadow he cast. 

“The sooner you get out of here, the better. After that scare Phil gave them, our uninvited guests,” he said, monotonous voice dipping ever so slightly in what must have been disgust, “won’t risk coming back around for a while.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not sure I can walk all that way back,” I admitted, and I hated the words as I said them. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to get me and Tommy back home, safe and sound. 

“Tommy, do you think I can lean on your shoulder?”

“No way,” Tommy snapped. I turned to look at him, surprised, and he stuttered. Backtracking. “I mean, of course, Wil. I would, but walking right now sounds like bullshit. Can’t we just go bunker down in that castle until morning?”

“I don’t-”

“No.” Technoblade didn’t give me a chance to consider it.

“Bitch!”

He looked down at Tommy with an expression that was impossible to read. “Me and Phil aren’t prepared to take visitors right now. Besides, if you plan on going home to whichever town you came from tonight, the best time is now.”

“Or tomorrow afternoon when the sun’s at its peak,” Phil said brightly.

Technoblade blinked and gave a good hard look at the man who was still supporting me. “Phil,” he hissed, and it had the barest hint of a whine at the end. Almost like he was pleading with his companion.

A hint of that steel returned to Phil’s eyes as he kicked at the severed tendril with the toe of his boot. “Wilbur here got his ankle wrapped up before I cut him free,” he said smoothly. “I think they might have got him good. Don’t you think it would be better if we were to take a good look at it? Make sure it’s nothing more serious?”

“You’re kidding?” Technoblade said, deadpan, although I had a sneaking suspicion that it was probably his default tone. 

Phil didn’t say anything. The two men stared each other down, some unheard conversation passing between them that I couldn’t make heads or tails of. Finally, Technoblade looked away first and his eyes bore into mine. 

“I… I promise we’ll be on our best behavior,” I offered. What could I say? The idea of trekking through the woods on my tender ankle didn’t sound like fun. And if we had to, I knew Tommy would help me walk. He would whine and complain the entire way there, but he would help. If it meant I didn’t have to put up with a long night like that, then I’d gladly stay in a literal castle with people who were clearly capable of keeping me and him safe from those things. 

Even if I had only just met the inhabitants. “Tommy, promise you’ll behave.” “But why should I?” “Because I am asking you to.”

“Need another reason than that, Wil.”

“Please, Tommy?”

Tommy threw back his head. Blond hair rustled in the winter breeze, catching passing snowflakes as he groaned. “Ughhhhhhh. Fine. I promise I will try to behave. Odds of me not breaking your shit goes up if you throw in dinner, too. I’m starved.”

Technoblade shifted from foot to foot. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he considered. Eventually, he let out a sigh. “Alright. But just one night. Let me go get Carl.” 

“Oh, good idea!” Phil tilted his head back and let out a high-pitched whistle. A high keen split the winter air almost immediately in reply. “I’ll take Wilbur on Dave and you take Tommy on Carl.” A second later, a large chestnut horse appeared. It crested over a hill and trotted up until it could press its head to Phil’s back. 

“Sure. Come on, kid. Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Tommy screwed up his face into an open-mouthed scowl. “Ew. Of course not. They’re smelly and stupid.”

Technoblade arched one eyebrow. “Would you rather walk?”

“...Oh my! What an amazing horse! How wonderful and nice!”

The next few minutes were a mess. It took a lot of effort for me to get situated on Phil’s horse behind him. The process of climbing up sent pricks through my bad leg like hot knives tearing into me over and over again. More than once I had to stop just to catch my breath and wait for the pain to pass. It wasn’t so bad when I held my ankle still. Just a dull throb. Stretching and flexing it, though, made everything worse. 

Tommy wasn’t doing much better, but for reasons that were pretty typical for him. Mainly the arguing. The puffed-out chest and insistence that he knew what he was doing, even as his foot slipped out of the stirrup and he fell so hard against the saddle that it spooked the horse. 

I had to admire the man’s patience. 

Once we both were secure on the backs of the saddles, though, Phil and Technoblade kicked off and started down the path towards the castle. Technoblade and Tommy led the way, while me and Phil rode to the rear. 

“Does that place really belong to you?” I asked as I admired the crumbling walls. 

“It does,” Phil answered brightly. “We’ve been trying to fix it up for a while now, but things tend to get away from you, ya know?”

“And do those freaks from the woods come around often,” Tommy asked. He had a white-knuckled grip on the back of Technoblade’s belt that only got tighter with every other sway of the horse. 

“Eh.” Technoblade shrugged. “Not really. Put a sword through a few of them or threaten them a handful of times and they learn to leave you alone. It’s all about power. Showing them who’s the boss when and where.”

“I’m a total boss,” Tommy perked up. His grip loosened enough that it didn’t look like his nails were cutting into the leather belt anymore. “Any chance you could show me how to chase them off?”

Phil laughed.

Technoblade paused. He turned just enough to give Tommy a curious look over his shoulder before turning to face the path once more. “Maybe if you were older.”

Phil broke down laughing again. 

“So, what, you would show Wilbur but not me?”

“I’d rather just not run into those things ever again,” I said, shutting down that line of thought entirely. “The pen’s mightier than the sword for me. My skills are much better off put to use in politics.”

“Geez, Wil. Can you be less boring?”

“But debates are fun, Tommy.”

“No, they are fuckin’ not. Technoblade. If you won’t show me how to chase off monsters, then can you at least give me some pointers?”

“Yeah. Run.” 

Tommy scoffed. “You’re looking down on me. I don’t appreciate this treatment.”

Phil spoke up. “Techno’s right, though. Best thing you could do in those situations is to trust your gut. Both of you knew to run, and you ran. Everything turned out just fine.”

“Yeah, because you pulled out a wicked cool sword and fought them off. Not because we ran.”

“Well, that's what my gut told me to do. Something I didn’t want around was crossing over where it had no business being, so I acted as I saw best. See! Me following my better judgment and you following yours led to some pretty good results.”

Technoblade nodded. “It boils down to observation. You look. You listen. You make a judgment call.”

“Look and listen for what,” Tommy asked petulantly. “I’d much rather fight.”

At this point, the front door of the castle was well within sight. Phil pulled his horse up closer behind Technoblades. From this vantage point, I could no longer see Tommy up ahead. I could still hear the fabric of Technoblade’s outfit shift, see the barest hint of his pink hair over the tops of Phil’s hat and the horse’s ears as the man straightened. He spoke once more, that deep voice of his took on a hint of some emotion that I couldn’t identify but sent a shudder down my spine. 

“If the blood pounding in your ears could warn you of the danger at your back, would you listen then?”

“Well, yeah,” Tommy said, utterly oblivious to the change in Technoblade’s demeanor. “I’m not stupid. That literally just happened.”

______________________________________________________________

By the time Phil and Technoblade led me and Tommy into the lavishly decorated sitting room situated near the entrance to their castle, Technoblade had clearly become much more dismissive of Tommy’s big mouth. Which was good, because Tommy was making it pretty clear that the thing he wanted most out of life right now was to get under the man’s skin. He helped me limp through the front door while Phil rushed ahead to light a fire and warm the drafty old building. The entire time we walked, Tommy pestered our remaining guide with questions.

“Do you fight, or is it just Phil?”

“Is that sword just a fancy toy or something? I bet I could take you, easy.”

“What’s a couple of weirdos like you doing so far out here, anyway?”

He asked the last one as he helped lower me into an overstuffed velvet armchair. It was also the only question Technoblade bothered to address. 

“Me and Phil have always preferred to stick to ourselves. Last time I bothered to throw my lot in with other people, it didn’t go so well.”

“You got into a fight?” Tommy asked pointedly.

The barest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Technoblade’s mouth. “Something like that.”

“Aha! So the sword isn’t just for show!”

“Tommy, I don’t think-”

“It is not.” Technoblade clicked his tongue. “And no, I am not showing you how to use it.” Tommy deflated a little at that. Technoblade continued. “Look. This is basically the place where I chose to retire. A place to call my own. It’s peaceful and out of the way, and normally I don’t have to worry about other people showing up.” His eyes flicked from Tommy to me. “So I apologize if I sound a bit rude, but I can’t help but feel a little- just a little concerned when two strangers come running up to me on my evening ride, screaming at the top of their lungs.”

“You didn’t seem very concerned about the monsters,” Tommy said with a frown. 

“Because I knew how they would react,” he said without missing a beat. “Me and Phil have dealt with them plenty. They’re easy to predict. I don’t know what to expect from the two of you.” His gaze fell on my throbbing ankle.

I sat up a little straighter in my chair. “Technoblade, if I may… We appreciate that you and Phil are willing to let us stay the night.” Even if Phil had to talk the other man into it. “I also understand that we are complete strangers in your home. I respect that. I really do. It can be scary letting someone brand new into your personal space, especially one as grand as this.” I motioned to the room surrounding us.

It was rather nice, as well, in a homely sense. Bookshelves and plush furniture with well-worn fabric from years of use filled the space. There were scraped wooden tables and worn spots on the floor. The hearth burned bright. Blankets and furs were strewn across the floors and furniture, helping keep the heat in the room. It looked like it could have been made to suit expensive tastes if everything didn’t look so old and well-worn. 

What little I saw of the castle on the way in didn’t fall too far from the mark either. Sure there were finely sewn tapestries along the walls, but most had looked pretty sun-faded. Sure the parquet floors were shiny and detailed, but the rails of stairwells were wound with brightly colored ribbons and there were scuff marks everywhere. Weapons lined glass cabinets, but some swords and spears were left resting out in the open, leaning against the wall or a banister where someone had left them and forgotten to put them away. 

It was a lived-in home, even if it was a castle. “But,” I continued. “I’m gonna admit that it’s pretty scary for us too. Frankly, I might still be in shock from that chase. We don’t know much about you two, either. So if it helps, I don’t plan on risking upsetting you.”

“Me either.”  To my surprise, Tommy chimed in an agreement. One that wasn’t laced with sarcasm or immediately followed up by an insult. I shoved down the pride I felt rising in my chest and smiled instead of vocalizing my approval. 

“You know the saying, never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Some of the tension uncoiled from Technoblade’s shoulders. The crackle of the fire filled the air in place of words as he looked between the two of us. His eyebrow twitched. I caught sight of that amused twinkle in his eye once more. “Gift horse, huh?” 

What was I supposed to say to that? I tried opening my mouth but decided to let Technoblade’s question hang in the open air. I didn’t have anything that I was confident would sway him, so I decided to wait and see.

“Cool.” With two long steps, Technoblade crossed the room and sunk into the chair next to mine. “Good to have that all cleared up.”

“Have what cleared up?”

I startled at the sound of Phil’s voice. The other man swept into the room carrying a small box in one hand and a wooden crutch in the other. 

Technoblade waved him off. “Eh. These two just assured me they wouldn’t cause any trouble. That’s all.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.” Phil dropped down onto one knee next to me and let the crutch rest on the floor. He flipped the lid off the box in his hands. Inside were rolls of gauze and bandages. Small, marked vials of liquid rattled as he began pulling out supplies. 

“Go ahead and make yourself feel right at home, boys. I brought the first aid kit and something to help you get around a little easier.”

“You couldn’t find anything better than that hunk of junk?” Tommy muttered.

I shot him a disapproving glare and tried to keep the embarrassed flush burning at the tips of my ears from becoming noticeable. “It’s fine. Honestly. We’re just happy for the help.”

“Of course, mate,” Phil said easily. “Hey, Techno. Could you take Tommy and show him around the rest of the castle? I’d like a little space while I take care of Wilbur’s ankle.”

“He means peace and quiet, Tommy.” 

“Shut up, Wilbur. I’m an absolute angel.”

Technoblade snorted. “Sure.” He pressed his hands against the arms of his chair and pushed himself back up to his feet. “Come on, Tommy. You feel up for a lesson or two on sparring?”

“For real? Like, with real weapons.”

“Of course.”

“Then hell yeah!” Tommy threw up his arms like he had just won something.

