#the black design makes them stand out especially much...

[ellewritesx]

liquid assets

(part five of the sugar, baby series)

Summary: You left the boxes, but you never really leave.

Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, mentions of past sex, Harry's drunk, this isn't very smutty, sorry if that's what you're here for!

A/N: music has helped me tremendously while writing this part, especially ''the archer'' by taylor swift, which captures harry's inner turmoil perfectly, while ''my tears ricochet'' (also by taylor) represents y/n to a tee. both are a must-listen while reading this imo, i couldn't recommend it more!!! i hope you like it lovelies x

Word Count: 3,134

...

The city is still asleep when Harry stumbles out of the sleek black cab, the sky above him bleeding into a pale gray with the promise of morning and soul-crushing melancholy. The street lights flicker in sync with the pounding in his head, and his boots echo hollowly against the pavement as he makes his way toward his building.

He hadn't meant to stay out all night. Or drink that much. But lately, nothing felt intentional. Everything was senseless. Aimless. He hasn't slept in his bed since you left, not really, just collapsed onto the couch when the liquor dulled his mind enough to let him.

This morning, though, the ache is louder than usual. Maybe because the night before, he dreamt of you. Of your laugh. Your lips parting for him. The heat of your mouth. Your hands pulling him closer. Of the way you had looked at him when he'd told you to leave.

He nearly trips over the boxes on his doorstep.

At first he thinks they're deliveries. Something from his stylist, maybe, another line of designer clothes he won't wear. But then he sees the writing on the labels. You always write your ones with a little line at the bottom. Just weeks ago he'd jokingly called it pretentious and kissed your shoulder. Now, he just stared.

Two large boxes. One smaller. Taped shut, but not tightly. Like you couldn't care enough to secure them properly. Or like you couldn't bear to really seal them closed.

He stands there for a full minute, the back of his neck prickling with the sick, sinking understanding of what this means. You weren't just pulling away from him. This wasn't a temporary rough patch. You were returning everything. This was goodbye.

The elevator ride is unbearable. The boxes sit at his feet like the materialization of his guilt, heavy and silent. He drops his keys twice fumbling to get the door open, and when he finally does, he bumps the door open with his hips, carrying the boxes in, the weight similar to the one he's been carrying on his shoulders.

He drops the keys in the bowl, lets his coat slip from his shoulders, and shoves the largest box onto the floor in front of the coffee table. He sits down on the rug and starts cutting through the tape.

Perfume is the first thing that hits him. Your scent. Sweet and warm, a little citrusy. It blooms from the open cardboard like a ghost.

The top layer is fabric: folded, neatly arranged. A black silk nightgown he'd bought you at a boutique in Paris when you'd joked about needing something ''ridiculously fancy'' to sleep in. You wore it that night in the hotel, standing barefoot on the balcony while he held you from behind and the Eiffel Tower glittered before you, so close you giddily told him ''It's like I can touch it, Harry!''

Days before, when he'd first seen the excitement on your face at the prospect of going to Paris and seeing the Eiffel Tower sparkle, he had made some calls, voice hushed so as not to spoil the surprise, securing you two the hotel with the best view.

He remembers watching you and thinking he'd never seen anything so painfully beautiful, the golden lights reflecting in your eyes. You had no idea how much it wrecked him, how much he would sacrifice to just stay in that moment forever. He lifts the fabric to his nose and nearly flinches. It still smells like the expensive red wine you'd spilled on it when he had impulsively pressed your back against the balcony railing and kissed you, making you smile against his lips.

He puts the dress down like it can rid him of the reminiscence.

Next is a pair of Louboutins. Red soles barely scuffed. You'd worn them on his birthday, matching the red lipstick that would leave imprints on his skin when you worshipped him just hours later.

You'd complained for days leading up to it, insisting on throwing him a party. ''It's your birthday, Harry. You deserve to be celebrated,'' you'd said adamantly, wrapping your arms around his neck, a pout on your lips. He told you he wasn't ''a party person''. He didn't have the heart to tell you nobody would've showed up.

He swallows and sets the heels aside, gently, fragile like the memory of you in them. He works through the rest with methodical silence. Each item slices him open a little more.

The floral sundress he'd brought home after he saw you eyeing something similar in a magazine. You laughed when he surprised you with it and teased him relentlessly about ''knowing trends now.'' Which he didn't. He had asked his stylist for advice.

The bottle of your favorite perfume is on the bottom of the box, half-empty. He turns it over in his hand and stares at the gold label. He remembers sitting in a shop with you for over an hour while you sniffed sample after sample and asked for his opinion repeatedly, only to go back to the first one you'd tried. ''You like it, right?'' you'd asked, a little shy. He had, and he told you so. Now, the scent clings to everything in the box. His chest feels tight.

Then come the little things. A silk eye mask he got you for the flight to Tokyo. A tiny tub of lip balm in that ridiculous flavor you always used. Marshmallow. He always hungrily watched you dragging it across your lips, then leaning in and asking, "Wanna taste?" like you didn't already know the answer. He swears he can still taste your lips, even after all these days without your kisses.

His hoodie, one he didn't even realize was missing. He reaches out and curls the fabric in his fingers. You used to sleep in it when he was away. Once, he caught you wearing it with nothing underneath, strutting into the kitchen, legs bare, hair messy, eyes soft with sleep. It undid him. He'd fucked you until the sunset that day.

And then, in the smallest box, wrapped in tissue like you'd been afraid he'd shatter it like he did your heart: the necklace.

It was simple. A fine gold chain with a tiny charm, an enamel daisy. You'd told him one night daisies were your favorite because they always looked happy and reminded you of simpler times. ''Everything changes. Daisies don't. They're the same ones I used to pluck as a kid. It's like a time capsule,'' you'd whispered, absentmindedly drawing the flowers on his bare chest with your fingers.

It stuck with him. He found the charm a few weeks later in a shop in Notting Hill and had it made into a necklace. He didn't give it to you on a special occasion. No grand gesture. Just left it on your pillow with a note that said ''My daisy''. You wore it every day.

He holds it now like it might burn him. You gave this back. You gave this back. His gift to you.

Harry feels his throat close. He stands abruptly, needing air, needing to escape, and forces his feet to move to the kitchen. The overhead light is too bright, worsening his hangover, so he snaps it off and leans against the counter in the dimness, still holding the necklace. It feels so small in his hand. Useless. Pretty and pointless.

He should have known. Should've known from the moment he pulled back when you hugged him that night that it would come to this. But he thought, selfishly, naively, that maybe you'd keep the things he gave you. That maybe they had meant something.

That maybe he had meant something.

Apparently, not enough.

He wanders back into the living room. The boxes stare at him. The scent of you, faint and persistent, clung to the air, to his clothes, to his goddamn skin. It was like you were everywhere and nowhere at once. His apartment hadn't changed, but it felt hollow now. Like you'd taken something with you when you left that he couldn't name.

He sinks down onto the edge of the couch and lets the necklace dangle from his fingers. It spins gently, catching light from the streetlamp outside. He doesn't cry. Just lets the silence pile up in the room like snow, cold and heavy. The kind that buries things.

You returned everything.

But the cruelest part, the part he couldn't just box up and send away, is that his apartment still smells like you. Still looks like you'd just been there. Like you never left in the first place.

It hits him strongest in the bedroom, where the air is thick with warmth and ghosted memories. Even after opening every window, even after lighting a cigarette just to drown it out with something acrid and biting, it clings to him. Your perfume, like flowers pressed into the pages of a book, has settled into his sheets, the curtains, the collar of the hoodie he instinctively pulled over his head this morning, only to realize halfway through the sleeves that it's the one you wore to brunch a few days ago. Your scent is stitched into the seams now.

He moves through the space like a man haunted. Maybe he is. Maybe that's what you get when you open yourself to someone just enough to let them settle into the cracks.

The shower still holds your shampoo. A tall bottle with a pearly label and one of those unnecessarily complex French names you'd once made him pronounce, laughing when he butchered it. He'd picked up the pronunciation eventually, just to see you smile when he got it right. Now it stands like a monument in the corner of the tiled stall, half-full and untouched since the last time you used it. He should throw it away. It doesn't make sense to keep it. When he tried, his hand lingered over the bottle, then dropped to his side again.

On the floor next to his bed is one of your hair ties. Black, thin, stretched nearly to its breaking point. He'd found another one wrapped around the knob of the closet door. Another tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. You were always losing them. Now he has a dozen, and not a single one matters.

In the living room, there's a single flower in a glass vase on the table by the window. He bought it on impulse. He'd seen it in a florist's window on the way home from an exhausting meeting and stepped inside before he could think twice, it was the last one. He'd watched her light up when she saw it, throwing her arms around him and accusing him of being soft, a romantic. He'd vehemently denied it, obviously. Helianthus. You'd taught him that word, too.

''Just call them sunflowers, baby,'' he'd said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. ''They're majestic, Harry. Helianthus suits them better,'' you'd argued passionately, face drop-dead serious, which only made his amusement grow. But he never referred to them as ''just sunflowers'' again.

The petals have started to curl in on themselves. Losing their brightness. He can't bring himself throw it out.

Your toothbrush is missing from the holder. The space where it used to sit is stark and empty. Your favorite mug is gone, the one with the cracked handle and a faded design of a dancing avocado. You must've taken it while he was at work.

The throw blanket is still draped over the couch from your last movie night. He drops into the cushions and buries his face in it, just for a second. Maybe longer than a second. Maybe long enough to feel pathetic and wallow in self-pity. Maybe long enough to remember how you looked wrapped up in it, curled into his side with your bare legs tangled in his lap and your voice low and sleepy.

There's a forgotten earring on the nightstand. A small hoop, nothing flashy, but he remembers watching you put them on in the mirror, remembers unhooking them with careful fingers before he laid you on the pillows. He doesn't know what to do with it.

His throat tightens with something sharp and sour. It's not just that you're gone. It's how thoroughly you were here.

You made this space feel like a home, like something more than walls and furniture and soft-close drawers. He let you in without meaning to, and now that you're out, he can't scrub you from the corners.

His phone buzzes on the table. He glances over, more out of instinct than anything else. Maybe delusional hope. Just a work notification. He throws it face-down and leans back into the couch.

He knows he should stop checking his phone. Knows you won't text, not first. Maybe not at all. But he can't help it.

Even silence feels loud now. It echoes. And in that silence, he hears you, your laughter bouncing off the walls, your bare feet padding across the floor in the morning, the sleepy hums you make when you stretch. The way you whispered his name sometimes, like it was a secret. Like you were afraid of breaking it.

He drags a hand through his hair. The strands are still damp from the light drizzle outside, and he catches a faint whiff of your shampoo again. Fuck.

He's not used to missing people. He doesn't make a habit of letting them stay long enough to be missed.

The couch dips under his weight as he sinks deeper into it. He drags a hand down his face, eyes gritty from the lack of sleep and too much thinking. He hasn't been out of his head in days. He's always done this. He shuts down, shuts out.

He's used to earning love by being quiet. That was the unspoken rule growing up. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't cry unless you're bleeding. Don't ask for anything unless you're prepared to owe something in return. There was always a weight to every act of kindness in his childhood home, like affection came with a receipt. He learned early to stop wanting what he couldn't afford.

He remembers once, he must've been around nine or ten, when he'd won some regional spelling competition. For some reason, it was a big deal where he lived. The children winning those were referred to as ''the bright ones''. Their parents always seemed so proud, he'd seen their families hollering and cheering them on. He'd figured that if he won, maybe his family would be proud of him, too.

Every day leading up to the competition, he spent hours on end in the library, reading the dictionary and quizzing himself on words like ''fiduciary'' and ''eudaemonic'', which was way above the reading level of a nine-year-old, but he liked to be prepared. He always has.

And he'd won, impressing students and teachers alike, but he hadn't cared about any of them. He ran home, clutching the shiny laminated certificate with shaky fingers, beaming. His mum looked up from her laptop just long enough to say, "Put it on the fridge, if you want."

No one came to the ceremony. That was the last time he brought something home hoping to be praised for it.

He's always lived in transactions. Give this, get that. Be good, be useful, be what they want, and maybe you'll be wanted too.

He doesn't think about those years often, it's easier not to. The past feels like something heavy in the water, always threatening to drag him under if he swims too close. But now, alone in the apartment with the ghost of you, it all comes rushing back. The empty dinner table. The silence that rang louder than any argument. The way he used stay awake at night dreaming of growing up just so he could finally be in control of his own life.

He'd told you from the beginning; nothing was yours to keep. Every dress, every dinner, every luxury, bought by him, belonging to him. He built the arrangement around ownership. Around control.

He's turned into his parents. He's replicating the patterns that once hurt him, and calling it safety. Because if everything is defined, then nothing can be taken without warning.

You'll never be left disappointed, suffocating in the aching emptiness where something you once called yours used to be.

He slumps back into the couch, fingers pressed to his temples. And for a brief, unguarded second, he considers going to your apartment and dropping to his knees and confessing his feelings, even though he's not sure what they are exactly. But then it leaks in again.

The thing he still carries, this quiet, aching fear that love only stretches so far before it snaps.

When he got sick as a kid, he used to fake being better faster than he was. He didn't like how it made his mum sigh, how she'd move around the house more angrily when he was home from school. He'd lay there, feverish and aching, but tell her he felt fine, insisting on going to school with a tight-lipped smile. He didn't want to be a burden. Didn't want to be more than she could handle.

There were no bedtime stories. No tucking in. No gentle hands brushing hair off his forehead. Instead, there were closed doors and flickering hallway lights, his own small fingers tracing shapes into the walls, waiting for silence to settle enough that he could sleep. Love, in his house, was a presence you had to earn. It had to be invited in, performed for, clung to. Maybe that's why now, even grown, he keeps things transactional. It's what he knows. It's what he can control.

He reaches for his phone to shake off the feeling, his thumbs hovering above the screen. There's so much he wants to say to you. ''I'm sorry.'' ''I miss you.'' ''Please forgive me.''

For a moment, he thinks about deleting your number. Blocking it. Pretending none of this happened.

But the truth is, it did. And it's eating him alive, consuming his every waking thought, and, as of last night, his dreams. He stares down at his phone for a long time before he types. Are we done?

There's a long pause. Long enough for him to regret sending it, for his heart to drop to his stomach and his hand to wander toward the half-empty vodka bottle still on the coffee table.

But then your reply blinks onto the screen. Were we anything to begin with?

It knocks the breath out of him. If whatever the two of you were is already broken, what's left to protect?

What's left to lose?

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

sugar, baby series tag list

@indierockgirrl @prettygurl-2009 @cherryflavoredbyme @dipmeinhoneyh @haliastyless @drewrry @maddiesalvatore1839 @robinsue87 @zoraaasyd @sincerely-yours-marsbar @m0mmyfromtarget @maudie-duan @hoolabalooba @hisparentsgallerryy @txmhxllqnd @harringtonhundreds @freddyselmstreet @caynonmoondreams @matildasatellite @ilovezaynmalik08 @looney-goose @call1800coochie @nostalgiainmybones @billweasleyswife

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc

...

[shiny-jr]

Hi!🇮🇳 I love your writings especially the damnation series

I was thinking about a 'Dungeon concept' where reader is a traveler/adventurer and encounter different beasts and monsters(twst boys) who want to keep reader with them.

The dungeon can have several levels with different environments and it can offer a vast area for writing. Reader explores these levels to reveal deeper parts of the twisted dungeon.

Basically a twst monster au!!

Warning: Yes, another yandere thing. Mentions of violence and blood. You have been warned.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts.

Note: What? Shiny actually writing for a request? Shocker. It can happen! Although I'm not sure if you can consider this a request or not, but I did like the idea. You, user, are very brave for coming out and talking about a monster AU in my inbox. I think I shall call it: "Dungeons and Devotions." Anyways, yeah, like I said, you're brave for that. I know what you are.

But! Very interesting, has lots of potential, color me intrigued. So, I'll bite. I actually don't watch or partake in a lot of media with dungeon concepts, but I was obsessed with Monster High when I was younger. So, I took some inspiration from their designs and characters. I actually took the time to write this and not write for the Empyrean AU, so I hope you enjoy this. ✨ I was going to do all dorms, but this part got really long so I just left it at one, but I might be willing to do more later.

Humans are not alone.

