#could be like half of them judging by the color scheme

[talesofadragon]

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬

Synopsis: The world was not created in colors to be lived seldom in white, black, or even gray. This is what Y/N believed, and she resolutely refuses to be told otherwise. But when a night at the city’s most prestigious nightclub triggers a series of misfortunate events, Y/N’s world of hues is thrown off balance, colliding with a stranger whose eyes may be blue but his world is a handful of shades too dark.  

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.2K

Chapter 3 - Star Command Blue | Varicolored Schemes Masterlist

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑 gifted half of the human race, Y/N was not the best judge of character. 

She didn’t believe the proverbs that insisted on the eyes being the windows of the soul. And she was not convinced that a circle of friends could reveal everything about someone's personality. Y/N just liked to observe—refraining from cementing any assumptions she had gathered during first encounters and preferring to see if her opinions could withstand the sands of time. 

But in times like this, she wished she had Yelena’s immaculate ability to read someone from the get-go. Because while Steve Rogers seemed kind, charming, and endearingly enigmatic, he might be more intimidating than Y/N thought. And he certainly seemed to be a lot richer and more important than she had imagined. 

“I feel like I’m sticking out like a sore thumb,” Y/N thought out loud. And while Sam had assured her that she was doing just fine, it was hard to take his words to heart when she was standing in the lobby of the immaculate, high-rise Stark Tower in her seafoam green pajamas. 

Sure, they were a classy pair that cost her forty bucks—and if she were a celebrity or some sort of influencer, she could possibly pass them as a stylistic choice—but she doubted that even her feigned confidence and the two bulky men on her side could make her pass for anyone but her ordinary self. 

“Believe me when I tell you that the concierge has seen worse than someone in their pajamas,” Bucky mumbled while reaching for the overnight bag in Y/N’s hand. He tucked it to his side, confidently striding toward the elevators. 

Y/N, on the other hand, cast a quick glance back at her car. Her poor Toyota Corolla was conspicuous in the sea of Porsches, Cadillacs, and Teslas. Even it looked dejected. She diverted her attention back to Sam when she heard him clear his throat. Maybe the eyes really are the windows of the soul, she pondered. Because while this man was a good six feet-something with a large frame and a set of hands that could strangle someone to death in an instant, his eyes were warm and earthly, grounding her to the present and making sure she didn’t lose herself to her thoughts. 

He motioned for Y/N to walk before him, and she promptly followed after Bucky. Like the building itself, the elevators were sublime and grand—maybe even larger than her own bedroom. As soon as the gilded doors opened, she was greeted with a spacious interior with intricate filigree patterns that went beyond the natural. Her eyes wandered, taking in the vinyl flooring and the framing mirrors, studying the implicit accents embellishing the corner of the elevator walls and the subtle details that sometimes go unnoticed. 

A serene yet evanescent sound infiltrated her senses, attributed to either Bucky or Sam pressing the button to Steve’s apartment. It was on the 40th floor, the last floor displayed on the panel. With great anticipation, Y/N stood between both boys, eagerly waiting for the elevator doors to glide open. And when they did, she expected to walk out into a mesmerizing hallway that mirrored the luxury and opulence of the multi-billion dollar building.

To her surprise, she was met with a door with an imperturbable aura—she doubted that even a grenade could make a dent in it. What was even more perplexing was the lack of a handle or a lock that left her wondering, how the hell does one open a door like this? Bucky seemed privy to the door’s secret, extending his hand toward the digital pad adjacent to the door. With a single thumb swipe, he unsealed the door, ushering everyone inside.

“Welcome home, Miss Y/L/N,” Sam announced, but it was hard to hear him when Y/N’s attention was drawn entirely to the apartment—scratch that. The penthouse—Bucky and Sam led her into. 

While Stark Tower was a vision of opulence with its crystal chandelier and gilded hallways, Steve’s abode was a vision. A luminous dream brought to life by the color palette the designer had chosen. 

Y/N was drawn into a dance of gradient blues that swayed with grace, an intricate choreography of light and dark that played across every surface. Star Command Blue blended perfectly with the white walls and silver furniture, which reflected a bridge between antiquity and modernity. 