Tommy? Sparring. I gulped. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…”

“Don’t listen to Wilbur,” Tommy shouted. “He’s just jealous because he can’t compete with these guns.” He held up both of his arms to flex his biceps. 

“I’m really not.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Phil said dismissively. “Techno knows his way around the sparring field better than anyone. Tommy may even learn a thing or two.”

It sounded more reassuring than it probably should have. 

“If you say so…” I conceded. It’s not like there was much I could do to stop Tommy. His eyes were already shining at the prospect. Knowing him, he’d probably get too tired to bother for very long.

The teen shot up from his seat and rushed to the taller man’s side. “I thought you said you wouldn’t teach me how to fight off those freaks from the woods?” Technoblade shook his head until the braid running down his back bobbed. “Oh, this won’t help with those guys. Trust me. But a little time to figure out how to defend yourself from the average thug would benefit anyone, and I want to blow off some steam. You up to the challenge?” “Boy am I!” Tommy followed Technoblade as the man made for the door. He had to slow down to keep up with Technoblade’s more leisurely pace. With all that excess energy, though, he might as well have been vibrating between each step.

“So what are we using, big man? Swords? Guns?”

“You said you wouldn’t show him how to use a sword,” I said quickly. “And no guns. Absolutely not.”

Technoblade rolled his eyes. “Didn’t plan on either of those, actually. You ever swing an ax, Tommy?”

“Like, a battle ax? Or do you mean for chopping wood?”

“Either?” “Nope,” Tommy crowed, popping the ‘p.’

Technoblade let out a weary sigh that made me laugh. Not many people were equipped to handle Tommy. This man was probably another of the long line of people whose patience wasn’t built to stand against the challenge, but I had hope. 

As I watched them retreat, I blinked and had to do a double-take. For a moment there, I could have sworn Technoblade’s blue clothes with white trim looked different. Shifted. More cream-white with red running down the sides like droplets soaking through the fabric. When I blinked again, the image righted itself and his clothes were clearly a pristine pale blue.

Tommy continued to badger poor Techno with questions about whether or not it would be a ‘real’ fight when they shut the door behind them. 

“Maybe sending them to blow off some steam was a good call,” I said with the smallest of chuckles. I pulled my eyes away from the shut door to where Phil was taking the catch off a roll of gauze. “Tommy’s great and all, but the kid doesn’t know how to contain himself.” 

“He seems like a handful. Here. Hold onto this if you would,” He passed me the loose roll of gauze and reached for a bottle of antiseptic. “Let’s get a better look at that ankle.” Gently, he pulled back the fabric of the bottom of my trousers.

The motion didn’t hurt, but I let out a hiss at the sight of the angry mark wrapped around my ankle. The skin was already bruising a dark purple where the creature had its fingers wrapped around me. Four shallow scratches, barely big enough to bead blood, ran from the top of my shin down to my foot where its claws had dragged the moment I kicked loose. In the gap where my skin had been exposed between the bottom of the trousers leg and my sock was a fiery red rash. The veins running beneath it were clear through the damaged skin. They leached out from the bruise, breaking up into smaller and smaller capillaries. I could feel the throbbing sensation pulsing from that point through the rest of my leg and foot. No wonder it hurt so much.

Phil let out a small gasp as soon as he saw it. His head flinched back. “Looks like they got you good.”

I gritted my teeth and looked away. Anything else in this room had to look more appealing than my leg right now. 

“Good lord! I didn’t realize it was that bad. They just grabbed me… I knew I would have a bruise or a sprain but not something like this. No wonder it feels like shit.”

Phil’s hands hovered over the worst of the rash as he considered how to approach cleaning it. “I was hoping for just a sprain, but it looks like ya got unlucky,” he said without looking up. “They’ve got something like a poison up their sleeves. Don’t always use it, but this time it looks like they did.”

“What, like a snake bite?” I scoffed.

He shook his head. “Nothing nearly so… deadly. But it’s not pleasant either. Gonna feel like shit.”

“I take it you and Technoblade had to live through that unpleasantness at some point?”

He shook his head again. “Nah. Not us, but I’ve seen what it does. Here.” With that, he flipped over the bottle and dumped its contents all over my leg.

The antiseptic STUNG. Almost as bad as the rash. The smell didn’t help to keep the tears out of my eyes either. I gritted my teeth to bear it while the rash practically sizzled. 

“Oi, watch it! You nearly kicked me.” “Sorry,” I sputtered. Some sort of fabric brushed against my ankle. Phil must have finished cleaning the wound and started wrapping it. When I turned back to look, Phil’s cloak moved. My eyes locked onto the folds of his black cloak. That. I could focus on that instead of my leg. The fabric was shifting as he moved. It rustled and twitched, and for a moment I could have sworn I saw feathers poking out from between the diamond patterns.

“Does that feel better?” “Huh?” My eyes snapped back to Phil’s blue eyes.

“How does that feel?” he asked with a smile. “Not too tight?”

When my eyes trailed down his back again, all I could make out was fabric. I must have imagined the feathers.

“Y-yeah. It feels fine. Not too tight.”

“Good.” He flipped the lid of the first aid kit closed. “That should take care of it for a while now. I’m no doctor, but it would be smart to avoid putting weight on it. That’s what the crutch is for. Give it the night, see how you’re feeling in the morning, and I’ll take another look at it then.”

He scooped the crutch off the ground and held it out for me. I slid to the edge of the chair and took it. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, really,” I insisted, pushing off from the chair. It took some effort to balance. I teetered as I figured out how to leverage the crutch, but Phil was right there with an arm hovering, waiting to reach out if I needed it. After a few seconds, I got a feel for how to best adjust my weight without havint to use my bum ankle. “I appreciate the help,” I admitted. I was now confident enough with my balance to tap the crutch against the floor. “You and Techno didn’t have to put up with us for the night, and you certainly didn’t have to go to this length.” 

His blue eyes flashed, and for a moment they looked far too deep and far too vast. Like an ocean in an iris, or the dome of the sky. “Pffft, as if I was just goin’ to leave ya out there. As if. As much as Techno might have put up a good front, he’s not all that bent out of shape about it.  If he minded that much, he wouldn’t have rushed off to go play with Tommy.”

I paused, blinking wide-eyed at him. “Play?!”

Phil’s smile grew a little wider. “You heard what I said. Trust me, I’m sure those two are having fun. I can also say with one hundred percent certainty that it’s no skin off our back. You’re welcome here.” 

I opened my mouth to thank him once more, but he wrapped his arm under mine in a show of support and cut me off before I could even start. “Now, I don’t know about you, but it’s getting late and I’m starved,” he said. “Any chance I can talk you into helping out in the kitchen?”

______________________________________________________________

Helping out in the kitchen mostly consisted of sitting on a stool and chopping vegetables while Phil did most of the work. It was a big kitchen for two people, but Phil had an odd way of filling the space. He easily fluttered back and forth between burners and the icebox, counters and the cupboards. Sometimes he swung the hinged doors open and shut as he went. Sometimes he left drawers and cupboards open well after he pulled out what he needed.  In no time at all, he had multiple pots boiling and a roast in the oven. 

As he worked and I chopped, we talked about life. He politely asked about the basics of my life. Where Tommy and I were from, what I liked, what kind of career I was pursuing. He never pushed for details if I didn’t outright give them to him. And in turn, he told me a few stories about his life before coming to this castle. 

It made me a little jealous, hearing about how he had flown all over the world when he was younger. Literally. He had even gone so far as to spend some time in the Antarctic. That would explain why he didn’t mind the winter chill here. I can only imagine the types of people he met. The things he saw. I hung on to every word.

Not all of it sounded like a walk in the park. He didn’t push for details in my life, so I tried to extend the same courtesy, but my curiosity was in full swing as he talked about dog fights over the ocean and the civil wars that he and Techno had fled. 

I guess that was some of what Technoblade was hinting at when he mentioned that the last time he mingled with people, it didn’t turn out so well. 

By the time the roast came out of the oven, Technoblade popped his head in to check on the time. He and Tommy had called it quits on their little sparring session. They set the table while Phil transferred potatoes and vegetables onto platters for serving. Everything got moved to a cozy dining room with a small table looking out of place in the regal space. It was big enough to seat six at maximum but perfect for the four of us. I didn’t do any of the prep work. I hobbled out of the kitchen and took a seat at the table where Phil pulled out a chair for me. 

“So, how was the sparring session?” I asked as I poured gravy over my cut of roast. I still had my doubts that Tommy had bothered with strenuous physical activity for as long as he was gone. 

Tommy speared a carrot so hard his fork clattered against the plate. “Fuckin’ boring. Techno kept trying to show me ways to hold the ax and swing it. Everyone knows how to swing an ax.” He mimed the motion with his fork, swinging it over his head to the point where I was afraid the carrot might fall off. 

“Always start with the basics,” the pink-haired man said evenly. “You seemed pretty excited when it finally clicked that moving your shoulders with the motion did more damage to the target.”

“That was just me unlocking my big, powerful muscles.”

“Uh-huh.”

Phil folded his hands in front of him, propping his elbows on top of the table so he could rest his chin against his knuckles. “So I take it you wouldn’t be interested in another lesson tomorrow morning?”

Tommy brought his fork back down to his plate and straightened up in his chair. His eyes flew wide with giddy excitement. “Wait, is that an option?”

Both me and Phil laughed at the same time over that. “So I guess it wasn’t that boring after all?”

“...Maybe.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Tommy,” I teased. Tommy sputtered a handful of unintelligible syllables as he tried to think of a comeback while I turned to Technoblade. “He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

“Excuse me, I was an absolute angel!”

Techno finished chewing his bite of the roast before setting his knife and fork down on the napkins folded on either side of his plate. This guy had been the perfect image of prim and proper as he ate, as opposed to Phil who was comfortably slumped in his chair as he shoveled a few bites of roast beets into his mouth. 

Techno shrugged. “The kid picked up a few things pretty quickly. I wouldn’t mind going over a few more forms tomorrow morning.”

Phil shot me a lopsided smile from across the table and wiggled his eyebrows as if to say ‘see? I told you so.’ 

Tommy didn’t seem to be sporting any fresh bruises or cuts, so I chalked it up to a good thing.

“What about you two,” Techno asked. 

“I’d say our evening was pleasant,” I said as I cut into my portion of roast. “Phil had a lot of very interesting stories to tell. It sounds like you two have had quite the adventure.”

“Really?” Techno shot Phil a look. “What kind of adventure did you discuss?”

“Just the Antarctic and a few of our side excursions.” Phil popped a chunk of potato into his mouth and twirled his fork through the air as he chewed. 

Technoblade relaxed a little deeper into his chair. “Ha! Yeah, those were great times. I’m sure Phil gave you the rundown on how we ticked off our neighbors.”

“Of course I did.”

“It’s given me a lot of my own ideas. You should hear all about it, Tommy. It’s a really good story.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You might learn something new.”

“Don’t care. Hard pass.”

I snorted. “I’ll just tell you about it on the way back home.”

He pulled a disgusted face, but I ignored it. 

With a bit of insistence on my part, Phil hit the highlights of what he told me. This time, Techno was nearby to provide his input. It wasn’t much, but the pink-haired man would offer a “humph” of agreement here and there, or offer a few extra details of what he worked on while the two of them were working apart. Tommy perked up at the talk of business and air battles and rolled his eyes when it came to the political impact of it all. I found it just as interesting to listen to the second time around as it was on the first.

The topic began to drift as time went on and we cleaned our plates. We talked about our day, about me and Tommy’s hometown, and what we were studying. Phil and Techno talked about how they filled their days with hunting, horse riding, and dog-breeding… apparently. 

To be honest, I was enjoying myself. Whatever tense feelings from earlier were gone. The atmosphere was warm and cozy. We were just a couple of people getting to know each other and sharing a few laughs. 

But as I polished off the last of my food, something caught my eye.

It was such a little thing. I’m not even sure what made me notice it.

It’s just that, wasn’t Technoblade drinking a glass of water a moment ago?

The glass in his hand was stained red. Red like wine, but when his arm moved the liquid inside looked thicker than alcohol. 