At least, that's what the stories said. Ancient accounts tell of a time when there were others who walked the earth as well. Others that certainly were not human beings. These were beings nightmares were born from, entities that served as the inspiration for horror stories passed on for generations.

But those were just scary bed time stories and warped historical records distorted by time, were they not?

That's what you had fully believed, until you found where all those monsters went.

It happened by pure accident. One day, you had decided to go for a hike. Take a new trail, see some new sights, breathe the fresh air and bask in the warm sunlight. All was fine and dandy until you lost your way, having gone off track until you were completely lost. All it took was one wrong step and you were falling. Down, down, down you fell for what felt like hours before everything went black . . .

HEARTSLABYUL

Hell. You must have fallen so far that you landed in the depths of actual hell.

The sky, no, there was no sky here– the horizon? It was red. Blood red. Even when you looked up from where you had fallen, there was no sign of a gaping hole through which you had tumbled through. Wherever you were was so deep into the earth, that you could not even make out a ceiling.

Around you were crooked trees, black like ash as they curled and bent in the oddest unnatural shapes like shadowy apparitions looming over you. There was no green on them. There was no green as far as the eye could see. Anything that looked remotely plant-like, was gray like ash, rusted brown, or different shades of red. Even the ground which you landed face first on was twisted and uneven.

That's when you were spotted by... something. Something wild and rabid, a hungry beast that sent you running, dodging branches and tripping over dense foliage as you ran for your life until you came upon an impassable wall of stone blocking your path, leaving you with nowhere to go. You were cornered. That's when the spray of blood came.

The spillage didn't even immediately register in your mind. Not until your mind, high off the fear and rush of adrenaline, recognized that you were will breathing. You were still alive. And there was a person in front of you, standing between you and starved beast that had pursued you. Barely could your mind grasp everything going on, so much was happening all at once. All you could do was blink as past the mysterious figure, you saw the beast's head slowly droop down until it hit the floor with a sickening squelch. The dismembered head fell into a puddle of its own blood and its body collapsed.

When the figure suddenly turned to you, you didn't know whether to cry tears of relief or scream in horror. Yes, this figure had saved you. Yes, their silhouette was human shaped, but they were wielding a giant axe. The haft was thin and black, almost as long as a person in height, while the blade itself was a fiery red combined with golden accents and a substance black as obsidian. The cutting edge was definitely big and sharp enough to decapitate even the grandest of beasts.

Just as you were about to thank this heroic yet terrifying stranger for saving your skin, he stepped out from the shadows and that's when the words died in your throat. Horns. He had horns. This wasn't a human.

The creature had stepped closer and gripped his mighty battle axe as if he were prepared to use it again, but he stopped when he saw you. Clearly he was just as shocked to see a thing like you just as you were stunned to see him. Thankfully, he did not behead you like he did to that beast a few seconds ago.

Finding your voice, you managed to spew useless words of warning and baseless threats for him to stay back, but he appeared to immediately realize your words were all bark and no bite. And he understood you. This being spoke like a person, frowning as he lowered his axe and commanded you to quit your pointless jabbering.

This being was red. Red like his surroundings, red like fire, red like the blood he made his enemy bleed. Horns curved atop his head, brushing past short locks of hair. Pointed ears poked past the strands, blending in with his red hair. A demon! Despite being a creature of hell, he was quite short in stature and had wide innocent eyes the color of smoke.

It was clear the demon, who politely introduced himself as Riddle, was just as intrigued as you were. Although you were still far more afraid, considering that you had seen him slay a beast. That's when Riddle told you to follow him. It wasn't a request. While you didn't trust the demon, it was either him or risk encountering another monster out here, and frankly, if you were to die, at least it would be swift if the demon chose to end you with his axe.

That's when Riddle led you past the wall into an entire city that lay deep beneath the world you knew. Humans, you learned, were not supposed to be here. They didn't do too well here where there was no real sunlight and there were dangers at every corner. There hadn't been a human down here in over centuries. For now, you would stay with him.

As it turns out, Riddle was the overlord of this domain. At first, the demon did not reveal anything, until the days passed in his castle. Something about you stirred his cold heart. Perhaps it was pity, as you were so defenseless and lost. Once he began to warm up to you, maybe won over by your ramblings of home, he began to cave to your desire for knowledge. There were seven domains in this underworld, each layered one on top of the other. He, Overlord Riddle, ruled the Heartslabyul domain with an iron fist.

Slaying mindless beasts were just one of his tasks, but as the Overlord, he went after the most dangerous kinds. However, people were not spared from his axe. Riddle would personally execute those that threatened his rule or wrecked havoc across his domain. No one was exempt, no hellish beast, no fellow demon, not even a human. Although he stated that there was no reason to execute you, as your only crime was being incapable of defending yourself and occupying the Overlord's time with rather meaningless but entertaining conversation. So, he spared you.

The Demon Overlord was certainly frightening, but, he was curious about you. It wasn't something he displayed so easily, but you could tell by the way he intensely watched you go about your day, his eyes laser-focused on your every move even though he pretended not to watch. You couldn't exactly blame him if you really were the first human down here in so long.

At first, Riddle would return with his axe stained red. However, once he realized how squeamish that would make you and how it drove you away from him, he developed the habit to return in pristine condition, without even the slightest speck on him. Although you could still guess where he had been, either condemning his enemies to death or terrifying them into submission. But with you, although overbearing, he was well-articulated and carried himself with a certain grace.

As the days added up, customs and habits were built. Such as a small little game, where you would both ask a question about each other's life and culture. If the question could stump the other person and they couldn't answer, then they would 'win.' Riddle won most of the time, as he would ask the most peculiar of questions. On occasion, he does ask some questions with such looks of wonder that you can't help but feel some sense of sympathy for him. Questions like: is the sky on the surface really blue?

As patient as he was with all your inquiries about his strange world, there was one question he never answered: How could a human get back home? If he knew the answer, he didn't show it. Each time you asked, he would become irate, and so you would drop the subject.

Throughout your time in the Demon Overlord's castle, your goal never changed: Find a way home. Riddle was simply a friend, the demon who had saved you from the maws of a hellish fiend and granted you sanctuary in his home. It was by pure accident that you learned that Riddle's opinion was quite different than yours. Sometime throughout your stay, he had become attached and developed some rather intense feelings. According to a book of monsters you discovered deep in the shelves of his personal library, demons are deeply protective of their loved ones, often subtly guarding them through quiet gestures or grand notions. Riddle was grand in his display, and it all made perfect sense now as to why he implemented a rule barring other demons from most rooms of the castle so as to not interact with you.

One day, before Riddle left the castle, he gifted you a mystical red gem with a rune engraved into it. A chill went down your spine as you recognized it vaguely. Although you didn't comprehend its exact meaning, you recognized the symbol from a book about demon courtship. If you recalled right, demons tended to inscribe runes into rare objects so their partner would have a spell protecting them and be able to carry their loved one's essence with them. The Demon Overlord hesitated for a moment once the gift was in your hand. If he wasn't already red, his flesh would've been blooming with warmth as he leaned. The kiss on your cheek was brief as the base of his horns bumped against your temple– then he left before you could even utter a single word.

That's when you knew you had to leave. Immediately. If the book you found earlier was factual, then once Riddle returned, he would not let you go. The Demon Overlord had already prevented you from leaving by confining you in his castle, isolating you from others, and purposefully retaining information from you.

The only place you could was down, down into deeper levels. Yes, it was further away from the surface and home, and you had no idea what awaited you, but if you stayed in Heartslabyul, Riddle would never allow you to leave his castle and he would no doubt send demons to search for you once he discovered you were gone. The only place he wouldn't think to look were other domains. Perhaps the Demon Overlord's gift to you would actually be of use as you searched for a way down.

[fireinmoonshot]

hit the jackpot | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: When you text your boyfriend for help after someone makes you and your friends uncomfortable at the bar, Tyler is quick to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of a guy being creepy, references to alcohol and unsafe driving Word Count: 1.2k A/N: Just a short one! I am gonna start working on a longer one hopefully tomorrow, but I just wrote this one tonight after I had the idea and so here it is! I love this Tyler so much. Enjoy! 💗

Tyler was sitting in front of his computer, going through some of the footage they’d gotten today to start editing it for a video on Youtube when his phone buzzed. Usually he’d ignore it so late at night, especially because he was working, but not tonight.

You were out with your friends, celebrating one of their birthday’s at a bar a few blocks from the house you shared with Tyler. He’d wanted to come along, but no one else was bringing a partner so, regretfully, he’d agreed to stay home – but just one text and he’d be there, either to be the designated driver for you and your friends or any other reason.

He figured, from the time of evening, it would be a text asking him to come and pick you and your friends up, but the second he read the message, his computer was forgotten in front of him and he was standing up and heading to the door before he even finished reading.

There’s some guy here being creepy. Can you come by?

With one hand, he typed out a quick On my way and with the other, he grabbed his car keys. He locked the door behind him, not bothering about grabbing a jacket despite the chill in the air, and jogged the few steps to his truck, parked in the driveway. 

Tyler was a safe driver, but that night he drove a little over the speed limit – knowing he shouldn’t but being much more worried about you to care too much – to get to the bar quicker. He pulled up right out the front and was quick to throw the truck in park and jump out, shoving his keys in the pocket of his jeans as he headed towards the door.

It looked busy, people spilling out of the bar onto the street, but Tyler didn’t let that phase him. He pushed through the crowd with ease, his height and the way he held himself almost making the crowd part for him. He paused briefly once he was inside, looking around for you and your friends, and when he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate.

You spotted him getting closer towards you and let out a breath of relief. “Ty, that was so quick,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist as he reached you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Would have been here quicker if I could’ve been, darlin’,” Tyler replied. “Now, where is this creep and what has he been doing?” He gave a quick greeting to your friends, who were standing in a circle, glancing nervously back over their shoulders. 

“He’s the one in the brown shirt with the black hair, just there,” you point the man out, trying to be as discreet as possible, not wanting to pull attention to yourself even though you know that nothing is gonna happen now that Tyler is here. “He just won’t leave us alone. We’ve all told him we’re not interested but he won’t take no for an answer.”

You wondered, briefly, if he had actually moved away from you all, as he was stood talking to another person a few people away from you, but then he glanced back and met your eyes and you could see the interest spark on his face again. 

Tyler didn’t let the man get very close. He hated to let you go, but he knew you were safe behind him as he moved to put himself between your friends and the man so he couldn’t get any closer to them. 

“Hey, ‘scuse me, man, just trying to get past.” The man tried to side-step past Tyler, but he was quick, moving to stand in his way again. 

“I think you should leave,” Tyler said.

The man stopped and raised his eyebrows before letting out a laugh. “Who are you to say that to me, man? I’m just trying to have a nice night and talk to some nice ladies, and I’ve been talking to some just over there all night.” He moved, trying to step around Tyler again.

Tyler moved in his path again. “You listen to me,” he started. “Those ladies want nothing to do with you. I’m not a violent man, but if you try and get past me to get to them one more time, I can’t promise you I won’t become one. So, I am telling you to get the hell outta here.”

You watched for a few moments as the man stared Tyler down, worrying that he was going to take a swing at your boyfriend and create drama. The last thing you wanted was for Tyler to get hurt tonight. The night had already taken a turn for the worst. 

“You need me to tell you again?” Tyler said in response to the silence.

The man scoffed, threw his hands up in the air and turned on his heel, walking out of the bar. You all watched him as he left, letting out a breath of relief when you saw him leave. 

Tyler was quick to come back over to you, wrapping an arm around you again and gently rubbing your arm in an attempt to soothe you. He could tell you were feeling tense – and for good reason. That man was a prick and Tyler was mad he wasn’t here to get rid of him before he made you and your friends so uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Ty,” you leant into his side, giving him a squeeze. 

“No need to thank me, darlin’, protecting you and your friends is my job.” He pressed another kiss to the top of your head. 

Your friends all thanked him as well, relaxing a bit now that the man was gone.

“That’s not the end to the night I was hoping for,” one of your friends said.

“I know,” you pouted. “I was hoping we’d get another hour or two at least.”

Tyler looked down at you. “Who says your night has to end? You can all come back to ours, y’know,” he suggested. “We have drinks and food. Pretty sure my girl has some stuff in the fridge to whip up a quick cheese board. What do you say?”

All of your friends looked to you, hope in their eyes. 

“Ty, are you sure? I know you have some work you need to get done.” 

“Course I’m sure, darlin’. I don’t think your night should be ruined by an asshole like that, and I know how excited you were to spend so much time with your friends. I can just drive them all home when you’re done.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you leant up to press your lips to Tyler’s. He smiled into the kiss as he kissed you back. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you grinned after you broke away from the kiss. “Party continues at ours!”

Tyler kept an arm wrapped around you as you walked out of the bar. Two of your friends walked ahead of you, leading the way. The third leant in to mutter a quick “I think you won the jackpot with your boyfriend” in your ear. You knew that she was a hundred percent right. 

[potahun]

well, well, well. here's some merch to catch up on. are you even ready for some of these? i dont think so

The usual Sega Lucky Kuji line-up for the movie. Furuya and Kazami being in the line-up is no longer surprising by now (actually it still kind of is) but KAZAMI AND THAT SCARF. UGH why is he so handsome and look at that delicious height difference that GA can pry away from my dead cold hands (x)

cute chibi bookmarks. there are individual ones for furuya and kazami and there is a cute furukaza one where kazami is struggling <3 again (x)

Conan Chocolates labelled "VALENTINE ITEM" by the shop's official account, and there are only two designs for the square box: 1) Conan&Ran; and 2) you guessed it. Furukaza.... (x) Why does a FuruKaza chocolate box exist, labelled valentine item? I don't know. Why Furukaza? As a fervent Furukaza shipper, I'm asking, hello? Why Furukaza??

kazami is once again appearing in merch lineups (x, x) for 2025 and i'm sorry but at this rate, you have to work for this, kazami.... you cant just be handed all this merch after already getting a pyokotomo mascot plush this year, without appearing even once in the manga or the anime in 2024 (i say, thanking all the gods that kazami somehow gets frequent merch despite appearing 4 times in the manga overall), look, at this rate, you have to earn your keep by appearing with an important role in M28.....i don't make the rules.....

[purplereina11]

The Perfect Shot Series You meet Alexia's Friends and Family

Word count: 4K

It was a vibrant Saturday night, and the city was alive with the pulsating beats of music and laughter, you were headed to a popular club downtown, where the energy was electric and the ambiance promised a fun night ahead.

As you walked into the club, the bass thumped rhythmically, pulsing through your chest as you take a deep breath, excitement and nerves swirling within you. The vibrant lights flickering in a kaleidoscope of colours that dances across the walls

Tonight is significant; you’re meeting Alexia’s friends for the first time, and while you’ve heard plenty about them, you can’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingers in the back of your mind.

Carla, the designated moral support, stands beside you, her bright smile infectious. “You’re going to have a blast! Just be yourself,” she reassures you, her enthusiasm helping to ease your tension. You nod, though the fluttering in your stomach betrays your calm demeanour.

As you walk further into the club, the club was packed, filled with laughter and the chatter of friends enjoying the weekend. You head up to the VIP area and catch sight of Alexia, her laughter ringing out like music above the noise. She’s surrounded by her friends, their energy magnetic, and you can’t help but feel a swell of affection for her. Alexia catches your eye and beams at you, waving you over with a sense of warmth that instantly puts you at ease.

“Hey, you made it!” she exclaims, pulling you into one of her hugs that melts away your apprehension and envelops you completely. “Everyone, this is Y/N.” The group turns to look at you, and you offer a shy wave, your heart racing as they greet you with smiles and friendly nods. You’re dispersed ever so slightly, especially with Alexia by your side, her hand resting comfortably on your back.

“Nice to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you,” one of her friends, a bubbly girl with straight black hair, says enthusiastically. You smile back, feeling the warmth of their acceptance. The ice begins to break as Alexia joins the conversation, adding her own flair and teasing you playfully, which makes everyone laugh.

It was Carla however that flitted you around, introducing you to everyone and ensuring you felt welcome. The atmosphere was electric, filled with playful banter and the clinking of glasses. The night was filled with laughter, dancing, and stories. You felt a sense of belonging, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. Soon, you find yourself weaving through the crowd, the music enveloping you as you dance alongside Alexia and her friends. Laughter fills the air, and the worries you had before seem to dissipate. You joke and tease back, feeling the rhythm of the night seep into your bones. The atmosphere is electric, and you can’t remember the last time you felt so free.