Each canvas on the wall seemed to possess a voice of its own, tugging at her curiosity and unveiling a constellation of majesty and allure. And while the tower in which the penthouse was nestled was prolific and intimidating, Steve’s house radiated the warmth of a home. 

“This is,” Y/N started, too lost in this world of perfection to notice that Bucky had already settled her bag somewhere and was walking leisurely into the living room. “Beautiful.” 

“I’m glad you think that.” 

When this familiar yet unsuspected voice filtered through the air, Y/N whipped her head. Through the arch that separated the living room from the kitchen, she caught sight of someone fiddling with two mugs. 

“Steve?” 

“Evening, Y/N,” Steve smiled. “I’m glad you made it here safely.” 

“What are you doing here? Sam said you live upstate.” 

Steve sent Y/N a small smile, gesturing to one of the bar stools beneath the kitchen counter. She pulled it back and sat on it, watching as Steve reached for a jar of hot chocolate. “Marshmallows or whipped cream?” he asked so casually as if he was having a friend over, and they were getting ready to watch a movie. When he received no answer, he spoke again, “I’m not ignoring your question, doll. So, don’t ignore mine.” 

Yes, there was a command in his tone. One that was hard to miss. But the playfulness in his eyes and his casual demeanor made Y/N disregard it and answer. “Both. If it’s not too much trouble.” 

Steve nodded, sending a playful salute. The corner of Y/N’s lips curled, placidity overcoming her being. Her forearms rested on the marble surface, eyes focused on Steve’s effortless movements. 

Though dressed in pajamas of his own, cobalt blue to be precise, with the most delicate white stripes, his motion was no less graceful. He poured a couple of spoons of hot chocolate into a metal pot and placed it on the stove, giving Y/N an unobstructed view of his broad shoulders and handsome frame.

“I thought you didn’t use this apartment,” Y/N remarked. 

“That’s the second question. You haven’t even heard the answer to the first,” Steve quipped. 

“It’s a sentence. Laced with the words you’ve previously used.” 

“No. It’s a sentence laced with an underlying question,” Steve pointed out. He raised his index finger at Y/N, stopping her next words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Hold that thought,” he said. “Bucky. Sam. Where are the marshmallows?” 

“You mean Natasha’s marshmallows?” Sam walked into the room. He held Steve’s gaze as he plucked out a kiwi from the fruit ball, unaware of the curiosity that crossed over Y/N’s features. 

Steve hummed. Both he and Sam turned to Bucky, who stood by the wall with his hands in his pockets. “No.” 

“Don’t waste time, Bucky,” Steve huffed. “Y/N wants marshmallows with her hot chocolate.” 

“Alright, then. Sam, go buy some marshmallows.” 

Bucky's casual tone made it seem like he was unaware that it was past midnight and there were no 24/7 stores nearby, which is probably why Sam scoffed at his retort. “I don’t take orders from you, Buckaroo. But you take orders from him,” he stated matter-of-factly, pointing at Steve. “Give up Red’s marshmallows. Gentlemen don’t keep pretty dames like Miss Y/L/N waiting.” 

“Watch it,” came Steve’s sharp remark before Y/N could tell them that she didn’t mind having her hot chocolate without any marshmallows. And although Steve’s authoritative voice left a trail of goosebumps on Y/N’s skin, it did nothing to deter Sam. 

“What? I’m not being inappropriate. It’s not like I call her doll or something.” 

Steve leveled Sam with a glare, but this time, Y/N was the least bit fazed. If anything, she mirrored Bucky’s amused expression, watching the two men playfully bicker. 

“Are you trying to tell me something, Sam?” Steve’s eyebrow arched.

Sam smirked, “You’re smart, Rogers. You can figure it out.” 

Steve grumbled in response. Thankfully, the water started to boil, seeking the man’s attention. 

Y/N glanced at Sam, giving him a small smile. “You can call me by my first name, you know?” He lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, and from the way he straightened up and turned to his boss, Y/N knew he was gearing up to fire another playful remark. 

“Heard that, Stevie? Y/N’s okay with using her first name.” 