I looked over to see if there was a bottle of wine on the table I hadn’t spotted before, but when I did, the unnatural movement of something along Phil’s shoulder pulled my attention.

Had Phil swapped out his cloak? 

There were feathers along the trim instead of fur. 

I found myself looking back and forth between the two. Their laughter and Tommy’s wild shouting faded into the background. I could still hear them, but the words were muffled in my ears. The longer I looked at our two hosts, the sharper their outlines appeare. 

That was when I noticed that there was something else there. 

It was like someone had superimposed an image on top of what I was seeing. On one hand, I could clearly make out Phil and Technoblade. They looked just how I expected them to look. Phil’s near-endless sky-blue eyes, blond hair, and always-present smile. Technoblade’s long braid, mouth set into a thin line, and subtle amusement crinkling at the corners of his eyes. That was there. That was them. But there was also something else where they sat. Something hazy around the edges. Something that gave me the impression of long tusks and hunched wings.

I squinted my eyes, trying to make out what I could possibly be seeing.

Then Technoblade noticed me staring and turned to face me.

As soon as our eyes met, the hazy image flared like a sunburst. Colors and shapes solidified and then washed out like an overexposed photo. Dark eyes glinted red and violent. 

“Wh-” 

I dropped my fork, and the other image vanished entirely.

Phil’s eyes locked on me, sky blue sharpening to pale steel. “Is something wrong, Wilbur?” I dragged my attention back to him, sucking in a breath. He was looking at me with a curious tilt to his head. 

I dared to steal another glance at Technoblade. His eyes were thrown wide open, shoulders held stiff. It was the most emotion I had yet to see the man show.

He put down his glass. It was filled with water. Regular, clear water.

Phil leaned forward in his seat, shoulders stooping as his elbows rested against the tabletop. The trim at the top of his cloak was lined with fur.

“I…. I’m fine.”

“You sure, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ghost? More like a monster. I shook my head as if that could knock the image of what I thought I just saw right out of my thoughts. “It’s nothing,” I insisted. “I think the stress of the day is starting to get to me.”

Phil and Technoblade exchanged a glance. “And what makes you say that?”

“I think I might be starting to see shit. Call it PTSD or whatever the fuck you like, but I feel like I’m starting to imagine monsters.”

“Like the ones that chased us?” Tommy asked.

“Kind of.” A shudder ran down my spine and goosebumps ran up my arms. A sympathetic twinge pulled at my ankle, and I adjusted it beneath my seat. My imagination must have been running wild. What I saw had been just as unnatural as the creature that had grabbed me, but it made my heart rate spike in a way that not even the run through the trees had managed to do.

“Please excuse me.”

Technoblade abruptly pushed back his seat, grabbed his cutlery, and in a few brisk steps he was out the door.

Tommy frowned and turned to Phil for answers. “Where’s Techno going?”

His bright blue eyes narrowed. The creases around his eyes grew for a moment as something akin to worry passed over his expression. I could have imagined that too, though, because in the blink of an eye that easy breezy smile was back on his face. He waved off Tommy’s question with one hand. “Off to his room, probably. He’s a creature of habit. He’s got his own set of nightly rituals like anyone else.”

“Will he come back out?”

Phil hummed. “Probably not. He’ll be up bright and early tomorrow, though.” 

“Well, alright I guess.” Tommy made no effort to hide his pouting. He slumped deeper into his seat.

“We got a late start on dinner as it was,” Phil mused, drumming his fingers against the table. “Maybe it would be a good day to follow his lead. Hit the hay. What do you two think?”

“Yes, please,” I groaned, carding a hand through my hair. “Before I start having any more waking nightmares like a crazy person.”

Phil flinched. I know for a fact I didn’t imagine that one. 

“I am perfectly fine.” Tommy stuck his nose in the air. “But if you were to show us where we’ll be sleeping then I demand the biggest luxury suite you’ve got.”

Phil pushed back his chair and stood up. “Right. We’ve got a couple of spare rooms in the east wing. I’ll show you where to go. Leave your plates. I’ll come back for them later.”

________________________________________________________________

“Did you actually have fun today, Tommy?”

“I’m not sure if fun is the right word, Wilbur. We were chased through the woods by ugly beasts.”

“Fine. Let me rephrase. Did you actually have fun learning how to swing an ax? Not too sore, are you?”

“It was alright.”

Tommy pulled his legs up onto the bed he would be using for the night. His words were nonchalant, but his eyes were shining. 

“So if we were to leave without you doing another sparring session with Technoblade, you wouldn’t be disappointed?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up there, bub.” Tommy’s voice shot up a couple hundred decibels. “I never said that.” 

I chuckled. 

Me and Tommy finally had some time alone. Phil had been kind enough to show us to our rooms and leave us be. Breakfast was in the morning, and he made it clear we were welcome to stay after that for a bit. Noon would be the best time to travel safely, according to him. Considering he was the one who knew how to swing a sword and scare off monsters, I trusted his better judgment. 

Tommy let himself flop backward against a row of pillows. “This place is cool. So are Technoblade and Phil. It’s crazy we’ve never realized they were out here this whole time.”

“We’ve never had much reason to leave the path.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me of that. I can just imagine what Tubbo’s doing right now. He’s so obsessed with me. He probably can’t sleep.”

As hyperbolic as Tommy tended to be, I couldn’t help the seed of guilt that had rooted itself in my gut. The truth was, Tommy might be right about that. “We’ll clear it up when we get back. Eventually, we’ll look back at this and laugh.” “Maybe I can make it up to him by showing him this place. Go when it’s nice and bright out and freaky shit isn’t happening.”

“Techno didn’t seem all that interested in us stopping by unprompted. Might want to warn him if you plan on bringing Tubbo.” The castle might not survive the two of them together.

Tommy snorted. “Sure I will,” he said. It was an utter lie, with all the sarcasm he could possibly inject into his voice. Oh well.

“Hey Tomm, you uh… You didn’t notice anything strange at dinner, did you?” 

“Other than the fact that you ate something as disgusting and shitty as vegetables, no. Why?”

“No reason.”

He tilted his head to get a better look at where I was seated at the end of the bed. The crutch leaned precariously against one of the bedposts. I noticed him looking, how his eyes trailed down to my ankle even as I tried to keep my gaze on the moon hovering just outside the window.

“How you feeling, Wilbur?” “I’m fine, Tommy.”

“And the, uh… the ankle?” 

“I barely notice it.”

That wasn’t entirely true. It still throbbed on occasion, and though Phil had wrapped it tight and cleaned it well, the rash was starting to smart beneath the gauze. The stinging wasn’t unbearable, though. If anything, I took that as a sign that it was starting to heal. This had to be the itch before it began scabbing over. As long as I didn’t jostle the sprain too much, it was manageable. 

“You sure?”

I threw a pillow at his face. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Hey!”

Tommy wasted no time flinging another couple of pillows directly at my face. The downy surface packed a surprising punch. I battered them away as best as I could with an elbow until Tommy grew tired and slumped back against the mattress.

“Seriously, Wil. If you don’t feel up to it tomorrow, just say something. I’d hate it if a weak, fragile thing like you are now went and hurt yourself further. Protecting you all through the woods would be a tall order, even for me.”

The smile dropped off my face because for all Tommy’s bluster, I knew what he really meant. 

He’s worried about me. 

Wasn’t that a scary thought? It was supposed to be the other way around, what with me being so much older than him. 

I tried to play it off with a bit of humor. “I think we might drive Phil and Techno up the wall if we stuck around longer than necessary.”

“They’d let us stay,” Tommy said without an ounce of doubt. He propped himself up on an elbow as he lay on his side to get a better look at me. “They seem cool like that. And it’s not like staying another night would be awful. I mean, it’s a fuckin’ castle.” He waved his hand out above him, letting his fingers wave at the ancient walls and ceiling. 

He wants to stay longer.

My ankle twinged with a pinprick of pain.

“I’ll tell you what. Let’s see how I feel in the morning. Okay?”

“Alright.”

“Good.” I patted my palm against the side of the mattress and reached for the crutch. “Now get some sleep. It’s late. We’re both exhausted, and I don’t think I can stand spending any more time around you right now,” I teased.

“I’m not exhausted,” he huffed, only to immediately let out a yawn.

“Sure you’re not.”

With a heave, I was propped back up on the crutch and my one good foot. My crutch tap tap tapped against the tile floor as I made my way across the room.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Wilbur.” 

“Night, Tommy.”

I left the candle flickering on the nightstand for the teen to put out whenever he was ready. The door clicked shut behind me and I began my clumsy trek back to the room next door. It was late, and now that Tommy was all squared away I was allowing my worries to settle. Exhaustion really was finally dawning on me. 

I was going to sleep hard tonight, as long as I could find a way to get comfortable and not jostle my foot too much.

____________________________________________________________________________

The sun filtered through the gap in the heavy curtains. I could feel its warm rays against my back. It felt good to lie in bed a little longer than necessary, basking in the heat of the sun like a cat. 

It was morning. 

It had been a blissful, dreamless night. 

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It even looked pleasantly warm out, if the dwindling snow on the ground was anything to go by. Tommy and I should be safe to go back home now. 

Phil and Techno had been pleasant last night. I wasn’t necessarily in a rush, but I was also very aware of the fact that we hadn’t had the chance to tell anyone where we were. Tubbo had been expecting us to show up last night. He would have panicked when we never did. That would take some apologies and smoothing over once we got back. 

With a deep breath, I pulled myself out from under the covers and began to get ready for the day.

It wasn’t hard. I only had the clothes on my back, and Phil and Techno hadn’t pointed out a shower last night. Just the nearest, bare-bones bathroom they had set up. It was probably somewhere on the other side of the castle. I’d have to ask them about it. For now, though, I settled for passing a comb over my hair and straightening my clothes as best as I could. 

A quick glance outside gave me a beautiful view of the rising sun glistening across the frozen river. Red streaks worked their way across the shallow hills in long lines, highlighted by tha shadow of tall grass and snow. They wavered in the rising sun as if they were moving, the landscape practically breathing.

Like the day outside, it felt like things were looking bright. My leg was no longer stinging. The throbbing had gone down, but not quite stopped. There was a pep in my step as I tried to make the room look as tidy as it had been before I showed up. It seemed rude to leave the bed a mess, so I straightened the sheets a little before hobbling out the door.

Tommy’s room was right next to mine. I stopped at the door and rapped my knuckles against it. “Morning, Tommy!”

“Wh-wha…”

He was never much of an early riser.

“Wake up, sleepy head.”

“Go away, Wil. Let me sleep in peace.”

“Aw, and I thought you would be excited to wake up in a castle and head down to breakfast.”

“Phil or Techno can come to wake us up when they're ready for that shit. They never gave us a time. Now go away and let me sleep.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. If you miss breakfast, that’s all on you.”

A few grumbled curse words filtered through the door. That was all I was going to get out of him until he was ready to come out on his own time. 

That was fine. There was an entire castle for me to explore. I wasn’t sure where Phil or Technoblade would be, but I wasn’t Tommy. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me looking around the place as long as I didn’t touch anything that looked important. It wouldn’t hurt to check out a few side corridors while on my way down to the dining room. And if Phil and Technoblade weren't there, then I was sure there were a few rooms nearby I could check out. They both seemed like learned men. Perhaps they had a library around here somewhere?

I lowered myself down a staircase with some difficulty and found myself in a particularly fancy hall. There were glass cases with all sorts of odds and ends on pedestals. Pieces of pottery, old maps, measuring equipment, and a handful of decorative weapons were displayed prominently, as were beautiful hangings made from quilted fabrics; tapestries, pendants, and flags. They depicted old civilizations and glorious battles. I took it all in excitedly as I walked.

It also looked like someone had already been this way. 

Fires were lit down the length of the hall. Torches were placed in sconces to light up the darker corners while braziers and lamps took care of the bulk of the lighting. That was a good sign that someone had come through recently to light them all.

I was so busy taking everything in, it was surprising to hear something other than the crackle of the torches.

Babump!