As the night goes on, you and Alexia share playful glances, her eyes sparkling with joy. You can see how much she enjoys being with her friends, and it fills you with happiness to witness this side of her life. With every laugh and every dance move, you realise how lucky you are to be part of this moment. The music swells, and you grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her from her friends just to steal a moment just the two of you, your smiles matching perfectly as your eyes met. Together, you twirl and sway, losing yourselves in the rhythm, the world around you fading into a blur of lights and laughter. As Alexia pulled you closer, your laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. Her lips finally found yours, her strict no public displays personal mantra subsided you smiled at the playful taunts and jeers from her friend’s, your arm came around her neck as your lips move in sync a feeling you’ll never tire of.

As the clock ticks on, rounds of drinks are shared, and stories flow freely. You find yourself immersed in conversations about travel, shared interests, and hilarious anecdotes that bring everyone closer together. You share a few of your own tales, feeling the warmth of friendship wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

You found a moment alone with Carla at the bar, Carla nudges you playfully. “See? You’re fitting right in!” she says with a grin. You chuckle, feeling the tension of the evening melt away.

“I was worried I wouldn’t” you admit, glancing at Alexia, who’s caught up in a lively conversation with her friends. You got a big smile seeing some more of Alexia’s friends turning up these from her team one in particular that made a bee line for you. Ona smacked into you as you held each other so tight, the last time Ona saw you she was leaving United for Barcelona when you were at your lowest she genuinely expected a phone call that the worst had happened to you not long after she left.

“You look so good” she said still holding on but her head coming back, the friends all looked confused but Alexia knowing your past struggles and the club you worked for knew the connection. “Honestly, you’re good?”

You nodded smiling softly, “I promise”

“Pinky?”

You laugh softly, feeling the weight of her words settle in. Pinky—a bond you both had made years ago, a little gesture that meant so much more. You extend your pinky finger to Ona, watching her smile grow as she links hers with yours, a silent promise passing between you two. The past was behind you now, but moments like this made everything feel like it was coming full circle.

“Pinky,” Ona repeats, nodding as if she too needed the confirmation. You squeeze her hand before pulling away, a warm, familiar feeling flooding over you.

Before you could say more, Alexia appears at your side, her presence grounding and familiar. She smiles at the two of you, a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Everything okay?” she asks, her voice calm but filled with concern, knowing full well what that pinky swear meant between you and Ona.

You nod, the reassurance in your eyes enough for her to relax. “Yeah, everything’s perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Alexia says, her smile softening as she looks at you. The warmth from her gaze makes your chest tighten with affection. “It’s good to see you with your friends again. You’re not alone in this. You never were,” she adds, her voice low, sincere, and full of meaning.

You swallow hard, taking in her words, but all you can do is smile back at her. The music fades into the background, the laughter and chatter around you barely registering as you and Alexia share a quiet moment amidst the chaos of the club.

“I’m really glad you invited me here tonight,” you say, voice soft but genuine. "It means a lot."

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” Alexia replies, her hand slipping into yours. The simple act of holding hands feels so natural, and for the first time tonight, you feel completely at ease.

Carla, noticing the moment between the two of you, grins and gives you a playful nudge. “I’ll let you two have your moment, but don’t forget we’re celebrating you tonight,” she teases, making her way back to the dance floor.

Alexia laughs, shaking her head. “She’s right. We’re here to have fun.”

The music picks up again, and before you know it, you’re back on the dance floor, moving to the beat with Alexia. The crowd parts slightly as the two of you lose yourselves in the rhythm. It’s as if the world has disappeared, and all that exists is the moment—the music, the movement, and the connection you share.

You feel like you’ve stepped into a place of belonging, with Alexia’s presence beside you, her laugh like music in the air. The worries of the past seem so distant, and in their place is only the joy of being in the now. The sparkle in her eyes matches the twinkling lights above, and you can’t help but smile as she twirls you, pulling you close again.

The night drifts on, full of dancing, laughter, and more playful glances exchanged between you and Alexia. As the night finally begins to wind down, the energy of the club still thrumming in the air, you take a deep breath, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel free. Not just free from the past, but free in the moment, in this beautiful, chaotic life.

When it’s time to say goodnight, you and Alexia find yourselves standing by the exit, the cool night air hitting your skin as the club doors swing open.

She turns to you with a soft smile. “Tonight was perfect. Thanks for being here.”

You return her smile, your heart warm with a feeling you can't quite describe. "No, thank you for inviting me,” you reply, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything also. For making me feel like I belong."

The look in her eyes softens, and for a moment, she doesn’t need to say anything more. The words are understood.

And as the two of you step out into the night, hand in hand, you know this night—this moment—will stay with you forever. It was in that walk, she gently opened up the conversation about you meeting her family, they’d been asking to meet you apparently.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the quaint village in hues of orange and pink, as you prepared for what felt like one of the most important moments of your life: meeting Alexia’s family.

Alexia had warned you that her family primarily spoke Spanish, and while you had picked up a few phrases here and there, your fluency was limited at best. Yet, her enthusiasm for having you meet her family was contagious, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to connect with the people who meant the most to her.

As you approached her mother’s charming home, nestled among vibrant flowers and lush greenery, your heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Alexia, sensing your nerves, squeezed your hand gently, her smile reassuring. “Don’t worry! Just be yourself. They’ll love you,” she assured, her eyes shining with warmth.

The door swung open, and there stood Alexia’s mother, Eli, with a welcoming smile that could light up even the cloudiest of days. Behind her, you could see the rest of the family gathered, each face a blend of curiosity and delight. Alexia introduced you, her voice rich with affection, and as she spoke, you felt the warmth of their gazes envelop you.

“Hola! Bienvenido!” Eli exclaimed, her enthusiasm evident as she pulled you into a heartfelt embrace. The scent of her cooking wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation. You managed a sheepish “Hola,” in return, feeling a bit out of your depth but grateful for the warmth of her welcome.

As the embrace broke, Eli stepped back and motioned for you to come inside. The home felt cozy and inviting, with its warm wooden floors and soft lighting that seemed to embrace you like a hug. The aroma of freshly baked bread, Paella, and something savoury that made your mouth water filled the air, making you feel instantly at home.

Alexia’s family was a mix of familiar faces you had heard so much about and new ones you’d yet to meet. They greeted you with open arms, their smiles genuine as they made an effort to include you despite the language barrier. Alexia’s Uncle, Ricard, gave you a firm handshake, his eyes kind and welcoming, while her younger Sister, Alba, cracked a shy smile and offered you a small wave. Despite your limited Spanish, you could feel the warmth in their presence.

A soft hand on the small of your back from Alexia guided you to a spot to take a seat as Eli asked Alexia what you’d want to drink, you found yourself bent over fussing a small chocolate brown chihuahua curious at your feet. “Coco” Her sister spoke as if telling him to come away. You rose your eyes and smiled a silent conversation that he was ok.

Her family were just as calm and gentle as Alexia was, they tried there best to speak English to you Alexia often had to correct what they said understating what they meant, but you appreciated the effort they were making. You even attempted a few words in Spanish when in the moment you knew the translation.

Eli called the family to the dinning room, the dinner table was spread with an array of delicious dishes, each one seemingly crafted with love. There was a traditional Spanish paella, a fresh salad with ripe tomatoes, and a selection of tapas that looked as beautiful as they smelled. Everyone gathered around the table, and Alexia pulled out a chair for you beside her, making sure you felt comfortable and near her.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself seated at a long wooden table, laden with an array of delicious dishes—paella, fresh seafood, and colorful salads. Alexia’s family began to converse animatedly as they ate, their voices rising and falling like a melodic rhythm. You watched, a mixture of admiration and confusion swirling within you. Their laughter filled the room, and while you couldn’t understand the majority of what was being said, the joy in their voices was unmistakable. The tone, the gestures, the way their faces lit up when they spoke of fond memories, told you everything you needed to know. There was no judgment, no impatience for your broken Spanish. They simply welcomed you into their world as if you’d been there all along.

You looked as Alba the other side of you gently touched your arm, “How long have you lived in Barcelona for?”

“Um, about 4 or 5 months now” You spoke as you heard soft chatter in the background.

Alexia caught your eye and smiled, her expression encouraging. It was then that she leaned closer, gently translating snippets of the conversation. “They’re asking about your hometown,” she whispered, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

With her guidance, you joined in, sharing tales of your life, your family, and the things you loved about your own culture. You gestured animatedly, your enthusiasm bridging the language gap. The family listened intently, their eyes sparkling with interest, the warmth of their acceptance wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed, with laughter filling the room. You couldn’t understand every word being spoken, Alexia sat close beside you, her hand brushing yours occasionally, offering little translations when she sensed you were unsure. "Don’t worry," she whispered with a playful grin. "You’re doing great. Trust me, you’re making a good impression."

Her words settled some of the tension you had been holding in your chest. You smiled back, the feeling of being accepted washing over you. But it wasn’t just her family making you feel this way—it was Alexia. The way she was so effortlessly in tune with you, making you feel like you belonged, even in this space where you were the newcomer.

As the evening wore on, Eli brought out a traditional dessert—flan, its creamy texture glistening under the soft light. The moment felt like a celebration, and as the sweet treat was passed around, you felt a growing sense of belonging. You watched as Alexia shared her family’s stories, her laughter echoing through the room, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly she navigated between languages, bringing you into the fold.

When it was your turn to express gratitude for the meal, you took a breath, determined to say something heartfelt, even if it was simple. “Gracias por la comida. Estaba delicioso,” you managed, your pronunciation shaky but sincere. The table fell silent for a moment before erupting in applause, their smiles wide with appreciation for your effort.

“¡Bravo!” Eli cheered, pride shining in her eyes. Her family showered you with compliments, their warmth enveloping you like a gentle embrace. In that moment, you realised that love transcended language; it was felt in smiles, in laughter, and in the shared experience around the table.

After dinner, the conversation turned to stories, and her family began sharing funny anecdotes about Alexia’s childhood. Her mother laughed, telling tales of mischievous things Alexia had done as a young girl, while Alexia herself chuckled, rolling her eyes but clearly enjoying the attention.

As the night drew to a close, you felt a sense of achievement and connection that you hadn’t anticipated. Alexia’s family may have spoken in a different tongue, but the language of love, acceptance, and joy was universal. You had not only survived the evening but had thrived in it, forging bonds that would last long after the night ended.

You were cuddled into Alexia for comfort, “Hey” you said softly placing a hand on her stomach before pointing when you gained her attention, “Is that your dad?” You looked to her as she nodded looking at the picture of her, her mum and Alba with him. “You look just like him” you spoke with a soft gaze and smile at the picture, “It’s crazy to me how you and Alba look so alike apart but when you’re together you can see the differences” You were oblivious to Alba and Eli watching the pair of you gently whispering to each other with a look of love and approval. “She’s the image of your mum and you your dad” You leant over Alexia ever so slightly to point, “It’s this bit” you motioned to his nose and mouth, “And you pull that face all the time”

“I do?” Alexia asked softly you turned your attention to her and nodded, you could see the sadness in her eyes it made you wonder what privately what she thought of your distance with your family. When she’d probably give anything just to see her father one more time.

When the time came to say goodbye, Eli pulled you into another warm embrace, whispering something in Spanish that you couldn’t quite catch. Alexia translated, her voice soft and filled with affection: “She says you are now part of the family.”

Those words wrapped around your heart like a warm embrace, and as you left their home, hand in hand with Alexia, you felt lighter, as if the weight of your initial fears had lifted. You had navigated a potentially daunting experience and emerged not just intact, but enriched, with a newfound understanding that love knows no boundaries, and that family is a bond that can be felt in any language.

It made you miss yours.

Alexia’s hand was warm in yours, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of the moment as you waited for Alba who you were staying with this evening so you both could have a drink with the family.

“I’m so glad you were here tonight,” Alexia murmured, squeezing your hand. “My family… I know they’re not easy to get used to, but I’m really happy you fit right in.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter at her words. “I’m glad I came. I feel like I’m finally getting to know a side of you that’s been waiting for me.”

Alexia’s smile softened, her gaze tender. “Well, you’re definitely a part of it now. My family… they’re not just anyone to me, and having you with me tonight, it just felt like the right thing.” Alexia connected her lips you almost dropped her hand to put it to her fact but before you could, the sound of footsteps echoed behind you. Turning, you saw Alba walking toward you both, her keys in hand and a mischievous grin on her face.

“You two ready to head out?” she asked, her tone light but full of energy. “It’s getting late, its not far to walk?”

Alexia looked over at you, her eyes a mix of amusement and affection. “You cool with that?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a little relief at the idea of getting some fresh air after such an emotional evening. “I’d love that, actually, nice little walk.

Alba beamed, clearly excited by the prospect of having you both at her apartment for the night. “Perfect!”

With that, the three of you made your way, and soon enough, you were on your way to Alba’s apartment. The streets outside were quieter now, the nightlife settling down as the city began to unwind from the chaotic energy of the evening. The walk was fairly quick, and the warmth from Alexia’s presence beside you keeping you from realising the chill in the air.

As you arrived at Alba’s apartment, she unlocked the door with a flick of her wrist, and the space was immediately inviting. The soft lights, the cozy furnishings, and the overall calmness of the apartment made it feel like the perfect place to settle into after a whirlwind night.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Alba teased as she kicked off her shoes and moved to the kitchen. “Feel free to make yourself at home Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how natural it all felt. Alba wasn’t just welcoming you; she was making you feel like part of the family in the most effortless way possible. The way she had welcomed you in, teasing and laughing, made you feel at ease almost instantly.

Alexia walked over to the couch, pulling you gently with her. “I’ll grab you some blankets. We can sleep here, okay?”

You nodded, grateful for the warmth and comfort of the moment. As Alexia moved to help Alba set up the living area, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day’s emotions settle into your bones. It was a good kind of exhaustion, the kind that comes from feeling truly connected to the people in your life.

Once you were settled in, Alexia returned to sit next to you on the couch, her gaze soft as she met your eyes.

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It felt like… everything went so perfectly.”

You leaned into her slightly, your voice matching her quiet tone. “Me too. I feel like I’m finally part of something. Part of you, your family, they were so welcoming.”

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are,” she said softly. “And you always will be.”

The world outside felt distant now, the noise of the night fading into the background as the quiet of the apartment settled in around you. You were here, with Alexia, with Alba, in this cozy, comforting space—and for the first time in a long time, you felt completely at peace.

As the night wore on, the three of you shared stories and laughter, the light chatter filling the room. Alba only came to say goodnight got comfy and was yet to leave. With Alba’s easygoing energy and Alexia’s warmth beside you, you felt like you had found your place. The night was peaceful, and with Alexia and Alba by your side, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging that you hadn’t known in a long time.

When the time came to sleep, you found yourself curled up in the makeshift bed on the sofa Alexia had made for you both, the comforting thought of the people around you making it easy to drift off into a peaceful slumber. You knew the night had marked something significant—not just for your relationship with Alexia, but for how you were beginning to truly feel a part of the life she had built.

Tomorrow would bring new adventures, new moments to share, but for now, you were content, knowing that you were right where you were meant to be.

[ixloom819]

Dinner Party (P5)

There were many reasons you didn’t leave Sylus’ base.

You knew the characters that lived in the N109 Zone, and they weren’t people you were inclined to make friends with. If you didn’t have Sylus’ protection, you imagine you wouldn’t last long out there.

And even with Sylus protecting you, there was tons of danger. Obviously there was the issue with Xavier, Rafayel, and Caleb due to Sylus’ actions. But Onychinus also had enemies within the N109 Zone, and you didn’t doubt one would at least try to kidnap or hurt you to get to Sylus.

So you stayed at the base all the time. And you were starting to go stir crazy.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have company - Sylus, Luke, Kieran, and even Mephisto kept the loneliness at bay. But there was only so much room at the base, and you wished for a change of scenery.

Sylus heard your wishes and found a way to fulfill them. In the least desirable way possible.

“There’s a gala in about a week,” he told you. “I’ve been watching the Fleet ,and the colonel will be away on a mission at that time. I would like you to be my partner there.”

That hit you right at your insecurities.