“Will you shut up, Sam?” Steve pointed out over the dulcet sound of Y/N’s laugh. “As for you, Bucky. Get me those damned marshmallows before I reassign Nat to Singapore.” 

That seemed to kick Bucky into action. He stepped away from the wall and strode into the center of the kitchen. There was no indication as to where he was heading to get those marshmallows, and something seemed to poke his brain because he swiftly turned around. “Close your eyes.” 

Sam and Steve’s voices overlapped, with the former arguing that they weren’t five and the latter insisting he wanted to sip his chocolate guilt-free without having to worry about pelting Bucky with the decorative pillows of his living room. 

Bucky didn’t have any of it. “If Nat finds out I showed you her secret stash, she’ll turn me into those feathery pillows of yours.”

“James, seriously!” 

Y/N turned to Steve with knitted brows. “James?” 

“That’s question three, doll,” Steve said. 

“It’s Y/N, Steve. Not doll,” Sam teased. “Should we teach you how to spell again?” 

“Bucky, get me those fucking—”

“Language.” 

“Goddamn it, Wilson,” Steve grumbled. Y/N was holding a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. For three intimidating men, they sure acted like children. “Bucky, get me those damned marshmallows before I turn Sam into one and roast him.” 

Needless to say, Bucky was like a tree. Unmoving, unyielding, rooted in place. Steve groaned again, turning off the stove. “This is stupid,” he voiced out. And yet, he closed his eyes afterward. Sam did the same. 

Amused, Y/N closed her eyes when Bucky’s voice echoed, “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to.” 

“That’s favoritism,” Sam protested at the same time Steve remarked, “You’re a punk.” 

“Sorry, lads. But I don’t trust either of you with this.” 

When Bucky was sure both men were not peeking, which was utterly surprising, if Y/N might say. He set a course toward one of the lower kitchen cabinets. 

Surprisingly, despite his bulky frame and substantial muscle mass, he moved lightly on his feet—his shoes scarcely making a sound, even after taking three steps. His fingers eased the cabinet open, once again without a single noise.

It was filled with bowls and other objects like blenders and hand mixers, and Y/N was almost certain Bucky was going to magically pull the marshmallow bag out of one of them until he glanced at her with a wicked glint in his eyes and gently pressed the top of the cabinet. 

It opened, revealing a hidden compartment that made Y/N edge closer in her seat. Once Bucky got the marshmallow bag, he reached for a dessert bowl and placed a couple of them in it. 

Within a few seconds, he stashed the bag, closed the compartment and cabinet, and shoved the bowl in Steve’s hands. “You owe me.”

“Get out of here,” Steve grumbled. Bucky obeyed, not before waving at Y/N. Sam, on the other hand, was still in his seat. “You too.” 

“What? Am I not getting any hot chocolate? I drove her here.”  

“I pay you. Quite well, might I add.” 

With a hand on his heart and a sorrowful expression etched on his face, Sam expressed, “Money doesn't buy happiness. Hot chocolate on the—”

Steve pelted him with marshmallows, mumbling something about how late it was to be dealing with his shenanigans. Sam had managed to catch a white marshmallow in his hands and a blue one in his mouth. He dashed back into the living room, calling out for Bucky. 

“I’m sorry about them. They can be quite bothersome,” Steve said. He poured the hot chocolate into two mugs, adding the whipped cream and marshmallows to Y/N’s. 

“I think you’ve used the wrong word,” Y/N retaliated. The two had quenched her uneasiness, making her feel as if she had known the trio for a long time. 

“Careful, doll. Or I might start thinking you like them more than you like me.” 

“I never said I liked you.”

“Damn.” Steve feigned hurt, glancing down at the hot drinks. “Kinda makes me wish I was having whiskey instead. I thought we were closer than that, Y/N.” 

A hearty laugh escaped her lips, making all her earlier tension and queasiness dissipate. Gladly, Y/N accepted the drink. Her fingers were careful not to brush against Steve’s, knowing she didn’t want to contradict her earlier statement so easily. 

“Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” Steve sat across from her on the marble countertop. He sipped his plain and mundane hot chocolate, watching her indulge in the whipped cream. “I hope you’re feeling more comfortable now.” 