What was that?

I whirled around, taking in the fine masonry with all its cracks and chipped paint. Scanned the faded banners and tarnished braziers hanging from the ceiling by fine linked chains. Nothing seemed to have fallen. No rats were scurrying through the shadows in the corners from what I could see. I strained my ears, listening.

Babump!

There it was again. I know I heard something, but nothing moved. Nothing outside of the snap and crackle of the fire lighting the hall. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see if there was something else I could be missing. Anything else.

Babump!

The slightest bit of movement caught my eye. It wasn’t by the ground where a rodent might be trying to hide, or at eye level where any of the ancient decor stood, but up by the ceiling. There, in the corner where the light of the torches didn’t hit, something was sliding down the wall. It was so small and fast, that I was surprised I noticed it at all.

Gingerly, I made my way over until I stood beneath that same spot on the wall and craned my head back. Whatever it was it dripped down the stone. Something liquid, but thick and slow and dark. I couldn’t tell what it was in this light. I reached up.

Babump!

It dripped. A warm droplet hit the center of my ring finger and pooled down in the space where it met my pinky. 

My lip curled up at the feel of it. Gross. It felt sticky. It stank of iron and looked ruddy like it had picked up some rust from wherever it seeped out of. I flicked my hand away, knocking as much of it off as I could. Dark flecks speckled the cobbled floor, but my hand was still stained and sticky. 

When I looked back up at the wall, rivulets of the strange liquid started streaming down the cracks in the mortar. The first stream was already trickling past eye level down to the floor.

Babump!

Something dripped on my nose. With the forefinger of my already messy hand, I reached up and wiped at it. Sure enough, there was more of that dark liquid. The smell of iron was growing worse now. It was practically scathing against my nostrils. I did my best to wipe it off of my nose and clear away the smell. My skin wasn’t even dry yet when more droplets fell right in front of me. They splattered the floor in front of my toes. I looked up to see a large wet spot pooling in the ceiling. The droplets running down the wall were growing more numerous now. The seams between the stone bricks were starting to look more like little streams. A steady trickle of the dark liquid was running along the mortar paths. A small puddle was pooling at its base. 

“Hey, uh, guys?” I called down the hall, hoping one of our hosts could hear. They couldn’t have gone far. Not yet. Someone had to have lit the fires. Surely if I shouted loud enough, they would notice. “I think you might have sprung a leak or something.”

Babump!

I felt more droplets splashing off the shoulders of my coat. I backed away. Hopefully that wouldn’t leave a stain. Whatever leak they had must have come on suddenly and quickly, because the dark water was now practically running down the walls. Had a pipe blown? Did this place even have running water? 

“Hello! There’s a mess starting over here. Can you hear me? Phil? Techno?” There was no answer. 

The puddle was growing bigger. About to reach my shoes. I backed further away. I shouted louder. “HEY! SOMETHING’S WRONG.”

Babump!

When I looked around, It dawned on me that this spot on the wall wasn’t the only one leaking. The opposite wall had streams of murky liquid running down it. The firelight danced across its slick, undulating surface. It roiled and flickered like angry red sunlight over deep dark rivers. It was getting harder and harder to make out the wall beneath it all.

Splotches were seeping through the brightly colored tapestries of knights marching, staining their bright white armor and horses into an ugly red.  

Puddles were spreading out from the entire length of the hall as far as I could see. Even far off where the furthest brazier burned and the rest of the space fell into shadow, I could see the light flickering off wet walls. 

And the smell! The smell!! It was so strong I could almost taste the metallic tang now. The sickly sweet notes now underlying the overwhelming smell of iron only made it worse. 

This… this couldn’t be a burst pipe. Could it?

Babump!

The puddles were closing in. The ruddy liquid was pressing in from all sides. I looked behind me and there was more lapping at the heels of my shoes. I took a step, more to test the floor than go anywhere. The liquid felt oddly thick. Droplets splashed up onto my ankles. 

I panicked.

“Help! Phil! Techno! Somebody! Can anybody hear me? Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong!” 

I shouted it at the top of my lungs and took off as fast as my bum leg could handle. Having to use a crutch was horribly slow, and every time instinct tried to kick in and have me put my weight on it, horrible throbbing rocked that side of me.

“Something’s leaking! The hall is filling! What’s happening?!?”

Babump!

And yet it kept dripping down. Tapered streams of red poured off the ceiling and dripped off sconces and braziers so that their flames sputtered and threatened to go out. It was getting harder to slosh my crutch through the heavy liquid. It already pressed uncomfortably against both ankles, leaking into my shoes, and threatening to climb higher. 

I spotted a light at the end of the tunnel, both figuratively and literally. There were shafts of light stretching out from a crack in a door. I zeroed in on that light and threw my all into getting there. Someone had to be inside.

I slammed my fists against the wood. “Who’s in there?! The hallway’s flooding!?! Please!”

Babump!

The door flung outwards and I shrieked. 

Something was towering over me in the doorway. A beast that put to shame each and every one of the monsters that chased me through the woods. It had a bristly hide and cloven hooves. Eyes flashed an angry, fiery red, and beneath those were long tusks that dripped blood red. 

Another scream dried up in my throat. I had half the thought to back away when my crutch slipped. It fell out from underneath me and I found myself tumbling backwards. My backside hit the growing pool of red liquid and sent foul-smelling blood seeping through my clothes.

Because that’s what this was. I knew it deep within my bones now. I was sitting in a massive hall flooded with blood. Blood that ran down the walls and threatened to fill the entire castle. Blood like the gore that dripped from the tusks of the monster that leaned closer and closer and closer…

I threw my arm up over my eyes.

Babump!

“Wilbur?”

Huh? 

With some effort, I forced my eyes open and lowered the arm in front of my face. 

There before me, standing in the doorway and looking over me with a surprising amount of concern was Technoblade. I took a shaky breath and flicked my gaze back and forth to look at my surroundings. The hall was pristine. Well, not pristine. It was still dusty and a little scuffed from years of boots passing over the threadbare carpets, but it was dry. Nothing was dripping from the ceiling or running down the walls. The floor was clear. My clothes weren’t actually soaked with red. I took a long, slow breath in through my nose and my heart soared as I realized there wasn’t a metallic tang in the air. It smelled a little musty, and that was all.

A hand waved in front of my eyes and pulled my attention back to the man in front of me. “Wilbur,” Technoblade said again, this time a little sharper. “Are you okay?”

“I… I-I… I…”

“Geez, man. Please don’t tell me you’re going into shock or something. I’m not equipped to handle that sort of thing.”

I didn’t trust my voice enough to form a coherent sentence, so I shook my head.  

“Not shock?” Techno leaned further past me and looked up and down the corridor with wide eyes. “Phil is much better at this sort of thing than me,” he admitted, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. If he was looking for Phil, he was out of luck. Nobody else was nearby. I was surprised Techno was here in the first place. 

“Let’s get you up off the floor. It’s gotta be cold down there.” 

He stooped down to wrap his arms under mine. I braced myself to help push myself to my feet, but in the blink of an eye Techno had me back up on my feet. The motion was fluid and fast. As effortless as picking up a doll and plopping it back down.

“I-I just…” I swallowed a lump in my throat and tried pulling myself together. “I just heard something. I… I heard something and I don’t- I didn’t know what it was.” A nervous laugh bubbled up in my chest.  “God, I must still be half asleep. You really scared me there for a second.”

Some of the tension in his shoulders uncoiled. The concern on his face began to fade. He let out a grunt. “Heard something? Mind describing it to me?”

I wasn’t about to tell him about a wall that bled faster than a heart could beat. I wasn’t.

“Rhythmic,” I started, and wanted to kick myself when my voice pitched high. “Booming, maybe? Just a couple loud thumps. Probably nothing worth concerning yourself about, I’m sure. Could have just been footsteps. There’s a second floor above here, right?” Better. My voice was closer to its normal register, but now my words were picking up speed. That was more believable, right?

To my surprise, Technoblade perked up. “Rhythmic, you say? I think I know what you heard.” He nodded his head towards the room he just emerged from and went back inside. “Here. I want to show you something.”

I took a moment to stop and process. Probably too long. I doubted that he knew exactly what I was talking about, but if there was some sort of reasonable explanation past that door, I was in desperate need of something to cling to that could prove I wasn’t going crazy.

Color me surprised when I followed him inside. 

“Drums?”

The corner of Technoblade’s mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile as he looked at the strung-up instruments. There were two padded mallets left on the mantle of a fireplace at the front of the room. The leather stretched across the drumheads was scuffed from plenty of use. When Techno looked back at me, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. 

“Everyone’s gotta have a hobby,” he droned in that monotonous voice of his. 

I laughed again, utterly relieved. That explained half of my hallucination, which was more than I could have hoped for. 

I wiped at the corner of my eye. “Forgive me, Technoblade. I didn’t take you to be much of a musician.”

“Well, I’ve always been pretty good at dishing out hits. Phil likes to think that this allows me to put that energy towards a more creative option.”

That sounded a little more in line with what I knew about Technoblade so far. 

He picked up one of the mallets and let it twirl across the back of his hand. The handle wobbled over the catch of his knuckles before falling neatly back into his palm. Then he pointed the fabric-wrapped tip at my chest. “You play?”

“Not the drums. I’m more of a guitar man myself. Had this dream of starting up a band one day and figured the guitar made the most sense. But now that I’ve said that, you wouldn’t happen to know how to work a full drumset, would you?” The massive bass and snare drums in front of me gave me hope.

Which was immediately snuffed out when he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not that kind of drummer.”

“Then what kind are you?” “The war drum kind.”

I rolled my eyes. “Technoblade, I’m sensing a running theme with you.” 

“Then that means I’m staying on brand.”

It was hard to argue with that.

“You know,” he continued, drawing the words out. With one hand, he reached out to run his fingers across the edge of the nearest drum head. He placed the drumstick back on the mantle with the other. “I do enjoy it. Outside of techniques and terminology, or even staying on brand, it gives me something else to focus on. It feels good. 

“For instance, there’s nothing quite like the beat of a drum. It’s more than sound. The best bass drums can be felt deep in your bones.” He placed a hand on his chest over his heart. “Have you ever stood next to one as it’s being played?”

I had. 

“You can feel every stroke in your chest. It resonates. Like a heartbeat. Thud. Thud. Thud.” With each spoken ‘thud,’ he pounded his fist against his chest. The fingers resting against the drumhead tapped in time, making tiny, hollow sounds in the instrument.”

I could imagine the thrum in my own chest, as clear as if I were standing next to the drumset on stage again.

“The sound goes for miles. And like a heartbeat, it’s good for keeping time. That’s why drummers played over the sounds of battle while men marched in time. They relaid orders by playing codified beats that the others had memorized. It kept the tempo while men bled for their country.”

His phrasing nearly made me shiver.

“If you look into the history of it, what you find might pique your interest,” Technoblade finished, pulling both hands back so he could clasp them behind his back.

“Huh. Interesting. I was under the impression Phil was the history buff.

Techno smirked. “He’s seen his fair share, but I’m fairly well-read.”

“So I take it that those antiques on display in the corridor are yours?” 

He grunted. “Eh. Most of them. Comes with the territory. We are in a castle, after all. There’s a lot of history here as well.”

I turned my back on him so I could peer out the door. It perfectly framed a small glass case shoved against the opposite wall with a gold totem inside. “I can only imagine the stories they’d tell.”

“If the walls could bleed, would you listen to the kind of stories they would tell?”

A shiver crawled down my spine and whipped back around to face Technoblade. There was that odd tone of his again. The same one he used during the horse ride up to the front gates. It practically echoed with a thousand other voices, years and years of experience and expectation packed into an odd question. Experience and expectation that Techno didn’t appear old enough to have. He looked like he could have been a year or two older than me at the most, though, that odd sense of maturity did seem to ooze out of every aspect of his personality. 

And what a question to ask. One that hit a still-fresh nerve.

My heart raced once more as crystal-clear images of red dripping down walls and soaking through tapestries ran across my mind. 