You knew that the elite women (or daughters of elites) were fond of trying to catch Sylus’ attention when he needed to attend such events - he complained as much to you. You didn’t feel jealous of them, not in the way you had felt with MC, but you did share his irritation for them.

At the same time, you didn’t feel like you should be seen with Sylus at an event like this. Even if you weren’t Sylus’ plus one, you were sure you could gain bad attention if you went.

These people had lived in high society for most of their lives. They had an elegance and presence trained into them for years. Even if you looked like a runway model, you knew you’d stick out like a sore thumb.

Sylus wasn’t just a part of that society; he ruled it. Wouldn’t it be better for him to be with the best of that world instead? Someone like you shouldn’t be by his side, especially at something like this-

“Hey.”

If Sylus’ voice didn’t bring you back to the moment, the hand cupping your face did.

“You’re overthinking things,” he continued. Not an accusation, but an observation. “You’re thinking lowly of yourself. I know that look.”

You both knew where he had seen that look before. When Miss Hunter arrived at the base.

And you both knew what he did to remedy that expression on your face.

“I don't want you thinking less of yourself or being overwhelmed by anything,” Sylus spoke in a soothing voice. “Let me rephrase.”

“Would you like to go to a party with me and enjoy yourself?”

Seeing his tender, loving look was enough to melt away your worries. You only took a moment to consider it before nodding in reply.

He kissed your forehead. “Good. Then we’ll prepare.”

Sylus brought you to a department store you hadn’t heard of before but was obviously designer-level. You hadn’t been anywhere like this ever ,and it made your head spin a bit.

But Sylus was right beside you the whole time. He let you have free reign over what you wanted. His only requirement was that the dress was black and red.

It didn’t need to be said why he asked this. Those were his colors, his way to staking a claim to you.

There were surprisingly many viable options with Sylus’ requirement. It was amusing to think that the N109 Zone stuck with a theme. In the end, you chose a modest dress that complimented your figure yet didn’t show too much.

At first, you were worried Sylus might disapprove, given the general fashion of these events. But he assured you that you had nothing to worry about. He even said (in that low tone that never failed to give you shivers), “This way, no man has further excuses to gawk at what’s mine.”

If it were possible for humans to melt, you would have become a puddle ages ago.

Now, it was the night of the gala. You had retreated to your room to put on your dress, style your hair, and put on some natural makeup. You weren’t looking to stand out after all, just to accompany Sylus without embarrassing him.

You paused for a moment, then stepped into sight of the full length mirror.

You take in your appearance for a moment. Two. Then three.

Then you scoff at yourself.

Yeah, this was nothing like the stories where you’d look at yourself all prettied up and suddenly discover you’re gorgeous or breathtaking.

You looked nice, sure. Pretty even. But beautiful? You couldn’t really see it.

Figuring you were as good as you were going to get, you stepped out of your room and went to meet Sylus out the door.

He wasn’t facing the door when you stepped outside. He has the same clothes he normally wore, but he had a sharp blazer, probably saved for occasions like this.

Hearing your footsteps, he turned to face you. He was also wearing a red tie, you noticed.

His eyes didn’t widen, as if your change from the normal was something shocking. Instead, his eyes travelled up and down your form, appreciating every detail.

“It compliments you wonderfully,” he spoke softly.

It always made you feel warm, how he always made you feel beautiful. The dress didn’t enhance your beauty, it just complimented you.

“Thank you,” you said with a soft smile. You took his extended hand, and he led you into the car.

As you approached your destination, your nerves began to spike. You did your best to hide it, even clasping your hands together to keep your body from betraying you by acting on nervous tics.

Yet Sylus seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to you. He put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug, kissing the top of your head. “You’ll be alright, darling. It’s just a party. If we go there and you hate it, we can leave early.”

You felt a small bit of tension leave you as you nodded in response. However, you were determined not to be the reason you left early. You were here to enjoy yourself and you knew there were people here Sylus had to meet too. You could be strong for him.

Finally you pulled up to the building used for the gala. Even when you had been living with Sylus, the obvious wealth of the hall made you stare longer than you should. With an amused chuckle, Sylus pulled you along into the main ballroom.

As you expected, everyone looked like they were ready to go on the runway. They looked effortlessly perfect, though you logically knew how much effort they must use to create that impression.

As you expected, everyone turned to see Sylus enter the room. Of course the notorious unofficial ruler of the N109 Zone would gain attention anywhere he went.

And as you expected, when those eyes fell on you, you could see the distaste rise in them. You weren’t a face they recognized. You certainly didn’t meet the standards of the other women here. So why were you the one at Sylus’ side? You did your best to ignore the stares and just put on a nice face.

It wasn’t too bad. You stuck by Sylus most of the time and mainly just introduced yourself and listened to his conversations. You’d answer questions as honestly as possible, but when someone asked about where you were from, Sylus was quick to shift the subject. Would there be a day you weren’t grateful for this man?

But of course, it wouldn’t last forever. A man approached Sylus with just enough jewelry to make him look gaudy and a smile a bit too large to feel genuine.

“Sylus!” he exclaimed brightly, extending a hand which Sylus accepted. “Wonderful to see you sir, I was hoping I’d find you here. There’ve been a few… issues with the artillery shipments that I need to discuss with you.”

If you hadn’t gotten to know Sylus as well as you had, you wouldn’t have known his displeasure at being interrupted like this. “I see. Very well. I’m guessing you want to speak somewhere private.”

“Yes,” the man agreed, then glanced at you. “And alone.”

Sylus’ hold on you tightened a bit. You felt the inhale, could tell he was about to protest, insist on you staying with him.

So you spoke up first. “I’ll be alright Sylus,” you said quietly but enough to get his attention. “I’ll just hang out by the refreshments. I can handle myself for a couple minutes.”

Sylus looked very reluctant to leave your side. “Are you sure?” he checked.

You nodded with a smile. “I’m sure.” Then, in a lower tone, “Try to enjoy yourself.”

“I won’t,” he whispered back, then reluctantly departed with the jewelry man.

You weaved your way through people, avoiding eye contact, and made your way to the refreshments table, where plates too small to fill one up laid for people to pick up food buffet style. You picked at the things you knew you liked and a few things you felt like experimenting with.

You heard someone clear their throat. Glancing around you, you saw that you were the only person that throat clearing could be addressed to. Mentally sighing, you set your plate down on the table and turned to face them.

There was a stunning woman standing in front of you, looking ticked. She had navy blue hair that floated off her shoulders and bright yellow eyes. She was wearing a sleeveless scarlet dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Behind her was a small group of similarly beautiful women.

Your first thought was No way that’s all real. She must have dyed her hair or something else artificially manufactured. There’s no way she naturally looked that gorgeous.

Then you remembered this was a sci-fi video game world where purple hair and red eyes were considered as normal as brown hair and blue eyes. Now you felt stupid.

You put on a polite smile. “May I help you?”

The woman scowled at you. “Don’t act all prissy. Who are you and what are you doing with Sylus?”

It took a bit of effort to maintain your smile as you introduced yourself. “I’m Sylus’ date,” you added in response to her second question.

Her nostrils flared a bit. “Well I’ve certainly never heard of you,” she sneered. “Who do you think you are, sticking to Sylus’ side like a leech? You think you have any right to be there? He’s probably just playing with you. A man like him should be with someone with more class.” The women behind her tittered in agreement.

It was at that moment, when this woman came and threw your insecure thoughts at your face, did you realize just how stupid this was.

You had died a painful death, remembering every sensation of your body being crushed. You had faced death again, the pressure of a knife sometimes ghosting your neck.

Who was this woman to try to threaten and belittle you? She wasn’t even important enough to be mentioned in the game. She was just some shallow daughter of an elite who had googly eyes for Sylus.

What could she even do to you? Ruin your reputation? It doesn’t exist. Threaten you with whatever her parents had at their disposal? You had Sylus protecting you, and he was much stronger than he was meant to be with a whole soul now.

This whole thing just felt utterly ridiculous.

You brightened your smile a bit. “Oh I’m aware,” you said pleasantly. Your cheerful tone with contradicting words seemed to stun the women a bit.

“In fact, there was someone else in his life who I thought was much better for him,” you continued. “I tried to back away, to let them have their happy ending. And you know what he did?”

You let the question hang in the air for a moment. You could tell the women were thrown off by you. They’d come here with the intention to ridicule you, humiliate you, and make you run from Sylus. So why were you sharing a past of insecurity with them?

“He killed her!” you said in a far too happy voice for the words you said, a broad smile on your face.

Your attitude definitely didn’t reflect your true feelings about the incident. It certainly didn’t reflect how you initially felt. But you found that when people said morbid things happily, it unsettled the audience. And sure enough, the women were looking at you with barely hidden horror.

“He killed her,” you continued, slowly stepping towards them while keeping up your pleasant persona, “because he didn’t want me thinking I had any competition. He wants me to know that I’m his one and only.”

Once you got close enough to the yellow eyed woman, you let your face drop to a stoic, emotionless expression. “So tell me,” you let your tone fall flat, “how badly do you want to become my rival?”

You could tell you had the effect you wanted by the shiver that shook her body. She took a few steps back, looking at you with a new sense of fear. Then she huffed, still trying to act like she was above you, and brushed past you, her clique nipping at her heels.

You watched them walk away with a smug pride. Yeah, that’s what I thought-

“Well,” a velvety voice rose behind you, “that’s a side I haven’t seen yet.” Spinning around, you found Sylus behind you.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Had he seen the whole thing? What did he think of it? Was your acting cringeworthy? Did he see it as melodramatic or trying too hard?

“Just a bit of acting,” you tried brushing it off. “I kinda wanted an excuse to try and freak someone out.”

“You did a great job,” Sylus responded, eyes swimming with amusement and… pride? “Very effective and natural looking. Maybe I should bring you to some negotiations.”

You flushed harder and shook your head. “I don’t know if I could maintain it under that kind of pressure.”

Sylus chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “That’s fine. I wasn’t planning on bringing you anywhere so dangerous anyway.” Shifting his weight, he continued, “I’ve finished my business here. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly. “It’s been nice, but also a bit overwhelming.”

“Well then,” Sylus responded, slipping his arm around yours, “I’ll have to make sure you enjoy our next date more.”

You didn’t bother trying to hide the small smile his words prompted as he guided you through the building that suddenly felt like it only had the two of you.

[priyajoyy]

devil wears Prada part 1

Dark!lottie Matthews x reader x dark!shauna shipman x dark!jackie taylor x dark!natalie scatorcio

Businesswomen/devil wears Prada au

Devil wears Prada with a bit of a twist and a toxic love polygon

This is only loosely inspired by devil wears Prada so not gonna be the same storyline or anything but similar vibes

Literally don’t ask about the job roles cause I’m lowkey making this company up as I go along and cba to work out the logistics of this fake ass company

Readers getting a magical promotion next part so she’s gonna actually get to interact with the girls I swear (even if its lowkey fleeting)

Warnings:

Dark characters, power imbalance, toxic workplace, mental health problems, fat shaming, beauty standards, ect (more in later parts)

Matthew’s tower was certainly an impressive building. One of the tallest in the city and home to your dream job. 

Ok maybe not your dream job. You didn’t really dream of working a front desk and fetching drinks for snooty big wigs who wouldn’t so much as learn your name. but it was the right path.

A year here, maybe even less, and you could get a job working anywhere you wanted. Maybe, just maybe, if you did well enough and didn’t completely hate it, you could continue at Mathews designs. With the right promotion of course.

It was terrifying really. Walking through the massive cold foyer. You felt like a tiny speck compared to the tall walls and wide room, and the walk to the other end of it felt like it took a million years. Each step your heeled feet took on the hard floors echoing around you.

An incredibly stylish looking woman greeted you when you finally reached the desk. In fact, all three of the young girls sat before you looked straight out of a fashion magazine.

Pretty, young and stick thin.

You’d tried to dress up for your interview. Youd worn one of your nicest formal dressed, though now it felt pretty frumpy looking. It was hard to wear something that seemed both appropriate, as well as up to the standards of the impressive company you were applying for. Especially given most of your work wear was plain and black, never needed to wear anything any more impressive.

You were also wearing your nicest heels, albeit they weren’t very worn in, and giving you blisters, having only ever left your wardrobe for a handful of weddings over the years. 

“Um hiya, I’m here for an interview with miss Ibarra?” you told the blonde girl nervously, who looked up at you with complete disinterest in response.

She stared at you for a moment, before tapping away at her keyboard, leaving you to stand there, anxiously fidgeting, unsure what to do.

“Yes, she’s upstairs on the 15th level” she finally responded, looking back up at you, “I’ll tap you in, the elevators are down there, shell be waiting for you”

You blinked at her, gathering all the information before quickly realising you must look stupid just standing there, “oh of course thank you! Um…what room am I-“

“she’ll be at the front desk of the 15th floor” the woman interrupted, looking back to her computer now, obviously done with the conversation. She taps something and the sliding doors to the right of the desks slide open for you.

You rush over to them, shooting her another ‘thank you’ as you hurry through them, eager to get upstairs and into the interview before you throw up from nerves.

You had only spoken to Miss Ibarra over the phone once, as well as a handful of emails. Marianna Ibarra was the head of so and so at the company. And, if you got the job, would likely be your immediate boss. 

She seemed quit intimidating, according to your google search and quick social media stalk (of which you did for most of the important people in the company that you were likely to be working with) you had found out she was 26, and freshly engaged. 

Most of the people you had googled from the company were quite young for their job roles. The CEO, Lottie Matthews was 27, though her young age made sense, given her father owned the company. 

The other however, were around the same ages, and all seemed to be quite close to the Matthews woman. A lot of them going to the same fancy universities 

and colleges you couldn’t even dream of attending.

There was Jackie taylor who had known the Mathews since childhood, having grown up in a lot of similar rich people circles. Then there was Shauna shipman, who had known Jackie for years, who was clearly who later introduced the pair, getting her a job working in the company.

Finally, there was Natalie scatorccio. The most unlikely of the 4. While Lottie and Jackie grew up in privilege and the three of them attended fancy universities. Natalie scatorcio, as far as you could find, grew up completely differently.

You were curious how she ended up where she was now. Of course, you don’t have to go to posh schools and have rich friends to end up with a nice job. But to do so, so young, being 27 like the others, well that was certainly impressive.

When you finally reached the 15th floor, you held your breath, greeted immediately by a beautiful noirette woman as the elevator doors opened.

“Miss y/l/n?” she asked straight away, not allowing you to so much as step out the elevator doors before she spoke up.

“Oh um, y-yes hi I’m y/n” you stuttered out, stepping forward to shake her hand as she offered you a polite smile, her face then quickly returning to one of neutrality.

“I’m Mariana Ibarra, you can call me Mari” she says simply, gesturing her hand towards one of the hallways after your hands separated, “if you’ll follow me, we can have a chat in my office and then I can give you a short tour”

You quickly follow after her, trying desperately to breath calmly and keep your cool. 

“Please…have a seat” the woman told you calmly, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite her own as she walked towards it. 

“As you know miss y/l/n, we’re down the last two candidates for the job position, you and another girl.” She started as you listened intently, picking at your nails under the desk, “I’m going to be honest with you, she’s far more experienced…”

Your heart dropped.

“However, I must say I think you might be a better…fit” she continued.

She must have sensed your confusion at her words, taking in your furrowed brows and heads slight tilt. You suppose you were happy she thought you were a better fit, but her words were confusing.

“Can I be honest with you miss y/l/n?” she asks.

“Yes of course…” you agree, somewhat hesitantly.

“The other candidate, she was lovely…she’s been working office jobs half her life and only had to stop at her previous job to help her husband recover from a hip replacement” Mari told you, “She’s got plenty of experience, hell she’s got more experience than half the girls that work here right now.”

“But you see, were a fashion company” she states simply, bluntly continuing, “and the other candidate…well she’s nearly 60 and can barely fit into any of the clothes we make, shed stand out like a sore thumb, she’s not the kind of woman we hire here…”

Your eyes widened at her words, not expecting her to be so blunt, and certainly not this rude about another applicant to your face.

“I don’t mean to be harsh but looks matter here” she speaks, not letting you have too long to think over her words, “you’re pretty and young, the higher ups would love you and while you’re not as experienced as Mrs smith, I think you’ll do well enough at the job”

You should probably be more alarmed by what she was telling you than you were if you truly thought it all through, but as you sat in the office you couldn’t stop a small smile come to your lips.