The spoonful of whipped cream paused just before reaching her lips. Y/N nodded, a sheepish smile forming as she parted her lips to take a bite. “I really am sorry for bothering you.” 

“You’re not a bother, doll. I’m more than happy to accommodate you for as long as you need.” 

“Why, though? It’s not like you’re obligated to.” 

Steve surprisingly nicked one of the marshmallows in Y/N’s drink and dipped it in his own. Playfully, he caught her eyes and plucked the treat in his lips, licking them clean afterward. She wondered if this was her answer. 

“It’s… complicated. In a sense that it’s hard to articulate it without needing to filter my thoughts.” 

“Then, don’t filter them,” Y/N stated. “Undisguise your thoughts.” 

Steve’s eyes twinkled with mirth. He chuckled, letting his blue eyes fall to the counter. As his eyes rose again, the subtle hints of green within his blue irises became unmistakably apparent. Somehow, the clash of colors was too endearing for Y/N to ignore. 

"My father passed away while serving in the military, leaving my mother and me on our own. Being a single parent in Brooklyn, especially a single mother, was far from easy. Despite the challenges, I always admired my mother's strength. I looked up to women like her and people who faced adversity head-on. Life kept throwing obstacles our way, but she never gave up the fight. 

“I suppose what I'm getting at is that I feel a deep calling to help those in need, especially those who've been marginalized. Some, like Sam, joke about it as a 'savior complex.' Others tease me for trying to be 'Captain Righteous.' Call it what you will. For me, it's about having a strong sense of morality and wanting to aid those who've been treated unfairly by the world, however way I can.”

Steve’s answer caused Y/N to grapple with her own thoughts. How ironic, she had asked him to undisguise his when hers were meandering in her head, elusive and unbridled. After a moment of prolonged silence, Y/N tapped her nails against the mug, looking at Steve from beneath her lashes. 

“So, I gather it wasn’t so that you can sleep with me? Or is this a speech you give to all the girls you invite over after their electricity goes haywire?” 

She anxiously chewed on her lower lip, trying to gauge Steve’s reaction. He narrowed his eyes, and Y/N was scared that she messed up, but the hearty laugh that reverberated through the kitchen told her otherwise. 

“I’m sorry, doll. But you made it pretty clear that you don’t like me.” 

“Maybe not,” Y/N chortled. “But, I do admire your kindness. That’s twice you’ve helped me now without asking for anything in return. And you’ve made me feel safe on both occasions. So, thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome, Y/N,” Steve smiled appreciatively. 

After a minute of silence, Y/N turned back to Steve, catching his attention. “You never answered my question.” 

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” 

“All three?” Steve teased, raising an eyebrow. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “They were two, but I’ll bite since it’s disrespectful of the guest to contradict the host.” 

Steve snorted, shaking his head. “What was the first one?” 

“What are you doing here if you live upstate?” 

“I do live upstate, but I had this conference call tonight that needed my team to be there, so I ended up at the office. It's pretty close to Stark Tower.” 

“A meeting at midnight?” Y/N asked skeptically. 

“Ten in the evening,” Steve corrected. “With Singapore. It ran for two hours, and you calling me actually put an end to it. So, thank you for that.” 

You’re welcome, I guess? Y/N thought. But instead, what came out of her mouth was, “I thought you didn’t use this apartment, but Natasha has a hidden marshmallow stash?”

"She's not just good at hiding marshmallows. She's got this stealthy talent for hiding whatever we might need. The apartment serves its purpose during times like this—late meetings or emergencies. We don't use it a lot, maybe once or twice a month. Natasha's always on me to keep it stocked, but I usually ignore her advice and pay the price when she refuses to share her stash."

“Fair enough. And why did you call Bucky ‘James’?” 

“It’s his first name. Any more questions, doll?” 

“Just one,” Y/N said. “Who’s Natasha?” 

“My wife,” Steve replied without missing a beat. Y/N’s eyes widened dramatically, the color in them dissolving as her pupils dilated. She shifted in her seat, torn between leaving and staying. Steve’s unadulterated laughter fixed her in her place. “I didn’t peg you for someone who’s easily gullible. Natasha’s my assistant. The one you spoke to over the phone.” 

