#what do you MEAN my little corner isn't as isolated as it used to be

[cyn-write]

"Her Smoldering Eyes Still Scorch My Soul"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Rook, Epel, Silver, and Sebek x F!Reader (separate) For Azul, Idia, and Malleus' part

For Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil's

For Rollo's Warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation (Rollo), obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic, fluff ~

Note: This is the last part FINALLY!!! I have been working on this for a while and am excited to move on to new projects! Any suggestions, please let me know!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her, and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet, she offered her hand as well, and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip." Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied. Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave, she and her boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor, and they started chatting.

At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

Rook Hunt

An Arrow landed right in between Rollo's middle and index finger splayed on the wall.

Rollo turned to see Rook with his bow still aimed at him.

"What is the-"

"Step away from Mon Ange."

Ever the observant Hunter, he could tell Rollo was attracted to his dearest as many were. He trusted y/n to take care of most of them. She was quietly capable, and he knew she preferred to fight some battles alone, but this crossed a line.

It only took a few strides to close the distance between them. Rook, being the gentleman he was, gently pulled y/n out from under Rollo's grip. He pulled her behind him and stood tall against the Student Council President.

"Hunt. What is the meaning of this? The perfect and I were having a conversation and you shoot at me?!" Rollo's tone begins to lose his composure. "You will pay for this!"

"Not if you want the entirety of Nobel Bell to learn their esteemed president is a pervert." Rook held up his phone and a video of the previous events started playing. Along with that he scrolled and displayed photos of Rollo looking at y/n's behind and chest, being aggressive towards her, and pinning her against the wall.

Rollo quieted and stared at Rook in rage, "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh I would, and the first person to see this would be the Dean of Nobel Bell and Professor Trien. Permanently ruining your reputation and the friendship between the schools." Rook took a step closer and held his thumb over the 'send' button. "And you wouldn't want that would you?"

Y/n looked at her loving hunter in shock. This was a side of Rook you were never privy to and it was terrifying. Rollo closed his agape mouth and stepped back. He bowed to the couple and retreated "Enjoy the ball, Mages." he spatted.

The moment Rollo left Rook turned to his Mon Ange and cupped her face with his soft gloved hands. "Mon Amour, are you alright?" he was so gentle with her.

Her emotions started to flood her senses as tears spilled from her eyes. She nodded and smiled, "Now that you're here I am," she brought her hands to his shoulder and he pulled her into a hug.

"Mon Amour, you're safe now. Non will dare hurt you as I stand by your side." He patted her head and kissed her cheek and forehead and anywhere he could get his lips before he finally placed them on her lips.

She smiled and let out a soft cry, "I know, I know."

"Ma Princesse, your chevalier dans une armure brillante will never leave your side again." He held her close as she cried.

Eventually, a new song began and he stepped back. Rook had an idea to make her feel better. He kneeled in front of her and clasped her hands in his, "Mon Ange, will you honor a humble chevalier with a dance?"

Y/n nodded and smiled at her brilliant hunter, "Of course, Mon chevalier!"

Epel Fulimer

"YOU GET YUR HANDS OFF HER!" Epel wasted no time, pulling Rollo off his apple-blossom. He stood in front of y/n and held out his magic pen to the predator. "YOU LAY A HAND ON HER AND ILL BUST YOUR BOTTOM THREE WAYS TA SUNDAY!"

Epel looked dashing in the moonlight. Despite the cuteness of his outfit, in the eyes of y/n he looked like a prince rescuing his love from an evil monster.

Rollo looked shocked at being thrown off the perfect by this little mage. He squinted his eyes then they widened when they realized it was one of the NRC freshmen.

"Fulimer. This doesn't concern you." He said pointedly, "Now go back to the ball and leave the perfect and I to our discussion."

"NO. YOU LISTEN TO ME." Epel said and squared up the older mage, "y/n told you NO. She clearly said she doesn't want to leave NRC. So unless you wanna go right here. right now. You leave MY Girl alone."

Rollo glared at the two and before he could say anything else he heard someone call his name from inside. He straightened up and looked past Epel at y/n, "Think about my offer y/n, we will discuss this matter later."

He turned and left the balcony. Leaving Epel and y/n alone in the cold night breeze. Epel watched Rollo leave then turned to hug his beloved close to his chest, "y/n, I am so sorry I didn't get here sooner. I couldn' find ya in the ballroom and people said Rollo took ya, and I thought the-"

She shut up his yapping by giving him a deep kiss on the lips. Epel pulled her closer, firmly gripping her waist and slipping a hand into her hair. The couple stayed like this for a long time before parting to breathe.

After regaining his breath, Epel said, "Wow... what was that for?"

Y/n smiled and placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingertips grazing his mask, "Isn't it traditional for the damsel to kiss her champion after a heroic rescue?"

Epel's smile turned mischievous, the way it always did when she complimented his masculinity. "Champion ya say? Well, Princess, do ya wanna go back to the ball or keep thanking me?"

Y/n giggled at the suggestive comment and said, "What do you have in mind?"

Epel leaned in close and whispered in a low voice teaming with desire, "I say we slip back to my room and-"

"Monsieur Cherry Apple! Madame trickster! There you are! I was looking all over for you!" Rook came out and Epel jumped back and grumbled at his senior's interruption. "The music is splendid! why don't you join me for a dance?"

He held open the door back into the ballroom open and gestured for them to come inside.

"We will be there in just a sec," Epel said and gave Rook a look of 'Please give me two more seconds'.

"Very Well, I will be waiting ~" Rook said and closed the door for a second.

"Well... looks like Rook decided for ya, but" He bowed to y/n and held out his hand, "Will you be this humble Champion's Princess tonight?

Silver

"I suggest you let the lady go." Silver’s hand gripped Rollo’s shoulder, forcing the president to turn from y/n.

The expression on his face was stone, eyes filled with a fiery rage all aimed at the man who dared to lay a hand on his princess. Rollo was taken aback by the gaze, it it made y/n’s heart swell. The momentary shock of Silver’s iron grip allowed for y/n to slip away from her captor and into Silver’s arms. The partner change changed Silver’s tactic from offense to defense. He let go of Rollo’s shoulder, took y/n’s waist, held her close to his chest. He held out his magic pen like a sword and y/n felt as if she was on the cover of a Romance Book. From where she stood, Silver looked like a fairytale prince. He may be a man of few words, but his eyes could write a novel.

“As a retainer of Prince Malleus and a Knight of Briar Valley, I cannot overlook a man of your caliber harassing a lady.” He said, his voice steady yet commanding, “Especially MY Lady.”

Y/n felt the heat rise in her cheeks, that was the first time he ever referred to her as “his.” Due to his position, their relationship had to be kept secret from everyone but Malleus and Lilia. They never used labels even in private. There were times she felt as though they were just friends, but you understood his situation. Now he called her his and acted as her knight, her Prince Charming.

Rollo was shocked to say the least. He took a step back and said, “The perfect and I were just discussing some private matters. But we can continue our conversation later,” Rollo started to walk away but Silver held his pan to the small of his back.

Silver’s expression shifted from stone to threatening, he lowered his voice an octave and whispered into Rollo’s ear, “You will not speak to her again. If you do, I swear to the sevens you will have wished those fires consumed you.”

Rollo glanced back a Silver with a twinge of fear in his eyes before retreating back to the ballroom.

The moment Rollo left the balcony, Silver turned back to look at his dearest. For someone notorious for his stone expression, Silver was very expressive on the balcony. He looked at the perfect with concern. His eyebrows knit, lips slightly frowning, and eyes looking in her eyes with deep concern.

Without any words, the two lovers embraced under the stars. Silver pressed his lips to her temple and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

Y/n looked up at her knight and smiled, “It’s okay…” she brushed her lips against his cheek and whispered with tears in her eyes, “y-you called me ‘your lady’… you’ve never called me your’s.”

Silver brushed back a stray hand of hair as he said, “I know I asked to… to keep us quiet, but after that, I think it best that I be selfish…” he kneeled before his beloved in the (f/c) dress, one hand clasping hers while the other laid over his heart. “Y/n, will you honor the selfish request of a knight and be my princess?”

Sebek Zigolt

"Let. Her. Go."

Rollo turned to face him and was surprised to see Sebek. The usually loud retainer spoke in an even tone, barely above a sage whisper. His magic pen was drawn and pointing at directly at Rollo’s head.

He did not yell, but his rage was oozing out of every creases of his being. The fear in y/n’s eyes when Rollo pinned her to the railing made a switch click inside the freshman. He had been looking for y/n for a while. Malleus suggested the two dance n’s relax, and Sebek was never one to deny his Prince’s request. But when he saw Rollo pulled the human on to the balcony, he knew something was up. He got to the balcony just in time to hear Rollo suggest the worse: the Human switching schools… HIS human. And worse off, when she said no, Rollo forced himself on her. He could not take this anymore.

Rollo stood between the human and him. The council resident looked the freshman up and down before simply stating, “Zigolt, what are you doing? The perfect and I are trying to have a private conversation.”

“You touch her again and I will not hesitate.” Sebek Said, he stepped forward and Rollo remained unmoving.

“And I suggest you leave us be.” Rollo dare place his arm around y/n’s waist, “If the professor’s heard a NRC student threaten the Host of this event, the relations between our schools would be ruined, so I suggest you leave us be. She and I still have much to discuss-“

“You let go of her or I will-“

“Will what? Ruin the name of you dear prince and university over a human woman? I thought human’s meant nothing to fea like you-“

“The discussion is over. Flamme.” Malleus appeared behind Sebek with Silver by his side.

Sebek looked back to his Prince and his brother in arms and they could see the rage and disparation on his face. Malleus smiled at Sebek and said, “Sebek, take the child of man to the dace floor, it is simply criminal that a young couple not dance at a ball.”

Sebek understood the hidden meaning behind the words, ‘take y/n out of here.’

He strode over to y/n as she shimmed out of Rollo’s grip. In a rush, y/n and Sebek embraced upon meeting and he took her hand in his before leading his human away from the scene. Silver nodded to Sebek as they passed, releasing him of his duties for the night. Once away, the couple stopped in an alcove and Sebek embraced his human tightly.

“Y/n forgive me,” He said with his emotions finally spilling over, “I have been an inattentive lover and did nothing when Rollo had you… I’m so useless-“

“Don’t say that.” Y/n placed her hands on either side of Sebek's face. She looked him in the eyes and saw the disappointment. He was so upset with himself for what happened. Despite his rough facade, he put a lot of responsibility on himself, and if he did not live up to those impossible standards, he punished himself. "You saved me Sebek, so can we leave that behind us and go to the ball?"