“Thank you?” you told her after a pause, though it came out more a question.

She ignored your words, choosing instead to give you a critical once over, making you blush at her grimace.

“However, I must be frank with you miss y/l/n, if I was to give you the position here at Matthews designs, you’d need to…dress the part so to speak” she told me, voice never wavering, “a pretty face is nice enough but we’re a fashion company, and those…clothes, they won’t cut it” 

You didn’t think your face could get any redder after she said that…

Despite your embarrassment, you nodded quickly, “of course, I’d be more than happy to dress however the company requires”

“good” the older woman responded finally with a quick smile, “well then I’d love to offer you the position”

You couldn’t stop thew wide smile from donning your face. You were sure she probably thought you looked ridiculous, getting so excited over a job as a glorified runner, but you simply couldn’t help it.

“Oh, thank you so much!” you said happily.

“Shall we?” she spoke, standing up from her desk and practically ignoring your words, walking towards the door and leaving you to rush after her.

this has not been proof read fair warning

Taglist:

@theoreticalfreak

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

The Lost Boys dating human!reader headcanons

Marko

- Marko is honestly down for whatever, even if it seems ‘lame’

- He weirdly loves the ‘lame’ stuff with you, like he will get weirdly into an animal documentary or sit with you while you knit

- Loves watching game shows with you

- Its his one goal and ambition in life to make you smile and laugh as much as possible

- Though take out is on the menu for most dates, he has been known to wear his cleanest clothes and take you somewhere nice to wine and dine you

- Will either forget how to sustain his human love, or be over cautious, no in-between

- He can’t help but stare at you and smile like a dork 24/7, not just checking you out but admiring you when you do anything

- If anyone causes you any offence at all, he is quick to rage. You had to physically pull him away after someone accidentally bumped into you and you dropped your wallet

David

- Always seems to forget about human safety things like helmets and going to sleep at a reasonable time

- He acts like he thinks they’re stupid but really he cares deeply about keeping you safe

- You’ll compliment and inflate his ego to get what you want. He knows what you’re doing but doesn’t care

- Wants to keep you safe at all times and is weirdly insistent about you having weapons on you during the day. You said no to a gun but he did manage to steal you a cute knife that you keep in your bag

- If you ever give or make him a gift he will act indifferent but it will actually be his most prized possession. Marco once sat on a blanket you knitted him and Marco was almost murdered

- Has totally forgotten about human emotion so sort of just stands there bewildered if you ever cry in front of him

- He doesn’t ride in your car often, but when he does you can bet your ass he gets both antsy and handsy. Winds down the windows and his hand slips up your thigh while he turns the radio up as loud as it goes

- The most romantic thing he does is takes you flying with him. He’ll hold you tight up in the air as you look at the city from extremely high up. Might accidentally laugh a bit if you get freaked out

Dwayne

- Gives you absolute princess treatment

- Will open every door and has even been known to carry you over a puddle

- Wins you so many stuffed animals they don’t all quite fit in your apartment

- Happily lets you do his makeup, even let you do a full Marilyn Monroe look once, beauty mark, red lipstick and all. You couldn’t deny he looks at as fuck in red lipstick

- Makes sure to take note of all your interests and will then proceed to steal you things to do with said interest

- Wants to be a proper gentleman so he began to win you over by wooing you with chocolates and flowers

- It’s tricky for him to talk about or remember his human life, but sometimes when you’re drifting off after sex, you can hear him whispering things about his family, his culture, as he tries to remember what it was to be human

- If you work a night job he is your personal bodyguard and watches you the whole time. If you work during the day, he wants to know everything that happened, both good and bad

Paul

- Loves both seeing and smelling you in his clothes, not just his shirts but pants and jackets too

- Wants you to do his makeup, especially if you straddle his lap while you do it

- When you first started going out he acted like he hated more poppy music like ABBA and Madonna but when you’re in your car together he will belt them out

- If you ever start to feel bad about your appearance he will literally kiss every inch of your skin until all insecurities melt away

- Gets really into helping you style and design your own jacket. Just you two sitting on the floor in the cave surrounded by patches, pins and paint

- Though he’s alternative and black-clad, he actually loves seeing you in colour. Calls you his little fairy

- Loves showing off by winning every arcade and carnival game you come across

- He’s always touching you in one way or another, whether it be an arm around your waist or his hand on your thigh

[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cute Uglies [Bruce]

AN: Shout out to @luckyarchaeologist whose comments inspired me to go a completely different direction to what I had envisioned.🩷 And everyone else who reblogged/comments/voted for a part 2! I hope it lives up 🩷

GN!Reader/Bruce Wayne, 1.6K Words [2/?]

Part One >[Here]<

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, teasing

His hands are soft, and warm, soothing the tension from your body as he uses them to cup your face and hold you steady as he pushes closer, pressing your body deeper into the wall with his broad chest. Up close you can see a smattering of his five o’clock stubble coming through, even under the dim slivers of moonlight breaking through the gloomy alley. You note a hint of coffee on his breath before his lips brush against-

Loud banging at your apartment door startles you awake. Tired eyes sluggishly take in the time on the nearest clock, you’re barely able to process the numbers before the knocks come again. It’s too early. It’s your day of for goodness’ sake and it sounds like someone is trying to break down your door with their fists. When you answer it’s an equally disgruntled delivery driver. They ask your name before bombarding you with a large box and snapping a proof of delivery photo. You ponder your unkempt morning appearance and pray the sender of this parcel doesn’t ever check that photo.

It was almost certainly not from you because you hadn’t ordered anything, especially not anything this big. You don’t recognise the logo, but it, the matte black tape, and the distinct florally smell permeating from the smooth white container tells you that whatever is inside is expensive. That or it’s a trap, designed to lure you in with its unsuspecting exterior, then BAM Ivy toxin or Joker gas. You’re not dumb, you’ve seen the PSAs.

30 minutes, one morning brew, one disposable mask, one sharp knife, 2 gloves, and a whole lot of nerve later you gently remove the contents from its packaging. It’s wrapped in a layer of security card and glittery tissue paper but it’s pretty evident what it is. It’s a very nice bouquet of flowers. A mix of carnations, hyacinths, and baby’s-breath, already sitting in a pretty crystal vase that probably cost more than your rent.  A gold envelope stands out amongst the colourful petals, and you fork it out to read despite being certain you already know who it's from. Nobody else in your life would spend this much money on flowers for you, even if it were a special occasion. The repercussions of telling your name to a stranger, even a famous stranger, who you’d known of all your life, but never known hadn’t occurred to you until you see it printed in foil against the high-quality textured card.

“As you understandably didn’t allow me the chance to apologise last night, please accept these as a token of my penitence. Regards, B.W.”

You’re not sure which irks you most, him cornering you in a dark alley in the first place, his seeking you out to apologise in an unsettlingly short amount of time, the absurd display of wealth, his pretentiously unironic use of the word ‘Penitence’, or the fact that you kinda liked it. The fact that you’d spend the night dreaming about slivers of moonlight and soft hands that didn’t exist. In actual fact, the remainder of the scene had been clumsy and anticlimactic.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?” You squint to read his expressions, barely able to make him out under the faint light of apartment windows high above your figures. There's a disconnect between the upper and lower halves of his face that adds to your already heightened nerves. His jaw and lips remain in an ever-present scowl, but steely blue eyes seem to soften as you tell him your name. “I'm not following you.” Your voice is stunted, weak due to the unrelenting pressure actual billionaire Bruce Wayne is applying to it. “I swear! It’s a coincidence.” He seems to believe you, or at least, he doesn’t consider you much of a threat because his grip loosens enough for you to find your footing again. Before he can change his mind, you scramble out of there, almost tripping on your accidentally discarded bag on the way. Whatever is up with him is not your problem. “I-“ “Save it.” Creep. You’re not interested in his apologies or excuses. You’re just an average person trying to make their way in the crime capital of the world, probably. It’s a miracle he didn’t put you in an early grave due to a heart attack. You could see the headlines now: ‘Playboy Billionaire Charged with Manslaughter: Officials unsure why he corned innocent Gothamite’ which is to presume a man with as much wealth as Bruce Wayne would ever be charged with a crime. Rich, ill-mannered, paranoid, handsome, creep. “Just stay away from me.”

As you stand motionless, relaying the events of the previous night in your head, it occurs to you that there's still something in the envelope, something slightly smaller and thicker than the apology card. You slip it out and flip it between your fingers, a gift card to the coffee shop you’d first seen him in, with a pre-paid value high enough to keep you and all your colleagues caffeinated for the rest of the year, if not longer.

The remainder of your day is spent relocating the two gifts between errands and relaxation time. The gift card is inserted and removed from the card section of your wallet so many times you’ve probably incidentally rubbed off its magnetic strip. Accepting it, and using it wasn’t bad, not really. He wasn’t buying you or your forgiveness it's just a show good intent, not to mention it was basically pocket change to a man with that much money.

But it did feel a little bit like being bought.

And the flowers reminded you of that conflict every time you looked at them, so they made their way onto every feasible surface and counter until you found a spot with enough light to keep them alive that wasn’t in plain sight 90% of the time. Maybe you could sell or donate the vase once the flowers are dead. It really did make the rest of your living space look shabby-er in comparison.  Or maybe you could paint it to match the rest of its new home, cover it in acrylic paint and use it to hold anything else. If you ever see Bruce again you could show him a photo, see if he really did give it in good faith to be used however you pleased, or if it makes him uncomfortable.

In fact, on your next day back at work you’re scrolling through Pinterest for design inspiration as you queue up for the first of many Wayne-funded drinks when you sense it. Him. The enticing scent of his cologne clueing you into his presence. You cast a look over your shoulder and there he is, smiling at you with perfect white teeth. He seems more casual today, his hair still perfectly styled but appearing free of any products, his suit traded in for just the slacks and button-up. Once again, you’re reminded of his player image, it’s not hard to tell why so many people swoon all over him.

“Oh, hello.” He greets, raising his hand as though to wave at you. His fingers don’t look nearly as soft as you’d imagined. They look sturdy and calloused, strange for a man who guzzles champagne and stands behind a podium, smiling for photographers more days than not. Paperwork does not account for skin that thick. “I was hoping to run into you here.”

“Really?” Internally you’re suspicious, but your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, your skin growing warm under his gaze. It’s stupid to think that he’s pursuing you, flirting with you. He’s probably just looking for closure on his apology, ensuring you don’t slander his image by selling the story to the papers. He really is buying you. Your silence. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” And without your confirmation he sides steps around you, joining you in your spot amongst everybody else waiting to be served.

“You’re already buying me coffee.” You flash him the gift card he’d paid for. “Or did you forget casually dropping this much cash?”

He laughs at that, like you’ve made a joke. He’s deflecting? Maybe. But he sounds so genuine, so hearty it’s contagious. Your laugh isn’t as cheery as his, but it slips past your lips regardless.

“No, no. I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget anything about you. Especially not after seeing you in that delivery photo.” He finishes with a wink. That was flirting, definitely flirting. Or maybe an insult. Either way, you’re feeling just as nervous, if not more than you had been that night in the alley. This is just a different kind of nerves, it’s the butterflies in your belly instead of the pit in your stomach kind. “What’s one more between new friends, huh?”

“Friends?” You raise your brows. He does not have the decency to look sheepish under your dubious stare, he just looks back at you calm and collected, just like he is on the TV. A few days ago, you might have bought it, but you’ve seen him lose his cool in person. Something feels off.

“I’d like to be friends, or I’d at least like to apologise in person. If you’ll let me.” For a man so bent on making amends with you, there isn’t a hint of sorrow in his tone or posture.

It’s almost your turn at the counter, you have seconds to make your decision.

The barista gestures for the next customer, as you answer. “Okay fine, let’s be friends.”

“Excellent. You just made my day.” And then his hand cups the small of your back as the two of you step up to order. He does it so casually that you almost don’t notice, you’re not sure if you’re just susceptible to his moves, or if he’s practised them to perfection. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, maybe all pretty boy billionaires act like this, maybe it’s all strategy to keep his image clean, or maybe there’s something shady about Bruce Wayne and his weirdly hard, slick hands. Maybe he's hiding something, and whatever it is, you intend to figure it out.

If you should enjoy the view along the way, well, who could blame you?

[agoodflyting]

Good Omens Historical Trivia That's Haunting Me Today...

So we all know A.Z. Fell & Co is located on the fictitious Whickber Street in Soho and was established in 1800.

Aziraphale has run the shop ever since then and was in contact with Crowley at least until the 1820's when they took their little jaunt to Edinburgh and Crowley got sucked down the tube slide to Hell. They meet up again no later than the 1860's, when Crowley asks for Holy Water.

Stands to reason that between the 1820's and 1860's Aziraphale was in Soho doing Aziraphale things. Running his bookshop. Eating tiny cakes

Yeah... you know what else was going on in Soho during that time?

The worst cholera epidemic in London history.

If you don't know, cholera is a deadly bacterial infection caused by drinking contaminated water. Prior to the 1850's humans weren't really sure what caused cholera, but they knew it was terrifying and also that it was absolutely epidemic in big cities.

TW: this is gross - The main symptoms of cholera are agonizing stomach pain and non-stop watery diarrhea, eventually leading to the skin turning blue due to the thickening of blood from severe dehydration. Patients can lose more than 20% of their body weight in hours as they quite literally evacuate every drop of water in their bodies until they die of heart failure. - OK gross part over

Cholera symptoms show up as short as 5 hours after infection and could kill within as little as 12 hours. Cholera was especially terrifying because of how quickly and painfully it killed you, and because the patient maintained mental clarity up until the point of death. More than half of the people who contracted cholera died within a few days after consuming the bacteria-contaminated water.

And guess what water had cholera bacteria in it?

The public water pump on Broad Street in Soho in August of 1854

And this wasn't one of those epidemics that starts slowly and drags on. It hit like a bomb. It killed 600 Soho residents in ten days.

That's roughly 60 people a day in a 3-4 block area. Most of them died at home because the disease struck too quickly for them to to make it to a hospital. Survivors described hearses stacked with coffins 4-5 high going down the street nonstop all day long during the outbreak. Entire families were wiped out overnight.

What does that have to do with Good Omens?

Aziraphale's book shop was right in the epicenter of this outbreak.

Neil Gaiman has been pretty free about the fact that Whickber Street is a thinly veiled expy of the real Berwick Street in Soho.

This is a famous map showing the 1854 Soho Cholera epidemic. I highlighted Berwick Street and the public water pump that was the center of the contagion. The black bars (I circled a few in blue) on the map designate deaths. The thicker the black bar, the more people died in that particular house.

51 people died the week of the cholera outbreak on Aziraphale's Street alone.

Cholera was one of those diseases that provoked a lot of panic, not just because of how fast and painful it was, but because of the way it didn't follow common conventions about class or age. Children died while the elderly survived (often because the elderly had no one to gather water for them). Lower class houses were spared while their middle class landlords died. Churches were packed that week, because people in Soho had no idea who would get sick next. The epidemic pretty much burned itself out in a week and a half, since by that point everyone who drank the water had already died. I have to wonder what our resident Angel was up to during that time. Obviously cholera can't hurt him, but that's his neighborhood. There's no way hundreds of people, including entire families with children, are dying painfully in his neighborhood and Aziraphale doesn't notice. That means that in between this scene:

And this one:

Aziraphale would have watched one of the worst disease outbreaks in London history play out right outside his front door. I feel like there's great potential for a good story there if anyone better than me wants to write it.