I shook my head. “I don’t think I would, honestly.”

Something sparked in the back of Techno’s eye. That barest glint of amusement. He tilted his head at an angle and let a huff of air out of his nose. “Yeah. You don’t seem the type.”

What did that mean? I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s a weirdly specific question-”

SLAM!

I nearly leaped out of my skin as Phil rounded the doorframe and smacked his hand against the already-open door. “Hey, Techno, are you still practicing your… Oh! Wilbur! You’re up. And here. Good. I was planning on stopping by you and Tommy’s room next.”

Techno crossed the room to snatch up a few blankets resting on a chair. “What do you need, Phil?”

“I wanted to talk breakfast. I wasn’t going to make our guests help in the kitchen.” Phil’s eyes flicked to me. “At least, not this time.”

“I’ll help.” Technoblade spread the blankets out over the top of the drums with an apathetic look. Any hint of concern or amusement over what we were just discussing was gone. 

I wanted to prod him further, but Phil was looking at me again with those vast blue eyes. “Is Tommy up too?”

I shook my head. “No. He chose to take full advantage of the opportunity to sleep in this morning.” ‘Well, it shouldn’t take more than a half hour for me and Techno to throw something together. I’ve already started some of the prep work. Could you go wake him up and have him get ready?”

“Of course. That should be no problem at all.”

“You remember where the dining room is, right?”

I nodded. 

“Then I’ll see you both down there soon. We’ll have ourselves a nice breakfast.”

“That sounds nice,” I admitted. “It was nice hearing about your hobbies, Techno,” I said, turning back to him.

“I appreciate that. Maybe next time I could listen to you play guitar.”

Phil gave me a curious look. “You play guitar?”

“I do. Maybe I’ll play you both a sample of my music some other time.”

Phil flashed a brilliant smile. “Sounds like fun.”

On that note, I slipped past him and out into the hall. Phil waited until I had hobbled a few paces away before gently shutting the door behind them.

That had been a lot to take in all at once. I needed a moment. It took some effort, but I managed to maneuver the crutch so that I could sidle up against the wall. To my relief, it wasn’t slick. The stone was still perfectly dry. Not a spot of red in sight. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I just needed a moment to take a deep breath and remember how to get back to the guest rooms. 

That’s what I told myself, until Phil and Technoblade’s voices began to drift through the shut door.

“Thanks Phil.”

“Of course. It seemed like you two were getting along there.”

“Perhaps.”

“How are you feeling?”

There was a pause and a shuffle of fabric. “...better. But I also feel like I owe him an apology. Last night… It was an accident. I didn’t mean to let myself get out of hand like that.”

Huh. Curiosity kept me in place. I perked my ears up to listen.  ‘Out of hand’ was the last thing I would use to describe Technoblade.

“I know.”

“I think it happened again. Just now, when he knocked on my door-”

“I know.” Phil’s voice sounded tired. “You’re not used to having to hide like this. I’m not either, mate. If things were different, it wouldn’t have mattered and he wouldn’t have seen anything and I wouldn’t have had to step in just now. You wouldn’t have had to walk out last night.

“The kid’s fine, at least,” he continued. “But this… I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. With that mark on his ankle, it’s only going to get more difficult. We’ll have to be careful.”

I looked down at my leg. It was still throbbing, and the angry purple bruise was clear in the dim firelight. Do what on purpose? And were they talking about me? They had to be. Who else would have a mark on their ankle?  I couldn’t imagine what that would have to do with anything. 

“They should have left as soon as you chased off those eggheads.”

“I don’t think that would have helped this time, Techno. Getting them out of here might have slowed down the process, but I saw the mark. This isn’t a case of our rowdy neighbors playing with their food. They were going to pull him into their domain. There’s no going back from that, and we stopped it before it could go any further. He’s floating adrift.”

I latched onto every word they spoke, no matter how little sense it made. They spoke as gravely as one might discuss a funeral. Even Technoblade, who up until now seemed barely capable of much when it came to inflection, spoke with words so heavy it sounded out of place in his voice.

They were talking about me. They had to be. I was somehow adrift, whatever that meant, and it was because of my ankle. I shifted it, pulling it ever so slightly closer to my other leg, and for a moment I could have sworn I saw blood dripping down the walls once more. When I blinked, though, everything looked fine.

Perfectly normal, even.

“Is he going to be able to go back?”

Phil didn’t answer for a moment, and my breath caught in my throat. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, and the breath I was holding came out sharply. “If not, then I have a contingency-”

“Phil.”

“It’s fine, Techno.”

“Are you sure that’s even an option?”

“What, you wanna try?”

Another pause.

“He’s the one who said the pen is mightier than the sword. He sounded more like a politician, Phil. Not to mention he just failed one of my inquiries. It would never work if it were me.”

“Then let’s not argue over this. We’ll both just have to reign it in. I’ll try to convince them to stay another night. By then we’ll know for sure. If we have to take care of him, then we will.”

“What about the kid? Tommy?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure that part out once we’ve sorted out Wilbur.”

“I suppose I could make use of him in my domain if I absolutely had to. Seems bloodthirsty enough.”

“Let’s not talk like that. Keep your chin up, mate. A couple of old souls like us finally have some company out here. Maybe we can ask them about what the world’s been like for the past couple of decades.” 

“Alright. I’m done with the drums for today. How about the two of us make breakfast first, then we check in on those two?”

“Good, ‘cause I’m starving.”

They were coming. I couldn’t hear the footsteps behind the door but they sounded like the conversation was over. I was still eavesdropping right next to the door that they would be walking out of any second. My heart leaped in my chest and I bolted as fast as my injured leg would allow. The crutch tap tap tapped down the hall.

[f1-birb]

Didn’t the even have black fireproofs?? Why both??

they had black fireproofs last year and they've had them during testing, so no idea where the white ones have come from

a possible guess is it's a temperature thing? like black tends to absorb heat whereas white is meant to reflect it more so it usually is a way to keep cooler?

if they're switching back to white? I'm actually gonna be unreasonably annoyed lol

not just because I think the black looks better on the boys, but because it makes more sense??

I don't like the black around the neck, it looks too blocky and out of place, the DP World and Cisco logos stand out too much, the logos with a white background (Castore, Dropbox) look weird on the arm to me because they're not like the Android or McLaren logos which don't come with a background, they keep the white so at least it makes sense on the black, and with the suit being orange and black it's more cohesive

idk it's just my opinion but I'd much prefer the black fireproofs

[fierypen37]

Lord Commander Frog

moodboard @libradoodle1

Lord Commander Frog

The gods hated her. She didn’t know what she had done in her fairly eventful life to offend some vengeful god—her money was on the Great Stallion, the fucker—but this was surely punishment. It wasn’t enough that her scumbag ex was late dropping off their son for the five hundredth time. It wasn’t enough that three and a half-year-old Rhaego had neither nap nor lunch and was thus teetering on the verge of a tantrum. No, now Rhaego’s swim instructor Mya, a woman of sunshine and rainbows that coaxed the truculent Rhaego to actually go under the water for the first time in his life, was off on maternity leave. In her place was some guy named Jon Snow. And he happened to be the most gorgeous man Dany had ever seen.

“What the fuck?” Dany muttered under her breath. The blonde mom in a power suit seated next to her gave her a dirty look. Dany ignored her, her eyes riveted to this walking embodiment of trouble behind the glass. ‘Gorgeous’ was too tame a word. There was some ruggedness that saved Jon’s features from being simply pretty. A couple curved scars, one slicing through his eyebrow and curling around his right eye, the other a diagonal line high on his left cheek. Curly black hair, tied up in a floppy little manbun. A few loose strands clung to his forehead and broad cheekbone. Dany had a weakness for men with long hair—her ex Drogo being a prime example. Pale, flawless skin (save for the scars), mysterious dark eyes, lips that invited sinful thoughts. Right now a stunning, eye-crinkling smile lit his face, strong square hands gently guiding one of Rhaego’s classmates in a lap around the pool. For three weeks she’d been watching this gorgeous asshole with her son and it was starting to drive her nuts.

The faculty wore teal t-shirts with ‘Instructor’ stenciled in blocky white letters on the front and back. The wet fabric stuck to Jon’s torso like a jealous lover, straining to contain his thick arms. Clinging wetly to broad pecs, tight little nipples and a fucking six pack.  A six pack? Really? Dany silently fumed, cursing the vengeful god that hated her, Drogo, Safe Swim School, Jon and everything in between. Parents and caregivers observed class from behind glass to encourage independence in the young swimmers. Rhaego was terrified of the water—no thanks to his deadbeat Dothraki dad. Drogo and his friends had a near-pathological fear of water and swimming. At thirty, Drogo was the completest of landlubbers. But Dany was adamant. Swimming was a life skill—and one that could save Rhaego’s life if he by some accident fell in a pool or the pond at their apartment complex.

Dany held her breath as Jon turned to Rhaego. Her little Rhaego, in his blue swim trunks printed with little yellow sharks. His silver-blond hair in a stubby braid at the base of his neck. A painful rush of love raced through her. Dany ached for shy, gentle, stubborn Rhae to feel strong, confident, happy. She wanted to protect him, even from an overzealous teacher. Jon spread his arms, offering Rhaego the chance to practice kicking in Jon’s arms. Jon’s expression was a perfect amalgamation of friendly and authoritative.

Rhaego jumped into Jon’s arms and kicked with single-minded fury. On the lap back, Rhae met her gaze through the glass, his eyelid slightly askew from the blue goggles he wore. The glowing look of triumph on his round little face warmed Dany all the way down to her toes. Jon looked up too. The smile faltered a little bit before he waved. Dany read his lips: ‘Hi, Mom!’ Jon said, which Rhaego echoed so enthusiastically she could hear the trill of his voice through the glass. Dany wondered at the mixed signals. Living embodiment of temptation he may be to her, but that did not guarantee he was available. No ring, but that didn’t mean he was unattached. Or maybe he’s sick of snooty parents glowering at him from behind the glass. She heaved a sigh. Annoying how much she had obsessed over him.

The room was obnoxiously humid, smelling sharply of pool chemicals. Conversation was a low hum as parents and kids gathered for their next class. In the pool, the kids practiced climbing along the walls and then climbing out. Once out of the pool, they were dismissed to changing rooms behind the door. Rhaego was last in line. Dany swung the swim bag up on her arm, checking her watch. Time enough to pick up some takeout on the way home before their bedtime routine. Dany shuffled in the queue with the other parents, waiting for the older kids to go single-file into the warren of changing rooms. Jon was talking to one of Rhae’s classmates, a pretty little girl with bright auburn hair.

“Do you kids want to see a trick?” Jon said. Fuck me, even his voice is hot. Dany had a thing for accents, and Jon’s rough northern brogue made attraction tingle and sparkle through her nerves.

A chorus of giddy ‘yeses’ answered Jon. Wading toward the edge, Jon jumped. Jumped and landed poised on the balls of his feet on the edge of the pool from waist-deep water. Like a godsdamned professional athlete. Who the fucking hell was Jon Snow? The kids shrieked ecstatically. There was even a smattering of applause from the waiting parents. Jon gave a self-deprecating bow to the delight of his students. The wet black swim trunks did the clingy lover routine, clinging to powerful thighs and the sweetest, roundest arse she had ever seen. Fuck me.

It had been over three years since she’d been with anyone. Her relationship with Drogo was already over when she found out she was pregnant—the cheating asshole. Men—other than her little man Rhae—were more trouble than they were worth. Dany looked forward to a blissfully uncomplicated existence with just her and her son. And then three weeks of staring at Jon fucking Snow made her realize her libido wasn’t fried after all. Hooray for her. Inconvenient lust was all it was, she comforted herself. Dany didn’t even need to talk to Jon Snow if she didn’t want to. It was in the best interest of everyone if she didn’t go to bed with her young son’s devastatingly handsome swim instructor. Right?

Dany hurried to the changing room with Rhaego, only half listening to his mile-a-minute chatter.

“Common, Rhae. You need to practice,” Dany said. Rhae lapsed into Dothraki whenever he was stressed or excited.