Sebek allowed a small smile to grace his lips. He leaned his forehead against her's, "Oh course... I want nothing more than to be with you."

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

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

[urween]

If Logan Howlett/Wolverine was your partner. ENGLISH VERSION french here

notes : GN!reader + adjusted passages for AFAB/AMAB (assigned female to birth/assigned male at birth). English isn't my first language, so tell me if you see mistakes ;)

! warnings : sexual aspects, war, violence, insecurities, jealousy, alcohol, cigar

2 065 words

Global

smell is very important for him, he doesn’t like when you change your shampoo or face cream, and he is always sulky for days because of it.

in the same range, if he smells his cologne on you, he becomes a bit feral, growling in your neck and biting your skin.

he’s highly jealous, even if he doesn’t make it obvious. He’s more like contain himself, telling himself he shouldn't think that way, until it explodes and he’s pin on the floor the man who made you laugh.

furthermore, he lets you defend yourself, he intervenes only when he feels like you need to, or if you ask him.

same at home when you got a project in mind, like a furniture to build or a wall to paint, he will ask you if you need his help but if you don’t, he’ll not insist. He’ll always be in the same room though, to catch a photo framer or just look at you.

he is proud of you, and he says it a lot. When you finish a personal project, he’s always the first to hold you and say how proud he is.

sometimes you think he has a shitty memory, ‘cause he forgets the evening with your mutual friends or that milk is missing in the fridge. But when it is about you, he remembers everything. Often it’s him that reminds you about your board games evening with Ororo or even your medical appointments. So, he doesn’t have a shitty memory, he retains only what is important to him.

he would love to be able to fall asleep on you, but his weight doesn’t allow him to, because of the adamantium which makes him too heavy. So you try to cuddle him on your side by holding him tight against your chest, and you know that he loves it as much as you do.

the both of you made a lot of jokes, most of the people don’t understand why you are laughing out loud and it pleases you, it’s between you two.

you love to spend your days with him, but sometimes he pushes you to go out with your friends ‘cause he doesn’t want you to isolate yourself because of him. But you always find a way to bring a little something that belongs to him with you, like a scarf or a jacket or a love bite.

he took time to share his feelings, a long time. But now you two can talk about every subject, and in the end he’s quite talkative.

you love to give him nicknames, in fact you give him a lot and he remembers every single one.

he give you nicknames too, but there are only a few ‘cause they are meaningful for the two of you. Even if of course, “bub” is the most used since the beginning of your relationship.

he smells a lot of things, with his smell but also much more with “his instinct” like you loved to name it. Of course he smells when a disaster's gonna happen and things like that, but he can also smell when you have a health issue, or any type of intern change, he smells it. He smells when you’re sad, when you’re hurt, when you’re overthinking, when you want to jump on his cock.

he doesn’t give a shit about a lot of things, really a lot. You don’t shave yourself ? He doesn’t care. You fart or burp ? He doesn’t care. One time, you were in a really bad condition and the pain was so hard that you couldn't wash yourself for four days, and guess what ? He didn't give a damn, all that mattered for him was your recovery. He is so comfortable with this, that sometimes he helps you shave yourself and he even enjoys it, so you don’t cut yourself.

you two live quite away from the city, in a quiet place and a bit lost, but that means you are in peace, without noisy neighborhoods or attacks on every street corner.

Sexual life

your pleasure is his priority, in everydays life like sexual one. He can spend hours torturing you without touching himself once. In fact, he often forgets his own pleasure so much he loves hearing you scream his name under him. It is your job to pin him on the mattress and take off his clothes, even if he says that he is ok and that he can handle the pain. But you just have to look at him with your doll eyes and say something like “please, it makes me high to suck your cock” and he becomes hot as the sun.

about that, he loves blowjobs but he’ll never ask for it, fortunately you can recognize the signs.

FOR AFAB : everytime he tells you how much he loves when you get wet quickly for him. And he loves making this wet audible while making huge movements with fingers/tongue/cock/toy, he also loves when you blush because of these noises.

FOR AMAB : he loves to titillate you until your precum drips all over your dick, and he also loves the noises your body makes, so if he has to speed up his movements to make these noises louder, he will without any hesitation.

when he cums, he’ll do everything to let his knuckles away from your body, ‘cause he is always scared to not contain himself and that his claws go out.

same when he has freaky nightmares, he’ll force himself to stay on his tummy with hands under his pillow.

he is the opposite of sauvage. He already spent an entire hour just kissing your body and smelling your perfume. I mean, he is always so rude and rough in everyday life, the bedroom is the only place when he takes his time and enjoys every single moment with you like it was the last one.

despite this, it happens that your intimate moments are much more eventful. When you spend a long time away from each other, or when a jealousy peak comes in the day.

he’s kinda from the old days, he doesn’t have weird kinks, he just loves being with you. He has absolutely experience, but he always says that public sex or dirty talk were not his things. However, if it is you that proposes something new, like a toy or an outfit, he will always be part of it, and with a massive pleasure.

he is very attentive, and sometimes he prefers to slow down and even stop, because he feels and sees like you got something bulky in your head.

in the same way, he loves to know what you feel : he loves to ask you if you like what he’s doing, where he presses, the position you are in.

Everyday life moments

he loves when you sit on him, wherever it’s his chest or his hips or his face. If there are five seats, the only one you allow to sit on is his lap.

if you need to test something, he is always volunteering. For example, when you buy your face cream or makeup, he always ends up with about ten different cosmetic products spread out on his hand and arm.

when the both of you go shopping, he always makes a way to carry the heaviest bags without you realizing it.

he’ll always say yes if you want to visit another shop, even if it is almost night or freezing outside. Sometimes it’s even him that suggests you go to a store because he saw the look you gave to this storefront.

you often make him laugh when you come up with old objects/songs/expressions that he knew decades ago.

he doesn’t like when you say that but he really has cat similarities. When he’s against you, he curls up and wedges his face against your belly. And you can swear that you heard a purr coming out his throat, may it was only a growl, but it was in any way really cute.

he listens to old music, unexceptional for his age, and it always makes you smile when you see him sing quietly the lyrics that maybe your grandpa could have sung.

you always ask to taste or test what he is drinking/eating, unfortunately for you it’s often very strong in mouth (spice, alcohol, meat).

when he buys new cigars, you always ask to try one drag even if you don't like the taste. But you know it makes him happy to see that you try things he loves, even if he avoids making you taste too often ‘cause he doesn’t want you to start smoking because of him.

you two have the habit of going for a long ride on his bike, when you feel a bit overwhelmed by some events or just life.

he loves winter, above all the seasons, and he can spend his day out just looking at the falling snowflakes.

Vulnerability

he frequently has nightmares, all violent and traumatic. In that case, he leaves the bed and goes to get some air, because he doesn't want you to see him angry or sad. But you always wake up, sometimes you let him alone ‘cause you know he needs it, and other times you take him in your arms.

he cries more than he admits, often after his nightmares. You know he doesn’t like it, even if you say that crying is beautiful, he just can’t feel that way for himself. So you pretend not to see his tears, you kiss his head and take him against your chest. The day after, he always thanks you, with words or actions.

when you have bad days, he smells it and he does everything to make you feel better. He even went to another city for some apple/cinnamon chocolate ‘cause you mention it.

Entourage

he doesn’t have family, or at least not blood ties, but Charles and all the team take a big place in Logan’s heart, even if he doesn’t say it.

you two often go for several weeks in the manor, you love to see a safe place open for every mutant and Logan needs to come back there sometimes, it’s kinda the only home he never has (with you, of course).

Charles is so kind with you, he immediately loves your person and he doesn’t forget to say that to Logan.

you and Ororo are good friends, she becomes a bit like a sister for you.

Logan told you about his tricky relationship with Cyclops and you could see with your own eyes, they constantly send each other peaks.

he also spoke about Jean, and honestly, at first you don’t like talking about her, you were afraid that he may still love her. But quickly, you realize that it was over between them, it was only a really big crush but he meets you and no one equals you, his words.

twice, you saw Magneto in the garden playing chess with Charles, but you preferred not to get involved, Logan doesn’t like Magnto too and apparently it is mutual.

the x-men kinda became like a second family for you, they immediately welcomed you and you’ll forever be grateful for that.

the first time Logan brought you here, everybody looked at you two with frog eyes. The pupils had a hard time believing that Wolverine was in a relationship, but it is.

Sentences that scream "Logan"

I’m proud of you

You need somethin’ ?

On my lap bub

SHE/HER READER : I know you can open this jar alone, since you are “a big girl”, but i want to open it for ya

HE/HIM READER : I know you can open this jar alone, since you are “a big boy”, but i want to open it for ya

Somebody hurt you ? Tell me

Movie ? Seat down, i take blankets

Hot chocolate ?

Come here, come in my arms darl’

SEXUALITY

You feel it ? Tell me that ya feel how you’re shakin’ for me

God, look at you, fuckin’ beautiful

Never ever someone’ll see you like that huh ?