[hellequinist]

ok had some proper time to digest whatever the fuck happened in the world of ghost so. yapping/rambling session because perpetua and copia already foil each other so much just solely based on designs and im losing my marbles

ive seen some miscellaneous thoughts floating around so some of them may be echoed here but. yeah

im especially going insane over the potential sun/moon dynamic shenanigans we can get here… copia’s colors are blue and gold (apologies, i don’t know specific colors) whereas perpetua appears to be purple and silver. now, gold and silver have obvious relevance, both being metals commonly used for jewelry and whatnot. blue and purple, however, are more interesting choices. typically, sun + moon shenanigans are represented w/ blue and yellow, so having purple instead is a Choice. yet, it fits — especially given the shades they’re wearing, purple can represent the night sky whereas the blue can represent the daytime sky. combine that with the metals, you get the sun/blue sky and the moon/night sky. a lot of copia's little designs on his outfit resemble stars as well.

and this especially comes into play w the eclipse shown during the rhrn montage when imperator sees her life flash before her eyes. i saw a comment somewhere suggest that this could represent perpetua eclipsing copia, or surpassing him.

and then in addition, we have perpetua’s cool ass metal gloves + metal looking mask too. like yeah its a half mask bc its toblerone but also like. having a mask on skull paint which already should be kinda masking half ur face is. An Interesting Concept and i definitely think theres more to be said about it... almost like double masking in a sense??

a lot of the glittery stuff on copia also feels equally distributed across the entire design, whereas w perpetua it's really concentrated on his specific accessories/jewelry. like copia's entire outfit is Sparkly As Fuck...

shoutout to my friend (@galaxy-of-me) for pointing this out but even their face paint differs in the balance between black and white. copia’s facepaint is mostly all white, with the black being used to distinguish the little jaw bones or lack of them in skeletons. however, perpetua’s black skullpaint has the opposite effect. it highlights kinda the “main” parts of his face (and helps to highlight the mask).

also the design of their clothes is interesting. like, copia's reads w more circles/curves whereas perpetua's feels more rigid and sharp. something something shape language. it also stands out to me how copia's has like. a solid blue that's divided on the front of his chausible by black whereas perpetua's is just solid black solely divided in the middle by purple. this is also seen w the mitres...

ok and. back designs from that really quick camera shot we got. idk what colors it's gonna Specifically be but you can already see some kinda lace thingies on perpetua which is cool... like i'm not sure if this is a cape of sorts (since copia's is more of a cape) so idk if it's fair to draw Exact Comparisons here... but on another note the lappets/ribbons from the mitre are also diff. copia has star looking things (again) whereas perpetua's are more rounded/oval shaped (sun and moon content AAAAUUGHHHHHHHH).

and then in regards to lore like. if we assume that satanized really is perpetua's backstory (I HOPE IT IS!!) it would make their backstories like. Very Opposite. i think it's commonly believed that copia grew up in the clergy or wtv under sister, but then this would mean perpetua possibly grew up in the catholic church or in an abbey of sorts. so, already they grew up in different environments and thus have different viewpoints on a Lot of things. i am SO excited to see how this is gonna play out oh my days

[mythicalmisery]

Bull Rider AU: GhostxSoap

AO3

Bull rider Ghost and clueless Soap who doesn’t know the hat rule. 

Soap had a stupid smile on his face as he picked up a discarded, black cowboy hat and put it on his head while turning to Gaz. They had been heading back to their seats after a quick snack break when Soap had spotted it, unable to help himself. 

 “Ye think I can pull it off?” he asked grinning, completely unaware of the hulking figure that had appeared at his back only moments later. 

Soap froze at the deep, yet still whispered, “Don’t think that belongs to ya, mate,” spoken right beside his ear. He could feel the other’s hot breath on his skin.

His eyes went wide, pleading, as he looked at Gaz for a lifeline. His friend had the same expression reflecting back at him, unsure what to do either. Without any help from Gaz  Soap turned around.

His eyes met a broad chest clasped in a black leather vest, decorated with various patches of brands and sponsors he had never heard of. He slowly lifted his gaze to the man’s face, or at least what was showing of it. The lower half was covered in a black bandana with a skull design painted onto it.

It was real dusty and the man was clearly one of the riders competing, so Soap didn’t think twice about it. Hell, he wished he had one right now to hide his own embarrassment that was surely written all over his face.

The only thing he could make out underneath the stadium lights were amber eyes and blond lashes that matched his mop of sweat-clumped hair that stuck to his forehead. Those eyes that pinned Soap to where he stood and felt like burning flames licking at his skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out dry and crackly despite his efforts. “Sorry mate, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he tossed out in an attempt of easement.

He grabbed the hat off his head, stretching out his hand and offering it back to its rightful owner. The man didn’t remove his gaze from Soap once as he took his hat back. 

Soap was all too aware he had been holding his breath during the whole interaction. He was hoping the man wasn’t offended by Soap touching his property. A fight was the last thing he needed right now, especially three beers into his night. His internal panicking was interrupted by the stranger’s gruff voice.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to go ‘round touching things that don’t belong to ya?” Soap took a reflexive step back when the man took a step forward. 

He could still see Gaz out of the corner of his eye, which helped a little knowing he wasn’t alone if things went to shite. Although, he would feel really bad if he made Gaz get into an altercation and ruin their night out due to him being an idiot. 

Soap laughed nervously. “Always seemed to have a problem with authority and rules.”

That had the other raising a brow. “That right?”

There were alarm bells ringing in Soap’s head. The adrenaline pumping through his veins should have been warning enough but he never claimed to be smart. The man glanced over Soap top to bottom, as if he was assessing him. The undivided attention had goosebumps breaking out over Soap’s skin. 

He leaned in closer, invading the already non existent space between them. 

“Do ya know what the hat rule is, mate?” he asked with a smirk, like he already knew Soap didn’t.

“Uh, n-no.” Soap felt like a bumbling idiot. 

The man simply nodded at the answer he was already expecting. He lowered himself until he was looking over Soap’s left shoulder, speaking directly into his ear.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

Soap could feel the heat flood his face like a dam opening. 

Oh fuck.

It was as if Soap’s mind, mouth, and pretty much whole body went offline. He couldn’t seem to get anything to work after the other man’s words had registered. Well, except maybe one body part, that seemed to be working just fine.

After standing frozen like an idiot once again for too long, he somehow managed to stoke the last dying embers of a functioning brain cell and took control over his body once again.

With a nervous laugh he took a staggered step back, his arms outstretched in a placating way. The man wasn’t angry, but fucking hell was he intimidating and Soap needed some space to breath especially after that comment. 

“Oh, well that’s.. uh.. ye know, we really should be getting back to our seats,” he spewed out while grabbing Gaz by the shoulder. Soap didn’t wait for the man to say anything else, leaving him to stand and watch as he scurried away like a coward. 

He made a beeline for their section in the stands, subtly adjusting his now uncomfortably tight pants. He glared at Gaz when he made a comment at his flustered appearance, doing his best to block out his incessant teasing. He felt like he was fifteen years old again, popping boners when the wind blew just a little too strongly.

The announcer came back on over the intercom speakers, introducing the next round of riders as they finally reached their seats. Soap did his best to try and focus on the riders in the dirt down below, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that man’s breath on his neck, the way his voice was that deep even at a whisper, the way his eyes made his skin feel like it was lit aflame.

And as if God was playing a cruel trick on him, his gaze was drawn to the rider getting ready to mount the bull in queue. It was him. 

He couldn’t make out too many details from this far up, but he was able to spot that familiar mask on the jumbo screen hanging in the center of the arena. The man had his hat on this time. The same hat that Soap had just been wearing. He couldn’t deny it, the man looked good in it. 

The announcer chimed in, getting the crowd going. Gaz leaned over, hitting Soap’s shoulder as he whispered, “There’s your man.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth at his friend’s words. Soap glanced back up to the screen, eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for in big, bold letters. 

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Simon. Fuck. Even his name was hot. 

He looked back down to the roping box, the bull that - Simon? Ghost? - was about to ride. It was fucking massive. He could see it already bucking and ramming the sides of the fence from up in the stands and on the screen, clearly pissed off. 

The anticipation in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Ghost settled himself on the bull. While the men around him steadied him with their hands,  Soap’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t even know the man but his stomach was twisting into knots. 

He watched as Ghost adjusted his grip on the bull rope and flexed his hand, his muscles tensing under the strain displayed on the big screen.

Soap’s breath stuttered as the gate flew open, the bull exploding out into the arena twisting and bucking with raw power. Ghost moved with fluid precision; the man’s arm raised into the air, his waist snapping back and forth in perfect sync with the bull’s wild movements. Soap couldn’t tear his eyes away, completely captivated by the sight.

The crowd roared around him, cheering and shouting their encouragement as Ghost held on. Soap found himself leaning forward in his seat, his breath caught in his lungs. He silently willed Simon to stay on just a few seconds longer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride. Ghost leaped off the bull, landing as gracefully as one could while running from a crazed animal with horns. Soap’s heart was still pounding as he watched Ghost run back toward the gate, somehow still maintaining his casual demeanor as he climbed over. 

He watched as the rider disappeared behind the gate and out of sight. Gaz elbowed him playfully, a knowing grin on his face. “Go congratulate your cowboy, he just one first place,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Soap whipped his head to the scoreboard, eyes scanning before he saw Ghost’s name jump to the top as his points were entered. He couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across his face. 

“Ye sure you’ll be alright?” he asked, already standing up. Gaz scoffed, “Get the fuck outta here Soap.”

Soap put his hands together in a mock prayer. “Thank you, Garrick.”

He turned around and nearly sprinted down the stairs, cursing the crowds blocking his way. He had to make it down there before the rider left.

Soap finally managed to make it down to the ground floor, booking it to the area cornered off for the riders and their crew. He got farther than he thought he would before security stopped him, asking for his pass that he clearly didn’t have. 

He tried a handful of excuses but there wasn’t any reasoning with the man. He was about to ask if he could at least pass on a message for him before he felt someone brush up against his back. 

“He’s with me.” 

Soap swallowed. That low, gravelly voice back in his ear. Right where he wanted it.

The security guard stood there a moment before he nodded at Ghost and walked away, as if Soap wasn’t even there. 

It took a herculean effort for Soap to turn around. He was very close to losing his nerve and chickening out of this whole ordeal. Hell, he didn’t know this man. What was he doing? 

“Now, what are ya doing all the way over here. Breaking more of those rules, I see,” he said forcing Soap to take a step backwards. 

Soap cleared his throat, voice coming out surprisingly steady. “Well, I figured I would congratulate the winner.”

“That so?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

Soap took a step forward in a random burst of boldness. Now or never. 

“Aye, I also think I owe ye a debt,” he punctuated by grabbing the hat off the man’s head and placing it upon his own.

Soap wasn’t sure if it was the passing headlights from the sea of cars and trailers behind them, but he swore Ghost’s eyes flashed at his words. He leaned down in a mirror image of their earlier interaction, a strained “Follow me,” was spoken in his ear.

Soap let out a deep breath as he watched the man walk away. Not ashamed to admit he enjoyed watching him as he did so. Fuck. This was happening. 

They walked through a dirt and gravel lot off to the side of the arena. Soap observed the ranchers loading the livestock back into trailers under the parking lot lights as they passed through.

They ended up on the outer edge of the lot, the closest light post was a few cars down so it wasn’t overly bright where they were. Soap nearly missed it when Ghost turned a corner around a large parked trailer. 

He followed suit, unable to stop the embarrassing yelp that left his mouth as he was thrown against the side of said trailer. All thoughts of cursing the man out disappeared when Ghost’s lips were crashing against his. The initial impact had him grunting, the sounds immediately swallowed by Ghost’s domineering mouth. 

Soap couldn’t breathe, and normally he wouldn’t have any complaints about the matter given the situation, but he was starting to get lightheaded. He reached his hands up, gripping onto that leather vest and regretfully pushed the man off of him. He gasped at the separation, greedily filling his lungs at the first opportunity.

“Air, air is good,” he wheezed out.

The bastard huffed a laughed right in Soap’s face. Between the night sky and Soap’s racing mind, he hadn’t quite registered that Ghost had taken off the bandana from earlier. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, just barely making out the details of the face currently six inches from his own. 

He was fucking beautiful. 

Soap didn’t need sunlight to come to that conclusion. He had strong features; a Roman nose that had clearly been broken one too many times and never healed quite right, full lips that had a small scar running across the bottom as if it had been split in a fist fight and never got the proper stitches. He had another scar going from his chin to his neck, the moonlight illuminating the silvery healed skin that was no doubt part of an impressive collection. 

Soap couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face when he realized how blatantly he’d been checking out the other man. To his credit, Ghost just stood there; not saying a word while letting him have his fill. 

His attention drifted back to reality when a wave of lights and shadows danced across their faces as a car drove by. Soap unconsciously grabbed onto Ghost’s vest, pulling him onto himself while trying to melt into the trailer out of fear of getting caught. 

“Relax,” Ghost whispered. 

His mouth moved down to Soap’s jaw, kissing his way across his flushed skin until he reached his ear. Soap couldn’t help the full body shutter that racked through him as the man licked up the shell of his ear before biting down on the tender cartilage.

He turned his face slightly to the right in a poor attempt at stifling his moan in Ghost’s shoulder as the other slotted his knee right between his legs. 

Fuck. He hadn’t realized just how hard he was before Ghost started grinding against him.

The friction was almost unbearable, just the right amount of pain to still be pleasurable but still not enough. “More,” he groaned out. All reservations about sounding too desperate were out the door, he needed this man. Now.

Ghost turned his head to stare directly at Soap with a smirk plastered on that stupidly handsome face. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased. 

He didn’t even give Soap time to defend himself before he was reaching down to undo his belt buckle and slide his hand down Soap’s boxers. 

“Fuuuck,” Soap hissed out as Ghost gripped his cock with those rough and calloused hands. Every twist of the man’s wrist had a jolt of pleasure shooting up Soap’s spine. His hand had felt like a branding iron, scorching to the touch and Soap had no complaints over the claim.

He was full on panting now. The only air he could manage to get was what Ghost allowed him when his lips granted reprieve. 

Soap was gradually nearing his breaking point. He normally would have been embarrassed for not lasting longer, but he decided to give himself a break when he’d been sporting a semi nearly the entire second half of the event. No thanks to the bastard who currently had his tongue shoved down his throat. 

Soap hadn’t even realized the involuntary bucking of his hips, his body’s feeble attempt to get off. The shallow thrusts got quicker, insinuating his building release. Just as Soap was about to reach that blissful moment he had been craving all night, Ghost snatched his hand away and removed them from Soap’s pants entirely.

“Oh, you fuckin’ bastard,” Soap spat out at the other man. 

Ghost stood straight before clicking his tongue. “We have a debt that needs paid now don’t we, darling?” he cooed at Soap who did his best to not let the pet name affect him too much.

Soap groaned in frustration. “Then hurry the fuck up cause I’m not gonna last much longer, ya fucker,” he growled out.

Ghost shook his head at him. “Ya sure do have a mouth on ya,” he stated.

“Aye, ye can do something about it next time.” Soap didn’t really care that he just left an opening for this to occur again, mind too preoccupied on the fact his balls felt like they were about to explode. 

Ghost had that smug look back on face as he reached into his pocket for something. He pulled out a set of black keys and pressed a button, the black truck behind him flashing its lights twice before he put them back. 

“Are ye kidding me? Your car was here the whole time?,” Soap whined. 

“Sounds an awful lot like complaining, mate. Not a fan of being watched, are ya?” Ghost taunted. The way he talked to Soap like he was a child was some fucked up mix of extremely hot and infuriating. 

Soap glared at the man. “Get the fuck in the back seat. Now.” 

Despite Ghost narrowing his eyes, Soap didn’t leave any room for argument and the other man complied with no further complaints. 

Ghost climbed into the back of the truck, spreading out across the seats with his hands resting behind his head as he looked at Soap. Well, didn’t he just look like the cat who got the cream. 

God, he was fucking hot.

Soap climbed in after him without another word. With the door closed, the lights in the truck went out and the space was filled with darkness once again. Soap was straddling the man’s massive thighs, nearly hanging off the edge. It was cramped, barely any room to move but he would make it work. Had to make it work. 

“Just gonna sit there and look pretty, darling?,” Ghost snarked, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Soap replied with no real heat. He reached out to undo Ghost’s belt, hoping the way his throat bobbed at the clear outline in the man’s pants wasn’t visible in the moonlight. Good lord he was massive. That earlier apprehension started to slowly creep back in and wash away his false confidence. 

Ghost made another one of those clicking sounds with his tongue that had Soap freezing his movements. When he looked up into the man’s eyes, he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped. Ghost had a way of looking at him that sent every warning bell and nerve in his body off like a crack of lightning. Like a predator finally catching his prey after having it in its sights for too long.

“Get undressed,” Ghost demanded.

Normally, Soap would put up a fight just to be an ass, but he didn’t have much fight left in him at this point. He was so on edge, so close to finally getting off he was honestly scared what he would do just to make it happen. With nothing more than a roll of his eyes in complaint, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt. It was only a matter of minutes before Soap was spread across the man’s lap in the back seat, completely naked. 