“Maaaaaiiii,” Rhae said, drawing out the word in Dothraki to underscore his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Don’t ‘Mai’ me, ser. Common. Now did you like your new teacher?” she asked, squeezing pool water from the tail of his braid with his favorite space ranger towel. Rhaego’s smile displayed perfect pointed white teeth.

“Yeah, he’s silly. He said for us to call him Lord Commander Frog!” Rhaego said in Common, chortling. Cute. Godsdamn it.

“How long is he taking over for Miss Mya?” Dany asked. Rhaego shrugged.

“I dunno. Can we get an ice cream on the way home?” Rhaego asked.

Yanking dry clothes over damp skin with a wiggly toddler was a pain, but they managed. Rhae hopped down and grabbed her hand, towing her out toward the car.

“No ice cream. Dinner. Your dad said you didn’t have lunch.” The heat of the afternoon was a potent as a blow. King’s Landing heat seeped up through the thin soles of her sandals, the humidity closed around her.

“Mrs. Rider?” The same deep voice caressed her. Like phantom perfume in a cartoon. Full of husky notes, rich flavors. Damn it had been too long since she’d been laid. Waxing poetic about his voice, pathetic. Dany hoisted Rhaego into the car and told him to get in the car seat. Only then did she turn with a polite what-do-you-want smile to meet Jon Snow’s watchful gaze. He was still in his wet shirt and swim trunks, with a towel around his neck for form’s sake. Flaunting. He might as well be naked. Dany bit the inside of her lip, furious with herself for imagining him naked. Mm. Naked and gleaming with sweat as he---

“It’s actually Targaryen. Never been Mrs. Rider,” she corrected. While it made custody a headache with the Dothraki dosh khaleen weighing in on parental rights, Dany was still happy she’d never been dumb enough to marry Drogo. On some level, she had known their relationship was a mistake.

“Oh good,” he said.

“Good?” she repeated, frowning.

“Sorry, let me start again Ms. Targaryen--”

“Daenerys,” she corrected again, just to see that brow line deepen. The jokey kid-friendly persona wasn’t his typical personality, then.

“Daenerys,” Jon said, with a tilt of challenge in his chin. A couple seconds ticked by, and when she didn’t interrupt again, he continued.

“Would you like to get dinner with me, sometime?” Jon asked. Of all the things she expected him to say, that hadn’t been it. Her mouth worked, like a dying fish.

“Do you hit on your students’ parents often?” she countered, hefting a comfortable fury. Jon had no doubt made his way through a buffet of lusty divorcees in his tenure. The thought made her so furious the edges of her vision pulsed white. He was unperturbed.

“Never. Ask anyone. I’m not a player type.”

“Then why me?”

A shrug.

“I follow my gut.”

“Something a bit lower, I bet.”

He snorted, grinning. He folded his arms across his chest. Gods, he was beautiful. Each muscle and sinew taut beneath smooth skin. Powerful and confident, like a jungle predator.

“So? Yes or no?” Jon asked with the barest flick of eyebrow.

“Answer me first. Why me?”

Dany braced herself for awkward compliments. She knew she was beautiful. She’d been fending off men sleazier than Jon since she was fourteen.

Jon shrugged again, looking a bit abashed.

“When Rhaego was doing his lap, kicking like his life depended on it . . . that smile you gave him. I uh, I realized I wanted you to smile at me like that.”

Taken aback both by inconvenient lust and an even more inconvenient surge of feeling, Dany scowled.

“Yes.” The word just fell out of its own accord. Chalk it up to temporary insanity or a libido run amok, but here she was. The gods were laughing at her.

“Rhaego’s father is taking him for the weekend after his swimming lesson on Thursday. Does Thursday night work for you?”

“Thursday! It’s a date,” he said, grinning.

They exchanged phone numbers and parted.

“Mai, let’s go! I’m hungry!” Rhae complained as he flopped back onto his car seat. Dany climbed into her small SUV to buckle Rhae in. 

“See you later, buddy!” Jon called.

“Bye bye Lord Commander Frog!” Rhae shouted, waving madly.

A vague disquiet followed her through the drive home, in the drive thru at Rhaego’s favorite chicken place, pigging out on fried chicken and grilled vegetables, during bath and story time. Rhaego was wired after going all day and took a good forty-five minutes to wind down. At last, Dany cuddled him, reading his favorite book about talking trucks. Rhae was getting so big, he hardly tolerated her cuddles anymore. She tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead, smelling the soft perfume of his shampoo.

“Goodnight, little star,” Dany whispered.

“Goodnight, Mai. Love you,” Rhaego slurred, eyelids already fluttering. Dany’s heart seized up and she smoothed the blanket printed with smiling stars over his shoulder. The sound machine cast spangled constellations on the walls, humming a soothing cadence of white noise.  

“Love you too, baby,” she said. A moment grounded her, a moment most parents had, where they plumbed the depth and scope of their love for their child. That their existence was unfathomable without them. 

In their cramped apartment, there were always chores to be done. Fighting a yawn, Dany tossed the swim stuff in the wash, tidied the dishes. Swept up the ever-present crumbs and cat hair. Packed Rhae’s weekend bag. Poured some dry cat food for Drogon. The monstrous black cat twined around her ankles with a polite murrph before crouching over the bowl to feast.

She poured a glass of Dornish red and stared down at her phone. She distracted herself by tapping out a couple emails to her boss, to her clients to schedule photoshoots. Jon Snow’s number loomed in her new contacts. She tapped the number and began composing a message to cancel the whole thing. Her thumb hovered over ‘SEND.’  What was she thinking anyway? Dany was surely just the latest in his conquests, ‘player type’ or no. She damn sure wasn’t looking for a relationship. Could she really manage a friends-with-benefits thing? Especially with Rhae’s swim instructor? So lost in thought, it nearly gave her a heart attack when her phone chirped. The wine glass sloshed. Dany cursed, mopping the drops up with the hem of her ratty t-shirt. A text. From Jon.

Do you like YiTish or Pentoshi?

Dany blinked. Of its own will, her thumb backed out the message she’d written and replied.

Either is fine. I love spice, so YiTish?

A dragon girl, huh? That explains the tattoo 😉  

The three dragons on wing circled her left wrist. Dany traced one wing with a sad smile. A tribute tattoo. Surprising that Jon had noticed in their brief interaction. Damn, Jon was proving to be insightful and flirtatious. Dany took a long draw from her wine, relishing the tart-sweet taste.

With the name Targaryen, it’s not much of a puzzle     

She waited, brow furrowing as the message screen stayed stubbornly the same. No new message. No dancing dots. The comment was meant to be wry, flirty. Was he offended? Dany chewed on her lip, chiding herself for getting all fluttery. Drogo had been the master of mental manipulation. The mellow warmth of the wine in her belly gave a wrenching, sour turn. Nineteen-year-olds should not be allowed to enter into serious relationships without some kind of certificate, she mused. Much less with twenty-seven-year-old Dothraki mechanics. The phone chirped.

I’m actually quite the detective, Ms. Targaryen. You’ll see, then in a separate bubble: I know this great YiTish place on Loom Street

The flirting script dictated that she say she was looking forward to it, eager to spend time together, or more polite chit chat. But Dany had been burned on this road before. Burned so bad she thought she would never recover, surrounded by the ashes and smoke of a ruined life. She steeled her heart against Jon’s forthright enthusiasm. With any luck, they could keep the talk to a minimum between bouts of sweaty sex. An appropriate distance would serve her best, and if it fizzled, too bad, so sad.

See you Thursday, she typed. Gods help her.

Wednesday came and went. Hustling Rhae off to preschool. Cursing the bugs and the heat a thousand different ways as she met her clients in the godswood for photoshoots. Back-to-school shoots with kids scrubbed to a shine and gap-toothed smiles, a few engagement celebrations with love syrupy between the pair, one touching couples session with a pair of men who had been married for forty years this fall.

“That’s great guys. I think we’ll wrap up. We’re losing the light,” Dany said, squinting at the setting sun. That elusive golden hour really was magical. The couple thanked Dany and she promised to get the mockups to them by the end of the next week.

She’d sort of fallen into photography. As a teenager, she’d found a fancy camera in one of Rhaegar’s boxes. Fiddling with it, she found memory cards with Rhaegar’s photographs. Hundreds and hundreds of photographs. Of the beach, the house on Dragonstone where they’d both grown up, candids of her parents, Rhaegar and herself. A million times more precious than the meager life insurance settlement the company had given her, or what was left of her mom’s jewelry. Photographs could speak volumes. It could be art, it could be evidence, it could be the heart of a life. The camera’s eye captured it all. From then on, it was hobby. Then, when she was a penniless single mother, it was a way to put food on the table. She loved it.    

After preschool, Rhae happily chattered on about his friends Colt and Lorrie, and how Miss Alys had loved the picture he drew. Dany listened and exclaimed at appropriate intervals. The picture was great. A ragged red circle shape with about twenty lines off it. Rhae said it was caterpillar-dragon. Rhae crashed his toy cars together while Dany made dinner and then they snuggled on the couch to watch his favorite show about a family of anthropomorphized dogs.

“After swimming tomorrow, you’re going to go home with your dad for the weekend, little star. Won’t that be fun?” Dany said, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. She tried to infuse some enthusiasm into her voice, but from the troubled look on Rhae’s face, she failed.

“I don’t wanna, Mai. I want to stay home with you,” Rhae said, blinking at her with those guileless indigo eyes. Dany’s heart flinched, as if squeezed in a giant fist. If it was any further proof that Drogo was as shitty a dad as he was a partner, this would clinch it. Dany knelt beside Rhae’s beloved racecar bed and smoothed his drying silver hair, smooth as silk between her fingers. The stamp of Drogo’s influence was evident in Rhae’s copper-toned skin and sturdy frame, but his hair and eye color were pure Targaryen.

“It’s your weekend with him, baby. It’s the rules. I can’t break them, no matter how much I want to,” Dany said. Rhae snuffled a little, reaching up for a hug. She squeezed him tight.

“Why don’t you like going to your dad’s, baby? Has something . . . happened?” Already, fury began to churn in her gut. I swear by the old gods and the new, if he’s laid one finger on my son, I’ll—

Rhae shook his head against her chest.

“Daddy don’t like me,” Rhae said, his voice muffled by her shirt. Dany’s heart shattered.

“What do you mean, baby? Did he say so?” she whispered, infusing gentleness and comfort into her voice. No matter what Rhae said, he had to know that she was on his side.

“No. But I know.”

“How?”

“He don’t play with me like you do. Or cut the crusts off my sandmitchs. He plays music really loud. He always has friends over.” Drogo, you fucking scumbag!

“Dad’s house will be different, little star. But I’ll talk to him, baby. We’ll show him how to play Neighbors. And Horsey Stable,” Dany said, striving for lightness. Rhae smiled at that. His favorite pretend games where he got to be the loud, silly neighbor, or the vet who fixed the sick horseys. Dany leaned against the door as she shut it, knees wobbling a little. Should she contest custody? Drogo was a scumbag, but he had given her every impression that he adored his son. They would come face to face at Rhae’s swimming lesson tomorrow. If Dany had her way, Drogo would have a couple scorch marks by the time he left.

Thursday passed in a busy blur. So busy, in fact, she didn’t have time to get nervous as she primped for her date. She dabbed on some makeup, blew her hair out smooth, shimmied into tight black jean shorts and a gauzy white peasant blouse. Beaded sandals and her mother’s silver ring completed the look. Luckily Rhaego took a long nap, so was bright-eyed and brimming with happy energy on the way to swim lessons. Together they sang the ABC song at the top of their lungs seven times in a row before pulling into the car park.

Jon gave a cheery wave as Rhaego took his spot at edge of the pool. Dany’s heart leapt up in her chest, assaulted anew by the beauty of him. The ‘Instructor’ shirt did its clinging lover routine, reacquainting Dany with the godlike perfection of his pecs and abs. Saliva filled her mouth. She watched them practice kicking, paddling with their arms, going under the water. She held her breath along with Rhaego on his turn, almost hearing Jon’s cheer as Rhae surfaced with a beaming smile. The sight of them both smiling did something inside her chest.  