Say it, say my name darling

Fuck, do it again, do it for me beautiful

gifs : @/asgardswinter

bannière : @/saradika-graphics

[yan-lorkai]

Hi! I was wondering how you think the octa trio would react to a darling who was studying to be a marine biologist? Like I can image that before darling was taken by the mirror they were studying, have an absolute love of the ocean, and even go deep sea diving regularly. I could also see them absolutely gushing over the trios mer-forms, being curious, making treats/dishes based on what their fish equivalent like to eat in our world.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ "Zuzu, it's true that octopus have three hearts?" You asked out of blue. You always asked such strange questions whenever you could corner him or the tweels but he couldn't deny you and your curiosity. You had this hopeful glimmer in your eyes that was so precious to see. "Oh and why do some octopuses like to lead an isolated life? It's, uh, because they don't have a mate or just something innate? And if I can ask more, how do this whole visual communication between octopuses work?"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ At first, when you still haven't picked his interest, he wouldn't answer you. Not without a contract, that is. But after that, when you became someone dear to him, Azul genuinely feels very happy that you take so much interest on him though he is a little overwhelmed by how many questions you ask per second. Even so, he do his best at answering you when he note your interest on marine life.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You two has long conversations about the life beneath water. You match his enthusiasm talking about fish, crustaceans and molluscs, about corals and the littles things you love. He might share some fun facts with you about octopuses and answers your questions as best as he can. Though he do gets a little shy sometimes. Like, wow, you really want to know all this? If he was in his mer form, you would see his tentacles moving in a very distinct way, almost like a dance and how his skin changed its color.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He gets even more shy if you ask to see his mer form, which he is still a little insecure about. He knows you won't laugh at him but he can't help so this might take a while. Till then, he is more than happy to this little routine of yours. Plus he like when you cook some crustaceans for him. Octopus loves to eat it. Your knowledge is cute in his eyes so he, in turn, study human customs to understand more of you. If you compliment on his human form, he'll blush. But if you compliment him on his mer form, he'll without notice release ink, blush and stutter a little.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Azul makes a potion for you to be able to breathe beneath water each and every time you go diving. Isn't he so generous, just as the Sea Witch herself? Though there's a trick to it. You love the sea so much and you want to know so much and there's so many things you haven't seen yet, it's just fair for him (and for the tweels, he suppose) to show you all. The price? Your legs. Yes, your legs. When you drink it you won't be able to go back to your human form.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Though that's only when you guys graduate from NRC. So you still have some time on your hands, use wisely.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ "Jadeeee, why do eels like to migrate so much? What yawming mean you want to mate with someone?" You ask him one day, watching him pause and offer that same sweet, mysterious smile. You then look at Floyd who is using your shoulder as a pillow. "And is it true that you live to be 100? And my main question is about electric eels, how do they use electricity to communicate?"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ So many questions. Jade teases you a lot because of how many questions you ask, it's all good fun and he knows when to stop to not make you feel like you're intruding. He gets a little softer answering it, feeling a little nostalgic himself. He felt the same way when he got his legs, he wanted to explore the world, sightsee everything, eat different dishes and hear different songs.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Everything was new though he had to learn everything alone, as his brother and Azul were busy doing their own thing. You don't need to be alone learning about marine life, he can answer your questions, go diving with you, it's a little dangerous but he is there to protect you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He likes feeling your gaze boring into his form and you little anxious hands touching his long tail and fins. It's cute. Feels intimate. Even more when he curl his tail around you and cuddle you, staying like that for various minutes or even hours.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ On the other hand, Floyd may or may not answer your doubts based on his mood. He likes to hear your questions, they're so diverse and they make him think about home. So far, he already told you how crabs have a strong exoskeleton, or that crustaceans adapt quickly or how eels sometimes migrate to live in salt water then on fresh water. There are so many things he could tell you about it. So many creatures who he fought against. Ah, the good times <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Most times than not Floyd likes to take you diving instead of answering you. It's just more fun, plus he like to have you pay such close attention to his mer form. He displays his tail and gills proudly, letting his bioluminescence leave you in awe.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You and Floyd usually cook together on mostro's kitchen and he show you just how he like to eat molluscs, fish, algae and octopus. He even let you spoonfed him and he'll do the same for you, giggling happily, telling you how cute you are where you're eating. Though he knows humans may find eel food a little strange so he often cook your favorite dish as well.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The Octotrio work together to trap and isolate you in their care. They are the only one worth enough to have you asking your little questions and they'll hate (they totally don't) to hurt someone, if you choose to be ask someone else about marine life. Thus the other octavinelle students are a little afraid of interacting with you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But that's ok, right? After all you have your beloved friends to keep you company.

[teyamsatan]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xxɪɪɪ - ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ

pairing: stepbrother!neteyam x omatikaya!reader

➽ words: 1.3k words

➽ a/n: i am unbelievably hot and bothered in an airport, so you better like this besties :((

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: stepcest(!!!), degradation, mention of spitting in mouth, blood, kinda mean!neteyam

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

“You’re in trouble now, little sis.” It was soft and deadly, like the freshly sharpened blade of a knife - his whispered voice, so close to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your face like the breeze of the bright night. It was just as beautiful as it’s always been, but the edge in it scared you almost as much as it turned you on. Your step-brother was always poised, always put-together, always calm. It didn’t feel this way right now, his nose flared and fingers clenched in a tight fist as he was trying his best to maintain the facade, while he turned away from you in order to face the warriors you were casually flirting with at the village celebration, a sweet, too-sweet smile adorning his otherwise threatening features.

“If you’ll excuse us, my sister and I have some… family issues to discuss.”

“Teyam, I—“ his glare was enough for you to stop whatever half-assed apology was about to come out of your mouth. Truthfully, you had no intention of following through with any of the men you managed to seduce in the few hours you did the rounds at the party. No, there was no one that could hold even a pinky to the man you actually wanted, but you knew it wouldn’t happen without a little, well… machiavellian planning on your part. Neteyam and your relationship teetered on a fine line, an unsteady rope that would cause an unsightly fall at the gentlest gust of the wind. There were touches, intimate and moan-inducing, lingering stares that made you question your own sanity and dreams, so many of them, so many that you could never repeat out loud, that you could never even think about without blushing violently, without your loincloth dampening and nipples hardening. You could barely look him in the eye for days when they first started, but then... then you realised he felt the same when you caught him one night, vigorously pumping his throbbing, hard, thick cock, spilling whimpering moans and broken cries of your name. He came violently, moaning praises and hymns of what he'd do to you, and fuck, you knew then you wouldn't rest until every inch of your body memorised his touch by heart and his cock was buried in you so deep and often you couldn't remember what your womb felt like without it.

But time came and time passed and nothing ever happened. He was too good, too in-control of his own emotions and troubling feelings, too focused on the image he tried to hard to reflect to others to succumb to such horrible, nefarious actions. Until now, that is. You smirked a little, unable to help yourself, not when you got him exactly where you wanted him, not when it was stirring animalistic desires in you you knew he'd manage to fulfil.

“My little step-sister's such a little slut, isn't she? You obviously need to be reminded who you belong to.” 

You yelped silently as Neteyam yanked your hand and pushed you away from the crowd, manhandling your much smaller frame with ease as he dragged you to a dark, isolated corner of the village, before pushing you roughly until your back made contact with the hard, gravelly surface of a tree.

It was heaven, breakable, forbidden heaven, the way he pushed apart your legs with his thick, lustrous thigh and gave you some much-needed alleviation. It was hell, the way he didn't move or go any further, wrapping his fingers around your slim throat and squeezing until whatever little breath he didn't manage to already take away was trapped in you, just like you were trapped in him.

"What do you have to say for yourself, huh? Throwing yourself at anyone with a pulse, like a whore. You're a Sully now, that fucking means something, do you hear me?"

You could hear him, but you couldn't answer, not when he was still holding you by the throat, restricting your movement and your ability to speak, not when your head felt lightheaded and your tewng wetter with every second passed.

"Are you so desperate to get fucked, little sis? This needy little cunt so desperate you'd settle for any low-life, huh?"

He released you then and you moaned, bucking your hips so you'd get the friction you desperately wanted, almost euphoric when he seemed to listen and he undid your loincloth expertly, uncovering your dripping folds. He wasted no time stroking his fingers against you, circling your clit with his thumb while pushing two long digits in your sopping entrance, finding the spot that made you see stars instantly, incessant in his attempt to bring you to your knees in the shortest amount of time possible.

"But it's not just any of them you want, mm? No... not when you whisper my name in the dead of night when you think we're all asleep. Not when you touch yourself while calling for your big brother to come and show you how you need to be treated."

He didn't stop until you came, loudly screaming his name, hoping no one could hear the way you were coming apart on your big brother's fingers.

When the high settled, he took off his own clothes, lifting you in the air by the back of your knees, holding you easily up while he dragged his tip teasingly against your folds, over and over, enjoying seeing you squirm from both overstimulation and need.

"You're mine. Do you hear me?"

He thrust his whole length into you in a one fell swoop, easy at it's ever going to be with the amount of slick running down your legs and down his heavy balls, yearning to spill their load in your tight pussy. You felt him everywhere - so fucking big, so full of him you could feel it in your belly, in the way he was pushing the skin there upwards, a bump clearly visible as he entered you to the hilt.

"Y-yes! Fuck, yes!"

You sobbed when he buried his head in your neck and sunk his sharp, deadly canines into the sensitive skin, the piercing pain heightening the pleasure of his ministrations, the way he was bouncing you on his cock like you were a weightless doll, using you as his own personal cock-sleeve.

"Fucking. Say. It."

He increased the force of his thrusts with each word uttered, highlighting their importance and the feral ways by which your presence in his life possessed him, it made him an unleashed animal who needed to own you, to rut into you until every ridge of his cock was imprinted in your walls. You tried to speak in between each impetuous onslaught, the pleasure so earth-shattering all you managed were stutters and whimpered attempts.

"Yours! All yours! On-only yours!"

Lapping at your neck until every drop of your blood was coating his tongue, he kissed you, rough and untamed, moaning when your tongue pushed past his lips and danced with his own, loving the feel of you on him, impatient to taste your own cum when he'd spit it in your mouth.

"That's right. Mine." he was so big, splitting you open with every bruise against your cervix, and you could feel another wave of pleasure close to crashing into you with enough force to crumble you. So close... oh, so close.

"Squeezing me so well, fuck. So fucking needy for big brother's cock, you want to milk me dry, isn't that right?"

You nod wildly against his lips, and he smirks as he breaks the kiss to look at you, to take in all your fierce, ethereal beauty.

"Come for me, then. Come for me and take it, sis. Don't you dare waste a single drop."

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon@kasai-https @dvxsja (if your tag doesn't work pls check your settings x)

[orangeocelotmartyn]

This post has been a long time coming because I have been rotating Datastream!Doc in my head for a bit

He is--if not evil--then outright abusive to c!Martyn

Here's the facts--the datastream is a bare bones setup--he isn't falling Constantly though it, because sometimes he has to 'game' from the stream, rather than going into the game, but he's said "a sofa would be a luxury!" on that piece of artwork, which tells me that he's being treated as...a drone? or like, a tool, rather than, y'know, a human being who is Trapped, thanks to Doc's negligence. He can't even enjoy creature comforts anymore, because they aren't necessary

another point in the 'Doc sees c!Martyn as a tool' category is that he isn't even allowed to know the language Doc uses.

“I don’t want you getting embroiled any deeper than is absolutely necessary. You have what you need to carry out your searches. Just leave the rest to me..”

That? That's fucked up. He isn't allowed to know "more than necessary" which means that he is--if not being outright lied to--he's at the very least not allowed to know Key Information. He doesn't know why he's fighting, just gets pointed at what Doc wants him to do.