He felt like his brain was melting. There shouldn’t have been something so hot about the fact he was completely naked and bare while Ghost hadn’t even removed so much as his hat during all this. He could feel the rough denim on the sensitive skin of his thighs, the cold buckle from the man’s belt when he leaned forward just an inch. Soap wasn’t even ashamed when he realized he had been slowly grinding himself against the man, anything to ease his burning desire.  

Ghost finally spoke up, but Soap didn’t even stop his movements. “What’s your name?” he asked with that low and rough voice. Soap’s own ego was slightly stroked, he could hear the strain in the man’s voice despite the calm demeanor he was trying to convey. 

“John, but most people call me Soap,” he breathed out. He was two seconds away from ripping the clothes off this man himself.

“Soap? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Says the man called Ghost?” he quipped back.

“Alright, I’ll give ya that one. Why don’t you go on and get yourself ready for me, darling?,” he asked, but they both knew it was another command.

Soap couldn’t help the pointed stare he threw at the man. “Ye gonna make me do all the work, is that it?”

Ghost’s lopsided smile was answer enough. “I’m not the one who picked up the hat, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Fuck, why was that so hot to hear coming from his mouth? He really needed to get this thing moving.

Soap held his fingers out in front of the man’s mouth. When all he got was a questioning look in response, he rolled his eyes and pushed them against his lips. “Suck,” was all he said, patience wearing thin now.

Ghost opened his mouth slowly, letting Soap glide his fingers over his tongue. They were probably dirty as hell, covered in germs and popcorn butter but he didn’t really care at this point. The bastard would live. 

He was mesmerized as he watched Ghost work his tongue across his fingers. His mouth was hot, but nothing compared to the flames dancing across his skin as Ghost never lost eye contact during the whole ordeal. He could probably cum from this alone.

Before that thought became reality, Soap pulled his hand back. Watching the string of spit connecting his fingers to Ghost’s mouth glisten in the moonlight. 

He cursed lowly as he gripped himself in one hand, rising slightly before reaching around. He entered himself without a fuss, moaning at the friction as he slid his fingers in further. It burned a little, Ghost’s spit only helping ease the way so much. He preened like a peacock when he felt, more like heard, the other man’s sharp inhale below him. 

He started moving with a little more urgency at that, opening himself up while rocking his body back and forth. He wasn’t overly moaning like a whore, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hold back anything either. Quite enjoying the sharp little intakes of air and jerky movements of the man beneath him. He managed to get up to three fingers before he found that particular spot inside him. This time, his moans might have been a little porn starry. Ghost finally lifted his hands at that, gripping onto Soap’s hips like he was his lifeline. 

Soap wasn’t having any of that. He swatted the man’s hands away, pushing down on his chest with the hand not currently inside him when Ghost tried to protest. “No touching,” he scolded, taking great pleasure in the frustrated look on his face. 

Ghost grunted in response, like a damn toddler who didn’t get his way. “Awww,” Soap cooed at him, “Needy little thing, aren’t ye?” he said, throwing the other man’s words against him.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at that, but didn’t complain any further. “Funny.”

“I’d like to think so,” Soap replied. 

This time, when he went to undo Ghost’s belt, he wasn’t met with any resistance. With quick movements, he had Ghost pulled out in no time. Fucking hell. Massive was an understatement. It took everything in Soap to school his emotions. He wasn’t letting this bastard know how intimidated and equally impressed he was. He must have done a shit job cause Ghost had that satisfied, smug look back on his face. He could probably read minds for all he knew.

Soap gave a few quick pumps to Ghost’s cock before he lined himself up. He froze just as the other man was about to enter him. 

“The hat,” he said. It took a while before Ghost could tear his eyes away from where Soap hovered over his cock, the words finally registering before he reached up and placed his hat on Soap’s sweat-slicked mohawk. 

They were both burning up, feeling like a damn sauna in the backseat of the truck. The windows had fogged up a while ago as they swapped air in the small space, thankfully providing a thin form of privacy. 

Soap smiled as he adjusted the hat with one hand, the other still lining Ghost up as he slowly lowered himself down. 

Fuck.

They both moaned in chorus as Soap’s still too-tight heat enveloped Ghost’s cock. He sunk lower and lower at a glacial pace, letting gravity do the work and take some of the strain off his shaky legs.

He bottomed out eventually, resting on Ghost’s hips as he caught his breath. Ghost was panting below him, chest heaving as his body was strung tight with tension. Soap knew the man was dying to take control. Too fucking bad.

When Soap’s world wasn’t spinning anymore, he lifted himself back up before repeating the process all over again while setting a steady pace. He wasn’t going very fast, but he didn’t really need to. Ghost was so big that he reached all the spots he needed him too, the stretch and burn sending bolts shooting up his spine was enough for him.

He gripped tightly onto Ghost’s leather vest with his right hand, his own make shift bull rope as his left held onto the black hat resting on his head. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Ghost, but he still had to lean and bend at a weird angle to fit in the cramped space. He started to pick up a little speed, his movements mimicking Ghost’s from when he rode the bull earlier. Soap snapped his own hips back and forth, occasionally grinding down in a circular motion that had Ghost groaning unabashedly. 

He wasn’t normally one to be overly cocky, but he basked in the satisfaction of ruining this man. That calm and collected demeanor washed away by the panting, barely held back animal beneath him. Hell, he was equally just as ruined. He couldn’t contain the little punched out moans that escaped every time Ghost hit his prostate on each rock backward. He wouldn’t last a minute longer and judging by the shaking man before him, he wasn’t the only one. 

“S-Simon, pleaaase,” Soap groaned out between moans. He tried to convey everything he was thinking and wanted in that one word. Ghost being the mind reader he was picked up on it without dropping a beat. Like he was waiting for it.

He immediately grabbed onto Soap’s hips with enough force to bruise. Fuck, Soap wished they would. With one last glance at the man below him, Soap closed his eyes as Ghost started jackhammering into him. The car was a symphony of curses, moans, and grunts. Neither man holding back now. Soap removed his hand from the hat and pushed it against the ceiling, trying desperately to find purchase and not fall over. The rough movements had the sweat from his forehead running down his face, beads dropping onto Ghost’s chest off his nose and chin. He couldn’t find a single fiber of his being that cared.

His end was nearing and he wasn’t going to deny it this time. “Fuuuck, don’t s-stop,” he moaned as Ghost abused his prostate at the angle they were in. If Ghost decided now was a good time to tease the man, Soap would probably end up committing murder.

He could tell Ghost was almost at his breaking point as well. The man’s thrusts started to become wild, losing all sense of coordination as he chased his release. Soap screamed out when Ghost lifted his hand off his hip and grabbed his cock, pumping it in an off beat against his thrusts, never allowing Soap a second of reprieve from overwhelming sensation. 

“Go on, cum for me, Johnny,” he rasped out. Who was Soap to deny him?

Soap’s whole body seized as Ghost slammed into that bundle of nerves harder than he’d done all night. It felt like lightning was shooting through his body as his vision whited out. He didn’t even feel bad that he made a mess all over Ghost’s vest, too blissed out to even care. Ghost lasted around three and a half thrusts more before he was following Soap over the edge as well, cursing his name as he did. It was the best thing Soap had ever heard in his life. He responded with a groan as he felt Ghost empty out inside him. The feeling making his own spent cock twitch in response. Round two was not an option currently on the table. Soap felt like rolling over on the floor right there and taking a twenty hour nap after this. He didn’t think Ghost would mind very much.

They sat there for a few minutes, chests heaving and skin sweaty where they were still connected. Soap started looking around, his eyes scanning the man’s truck before he found what he was looking for in the center console. He popped the lid off and held it between his teeth as he unzipped Ghost’s soiled vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He ignored the curious eyes watching his movements. With the man’s chest now bear, Soap moved the marker to scribble out his number in his chicken scratch. He pulled back, looking down at his work with a satisfied expression as he capped the marker and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Give me a call next time you’re in town, cowboy,” he said as he slowly raised himself off of Ghost’s softening cock. 

He wasn’t sure if the man had even heard him. His attention drawn to where he pulled out of Soap, his cum slowly starting to drip down his thighs. It was gonna be an uncomfortable ride home. He glanced around and grabbed his discarded clothes, doing his best to put them back on in the limited space. Ghost just sat there watching him, lounging across his backseat without a care in the world. 

Soap finally managed to put his shoes back on, pulling out his phone and ordering an Uber ride. He turned down Ghost’s offer to drive him home, he needed to get away from the man so his brain wasn’t mush anymore. With one last glance around, he leaned over Ghost on his knees. 

“Ye know, I like this hat. I think it’s mine now,” he stated.

“That so?” Ghost asked as he looked up at Soap.

“Yeah, it’s mine. Ye know what that means?” 

“What?” Ghost responded, genuinely curious. 

Soap lifted up the hat before lowering down, placing it back onto Ghost’s head as he whispered low in his ear. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Soap didn’t say anything else as he exited the vehicle. The smile was uncontrollable as he walked across the gravel lot back to the car pick up zone.

 A man with a short circuiting brain laid in the backseat of his car behind him.

[powdermelonkeg]

Cheat Code #4 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

If you want to show a character's personality in the aids they use, you need to add customization, accessories, and/or specializations.

i.e.: You'll have a more three-dimensional character design if you take the time to consider what you can make unique about an aid; it should be as much a part of your design thoughts as the clothes they wear or the hairstyle they keep, and there are several ways to go about it. For example:

Customization would be things like colors and lights. A prosthetic arm can have colored guards that slide in and latch; a rich person might have those guards gilded, while a scientist might have a whiteboard arm panel to scribble notes on, and a stage performer could have theirs painted black with a bone on it to give the appearance of a skeletal window. A visor that replaces vision could have a screen that shows expressive pixel eyes for a happy-go-lucky hacker, or a practical black shield for someone in strict uniform. ⠀ To customize: make yourself a base, then take that base and imagine what each character you apply it to would WANT it to look like; prioritize aesthetics or practicality based on their personal preference. ⠀

Accessories are add-ons to your aid, rather than part of it. A cane could have ribbons wound around it if it's used by a magical girl, or a secret compartment stopper to hide notes in for a paranoid detective. A wheelchair might come with paragliding wings that open with a pullstring for a daredevil, canvas bags full of tools for a mechanic, or hubcaps that detach and can be thrown as weapons for a soldier. ⠀ For accessories, you're not necessarily thinking of "what can I add to this aid to make it special?" The process is better defined as "what would they want to have, and how can I merge the two in a way that's easy to use?" ⠀

Specializations are sort of a deeper combination of the two above features. They're a more advanced way of making your aids stand out, down to the materials they're comprised of or their intrinsic properties, that uniquely suit your character. They're typically hard to come by without being specially made, and can't be quickly modded in. ⠀ A spine brace being made of magic, living wood that grows to fill gaps when damaged would be available to a wood elf, and probably specially given to a warrior who WOULD damage it. A wheelchair made of magic-resistant metal could have use for a battlemage that can't turn to deflect spells quickly, or a witch hunter who wants immunity from the mages they're hunting. A cane that lights up when it senses radiation would be useful to a planetary explorer or warp drive mechanic, but not to a marine xenobiologist studying the starwhale population, who instead has a whalecall whistle built into theirs. ⠀ A specialized aid takes into account not only your character's wants and needs, but also their profession, their common risks, and occasionally their class—especially if you're using rare materials.

When you want to design an aid to be unique to your character, go through this checklist:

What do they want it to look like?

What would they want to add to it, and how do I make it convenient?

What would their setting offer them for their job or status?

What modifications would they have to seek out themselves, and would/could they?

Ask yourself these, and you're well on your way to making your disabled characters as varied as your abled ones.

Cheat code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 2: What kinds of aid to use to accommodate disability

Cheat Code 3: How to make your setting itself disability-friendly

[anim-ttrpgs]

How Snoops are Designed for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

(written by @theblackwarden one of our team artists, not the usual person who runs the A.N.I.M. blog.)

First, here are the restrictions when making Snoops. Restrictions are not bad; they make it so that you can focus on a few specific elements and experiment with how those interact with each other. When you only have a few colors, you discover all the ways those few colors can interact, as opposed to knowing a few ways that all possible colors interact.

The body is split into two, like a coat. Usually, these two piece should not be "the exact same but flipped"; they should be two different pieces in contrast with each other.

There is a hat or hair above the coat, and a pair of eyes in between.

Nothing can be "behind" the eyes, the "face" must always appear as a solid color the same color as the background, otherwise they look like they are literally just a pair of floating eyes rather than just a minimalist character design.

Black and white.

No limbs; any held items appear to hover near the chest.

You will note here that even with these rules, they are sometimes broken.

Here, the two sides of the coat are perfectly symmetrical, but this is so attention is not taken away from the real focus of the picture - the two guns. At the same time, the hat and eyes are unsymmetrical so the picture is not a perfect mirror image, making it a little more interesting to look at.

A major aspect of Snoop design is the contrast of disparate elements, especially straight lines and curved line.

This is a very simple snoop, the Bumbling Detective. Here, you can see that the left side of the hat is a curve, while the right side is a mix of straight lines and curves. The same is for the coat, the left side is a curve and the right side is two straight lines. Similarly, the top of the hat is an uneven two humps. These are small details, but adds interesting variety to a very simple black/white design.

Usually the irises of the two eyes would be the same, but I made them different in this one, along with the size of the eyes, to make it look like a raised eyebrow or an eye bulging out. Many snoops have different size eyes to add more variety and a sense of expression.

Overall, it is a mix of uneven and different elements for interesting flavor.

Hard Boiled has a lot of conflicting lines of motion.

The character is not a perfect perpendicular to the table; the table is more tilted while the snoop stands upright.

This is to create, again, more contrast and motion by the feeling of things moving against each other, as seen below:

The curve of the coat goes vertically towards the back, while the curve of the hat goes more horizontally, and towards the front.

This contrast, even if small, makes the motion more pronounced through exaggeration.

Here, you can see much variety being done through the only things that can be edited about the Snoops:

Height

Curved Lines v Straight Lines

Hats/Hair

Eye Shape/Size

Line of Action/Motion

The smoking Burnout snoop and the snoop right above it are the same "character", but the latter just had the shape made much more curvy; everything else is generally the same, but it still leads to a great contrast.

Many of our snoops are inspired by well known characters from dectective and mystery fiction, so some of them are done with some sort of reference. All snoops are hand-drawn first so that I can experiment with the feel and motion of a piece. This takes many attempts, many erasings, and a lot of repetition.

For references in particular, my main advice is this:

Do not try to perfectly capture the exact details of the reference -capture the feel of the reference. When drawing the lines, don't try to make it mimic the line of the reference. If you look at a picture of a face and you think the cheekbone looks really round on it, draw a very round cheekbone in your drawing of the face. Not the exact roundness in the pic, but just the feel of "a very round cheekbone".

This is the same principle I use for art in general, such as when i made these portraits based on references:

For example, when it comes to the wrinkles around the eyes of the bottom old man pic, i wasn't trying to get down the exact angles/lengths in the ref pic, just moreso going "it looks like there's a lot of downward curving lines, I'll draw some of that".

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[melancholysway]

Can you do 2007 turtles crush at first sight hc's reaction to master splinter introducing them to an old friend of his who is female ninja around their age. How would they act around them?

Of course I can! I hope this is what you had in mind :)

TMNT 2007 HC: Their reaction to their crush at first sight 💚

- “This is an old friend. You may address her as Miss Y/n.”

- “Now Splinter, you know I don’t care much for formalities. We’re about the same age, yeah?” You smile at the turtles as you stand before them; who remain bowing to you as a sign of respect.

- However, one turtle in particular picks his head back up the quickest to look at your face.

- The four brothers were expecting you. Master Splinter had informed them of an old friend- she was the daughter of one of his past Sensei’s. He felt a sense of pride introducing you to them.

- You were the product of the intense training he went through as well.

- “You can just call me Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all. Splinter has told me so much about you guys.” You go around the room, making sure to shake every one of the turtle’s hands. Each one had a different grip on your own small hand.

- “I reckon you remember the story of my Sensei my sons; Master Hisashi.” Splinter had told the four brothers countless memories from his time training under Hisashi. He learned almost everything he knew from him.