“Moon of my life,” a rough voice said in her ear. His warm breath tickled her ear, smelling strongly of coffee. The happiness collapsed like a bad souffle.

“Ugh,” Dany flinched and swatted at Drogo, lurching to her feet, “don’t call me that!” He wore his customary expression of mocking condescension, white teeth gleaming in a smile. It had been mysterious when she was nineteen. Now it just annoyed her.

“We need to talk. Outside, now,” she said. When he made no move to follow, Dany grabbed a handful of his leather jacket and hauled him toward the door. It was out of concern for the coat and not her that he allowed himself to be towed—being a foot and half taller and several stone heavier.

“What’s the deal? Fuck!” Drogo said, disengaging her claw in the thankfully deserted car park. The clock was ticking though. Any minute, a new influx of families would arrive for their scheduled lesson.

“Rhaego. Your son. That’s the deal. He tells me you’re busy with ‘friends’ lately,” Dany snapped. Drogo shook his long black hair out of his face, folding his thick arms over his chest.

“Oh come on. You’re frothing over something a three-year-old said? It’s no big deal. I had the boys over. Then Rhae comes whining that he can’t sleep. Kid needs to toughen up, if you ask me.”

Dany’s fingernails bit into her palms. Toughen up? Toughen up?

“News flash: no one asked you. No one will ever ask you about Rhaego’s needs or habits, especially me. I didn’t fight you for custody and I damn sure didn’t fight you for child support though we desperately needed it. All I ask, Drogo, is that you pretend to care about our son when he is with you. The barest fucking minimum.”

Fury flashed black in Drogo’s eyes. Some tender inward part of her flinched.

“Gods, you’re such a fucking harridan! Pretend to care? He’s my son!”

Dany made an impatient gesture.

“Then play with him. Talk to him. Cut the fucking crusts off his sandwiches. There’s plenty of time for him to ride motorcycles and fix cars and drink beer with you when he’s older. Now, he needs attention. From you. Got it?”

Drogo rolled his eyes.

“Great Stallion, yes. I get it. Fuck.”

Dany checked her phone.

“Time’s up. I’ll get him dressed and meet you at your car,” she said, hurling Rhae’s backpack in Drogo’s direction.

To his scant credit, Drogo spoke enthusiastically with Rhaego when he emerged from the swim school.

“Hey big man! How about we go get some pizza for dinner?” he said. Rhae’s smile was shy, but so bright it made her heart hurt. Rhae beamed when his dad was nice to him. Dany exchanged a you-better-not-fuck-up look with Drogo. He rolled his eyes, giving her the finger behind Rhaego’s back. Dany exhaled a slow breath. Gods, Drogo infuriated her.

“Daenerys?” Jon’s voice washed over her. That deep northern flavored voice. She turned, finding Jon in his wet swim stuff. He noticed her lingering once-over and grinned.

“Give me ten minutes to get ready. I’ll be right back.”

Dany sighed as she watched that perfect arse as he walked back inside. Yes, the gods hated her.

[salted-caramel-tea]

So since you did it for Maneskin what's your favourite and least favourite dteam fits?

ok so i’m gonna be doing this in a more good-mid-bad format rather than best and worse bc it’s a little harder to judge these guys for their outfits bc most of their appearances are casual appearances and not stage or performance wear . so .

drm

good - the most recent pictures from his instagram about his tour idk if this is a tour outfit or what but this is a very well styled outfit . the colours are cohesive from head to toe the silhouette is loose and gives that trendy oversized almost modern grunge like feel with the red and black as well which suits him more than i expected it to tbh . huge fan of the cargo/parachute pants my only qualm is i’d go a bit heavier with accessories but i think this is super flattering

mid- streamys we all know this oen i’ve talked about it in depth this has rlly good potential to be a great outfit but the layering just felt really blocky to me it wasn’t the most flattering shape for him there was a lot of club lines around the neck area which was a little distracting could be improved by removing the hood i believe . and tucking in the shirt .

bad - the fucking la velada brown hoodie blazer combo deluxe whatever the fuck . i don’t like thin materials made into hoods or trying to replicate the effect of a hoodie to me personally it looks rather cheap despite the fact this garment costs an arm and a leg . it could also be tailored better for dream the proportions just seem off

ok gerog

good- streamer awards . y’all knew it was coming this is such a perfect outfit again it’s styled phenomenally. skipping the option of a tie or bow tie was genuinely the best option for geirge opening up those top buttons giving the area more volume more texture opening it up so you can see and appreciate the accessories with the chain and the tailoring on this outfit is incredible the fit is perfect it is so incredibly flattering on him no notes

mid - la velada . this wasn’t a bad outfit per day but like dreams streamy awards outfit it just felt too boxy . like there was layering going on but it wasn’t giving the desired effect for that kind of mix of textures keeping the shirt closed and untucked was just a little to much of. a straight silhouette for me

bad- this is just twitchcon he doesn’t dress up much so i picked this bc it’s still an outfit he wore to a major event and none of the colours r coordinated or look cohesive in the slightest but like it was a stretch to find something that fit my criteria of not casual instances

sappy

good - again i picked steamer awards i like this bc it keeps a lot of sapnap’s personality w the cap as his main accessory i love that and i think the all balck was a good choice for him i definitely think it’d be more flattering that a white shirt this is a good look for him my only qualm is that i wish it was tailored a little better but he looks fantastic

mid - again la velada i love this prada shirt it’s super interesting it’s just his kind of style but to me it just felt like there wa something missing maybe it’s the kind of thing i’d personally style as an over shirt maybe it needed to be like a half tuck situation unbutton the top button idk more texture was needed it was a little flat to me

bad - again this is just a casual photo it was a bit of a stretch for the criteria but i’m peroablly not a fan of the high neck sweater with basketball shorts it seems like it’s mixing two very different vibes i know the anime print is acting as the tie in from kind of smart casual of high necks to the leisure casual of the basketball shorts but it’s not two vibes that i would probably try to bring together . idk this just seems like more of a wide leg jeans sweater to me than basketball shorts .

[stories-from-the-shaded-moon]

Piercing Light

Part 3 of my Super Smash Bros Fic!

It luminated a beautiful blue. It’s tip ridged and segmented. The head seemed to be wrapped around the arrow’s shaft like it wasn’t meant to be there in the first place. Kokiri could feel the energy radiating off of Arrow’s source of his Final Smash. Though, it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as Sonic’s emeralds.

Kokiri hummed, his eyes transfixed on, what Arrow called, an ancient arrow. Though, Kokiri could tell that it had Sheikah written all over it.

“Yeah, there’s like, an invisible barrier around all stages,” Outset talked steady and sort of in a whispered tone. “Which is why you blacked out. You hit the barrier and then respawned at the top of the stage. That was you losing a stock.”

“A…stock?” Kokiri silently laughed as Outset’s right eye twitched. For having a little sister, he sure was impatient.

“It’s like a…life. Like,” Outset tapped his chin and looked to the ceiling. “it’s like a heart! You have, or had, those, right?”

“The tattoos? On my arm?” Arrow rolled up his sleeve, but there were no tattoos. “They’ve faded but-“

“Yes!” Outset jumped up. “Crossing the barrier is like falling into lava!” Arrow winced. “You lose a heart, or stock, but then you come back!”

Arrow rubbed the back of his neck. “So, that thing over there,” Arrow pointed to what had to be a man, though his form was so blocky that he looked like stacked boxes. “Took my heart?”

“That’s Steve,” Kokiri cut in. He was a new person, but he had come over earlier asking about Arrow’s arrow. Steve said that the blue looked like an “Arrow of Swiftness” and Kokiri wondered how the hell getting shot can make someone quicker. “Even if you don’t know what they are, describing is better than pointing or calling someone an it.”

“Wait,” Outset’s expression grew surprised. “You fought that guy?” Arrow nodded. Kokiri could practically see stars in Outset’s eyes. “What was he like? What could he do?”

Arrow rubbed the nape of his neck. “He did this thing a lot where he’d take a pickaxe to the ground and get items. Which was weird because we were on pink clouds. But then he made stuff with it. One thing was like…a blue sword. It was definitely his strongest weapon.”

Kokiri watched as the look of woah set on Outset’s face as Arrow continued to talk. That was when a light buzz sounded in his head.

He reached behind him and unhooked it. He peered into his hollowed out eyes, the buzz growing in volume. “Yes?”

“Hello.”

“What did you need?”

“You haven’t even thought of using me for a while now, is all.”

Kokiri’s lips pressed into a thin line. He looked around. Arrow and Outset were sharing abilities that their opponents had. The Captain looked to be having a crisis while his arms waved around in the air, a way the Captain expressed himself. A habit that he was pretty sure Ordon learned from him.

Everyone was talking to someone.

Kokiri opened his mouth, but it was then that his hand began to sting. Kokiri hummed and met Outset’s eyes.

“If they brought Ordon’s Ganondork back, I’m fighting god.” Outset sneered. Kokiri chuckled and felt the hum of a much deeper laugh vibrate in his head.

Ordon’s Ganondorf was one pretentious asshole, but then again, so was…his. Kokiri watched him walk in alongside another man.

Kokiri didn’t like how close that other man looked to the thirty year old him. The man was just a bit more muscully than he was around the arms. But Kokiri knew his pectorals were unmatched. At least, that’s what Malon said.

Malon…Kokiri could feel himself go lightheaded with his smile before he quickly shook it off.

Ike, his red cape flowing softly behind him, was the first to approach the new opponent. “Ike.” His voice was stern as he reached his hand out.

The man nodded curtly, holding the brim of his hat. He had it in the front instead of the side like Ness did. “Terry. It’s my pleasure.” He shook Ike’s hand and looked over towards Ganondorf, who hadn’t left the man’s side yet. Ganondorf shrugged, eyeing the next person to come up to the newcomer.

If his eyes weren’t so keen, maybe he wouldn’t see the look of embarrassment on Ganondorf’s face.

Part of Kokiri’s soul healed right then and there, he was sure.

Had Terry beaten him? Kokiri found himself chuckling. “Goddesses, how many more are coming?” Outset blurted.

“Only the goddesses know, I suppose.” Kokiri shrugged.

“What if it’s like with the Captain?”

Kokiri’s eyebrows furrowed. “What with Falcon?”

“No! The war, Kokiri, the war!”

Kokiri peered down at the mask in his hands, memories of blood and madness staining his vision. The Captain, a Link just like him.

Dread began to set in.

What if Outset was right? What if whatever gods hosted this had another problem, but this one was bigger, which is why there were so many people here.

And just as if he had summoned it, a massive door opened to the far side of the room. Silence rang through the room.

Kokiri stood up. Outside that door, it was just a small piece of land and then a cliff.

Kokiri made eye contact with Outset, then turned and met eyes with the Captain, then Snake’s.

But it wasn’t them who stepped up first. It was Fox McCloud. Soon enough, everyone followed.

He stood at the edge, looking down at the water below. Reflected in the water, were more Master Hands and Crazy Hands than he could possibly begin to count.

At the forefront of it all, at the tip of the cliff, stoof Fox, his gun aimed to the sky. “Don’t let a single one get away!”

Kokiri’s head began to spin and his heart began to beat rapidly. He looked around. Arrow was right behind Fox, a Zelda he didn’t know to Arrow’s right, and…he couldn’t see Outset.

Kokiri looked up, shielding his eyes from the unforgiving light. It was like a sun surrounded by moving rainbow gears. He gulped.

Here we go again.

“We’ll each need to take down about ten.” Marth’s voice was easily recognizable. Now Kokiri was wishing that Marth was scolding him about children like Roy implied he would.

“Stow your fear,” Zelda’s words sounded like orders. “It’s now or never!”

“We’ll win this!” The voice of Pit echoing across the cliffside. “I know we will!”