"Mission logs aren’t stored on the device, they go directly to Doc’s drives and are archived. If Martyn needs to cross reference a piece of information, he has to call Doc."

He has to ask for information that He created. It's a power move to ensure he knows his place, which is under Doc's thumb, being a good little solider.

He can't talk to anyone but Doc, because Doc has drilled it into his head that everyone else is just an NPC.

"Doc is the only ‘real’ contact he has. Somebody outside the datastream who he’s actually met before and can trust. The only other humans he encounters are all faceless C.H.E.S.T agents in game, but being on opposing sides of this battle means there’s no tea and cake to enjoy together."

In fact, its Literally a coping mechanism for him. Doc has successfully isolated him in a way that means he can't ask anyone for help. He is stuck doing what Doc wants, when he wants it (ignoring the fact that he has gotten attached to some of the reoccurring NPCs in his life (specifically Ren) Doc has made him afraid to tell the truth, that he's not even 25 (maybe as young as 18!) and stuck, embroiled in this conflict that he doesn't actually know is real or not.

Now let's talk about how Martyn talks about Doc. The words he uses to describe how Doc speaks to him...it's Bad, y'all.

Even when talking about a 'humorous' situation, he still uses words like this: "LOLOL stealing from one DOC to appease another." Appease is an...interesting word choice. It makes it seem as though Martyn is trying to keep Doc happy, trying to keep from getting on his bad side--likely because, again, Doc is his only point of contact. If Doc gives him the silent treatment, then he's got No One.

There's also this, "They made an agreement (more a demand on Doc’s part)". Like. "Demand." Doc feels comfortable demanding Martyn do what he wants, because he knows he's shoved Martyn into a corner, made it so he's Martyn's only hope, his only point of contact, and he likes it that way.

There's also the fact that he just so happened to have something set up that would suck some random person into the Datastream just by playing a video game, and then had a less than 25 year old show up to get a game fixed. Like why the fuck would you just have that laying out? Why would it be That Easy to get sucked in, if it weren't a trap?

The dude is--if not negligent, stupid as all hell for just having a random unlabeled button that shoves someone into a Datastream and unable to get out. That, on top of the being abusive thing, lol.

@galaxyofender

[hepbaestus]

Just some thoughts about the past year for me :)

This may get a lil deep, I'm writing this at 11pm while procrastinating revision, so it's going under a read more.

If you had told me that over a year ago I would've joined a fandom that absolutely changed my life during one of the worst periods of my life, I would have laughed. I wouldn't have believed you at all.

These past 14 months have been the greatest time of my life when it comes to being part of a fandom; I'd never really properly interacted with many people in the fandoms I was in so it always seemed quite isolating. I think of it like when you're in a car and it's late at night, you're passing lots of bright adverts that you can't fully engage with as you're passing by so quickly and it's so late that you're very sleepy.

It was just me in my little corner of the internet (i know, such a commonly used phrase) enjoying myself.

And then the qsmp started, literally a day after my life went to shit and I found solace and comfort in the early days of the server depsite not engaging much because of travelling and shitty hotel wifi, when the eggs were brand new. I was a Phil main so I'd been a crow for a while and I wanted to branch out, to spread my wings if you'd allow me a singular bird pun. So who did I branch out to?

Another white man in his 30s /aff.

Now I don't remember much of my first few months in Fit's chat, I could probably look back at the vods and see that I was likely a chronic lurker, rarely chatting. But once I'd gotten comfortable and subbed, his chat became like another little comfort nook on the internet for me.

Seeing Fit and Ramón, and how they treated each other was something very healing for me, not to be too parasocial but it definitely mended some of the father issues I had. It's such a joy, to this day, to be in his chat and chill and I'm very glad that I joined at the time that I did and then, as time went on, I genuinely found comfort in just chilling in Fit's chat no matter what the content.

The people I've met, like Shen, Lills and Pen just to name a few, are some of the greatest people that I have the honour of talking to and it's because of the server that I get to do that. I've genuinely made friends in a fandom like I had never before and they're all so cool and talented and I feel like I'm just little old me, you know?

I was introduced to streamers that I'd never heard of, languages that I wouldn't hear in my day to day life outside of the streams and it was so special. I'll never forget the nights I stayed up extra late watching Cellbit play Hollow Knight or live blogging through the Fitpac date. They're all such treasured memories that I hope I'll hold for the rest of my life.

Now because of this server, I have what is probably (outside of my irl friendships) the longest relationship I've ever had. Admittedly that's with the Portuguese Duolingo Owl but eh, 486 days of learning Portuguese after wanting to all my life after not being taught it my own Portuguese dad, is something that I'm proud of. (This is me trying to inject some humour into this slightly sad piece of writing. Is it working?).

This isn't me saying goodbye to the qsmp fandom, I'm still gonna be here being silly and posting angsty posts and fics. It is, afterall, what got me out of a major writing slump. This is more of a see you later to the server (and whatever '2' may mean), I think. There may not be something like what the server was meant to be for a while after everything that happened so I feel like I should give it a little send off, you know?

I didn't really have an idea of where this was meant to go, I was kind of just writing whatever came to mind and how I felt but I'm glad my life is what it is, despite everything that I've gone through. And that couldn't be without the people I've interacted with, talked to and shared thoughts with.

So thank you <3

[kendallville]

Logan is so methodical in punishing Ken.

First of all, he uses ambush.

He sends Ken to the desert "to dry out", only to put him in front of TV cameras 48 hours later, to destroy his reputation with one humiliating sentence "my dad's plan is better".

After Ken said he would need some downtime, Logan announced that he'll be co-COO with Roman (making all the siblings suspicious and isolating Ken further). Ken has no reaction, staring down and just glimpsing at Roman.

Logan travels with Ken all the way to meet Sandy and Stewy, just to make him go in alone, with no prep, to confront his furious friend and act as an errand boy.

And finally, in "Return", right after the one scene (the only scene like that?) when Ken, Roman and Logan laugh together for five seconds... Ken, probably thinking that he's starting to get close to dad, that he may say something honest to help, politely and with fright suggests that maybe an affair with Rhea isn't a good idea... Oh, penalty for talking out of line is harsh, Logan needs to quickly remind Ken of his place. So he makes him go to Andrew's parents, and step into the house, which for Ken is like a trip to hell. Little boy waiting in the kitchen for grown ups to finish the conversation, looking at the pictures of the other boy he killed.

Taking Ken's voice away is actually another aspect of Logan's punishment.

He didn't want to talk with Ken about selling idea - that was the first punch, because Ken's whole relationship with Logan was based on his role in the company.

So it's one "stick" - Logan made Ken answer in front of the family if he should fight, and then ignored his embarrassing paean. He didn't count his vote to show the family that Ken didn't count anymore.

Vaulter - "gut it" - in this scene Ken realizes that from now on, nothing he says means anything to Logan. You can notice that since then until "Return" Ken barely speaks, and most of what he says is connected to executing Logan's wishes. During corporate retreat Ken puts all his energy to be as small and quiet as possible - and he's awarded for that when Logan gently places his hands on Kendall's hunched shoulders while ruthlessly humiliating everyone else.

"Your brother is going to be working in here from now on" - this one is gut-wrenching. Some people say that it was "a cookie", an award. But I see it differently. Ken followed the orders and "killed his baby", proving that he could be useful, good boy, so Logan decided to put him back on the leash (or let him in from the yard - "make yourself at home") and keep an eye on him - to have him close, isolated and broken. In this scene Logan pretty much said "go sit in this corner (btw it's the same seat in which Ken sat when Logan told him to gut Vaulter), and wait for my next command".

There are many more examples that keep flooding my head, but I know this is already very long post.

But I need to add this. Ken at this point had nothing - no self worth, no friends, no support in the family, no partner, no real bond with his kids, no relevance in the business world.

All he had left was dad, and in some way that was all he ever wanted - to be needed by dad - so he surrendered.

And when dad would make him do awful things, Ken would do them, because then Logan was kind to him, talking softly, even saying "good work, son", "you did good, son" and offering the pat on the back.

Isn't that how Stockholm Syndrome works?

Ken is a hostage of his dad, hostage of the love he craves, of things he never got.

[credince--writes]

Whispers

Whispers can be heard, calling from the sand.

AO3

Cots sucked.

They really, truly blew.

Blew hard.

She groaned, sitting up on the shitty little cot she'd made her resting place for the last few days. There were whispers she had caught hold of, like butterflies drifting past in stagnant air. Whispers of Price and Gaz showing up soon.

Soon.

She was being left in the dark.

She knew it.

She hated it.

And every butterfly that floated past she'd catch and rip its wings off.

A tribute to her truly, sour mood.

But it had seemed that she wasn't the only one in a sour mood. While she'd be able to corner Soap a few times, at least try to make some conversation as she felt like she was losing her mind in isolation.

Almost as if she was being put in timeout.

She didn't remember.

And that was her fault.

Now all of a sudden they wouldn't talk to her.

Were they mad at her?

Did they not want her anymore?

She was a part of the team.

At least she thought she was a part of the team.

Maybe it didn't mean anything.

She felt useless, sitting here doing nothing.

She wanted to help,

to be useful.

She had caught Rudy in the hallway one day, stopping politely to greet each other she offered her assistance.

"I'm losing my mind here, dude." She'd said. "Your techs need any help?"

"Of course... Let me ask first, then I'll go get you."

What she didn't expect was a very, very poorly managed tech department with a senile old man sitting in front of a computer that looked like it had been pulled out of the nineties.

"This... Is the tech department?" She asked, glancing over to Rudy.

"...Si..."

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No." He replied voice raised slightly.

"This isn't a tech dep, and if this is what you guys are running I'm surprised you aren't all dead." She hisses out. Taking a step closer to him.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just following-"

"Orders. Right." She seethed. "So, not tech-dep-tech-dep, what activities are done here?"

The old man lifted his head, lifting a hand with a pack of cards. "Chinchón!" He stood, moving from his chair in front of the computer to a table tucked in behind a shelf.

Her head snapped over, looking at him. "What?"

"You'll get along great- that's Momia, call him Mom. Bye now!" Rudy side stepped and quickly exited the door leaving her alone with the lingering smell of old cigarette smoke, and a wrinkled old man with a pack of cards.

She hesitantly stepped forward, more into the room to glance over a shelf to see him sitting at a table with the pack of cards in hand, tapping an empty carton of cigarettes against the damaged fold-out table. "....Hello."