- “Is that…?” Mikey trails off.

- “His daughter, Yes.” Splinter remembered when you were just a little girl. You had been adopted by Hisashi when you were only one year old after a tragic car accident with your birth parents. Hisashi raised you and eventually trained you to become a kunoichi.

- “He taught me everything I know.” You had also made an appearance so you could spar with the turtles. Once Hisashi got in touch (finally!) with Splinter, he had to explain the mutation situation he was in years ago. HIsashi understood, of course he did.

- His former student and good friend being a rat had changed nothing. Once moving to New York, HIsashi began to visit often, fascinated by the four mutated turtles.

- Fast forward to now, you were finally able to meet them yourself.

- As you study each of the brothers, you see one of them had his eye on you longer than the rest; especially after shaking their hand.

Leonardo

He’s intrigued. He knew Hisashi had a daughter, but now, he was meeting you for the first time.

Someone forgot to mention how pretty you were

You weren’t dressed like a kunoichi, though. You weren’t wearing any fabrics that indicated so. 

You only wore black leggings and a tank top with some sneakers, your single katana in its holster strapped to your back.

He liked your simplicity, given you were here today to spar with his brothers

He couldn’t wait to spar with you btw

You walk up to him first, sticking out your hand for him to take.

His hand shake is formal

though it lasts a little longer as he enjoys the feeling of your hand touching his

His eyes look into yours, and you return his sincere smile

“I hear you’re the strong, fearless leader. Leonardo, right?” 

*Insert butterflies in his stomach*

“Y-yeah, you can call me Leo.” His self-confidence gets a sudden boost at your words. Strong? Fearless?

Yeah, that’s him honey.

He watches as you go down the line, shaking his other brother’s hands, he notices the katana behind you. Its handle is a beautiful shiny black, designed with pastel pink cherry blossoms and white branches. He looks behind his back at his own dual katanas. The handles were plain blue with some imperfections from wear and tear. It appeared your aura and beauty matched your own weapon.

You were absolutely breathtaking to him, your hair in a bun, loose strands dancing around your face. He watches your lips as they open to talk and shake the rest of his brother’s hands. 

Once you finish, you make your way back to Master Splinter who tells his sons to begin stretching for today’s training.

 “It’s rude ta stare, fearless.” Raphael jokes with a snickering Michelangelo. Leo didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you.

“I- uh.” “No need ta hide it,” Raph gets up from his spot to stretch his arms, and leaves his brother and his flushed cheeks on the opposite side of the dojo.

He wondered what your interests were; what you liked and disliked. What makes you happy, and what makes you sad. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you getting closer in his field of vision, walking right up to him. 

“Could I spar with you first, Leo?” Your voice sweetly greeted his ears like honey to a bear’s tongue. 

“I…yes, I’d love to be first.” He gets up from his spot on the floor after a few quick stretches, watching as you flash him a smile, your eyes closing as you did so.

He knew the more you came down to visit, the more he’d want to spend time with you to get to know you.

Raphael

‘She’s small.’ - Raph’s mind

He watches your body language and mannerisms. How you smile to each of his brothers, showing them all the same amount of respect.

When he sees you go up to him first to shake his hand, he’s a little shocked.

I mean, he’s the biggest turtle of the team. His biceps alone rival Donnie’s and Leo’s combined. He’s also very much aware of his RBF, which he cannot control

So, why did you come up to introduce yourself first? Wouldn’t you be at least a little intimidated by him?

His thoughts come crashing down when you finally speak to him.

“Looks like you carry the world’s problems on those sculpted shoulders of yours,” How did you see right through him? You weren’t intimidated by his resting bitch face, nor how brolic he was compared to the rest of the team.

He also wasn’t expecting you to flirt with him?

He thought- wait- were you flirting with him?

When he doesn’t say anything, you smile and stick out your hand.

“Raphael, correct?” 

“Uh, yeah. Or Raph. Whicheva you prefer.” The way his name escaped your lips was heavenly. His own gruff deep voice had clashed with your softer one. You had contrasting differences from each other, but it only made him study your face more. 

He takes your hand to shake, holding back his strength so he doesn’t crush your hand by accident. 

He likes how smaller your hand is compared to his own, too. How soft your hand was compared to his rough one. How your 5 fingers easily interlocked with his 3 digits. 

His golden eyes looked at yours, studying you and your facial features. There was no way this girl who was significantly smaller than him was a trained kunoichi.

But, you were. Splinter had told him and his brothers all the stories about Hisashi and his daughter. How talented she was in the art of ninjutsu. 

He comes to terms with this when he notices your katana strapped to your back as you walk away from him.

“Nice eyes, by the way.” You compliment absentmindedly, smiling as you went down the rest of the line to meet the next turtle.

He doesn’t say anything, though, he can’t help but keep his eyes on you. This was the second time in a matter of 5 minutes that you had flirted with him- at least that's what he thinks it was.

‘Nah, it totally was.’ He smirks as he looks you up and down, his eyes moving with your curves all the way down to your ankles. The way your eyes glanced at him every now and then, only for you to see he was smirking at you.

And soon after introducing yourself to the rest of his brothers, it was time for training. 

Raph’s body seemed to stretch out easily. He trained and exercised often, and he watched as your arms reached to touch the tips of your sneakers, watching how your calf muscles under your leggings flex as you did so. 

He walks over to you, stature looming over your stretching form. You take notice of the shadow engulfing you, turning around to look up and see the turtle in red.

“I won’t go easy on ya,” He says matter of factly. Expecting you to simply nod and go back to what you were doing, you get up to stand in front of him, his plastron almost coming into contact with your chest.

“I wasn’t expecting you to. Besides, I like a challenge.” You wink before walking away, going back to what you were doing as if what you said held no weight.

The way you looked at him, and even matched his energy? Yeah, he was ready to take you on.

Unbeknownst to you, Raphael also loves a good challenge. 

“Don’t tell me she’s got you wrapped around her finger already,” Leo says chuckling. He notices how quickly Raph turns around to deny his statement, with a snarky comment of his own.

“Yeah right, I’m head ova heels already.” He responds sarcastically. Looking back at you, now conversing with Donatello, he chuckles to himself. 

He wasn’t wrapped around your finger. Yet. It was going to take more than flirting and winks to get him under your spell.

Donatello

This turtle is nervous at first. Donnie is intimidated by women. He’s grew up with his brothers his whole life, that the thought of a woman gets him in a twist.

His reaction to meeting you isn’t the same as how he met April. He had this awkward one-sided crush on her that he never acted upon. His brothers knew, of course. He was such a nerdy shy turtle that would blush every time April gave him a hug.

This crush was short-lived, though. Once Casey came into the picture, he kept his feelings in. 

Surprisingly, he got over April fairly quickly.

Now, 2007 Donnie doesn’t fall head over heels at first sight. He takes a moment before acting on impulse. 

‘Pretty.’ He thinks as he looks at you. You’re standing so confident beside Splinter that he has no choice but to admire you. After hearing so many stories of Hisashi’s daughter, you were now standing in front of him, ready to shake his hand. 

Donnie is shy, he awkwardly sticks out his hand, and when you touch his, he can’t help but blush. His cheeks dusted pink from physical contact with you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Donatello.” Your pretty smile just compliments the rest of your face that Donnie can’t help but stumble on his words. 

“O-Oh, please, um…call me Donnie, or Don! Whichever.” Stupid! He mentally curses at himself. For once could he just act a little confident?

“Donnie…that’s a cute name for a genius.” Cue Donnie smiling like an idiot. You knew about him thanks to talking to Splinter. You knew Donnie was the most intelligent turtle out of the four. He had the power to make nothing into something great. He was truly an underrated member of the team.

“Ha…genius is a little…I wouldn’t say…well,” He’s stuttering and puts a hand behind his neck for comfort. He can hear Mikey snickering to his left side. 

But, you were right. Donnie was a genius. His name was also pretty cute, too. 

He thought you were cute btw

Despite being intimidated by you, your hand was soft, and it shook his gently. He notices the way your hand feels on his own, and he breaks the shake before his cheeks catch on fire from how nervous he is. 

His brown eyes continue to watch you even after introductions. How you begin stretching nearby, as he tries to focus on his own body.\

He’s admiring you. From what he’s heard, you were a highly trained kunoichi. The thought of you in battle piqued his interest. Not only that, but he wondered how much damage such a pretty girl like you could do.

Donnie wasn’t exactly the strongest, and he was afraid he would make a fool of himself during sparring (Splinter brought ‘The Hat’ out, meaning that he would pick names from a Yankees baseball cap to see who would spar with who.) 

He was hoping, praying he didn’t get paired with Raph first. 

He’s so lost in his anxious thoughts that he doesn’t notice you pick up his bo staff from beside him. 

“I can’t wait to see what you can do with this,” You say. He looks up at you from his spot on the floor, watching in admiration as you spin it around like a color guard from a marching band. 

“You’ve mastered the bo staff, yeah?” You ask, placing it in his open hands. 

‘Keep it cool, Donnie.’

“Yeah, it was a little hard at first, since it’s just a piece of wood.” He notices you sit down next to him, continuing to stretch. 

He gets a little more comfortable talking to you. You weren’t towering over him, and it eased him up a bit. 

“I mean, I can’t remember how many times Foot soldiers laughed at me when they saw me pull it out during a fight.” He admits. It was true, he was the laughingstock amongst new Foot Soldiers who hadn’t fought him yet. However, he would quickly show him he was not the one to mess with. 

“I’d love to see you fight, Donnie.” You flash him a smile, patting him on the shell. Your voice is so modulated and pleasant to listen to. 

You were gonna be the death of him.

Michaelangelo

He thinks you’re cute. 

Totally cute

He’s so giddy and excited to meet you, but he’s also a little nervous.

He wasn’t the best fighter on the team, but he was the glue that kept them together during tough times. When they need a push or a lighthearted moment after a serious one, they look to Mikey for that relief.

“What’s up, Kunoichi dudette!” Mikey’s handshake is playful like himself. He’s also not really into formalities, so he lets you know right off the bat you can call him Mikey. 

“I never met a kunoichi before! This is so cool~” 

“Yes we have Mikey. Karai.” Donnie says factually. Mikey scoffs and smiles.

“She doesn’t count. Y/n’s one of the good guys, right?” You nod in agreement. Hisashi had told you about Karai who also was a trained Kunoichi. The only difference between you two ladies was that you stood on different beliefs. Karai was cold, brash, and dangerous. 

You were the opposite. If it came down to it conflict wise, you could handle your own. Mikey didn’t think you looked deadly or dangerous at all.

He wants to get to know you. You’re the third human girl he’s met! He wants to know a lot about your life as a Kunoichi. 

He’s surprised at how easy it is to talk to you. Mikey can get really giddy and excited when talking to people, but he likes the way you respond and bounce off of what he says. 

“Nunchucks? You’ve got to show me how to use them!” You smile and giggle as Mikey is clearly trying to impress you with his dual weapon. He’s swinging them around quickly and doing a few tricks he’s learned. 

“They’re really easy, just look at how- ow!” You watch as Mikey bonks himself on the head with one of his nunchucks, wincing from the pain on the floor.

“Are you okay?” You place a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly, he’s up and at em’ like it never happened.

“I’m okay! Don’t worry everyone!” He announces to his family. 

“Don’t worry! We ain’t worryin’!” Raphael replies from the other side of the dojo.

Smiling at Mikey, you excuse yourself to your own spot in the room. As you unsheathe your katana, he can’t wait to see you use it.

He watches in awe as you practice on your own before sparring in a corner by yourself. With your katana in hand, he’s watching how easily your body flows with each swift movement. 

“She’s like an angel…” He says dreamily. Unlike Raph’s hard exterior, Mikey’s was soft. 

He would be wrapped around your little finger in an instant. 

//

Taglist:

@bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside @xnorthstar3x @miss-andromeda

Masterlist

Join my TMNT Discord!

Join the TMNT Community!

[kitkatclubcopia]

FINAL THOUGHTS ON GHOST 2025 BELOW THE CUT:

GHOULS + GHOULLETTES

He got handed a cowbell mid-song which reminded me of cowbell ghoul from meliora (my beloved </3)

Swiss army ghoul was feral.

He went absolutely bananas in the corner, especially whenever he was in the spotlight.

No Swissaurora moments, but he was still unhinged. As is tradition.

Aurora (my queen):

Danced with the new ghoulette- they had chemistry that was so nice since the new ghoulette seemed a bit shy.

No freaky Swiss antics this time :'( but still she was great and I loved watching her dance

New Ghoulette (aka Haze/Tempest maybe?):

I love her so much... She didn't dance much but when me and some other people stood up on the balcony and went for it so did she (and she maybe looked at us? I couldn't tell?)

Cirrus- She got her keytar mummy dust solo and was just oozing with confidence which was 🤤 she was doing little dances and interacting with the crowd quite a bit

Phantom WAS SO CUTE he's definitely gained a lot of confidence since last tour and did the whole holding the guitar over his head thing which was super cool. I loved his goofy tophat,, what a refined gentleman

Rain & Sodo were the same as always no changes and there WAS in fact a guitar battle leading into cirice

PAPA V !!!!

He ascended on a throne?? During ritual and wore his pretty princess dress. He looked absolutely majestic ‼️He might’ve done it during Ritual or Year Zero??? I was too busy ascending emotionally to be 1000% sure walking out of there😭

“Will you be gentle with me?”

Said this to the crowd during his FIRST EVER LIVE SHOW. The entire arena screamed “NOOOOOOO” without hesitation.

He had a few costume changes!!! He wore a cassock with a sort of waistcoat with a skeletal scorpion tail??? Which was cool!! And there was also I think a leather jacket with a black shirt and tight black jeans that had a big silver buckle on them,, he changed into a tailored suit with bat wings where the seams were all silver and glittery. His pretty princess robe was worn (of course) and then he also got a shiny silver suit jacket and a HOT PINK SPARKLY AFTER SHOW JACKET.

A lot of people are on the fence about if he's more like Copia or Terzo and I'm saying Terzo because he literally said "conclusively, I give you... Monsterance clock." The same way Terzo used to which made me tweak because I never thought I'd hear those words live again

STAGE DESIGN / VISUALS:

Opening Backdrop:

Looked like torn/shredded black curtains with white light either on it or coming from behind????

Then revealed a gothic crushed velvet backdrop with ghoul stands that had arches and skulls. Also giant floating grucifix.

Stage Platforms:

No longer standard black ones like impera now featured neo gothic arches and skulls which could've been sculptures or actual props between the arches on them???

Velvet set dropped, revealing the classic stained-glass church from previous eras. It depicted satan in the middle and figures on the side of naked men and women???

Stage Transformations:

BUT: The stained glass was on a digital screen, and the “stone arches” were inflatable!!! And later collapsed.

Iconography:

During Pinnacle to the Pit, the arches DEFLATED MID-SONG and were replaced with DIGITAL HELLFIRE.

At one point the stained-glass icons included Jesus and other figures I literally couldn't make out. Then Jesus flew away with fire shooting out of him like a rocket,,, I'm not even joking

Grucifix Prop:

Giant. Suspended. Moved up/down with lighting cues and song tone???

Lighting Highlights:

Spirit = glowing green

Mummy Dust = EVERYTHING WAS JUST GOLD. AND THE CANONS WENT OFF.

There was fire during year zero too.

Trippy kaleidoscope of teeth, skulls, bones, and Papa V.

Kiss the Go-Goat Visuals:

Monstrance Clock Visuals:

I think either the future is a foreign land or a different song (dance macabre?) had the seven inches colours dancing around on the grucifix like a psychedelic disco-y thing?!

FULL-ON VICTORIAN PORNOGRAPHIC ILLUSTRATIONS,,, Hidden inside each lyric letter projected onscreen. Depicted naked couples, group sex and all that jazz.

SETLIST (As Confirmed by a stranger with better memory than me)

1. Peacefield

2. Lachryma

3. Spirit

4. From the Pinnacle to the Pit

5. Majesty

6. The Future is a Foreign Land

7. Devil Church

8. Cirice

9. Darkness at the Heart of My Love

10. Satanized

11. Ritual

12. Umbra

13. Year Zero

14. He Is

15. Rats

16. Kiss the Go-Goat

17. Mummy Dust

18. Monstrance Clock

Encore:

Mary on a Cross

Dance Macabre

Square Hammer