This was never finished so quickly. Pit had to know that. He was a veteran after all…

Kokiri shook his thoughts away and readied his fire arrows. There was a Master Hand close enough for him to…

The glove began to peel away, revealing blue light. The light then poured themselves into the sun encircled by rainbow wings. “What the…” he couldn’t stop his thought from dripping from his lips.

That was when he saw Shulk turn to the group behind him. He had wide eyes, his mouth agape.

That was when it all disappeared, leaving a black hole, the clouds around it swirling as if it were a vortex. The clouds turned red.

Aw shit.

Out of the black hole shot light. Light brighter than any sun or moon he’s ever seen.

It was a full frontal assault! Kokiri, no, Link, put his bow and arrows away and prepared his shield.

He turned to gage the rest of everyone’s weapons. Who could he work with?

With a ting, Kokiri’s attention was taken by Arrow. His Hylian shield deflected the light, but even as he tried to swing at it, his blade did nothing. It was the sword that seals the darkness, not one able to destroy light.

With one more bash to his shield, Arrow was defenseless for only a second before the light consumed him, leaving nothing behind. Not even ash.

Kokiri heard himself scream, but he couldn’t feel it. Why were his legs shaking? He knew something like this would happen! Arrow couldn’t actually be dead! He was-

“Focus Link!” The growl echoed in his head like a shout in a cave.

Samus went next, her lasers and guns doing nothing to deter the light. Then Zelda and Mewtwo, their protection magic doing nothing to stop their disappearing.

Sonic couldn’t run faster than the light. Turning into a bat didn’t save Bayonetta. Captain Falcon didn’t even have time to start the Blue Falcon.

Kokiri grit his teeth, his head suffering from a raging headache.

“Either gather yourself or let me!”

He felt like a kid again. Scared, shaken, useless. This was what it was like. This was what it was like to be a child.

Kokiri’s eyes widened as a beam of light came to him. He screamed at it. He didn’t even realize the mask was on his face until he was blinded by pain.

Then he was watching through his eyes. Well, his eyes.

He didn’t have the Biggoron sword, he kept his double helix sword. But what he did have, was the mirror shield.

The deity deflected the light with much more ease than Arrow. After that, he took off. Fierce looked up and saw Pit and his dark counterpart trying to fly away, but suddenly they couldn’t, signaling that their goddess had fallen. The light consumed them too. Then it took a sharp turn towards him, his shield deflecting the two beams.

Inklings, Fierce knew, splattered what had to be paint onto the hard rock and melted into it only for the light to destroy the ground they were housed in.

It destroyed Fierce’s path thoroughly, leading him to sneer.

Soon enough, Fierce was the last one standing. Falco’s attempt at escaping by jet failed. Snake’s attempt at boxing failed too. All others fell. All except one, a small pink blob who disappeared on top of a star.

That being said. The light had no other targets but him.

The mirror shield was cracking. With every swing, nothing happened. No slowing down, no pain to the light.

The War God had already lost the battle, and he was foolish to think he’d win the duel.

The shield shattered and, for only a second, Fierce felt a needle pierce his chest.

“I’m sorry Link.”

Kokiri wished that it didn’t feel like he was being incinerated into ashes.

[frankensteinshimbo]

The Old Machine

For @flashfictionfridayofficial's Flash Fiction Friday. The prompt was:

[#FFF218 How Do You Use 'It'?] This wonderful prompt has been brought to you by the one and only @potaeto-writes, thank you very much! What is 'it'? Why does someone not know how to use it? You better read that booklet with its fine-print! Whether your character tries to get the washing machine going for the first time or your scientist has created a rather complicated time-machine: We want to know how it's used! Write your story and tell us.

A fun fact: I work with kids and had them decide what the machine should be called based on their best guesses.

“How do you use it?”

Price’s breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck.

“I don’t know.”

Ansley “Lee” Robinson scraped a soft layer of dust off of the top of the faded exterior of the machine with her palm. 

What was once an enameled seagreen had become the mottled color of chicken starting to mold, but now she could see tiny glimmers of her own reflection staring out of fingerprints. It was an old bulwark. It might’ve been the green-gray of a whale’s back cresting the surface of the ocean. She held the boxy shape in her hands, shifting the sharp edges, so they wouldn’t dig into her. It looked like a large flat box with a smaller longer box on top, sort of like the beat-up red plastic cash register at school. Instead of numbers, it had a raised circular keyboard. Each key was about as big as a thumbnail. 

“It’s one of those story typing machines,” Lee stated with the confidence of a tenured professor. 

“Like from an old movie,” Price swanned towards what would’ve been a graceful landing on a stack of boxes had her grandma’s chunky red heels not caught the edge of the suitcase a pace to the right and knocked his butt right onto it, like a sack of dirty clothes on laundry day.

“Yeah, I guess,” she continued without looking up at Price’s usual antics.  

Her own eye gleamed back at her, distorted in the streaky surface. She looked a second longer, then blew.

A wave of gray murk flew off or fell in clumps to the concrete floor. The ancient dust raised a fit of hacking, doubling her and Price over. The machine slipped in her hands. Quickly, she fumbled for the blocky shape with her small arms. With a horrible ringing and clattering from the machine, she gained purchase by jamming it into the soft spot just below her diaphragm. 

“Lee! Y’all better not be in that damn storage closet!”

She and Price shared a single look and a fleet-footed departure. Him on bare feet, her with the typing machine under her hoodie. 

She traded Price his abandoned socks the next day for his pack of new gel pens.

They sat on the playground bench, getting flecked with glittery pink, orange, green as they cracked the ink reservoirs open to dump them into a little plastic bottle they’d found near the slides. It looked like it’d held bubble liquid once. Now it had a concoction that was slowly turning a nauseous black. 

Price pranced on his sneakers’ tiptoes as he practiced staggering around in front of the bench Lee was sitting on. 

“You have to bring whatever you write on it to school, okay? I got those pens for my birthday.”

“It’s not like I’m using all of them,” Lee grumbled, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she wanted Price to be there.

“Yeah, but they’re still mine, so I get the first page.” Price teetered on a toe for a moment before he sank into the bench beside her. “I’m gonna put it in a frame next to my bed in the new apartment.”

Like the aftermath of a stone splashing into a pond, the two fell silent.   

 Her great grandparents had lived in her house prior to her grandparents who had lived there prior to her dad; she had always thought that she would live there as well. But Dad was always going on about the neighborhood being sold off to the city so white land developers could push into the block with new condos. Old Miss Mattie - who’d planted crepe myrtle trees down the block and knocked on their door every month or so to remind them about the neighborhood potluck had stopped coming ‘round. Dad had said she’d had to move. Then he sighed in that world weary way and shook his head. That had been when the stone had started to sink Lee’s stomach, then, that something that had been so assured for most of her life could be taken without her ever having realized it’d gone missing. 

Using the borrowed time between Dad’s room door closing and the onset of drowsiness in her body, Lee dragged the typing machine out from under her bed. Setting the glass of water on her nightstand on the floor, she hefted the thing into the empty center. It didn’t take long to fish the improvised ink bottle out of her backpack, but it did take her the better part of that hour and several Google searches to find the name of the thing.

“Typewriter. I knew that,” she mumbled as she popped the letters ‘how to use a typewriter’ into YouTube on virtual keys. The blue-green behemoth stood perfectly still beside her. She almost felt as though it were waiting. Waiting as she stumbled through finding out it already had a loaded ink ribbon, cramming in a sheaf of notebook paper borrowed from today's math notes, and marveling that the typewriter had sat there all those years patiently waiting to be used. 

The carriage moved as if oiled to click into place. A minute passed in silence, but nothing stirred except for the hum of cold air being spit out of the AC. She laid her hands on the keys. 

“Springhill was never”’ she began to write, then opened Google on her phone beside her. She puzzled out different variations of

jentrefid

jentrifyed

jentreefied

 until ‘did you mean?’ spat back out the correct input.

‘Gentrified.’

Under the painstaking guesswork of another fifteen minutes, she wrote:

“Miss Mattie never moved away and Price will not move because the city ran out of money paying lawyers. When we’re together, they can’t defeat us. We will live here and so will our children.”

When she set out for school the next morning Old Ms. Mattie waved at her from across the street.

[grimm-tales-gamer]

Fallen Hero: Sidestep 2

Wow, I didn’t expect people to be interested in my 20 fallen hero OCs! Here is number 2!

Name: Daniel Ward

Gender: male he/him

Villain name: Anathema

Villainous Role: anarchist

Motivation: justice

Scar: suicide

Reason for gala: money

Where is he now: hanging out with Chen aka dog dad.. with two broken legs.

   Daniel is one of my sidesteps who looks put together on the outside but oh boy. He isn’t (I swear I have sidesteps with most of their crap together, we’ll get to them). He doesn’t kill (ever), saves people, embezzles the rich for money, and more. However, he is much more willing to break bones and give concussions than my previous sidestep. What’s funny is that as I was fleshing Daniel’s character out I realized: oh god, he’s kind of like Batman.

  I mean it. He doesn’t kill because he knows in his heart that he wouldn’t stop killing. I’m not saying he’d turn I to a joker type; but getting rid of corrupt politicians, bad heroes, and so on is a lot easier when you just break their necks rather than ruin their reputation with scandals and proof of crime. Which is a kind of Batman way of looking at it.. if I remember the red hood movie right.

   Daniel’s scar gives him a sort of inevitability to his cause. As a testament to Malin’s writing, Daniel’s inner thoughts from Retribution say it better than I ever could. He knows he can never stop fighting. Even if Daniel finishes his original goal of stopping the farm and whatever else is coming there is still more to fight. He realizes he’ll have to be stopped by someone. So he begins to endure himself to Chen to see if he’d be willing to stop Daniel.

   Also around this time is when Daniel realizes Chen totally knows who he is, and after they kiss for the first time, begs Daniel to stop; but they both know that won’t happen (Malin why are you so good at this stuff). Eventually they fall for each other, Daniel may have even told Chen straight up he is Anathema but then the meeting with Hollowground sort of messed that up. If the prologue is anything to go by, Chen just knows, they just need to sit down and talk about it.

Well that was cheery. How about some fun facts?:

He’s had a crush on Julia for years and finally admitted to being in love with her in the hospital at the end of Retribution.. so uh, that’s a conversation they (Daniel, Chen, and Julia) need to have soon. Daniel is *so* looking forward to it.

Daniel has an addiction to caffeine. Coffee, soda, energy drinks, doesn’t really matter where it comes from. But, he prefers coffee. Daniel REALLY likes Turkish coffee.

Daniel actually really likes Argent (platonically) and has an 80+ relationship with her as the villain. He also trusted her with the regenerator.

Daniel regularly rolls and tries to stretch his right shoulder on the account of it always hurting after the heartbreak fall.

He chose his villain name so that Anathema would never be forgotten. At least to himself.

Daniel, in my head-canon, is the best fighter among my sidesteps.

Well how about stats and appearance now? Also armor stuff, I can’t believe I forgot about that in my last post.

Daniel doesn’t have a preference between anonymity and arrogance. Literally ended Retribution with 50/50. Daniel is empathetic at about 80%. As some of you might have imagined, Daniel is daring at about 95%! Daniel prefers his subtle manipulation over his sheer power of mind, his subtlety being around 78.

Armor:

Type: practical, no cape. Simple, no frills, kind of blocky around vital areas and flat areas like shins and forearms but sleek like a body suit everywhere else. Helmet is simple, almost like a military helmet and gas mask combo. Colors are a bit more complex: black with red accents. Usually the red follows joints/bones throughout the body.

Add ons: speed and strength

Extra: I always imagined Daniel duel wielding martial arts batons while in armor.

Daniel’s appearance:

Race: black

Height: tall, I imagine 6.5ft (about 2m)

Hair: coiled and black. Short and styled, kind of a crew cut, shaved on sides and back with a little on top. With a well trimmed beard. Though they both might get a little wild while Daniel waits for his legs to recover.

Eyes: brown

Style: nondescript military surplus. Simple, affordable, doesn’t stick out, and it lasts forever. He also regularly wears sunglasses, aviators of course.