"Hello." He replied back. His voice was gravelly, aged. It reminded her slightly of Price's. It carried a weight, one that was only acquired with experiences.

Haunting ones.

"You speak English?" She hesitantly asked.

"Fucking hope so." He bites back.

She was taken aback slightly, raising a brow. "Why do they call you Mom?"

"Supposed to be momia, call me Mom."

"What's that mean?"

"Mummy. Cause been here since you were in diapers." He replied, opening the package of cards and placing them on the table.

"I don't understand why I'm being placed with a fucking babysitter." Jitters hisses out, standing up and pushing her chair back. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and I won't be disregarded to-"

"Sit the fuck down." The old man grumbles out.

She sits back down quietly. "Sorry, Sir." She mumbles, awkwardly folding her hands in her lap.

"You know Chinchón?" He asks.

"No."

"Rummy?"

"...No."

"Gin?"

"You're just making these up, aren't you."

The old man sighs, rolling his shoulders back and letting out a deep exhale.

....

She groaned, leaning back into her chair after losing yet another card game to the man next to her.

"At this point why don't we play something like speed?" She asked.

"No."

"Why, you afraid you're gonna lose?"

"No."

She groaned again, looking around the room. "Why are you in here anyways?"

"It is my room." He replied simply.

"Like, you live in here?" She asked.

"No."

"What do you even do on that computer?"

"Solitare."

"You play it a lot?"

"Si."

She looked over at the computer and the well-worn mouse on the mouse pad next to it. There was a full ash tray sitting a few feet off of the thick computer.

"You play cards a lot?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the old computer.

"No, not many to play with." He replied, shuffling the deck and getting ready for another agonizing round of him wiping the floor.

"So you just play Solitare all day?"

"Si."

"Huh." She turned back around, facing him at the table and watching as he dealt out the cards again.

"You ever get bored of it?"

"Me? No." He replies. "Now play."

"If you just play cards all day and smoke why don't you just go home?" She asked.

"The Los Vaqueros is my home, my child." He states.

"You Rudy's Daddy or something?"

He huffs a light laugh at that. "No... no.... But I remember when he was just a boy. Skittish little mocoso."

"So you've been here a long time."

"Yes."

She sighed. Conversation with the man was impossible, all he would do was shuffle the cards, ash his cig, light a new one, and maybe every once and a while stand to leave to take a piss.

She was going insane.

The room was dingy, and stained with cigarette smoke and it didn't help the chairs squeaked in a horribly irritating way.

Any time she stood she'd been chastised.

She was being held hostage by an old bastard who smoked like a chimney and played cards all day.

It'd be fun, in theory, but she wanted to be anywhere.

Anywhere but in that room.

Feeling useless.

Doing nothing.

It was aggravating, they were occupying her.

Placing her with a babysitter.

What was really happening?

Mom sure took advantage of bossing her around, to bring him his lunch, eat with her, go fetch him a new pack of cigs.

And it went on like that for a few more days.

She'd like to think they'd made progress, she started to understand the card games, play along, maybe even win once or twice.

He'd start telling her long, raspy, and drawn-out stories of the good ol' days.

The days when justice wasn't a foreign concept.

'A bullet can solve any problem' the old man had told her.

To a degree, she agreed with that statement.

His eyes would dance when he spoke of old stories, stories of when he was young.

Stories of when he was strong.

He was crazy, she'd deduced.

Maybe senile.

Half the things he'd tell her didn't seem feasible to survive, but she'd let the old man live through his stories. Watching the life glisten in his eyes as he relived the good memories of his past.

Relive his youth.

"We didn't have these cartel problems when we just strung them up in the street." He said, puffing off of his cigarette and placing a card down.

"Think that's bad for tourism." She replied bluntly.

He laughed, that dry, raspy, old laugh.

They continued to play, the long dreadful games to her always losing and him finishing with a crooked smile with missing teeth.

"Back in my day, we never had those phones. Just cards."

"Bet you didn't have a girlfriend either." She bit back.

"I had many of women." He replied.

"Yea, Mom, the slayer of women."

"Hah..." He laughed. Sitting up in his chair and flexing his shoulders. It was almost like a routine. Trying to correct his poor posture that had been engrained over the years. "I wasn't always Mom."

"Hard to see you as anything other than a chimney with a card problem."

"I remember when the spirits still roamed the desert."

She sighed silently, looking up at him.

"Yea? Dance with the cactus too?"

He laughed lightly. "I thought you'd understand! Have you not seen the demons dancing in the sky?"

She paused, looking at him.

The smoke danced off of his cigarette and up into the air, dissipating into the room's stuffy atmosphere and tar clinging to the walls.

"The desert still lives, at night." He adds. "But only if it deems you worthy."

"Worthy of what, exactly?" She asked.

"A warrior's death." He explained simply, collecting the cards and starting to shuffle them again.

"Why would I need a warrior's death?" She asked, looking at him hesitantly.

"Not need, but worthy. Pure of heart. Intention." He clarifies. "We can all see the demons. They crawl out of the dark, but the life... No, that's only there for the good."

"Have you seen the life of the desert?" She asked.

"Not for a long, long time. Before I became what I am today. When I was a young boy, I would watch the cactus dance on the sand."

"Before you were the momia?"

He laughed, smoke puffing from his lungs as he exhaled as chuckled. "No. When I was a warrior."

"Then who were you?"

"Can you not tell?" He asks.

She gives him a deadpan look.

He lifts his sleeve, revealing a sleeve of old, ragged tattoos.

But one stood out.

One deep into his flesh.

But it wasn't a tattoo.

It was a scar.

A brand.

It was the insignia of something- she honestly couldn't tell.

"El Gran Vaquero!" He chuckles out.

She stays silent, watching his movements.

"Lazo de la muerte, I'd hang them from the streets!" He wheezed out.

She stared.

El Gran Vaquero.

He was the first.

The first of the wild cowboys.

The Los Vaqueros.

The patriarch.

Of course, he couldn't leave. He'd be hunted like a trophy.

The old, sad card-playing man. Isolated into grungy solitude, smoke smothering air.

Lazo de la muerte.

"Can you not tell?" He asks.

She stares at him, and it as if his flesh melts from the bone. Death radiated off of his pores.

The hands that carefully shuffled the cards gripped onto a rough rope, a lasso. Wrapped around the neck of a criminal as they were dragged through the street.

He was no Mom.

He was a God Damn harbinger of death.

Staged atop a horse.

Cursed to never see the life of the desert again.

"Go find lunch, will you?" He broke her train of thought. Killing the stiff mood of the room, effectively turning back to his cards.

She groaned internally, nodding and standing to leave the room.

Following out of the hallways onto her familiar route to go to the mess, pick up grub for the old bastard and herself, follow back and continue on with the prison sentence of sitting with him, inhaling the secondhand smoke and playing cards until the tips of her fingers bled.

To get there, she'd have to route through the majority of the base, which was a pain in the ass but it had given her a much-appreciated break from the stuffiness of the room.

She'd pop her head out, look around the garage. Cut through there as a shortcut and sometimes walk outside and lean against the wall to look at the clouds and the bright sky they tried to devour.

She walked through, opening the door onto the asphalt and looking out onto the tarmac to see the familiar tall figure of Ghost standing next to a Heli.

One that was prepping to leave.

She stared in disbelief.

Were they... leaving her?

Were they not going to say goodbye?

Ghost stood, talking to who she could only assume to be Rudy from that distance. It was much easier to tell who Ghost was- the tall dark looming figure with the white of his mask making him indistinguishable.

Ghost turned, in her direction.

Like he was staring at her.

She stared back.

His body was completely facing her.

She could feel the burning of her flesh, the singing of her hair under his gaze.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Staring.

The sound of the chopper's blades beating against the air fills the silence.

And he turned, climbing into the Helicopter.

And she stared, watching as it lifted off of the ground and ascended.

Leaving.

Without a word.

Nothing.

"I am not your babysitter." He said plainly.

"Never said you were." She shot back.

"Bit defensive are we?" He questions, moving across the room to put away a weight he had been using earlier.

She grumbled a little, crossing her arms. "I didn't mean to. I just am starting to dislike being regarded as a baby."

He turned, looking at her. "Then do something about it."

She stared at where the helicopter once was.

"No. I'm not being cocky. You, yourself told me to do something about it and this is me doing something about it." She throws her hands up in the air. "You drag me out to bumfuck, act like I'm your Soap surrogate but when we get back you act like none of it happened." She seethes out.

"You were a liability." Ghost says again, the words leaving his mouth drawled out slowly.

"Yea?" Jitters voice cracks a little bit.

"This isn't some fun game you just get to run around with now." Ghost started.

"This isn't a fucking game, and I earned my spot here. I've earned it multiple times and I've proven that-."

"You haven't proved anything. You are not a soldier. You are a fake. We are not your community service project or your parole officers. I don't need your falsified pity, or courage for that matter." He spits.

She stared.

They didn't want her anymore.

"You. Are a scared, weak little girl."

Do you ever miss it?" She asks.

He looks at her and nods a bit before flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette.

"Sometimes." He finally responds.

"Would you ever go back to it?"

"There's nothing left to go back to." He says.

Home.

"I guess that's something we have in common." She mumbles.

But now?

There really wasn't anything to go back to.

[astromechs]

Ship kisses!!! 17. To distract, rebelcaptain? 👀

finally getting to these prompts, like, two weeks later; #writersblock, my nemesis. anyway shoutout to diego luna's headcanons about cassian being a good cook for inspiring this lmao

also on ao3! and still accepting prompts from this list :)

While he's cooking, Cassian only has one rule: Jyn can stay in the kitchenette they've been lucky enough to have installed in their quarters on-base and watch him all she wants, even help if she's so inclined, as long as she isn't a distraction.

It's not as if the process is more dangerous than any variety of others, even with the knives involved, but it requires a certain amount of precision — and therefore, his undivided focus. A split second can mean the difference between the right balance of flavors and a disaster no one could ever stand; now that there's someone eating his cooking aside from himself for the first time in years, that seems more important than ever. Maybe he could swallow something with too much seasoning, but he isn't going to give Jyn anything less than his best effort.

Of course, rules and Jyn don't exactly mesh. Even when she doesn't outright break them, she's always testing them, pushing them to see just how far she can. She has a tendency to stand at his back, to rest her chin on his shoulder (and likely rise up on the balls of her feet, given their height difference) as she watches him toss ingredients together — and to sometimes reach around his waist and sneak in what bites she can. He thinks: she's incorrigible in that way.

It's not a thought that comes with anything but fondness, especially now, when the reliable warmth from her at his back settles over him, too, when, during this one isolated moment in time, everything feels easy. Strangely uncomplicated, no matter the war still ongoing beyond these walls.

He feels her shift, one hand still resting on his shoulder (presumably) for balance as the other snakes around, snatching three cubes of cheese in the blink of an eye.

Turning on his heel, he says, "Jyn." His voice has no bite to it; in fact, its edges are rounded out and soft, a blunted knife allowed to be worn down well beyond its usefulness.

(It’s not so dangerous, he’s come to realize, to let that happen.)

"What?" Even without the slight puff of her cheeks betraying the presence of what she's stolen in her mouth, she's trying just a little too hard to feign innocence for it to be convincing. He lifts a brow, but she stays the course. "I'm being helpful."

Cassian can't help the faint snort that escapes him at that. Truth be told, he can't help a lot of things when it comes to her; he never has been able to, really, not since the day they'd met, but now that's a little easier to admit. With a sidelong glance in her direction, and his mouth just barely turned up at the corners, he tosses back, "Then you can pass me the salt. That would be helpful."

After a noticeable swallow, she exhales an equally noticeable sigh (which Cassian, of course, knows is both intentional and for show), but moves as requested, away from him, briefly, and toward the shelf where he keeps his stock of seasonings and spices. Even if her absence isn't long, and she's back by his side handing over the salt within seconds, any absence of her is long enough to miss.

During the transfer, her hand lingers over his for much longer than it needs, her fingers dragging away from his slowly. Her eyes meet his, unblinking, and his breath catches in his throat. With her hair mussed from the efforts of the day, strands of it escaping her ties, and a hint of mischief on her face that she isn't even bothering to attempt to conceal, he thinks — and not for the first time — that she is the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. And —

Like being locked in a tractor beam, he's helpless to do anything but lean in as she stands on her toes and presses her lips to his.

Everyone in the Alliance knows the fire that burns in Jyn Erso — and if the Empire’s turned a blind eye to it before, they’re certainly not missing it now. What she radiates is bright and brilliant, something that could easily spark out of control without purpose, yet once focused, can keep an entire fight going indefinitely, as far as anyone can tell. But there’s a side of that fire that only he knows, the one reserved exclusively for this room; it’s soft and gentle, and as it spreads between them, it seeps into his bones that creak beyond their years, fills in the cracks that he’s long forgotten. Feels like home.

He tries not to think of it in terms of luck, in terms of what he does or doesn’t deserve. Tries, and fails, ultimately, because the cloud of an unfair exchange will always hang over him, but in moments like this, when she sighs against his mouth as a thumb grazes over his cheekbone, he isn’t thinking at all.

Moments like this, which, of course, aren’t meant to last.

Just at the periphery of his awareness, he picks up on a subtle scent of something just beginning to burn, and so draws himself away from Jyn to turn his focus back to the cooktop. Even if there’s no verbal protest from her as he does, he knows how she’s looking at him without glancing back to confirm: there has to be a knit to her brow, and her mouth has definitely been set in a firm line.

On his own mouth, a smile tugs, visibly, at the corners.

They’re both silent for a time as he stirs, adding one pinch of the salt he’d been handed, and then another. Neither of them are excessively talkative people, so they can exist like this comfortably, but even so, there’s something that lingers in the air between them well beyond the end of the kiss. Something… unfinished.

And in the end, it’s incredibly distracting.

(That’s something that would usually annoy him, being distracted, and would still, coming from anyone else. But since it’s her, it’s different. Just like so much seems to be.)

Flipping the burners down, he shifts his attention back to Jyn easily, wasting no time in taking her into his arms and pulling her close, in returning her fire to him. It settles with no hesitation — as if it’d never left at all. He leans in, says low and hot into her ear:

"Ten minutes to simmer."

The glint in her eyes that flick up to meet his as he pulls his face back tells him that she’s reading him. She always does; they barely even need words to speak at this point. Still, she draws closer, until their lips almost touch, and murmurs, "That's all the time you need, surely."

He slips a hand under her shirt, smile curling into a smirk at the way she gasps as his fingers move over bare skin. The message has been communicated, loud and clear, but he can’t let the challenge go unanswered. "I don't even need that much."

Whatever she has to say to that is lost forever, claimed by his mouth in a searing kiss that she rises to meet.

And so are all his thoughts as he walks them back toward the nearest available surface, except for one: there’s no rule that says dessert can't come first.

[hydrxnessa]

YOUR DOORS CONTENT BRINGS ME SUCH OVERWHELMING JOY ,,,,,,,,,,,

plsplspls tell me abt Halt . begging on my hands and knees TELL ME YOUR HCS PLEASE PLELELEPSPELWPLALDLSOPlsls

AAHHH THANKYOUU ;; <33 MEANS A LOT TO MEE !!! im so glad ppl are enjoying my funky doors phase sketches ^^

halt hcs? bouta whip some up in a whim (i've been mainly focussing on designs rather than their actual personalities lol, the hcs i've said before are probably subject to change)

(also i am Not used to writing headcanons, i'm usually on the receiving end of them so writing them is gonna be a wild ride for me x'p bear with me here)

halt's hallway is its own domain to control! similar to a dreamscape, halt can control the appearance of its hallway, giving it the ability to REALLY mess with people's heads. it hasn't discovered the scopes of what it is capable of, but distorting the sound and giving its victims vertigo is seemingly enough.

halt can only do this in its own hallway! the only 'dizzying powers' it has outside of its room is its ability to give the flight/freeze response to whoever it touches (making people immediately panic and flee from the area/freeze). sadly it can't control it and sometimes unwillingly gives it to someone just wanting a hug :[

despite its jokester nature, halt is actually a polite and well-mannered fella! will not hesitate to drop whatever its doing (unless its pranking someone) to help with whatever you need!

halt likes to lurk in the shadows of the hotel. most entities probably got used to seeing halt's blue eyes in the dark corners and would go like 'haha. funny, halt. you got me.' . halt took advantage of this and placed two little blue lightbulbs that look like its eyes in random corners. let's just say halt won many staring contests this way

yknow that cinematic trope where a character appears to be moving to the side of the screen (towards off-screen) and a second character is looking at them as they move, only for the first character to somehow appear right behind them? halt does that. a lot.

as for relationships with other entities - halt isn't very close to many. probably closest with guiding light since it's not affected by its 'fleeting' touch. that doesn't mean entities don't like halt!! they just try to keep their distance from it, and they find halt to be a nice entity anyway :]

when ambush chases its own tail, halt joins alongside it. then rush joins. then its a three-man tail-chase fest (if .. you count halt's lower half as a tail)

i may think of more later but that's what i have rn !! halt is a funky fella w its joking yet polite nature but sad isolation from contact w others :[ poor guy

[terastalungrad]

BB20: Thursday 12 October

A conversation about laundry between Jenkin and Chanelle that I STRONGLY SUSPECT only made the edit because people enjoy hearing the word "tumble" in a Welsh accent.

Jordan's a lot of fun. Just nice to hear his observations of the day.

The bigwigs choose two housemates for the finance portion of the shopping task. They choose Kerry and Noky. Kerry is immediately very negative about this - "but I can't count!" - and Noky doesn't seem super hyped to do a task with Kerry.

I'm hyped to see a little more of Noky. We've not had many Noky moments so far.

Love them using the Apprentice theme for the finance task.

Noky and Kerry must accurately count a ton of change. They will be distracted by number-based songs. The first is 5, 6, 7, 8, continuing a fine Big Brother tradition of using Steps songs as punishments.

And LOOK, Kerry's WONDERFUL now! Stuboorn and negative when initially chosen, but she's having a blast. Dancing to the songs, gathering the money nicely.

Hallie's so good at offering support, particularly to Kerry. Kerry's dragging down the mood in the house - it would be very easy for her to become isolated. And then look, there's Hallie, understanding that Kerry's bad mood isn't really because her meal included parmesan on a carrot.

And Hallie's supporting Farida now! We can see the house slowly fall into various groups of friends, and Hallie happily bounces between all of them.

(Haven't seen much of her with Dylan, Tom or Paul, actually.)

---

Henry: We trust Matty to watch over these bottoms.

Tom (to Matty): Watch over my bottom.

Matty: Oh, I will be.

There's a risk of me getting this show confused with Our Flag Means Death with its wholesome queerness against a backdrop of violence.

Return of a Big Brother staple - electric shock suits.

Passing the electricity task gives Olivia, Matty and Tom a four-digit password, opening a lock to reveal ... the rest of Jenkin's stuff! Yay! I guess that laundry conversation was there to remind us that Jenkin's stuff still hadn't been returned.

Noky's deightful, celebrating winning the finance portion of the task.

Kerry cannot believe Farida's makeup videos do such numbers online. Like most of this show's viewers, she's failed to notice that this house is full of shrewd internet entertainers.

Hallie has so much self-control. Such patience and willpower. She gets emotional when talking about her self-image. And she just stops talking, takes a moment. She speaks again only when she's got control over her emotions.

As people start kicking off over the shopping list (classic Big Brother!), Hallie takes herself off to hide. And as well as Yinrun, it's Paul and Dylan who go to find her! Two of the people I thought earlier hadn't bonded much with Hallie. Shows what I know.

Jordan and Henry remove themselves to the bathroom. Jordan spits out witticisms and Henry cackles into his wine. I was wrong, this show isn't Our Flag Means Death - it's a prequel to Vicious.

The household is so good at avoiding personal dispute when it's about boundaries, identity and respect. But has any Big Brother house ever been good at the shopping lists? This is what finally drives people to find corners of the house in which to moan.

"What kind of friends do you have? Are they like you?" Tom trying to figure Jordan out.

Tom boasts that he can burp on command. Not an impressive boast, made even more underwhelming by how crap the burps are.

Tom also can't imagine a group of people like Jordan, confirming that Tom isn't on Tumblr.

[crossdressingdeath]

I'm having opinions about Quiz's quarters. It's so pretty and the design is actually remarkably detailed for a place that most players probably don't spend a lot of time in, but there's something just so... lonely about it. The rest behind a cut, because it's long and there are many pictures.

I mean... Look at this!

Look at that mural! Look at those stained glass windows and the high ceiling!

Look at Quiz's little work corner, with their desk and their bookshelves and that instrument (whatever instrument it is, I genuinely don't know)!

And the sort of comfortable clutter of it, with the books and papers and that satchel all just sort of dropped on the desk, the books piled on top of the bookshelf (how do they reach those), what looks like a masquerade mask that's just been sort of left there? I'll be honest, it's... still a lot tidier than my desk, but it still looks like it's in active, regular use by someone who's a little messy with their stuff, or just too busy to actively pick up after themselves.

There's a book left open on the couch like Quiz was reading for a while in the morning before getting to work and just set it down there until they could get back to it! And the bottle and the two cups on the table, like Quiz just had a visitor/intends to have a visitor in the near future, to me at least gives the sense that the companions and advisors (or at least some of them) and maybe some prominent NPCs like Harding and Krem are invited up to Quiz's room to drink and talk and just spend time together at least sometimes.

And that view! You can see all of Skyhold from Quiz's room and it is gorgeous! The mountains you can see from the other balcony are also gorgeous, but I didn't get a screenshot of that view.

Quiz's quarters are beautiful. But also... they're incredibly empty.

There's a lot of empty space in here. There's the bed, the couch, the fireplace, the "office" area and... that's about it. It is a massive room, and it's almost entirely empty. This is the sort of space that will weigh on you when you're alone, which outside of a few cutscenes Quiz always is when they're up here. And that massive Chantry symbol right in the middle of the room is like... that absolutely was not there when the Inquisition reached Skyhold. Someone looked at their Inquisitor and made the conscious choice to put this in their room, which if Quiz isn't Andrastian or Chantry faithful is just... very uncomfortable to me.

And even the entrance is like... it's several stories above everything else in Skyhold. It's falling apart. Birds are getting in and nesting. I didn't get a screenshot of what you can see of the floors below, but it's completely empty except for scaffolding (although based on the map it should actually be right above the war room? But never mind that, maybe there's a floor between the tower and the war room). And much like the Chantry rug in the main room, that Templar banner is not something that's been there since the last time Skyhold was occupied; someone in the Inquisition put it there. And honestly if Quiz is a mage hanging a Templar banner right outside their door is barely a step removed from an outright threat.

I don't know. Quiz's rooms are pretty, but they're also incredibly isolated. And sometimes I look at the view of Skyhold from the balcony and I think about Hawke's comment about how they used to love the view of Kirkwall from their balcony, but eventually it just reminded them of everyone relying on them. I... really don't know how to end this. I wish DAI had really delved into how incredibly isolating it must feel to be held up as the figurehead of a religion you may not even believe in, until even your own room is as far away from all other people as it could be put.

[coffeefrenchandhistory]

Harry Potter and the Parselmouth Three! (and if I can be greedy, Blackborne)

Of course you can be greedy! I'll give you both — a little snippet and a little description for them.

Harry Potter and the Parselmouth Three: This one is probably my most far-reaching one. Usually changes in canon happen in like... fourth year, fifth year, or the summer before third year. Here? Second year.

Padma and Parvati Patil are both Parselmouths and, after Harry is outed as one at the dueling club in 2nd year, they decide... "Well... he needs help. So let's help him". Lavender joins in and the three of them work to help Harry as the school (and, unfortunately, even Ron and Hermione) reel from the revelation that Harry is a Parselmouth.

The Parselmouth Three snippet

They had frog-marched him out into an isolated corner of the castle. Harry had felt his heart try to beat itself out of his chest. It didn't help, Harry thought, that Lavender Brown had a bemused smirk on her face. Nor that the Patil sisters were giving each other a look that Harry couldn't quite recognize.

"What are you — " Harry started.

"I want to see if you can recognize this, Harry." Padma Patil hissed.

She hissed.

She hissed.

Harry felt his jaw drop, his eyes bulge from their sockets, and his heart froze in his chest. The Patil sisters giggled and Lavender beamed at his dumbfounded face.

"You... you're..." Harry began to stammer.

"She's not the only one," Parvati interrupted with a lilting hiss, "and your accent is terrible, Harry."

"You're Parselmouths." Harry scarcely recognized his own voice.

"The three of us," Padma gestured between her sister, herself, and Harry, "are probably the only ones in the school."

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were a Parselmouth?" Parvati giggled with glee and grabbed Harry's arm, beaming widely. "I love my sister, but there's only so many conversations you can have with her!"

"I didn't know!" Harry interrupted nervously. "I mean, there was that incident with the snake when I was eleven, but I didn't think it was this! I thought it was just me being frea — "

He didn't miss the flicker of concern on their faces.

"Ernie's right, isn't he?" Lavender spoke and her voice was soft like a babbling brook. "Your Muggle relatives don't treat you well, do they?"

Harry gave a derisive snort. "If I died, they'd celebrate. And if the whole school is going to do this..."

Lavender beamed at him and draped her arms over his shoulders.

"Then we'll just have to change their minds, won't we?"

"We?" His voice was hoarse.

"Us Parselmouths have to stick together, silly." Parvati laughed as she poked his shoulder. "Pads can help with the schoolwork, and Lav and I can help with your reputation."

"You... want to help me?" His voice was impossibly small.

"Mhm!" Lavender giggled. "And you're not getting rid of us that easy, Harry. So deal with it."

"I know my sister, Harry." Padma had a large, smug smirk on her face. "Better just go with the flow here."

Blackborne: This is my "Sirius Black has a son" fanfic. And I actually gave another small snippet to @artemisia-black on her blog! But Leonis Altair Black grew up with his first cousin/godmother/guardian Andromeda, her husband Ted, and their daughter Nymphadora. Sirius is in Azkaban. Leonis' mother, Cassandra Adler, was killed by Evan Rosier in 1981 (who was, subsequently, killed by Mad-Eye Moody). There's a few changes in how the House of Black and the Tonks interact — Arcturus and the rest of the House have to be more 'respectful' of Andromeda as she is, effectively, the keeper of the only Heir to the House of Black.

And Arcturus will be damned if he lets a Malfoy inherit everything...

Blackborne snippet

The House of Black was many things to many people and had been for centuries. It prided itself as the royalty of the wizarding world. It was cursed as a Dark house. A house of art and culture and pushing the boundaries of magic. It was a house from which all others were related and it was of the richest in the British Isles. Its sons and daughters had earned renown throughout the annals of history — enchanters, sorcerers, arithmancers, and the occasional honest politician. It was the House, the symbol of British wizardry. 

And the last war had decimated it. 

Its children were either dead or locked up in the fearsome wizard prison of Azkaban or in the chains of marriages to intolerable men. It was a family of old and tired and broken members, old men and women doddering in the vanity of ages past. Had it not been for Leonis, the last and youngest star in the constellation, the Blacks would be on the verge of extinction. 

The aging patriarch for the House of Black, Arcturus Black III, stood proudly in the Tonks family kitchen, scowling at the toaster that was smugly mocking him on the countertop. There were Muggle appliances all over the house, ticking and tocking and whirring, and he felt exceedingly out of place. Arcturus was a tall and proud looking man with a mane of white hair and piercing violet-grey eyes. His robes were an immaculate swirl of slate grey and teal, vivid golden stars whirling about on the fabric. This was a man who grew up in the lap of luxury and knew it, who prided himself on his breeding and his lineage. 

"You did get the boy, did you not Nymphadora?" Arcturus sneered as the pink-haired girl walked back into the kitchen, gripping his black walking stick tightly in a withered, shaking right hand. "I would like to get to the shops early before the rabble arrive and they turn the alley into a mass of people."

"I got him, yes grandfather." Tonks rolled her eyes at her mother, who was doing her best to hide the slight quirk of her lips. "He's down in a mo'. And stop using that name, I'm Tonks."

"Your mother gave you a serviceable name, Nymphadora," Arcturus drawled and watched as the formerly runaway daughter of his blood hid a smirk, "and a good name. A family name."

Tonks scowled. 

"I still do not understand, Andromeda," Arcturus gestured with his thick ebony walking stick at the toaster, a sneer crossing his lips and his nose wrinkling, "why you insist on using such... such jejune Muggle appliances in this home. A simple warming charm, or even charming the dishes to cook the food while you wait."

"Because, grandfather, it is my Muggle-born husband's home." Andromeda smiled a thin, wan smile. Ted Tonks had always described his wife as such — if Helen of Troy had the beauty that launched a thousand ships, Andromeda Black could launch a million. And Ted Tonks loved to remind his wife of it every day when he woke, in soft and gentle murmurs. "And my husband wanted to have Muggle items in the home we shared. And per the agreement we made ten years ago, Leo would grow up in a house that had both magical and Muggle items."

"Leonis would have grown up loved in my home." Arcturus spoke with the stirring of dragon's fire in his voice. 

"And Sirius demanded his son be raised by me. I am his godmother, his guardian." Andromeda spoke with a sense of finality in her voice. "I don't deny Leo would be loved in your home, grandfather. But your love led to uncle Orion and cousin Regulus' deaths. Led to Sirius doing a runner at sixteen. Bella falling in with You-Know-Who. Here, Leo is truly loved. He is happy."

Arcturus remained silent, turning a baleful eye to the toaster, and the kitchen fell silent. His fingers twitched around his walking stick. The family turned as Leonis entered and Arcturus looked and — there was no doubt Leonis was the son of Sirius Black. He had high and regal cheekbones like Sirius. The same crooked, mischievous and cheeky smile. The same warm and brilliant grey eyes which sparkled with amusement and a tinge of slight apprehension. 

For a moment, the old man stared into his grandson's face — the grandson he had been forced to abandon. The grandson he had left rotting in Azkaban for ten long, brutal, grueling years. Grief welled inside him, but a Black would never allow such expressions to rise to the surface. No, he would keep those feelings down inside his heart and refuse to let them out. 

"What?" Leonis looked between the adults with a haze of nervousness on his face. "Is there something on my face?"

"No. No, nothing at all." Arcturus drew himself up, slipping himself into the role of Lord Black like a hand into a worn leather glove, and raised an imperious eyebrow. "Now, young Leonis, we get your school supplies. I will not have my heir dawdling like a gannet."

[snickiebear]

what’s your current media object of obsession? please feel free to elaborate as enthusiastically as you need. i’m rotating friends at the table’s (ttrpg podcast) “counter/weight” season in my mind.

alternatively, what summer beverages are you most excited to consume again?

MAUSE!

okay so this isn't exactly media in the sense that other people can view/consume it, but! my friends and i have this zombie rp thing going and im kinda sorta obsessed with it and my characters HAHA

so basically, the virus is an evolved form of rabies that spread via animal and now via bite. it hit in 2010 and it's been around for ten years, there's five different stages of the disease/zombies but they're called Starving. My sister and i built up the lore and its been so fun esp since she's been playing a lot of zombie video games (TLOU I & II, Days Gone, etc)

but basically, my two characters, Griffin and Celeste, are these two kid-made-adults in this world. Griffin was eighteen when the virus hit, Celeste was five. Griffin ends up having to help his mom take out his brother and dad when they get bit and then later having to do the same to his mom when she gets bit also. It's by complete chance that Griffin runs into the men that corner Celeste and ends up saving her.

They're very Joel and Ellie coded but also not LMAO. They first get help from a survivalist/dooms day planner who takes them in, gives them all the tough love in the world, and then kicks them out with the skills and supplies they'd need to survive. Then, they end up joining a merc group (and in this world there are human camps but there isn't an overlying government or anything) for a few years and travels with these people until one of them tries to hurt Celeste and Griffin kills him.

There's, uh, a lot of violence in their backstory but they're tough cookies LMAO. Celeste is a lil pyro and is very adapt at building bombs of all kinds. Griffin is one hell of a marksman but hates guns and will use a bow and arrow whenever he can. They're literally so fun together, they've got this sibling/parent & child/best friend/partner in crime/rival bond and i love playing around with their dynamic.

My other friends have characters too, and before the actual rp starts, Griffin and Celeste end up being saved by two of the others; Phoebe and Alex, who are siblings and have been up on an isolated farm ever since the disease started to spread.

Griffin and Phoebe have SUCH A GOOD ROMANCE LMAO they're SO FUCKING FUN bc Pheobe is so so smart but also so Stupid bc she can't help but be curious about everything she hasn't seen and Griffin is grumpy and mean but HES AN ASSHOLE WITH A HEART OF GOLD which means he's. SIMP and so they argue and bicker and all that

Celeste is like this halfway between adult and child, but she's such a prankster and shit stirer and definitely corrupts Alex in the best ways bc he's this shy little thirteen year old and Celeste is always ready to rock someone's shit.

but yeah its just really fun and my friend and i have so many aus for Greebs LMAO they're also so Sterek coded (teenwolf) that its insane LMAO so immediately i started a teenwolf au and had the pleasure of giving the run down of the plot

also! summer beverage would have to be... milkshakes. i love milkshakes LMAO idk if those are really considered summer drinks but they're delicious. also, lemonade bc who doesn't like lemonade? i really love to bake and cook and stuff, so tiktok showed me this limonade thing a few weeks ago and im dying to try and make it LOL

thank u so much for dropping by mause :''''))) i rlly missed this fr

[mythology-void]

crucifixion (catharsis pt. 2)

I changed my mind.

Did you?

Well, no. But I may have lied.

Tell me.

I told you that I like sad music because it lets me feel emotions without having to experience the trauma that comes with them.

You did.

I told you that I like sad music because it lets me be alone, but not isolated.

You did.

And you told me something about misery loving company--

I gave you a warning; "does misery love company, or do you need company, so you seek misery." Remember?

Yeah.

Okay. What about it?

I think you might be right.

How so?

I don't always like sad music just because it's sad, or because it lets me feel things. Sometimes I like it because it lets my sadness switch places.

What do you mean?

Some days it's hard to feel anything. On those days, sad music is good because it helps me feel something.

Negative emotion is better than no emotion.

Exactly.

But there are other days, days where you feel too much.

Yeah.

And sad music helps then, too?

Well, on the empty days, it's like I can transfer other people's emotions to myself through the music.

But in the too-full days, you can push your emotion onto someone else in the same way?

More like something else, but yeah. I knew you'd get it.

I'm trying to. It doesn't seem like it would work--not long term, anyway.

Oh, it doesn't. It just feels less like I'm pushing my sad or my anger or my loneliness or my grieving onto someone else. I don't like projecting.

You're alone, so you can't hurt anyone, but you're not isolated, because of the music.

Mhmm.

It seems like you're still hurting yourself, though.

What do you mean?

If you're already overloaded with bad feelings, doesn't it seem like a bad idea to push more of them onto yourself?

It's cathartic in the end, right? And it's better than hurting other people.

By doing what? Reaching out? Asking for help?

By being too much. Lashing out It keeps me from crying or being angry or talking a lot.

You use sad music as a form of self flagellation.

No, I just--I don't want to be inconvenient and music helps soothe that without making every conversation about how I feel.

I don't think that's a good thing.

Well, it's hard to be a safe space for people if all your sharp edges are showing, isn't it?

That sounds like an awful way to live.

I'm sorry?

Living for other people.

I've been told it's the best way to live.

Not all the time, and at your own expense.

Other people have harder lives.

Your purpose in life is not to make everyone else comfortable all of the time. You're allowed to have feelings.

I don't try to--I'm not afraid of conflict. I yell at people all the time, I help my friends set boundaries--

Do you ever set boundaries for yourself, though?

Of COURSE I do.

Really? Because I've seen you walk two hours under storm clouds to someone's house because they asked you for a snack and you didn't want to disappoint them. I've seen you run up and down street corners on the phone with suicidal friends trying desperately to keep them alive. I've seen you do homework for people, dash around finishing other people's projects for them, offer to tutor people for free because you're worried about their home life--you do a whole lot for other people, and mostly things that inconvenience you. Why?

Maybe I just love people. Did you think about that? Maybe I'm just a considerate person.

That's exactly what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking that you love everyone in the whole world so hard that you're not leaving any space to let yourself be loved back. I'm thinking that you love PEOPLE so much that you're unable to recognize how little they love you--or rather, how little you're allowing them to love you.

You're wrong.

Am I?

You are. I'm not selfless. I'm lazy all the time--I make things inconvenient and uncomfortable for people all the time. I make my parents angry, I disappoint the people around me and I can't do anything to help my friends when they're struggling. All those people you mentioned? They all have really hard lives--harder than mine, at the very least. They're gay and stuck in households with religious parents, or they have alcoholic parents, or got raped at 13 or are suicidal and need someone to talk to. You have no idea what they're going through--being there for them is the least I can do. They don't need to worry about me on top of all the things going on with them. I can be a safe space. I'm GOOD at that.

That's part of the problem. You think people have to need you.

They do. They have to.

Why?

Because if they DON'T, then there's no reason for me to be here. I have a reason. My reason is to help people. I have to be here for a reason.

Do you?

Don't I?

Why can't you just be? Why is you just being you not enough?

It's not.

----.

Stop.

You don't give people enough credit.

I don't know what you're talking about.

All those people could survive on their own. You think you're helping them--they might even think you're helping them--but in all reality you're using them as a crutch. They don't need you to live; you need THEM to live.

Stop.

Who are you without those people to fix? Who are you if not a healer, or someone broken to hold together?

Stop.

If you don't have an answer--

please.

...alright. Okay. I'm sorry.

...

Here.

Headphones again?

I know it doesn't help.

I know.

Truce?

[animeraider]

Radio Free California - 2022 on Random Play and a few final thoughts for this FRUSTRATING year.

I thought about making a "best of" list, but I realized that I'd come up with something different every time I tried. So here is a highlight reel, cultivated from all of the 2022 RFC's. Feel free to put together your own list. I recommend putting this on random play for the best possible experience - I just went through all 51 episodes for 2022 and picked the ones that tickled my fancy at that moment. If I tried again tomorrow I would probably pick 246 different songs than are on this list. 

You should subscribe to my weekly playlists to get the full experience.

So what was your 2022 like? I usually do a recap of the previous year as my last blog post but I'm really not feeling it this time around. Face it folks, 2022 SUCKED. I had a decent career year with a couple of hit singles and videos plus my improvised piano album, and I got to see both Roger Waters and Bjork live (not on the same night), but overall...?

I mean, social media imploded and fragmented, led by the Chief Twit. The Previous Motherfucker is STILL hanging on all our necks instead of in prison where he fucking belongs. Far too many Americans embrace Fascism, Racism, and a large portion of the country is now a Hee-Haw version of The Handmaid's Tale.

I can't even imagine how weird it must be to be young in this country. My children grew up in one country and as of this year it no longer exists. They're not like those of us who are old enough to remember how it used to be. 

And just what the ever-lovin' FUCK is it with wanting to destroy power stations? This is supposed to start a race war? How fucking STUPID is that? It's like saying 1+2=Licorice. The sum is less than the parts.

Strangely enough, the Pandemic has put me in a position to leave, and I just might. I'm incredibly fortunate to live in one of the remaining pockets of sanity in this country and I don't want to leave, but I don't want to live in an isolated exception to the rule either. I'd rather the whole country be sane than just my little corner of it with with fascist fucks encroaching from all sides.

I have family in Canada, New Zealand and Spain - so I have options (although I don't speak Spanish). I also have possibly misplaced hope, so I have to admit that the decision isn't an easy one. I haven't made it yet, and there are other's I'd need to convince to come with.

The craziest part about all of this is that on a whole lot of specifics America had a great year. It's just that the terrible parts are so bad that they overwhelm the good parts.

I don't think there is a "best of" 2022 to be had. I think that this has been example after example of wasted talent, potential, and ability. I think of 2022 as a squandered year. There ain't no best to be had.

Now, there's two ways to look at that: To be depressed about it or to be determined to do better. I am choosing the second option.

Taking a step back from Social Media has given me something I hadn't even noticed I had lost: TIME. I reclaim my fucking time.

I have a new single coming out the first week of January and I'm going to focus on it for a bit, but then I'm going to hunker down and fucking FINISH this album that's been percolating for the past decade. Those of you who follow my music career have heard snippets of it, but only small snippets of it. I expect that promoting and performing that album is going to take up a lot of my time in 2023. I have tickets to see Arcade Fire on my birthday, so I'll take that day off.

And then I'm going to gear up for 2024, which I want to be my busiest and most productive year musically ever. There's a couple of reasons for that - a big birthday is coming up in 2024; one my own father didn't reach. Now I don't have his issues and expect to go on for decades yet, but I'm going to fucking CELEBRATE. I hope that the country will still be here for it. Another reason is that I have set a challenge for myself and it's a difficult one, but I damned well want to TRY.

I am absolutely awful at predicting the future, but I still want to try.

So let's shake off this past year, bury it, and roll up them sleeves and get to it. I fucking HATE Hee-Haw.

See you next year.

And because I love you, I leave you with my new single.