“You freaking asshole!”Y/N chastised. Her voice was barely audible, overwhelmed by Steve’s boisterous laugh. “It was bad enough I actually thought that woman was your wife when she answered the phone. Do you know how unnerving it was thinking I was going to be yelled at by a woman who’d think of me as a mistress?” 

Steve reclined, and if anything, laughed even heartier than before. His posture arched, revealing his neck and providing an unobstructed view of the prominent veins coursing across his skin.

“It would be anticlimactic if, after that earnest speech, I would turn out to be a liar.” 

Y/N shook her head. “You know? We’re here in your apartment, joking and sipping cold chocolate, and I realized we don’t know much about each other.” 

“Well then, Y/N. Let’s change that,” Steve smirked, placing both his forearms on the table. 

Y/N gnawed at the inside of her cheeks, looking down to hide her flushed face. Steve was now inches away from her face, not enough for their noses to touch, but enough for her to see the green sparkles in his eyes and catch the hint of amber in his perfume. 

“What’s your favorite color?” she voiced out. 

Steve did a double take as if he was shot in the chest. “Favorite color?” He sounded dejected. “Doll, that is a very anticlimactic question. I expected more from you.” 

“Hey! I think it’s important to have the answer to that question in one’s arsenal.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those lunatics that think they can have you all figured out from your favorite color, birthday, and shit.” 

“No,” Y/N chuckled. “It’s just… I think we spend years getting to know people, and yet, we can’t recall the smallest details about them. We’re just left with a general impression. But I happen to care about the details. Without them, everything would be lacking, and there would only be incomplete pictures.” 

It felt somewhat ridiculous to voice this aloud, especially in front of Steve. But even though Y/N braced herself for a bemused look or a sarcastic grin, she was taken aback to see Steve lost in contemplation, as if he were mulling over her words.

Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the countertop, he finally confessed, "Honestly, I've never given it much thought."

“Never?” 

“No. Guys don’t typically get asked what their favorite color is.” 

“Well, I’m asking you now.” Y/N mirrored his prior actions, leaning across the countertop. She grinned, looking expectantly at the man before her. “What’s your favorite color?” 

His response wasn't immediate. Instead, he took a moment, his gaze wandering as he considered. "It's blue."

Y/N pushed herself away from him, her face contorting into a grimace. “Really?” 

“What?” Steve shifted in his seat. “Is it that bad?” 

“No. It’s anticlimactic, though.”

This time, Steve almost fell out of his chair from the force of his own laughter. “You are so mean, doll. So mean! What’s your favorite color? Slytherin green?” 

"No!" Y/N shook her head. Even with the clock ticking closer to one in the morning, the genuine warmth in Steve's laughter radiated like the midday sun. "I don't really have a favorite color."

"Now, that’s anticlimactic."

"No, it's me embracing life's different shades instead of limiting myself to just one."

“So, if someone were to psychoanalyze you based on your favorite color—or lack thereof—would they diagnose you as a non-monogamous person, who prefers to indulge in all the shades of people life has to offer?

“Steve!” 

“Y/N.” 

“Now, who’s the mean one?” Y/N pouted playfully. Steve responded with a wide smile as he took charge, placing the empty cups in the dishwasher and exchanging them for water. "Thanks."

“You’re welcome. Now, it’s my turn to ask.” Steve paused, waiting for Y/N to nod. "Tell me, what's your profession?" Steve's question hung in the air.

Y/N's lips curved into a mischievous smirk as she lightly tapped her index finger against the exquisite crystal water cup. "Go on, take a guess."

With a nonchalant smile, Steve replied, "Well, I've narrowed it down to the top three options."

"Top three?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"You strike me as someone effortlessly elegant and beautiful. My best bets are fashion designer, model, or a sugar baby," he replied, his tone light.

"Steve, seriously?" Y/N exclaimed, her face hidden behind her hands as she fought to contain her bubbling laughter. Despite her efforts, Steve's infectious mirth resonated through the kitchen, tinting his cheeks a vibrant shade of red. "I'm not a sugar baby!"

“Damn, baby. I could’ve used some sugar,” Steve teased. Y/N was torn between the urge to nudge him playfully and the temptation to burst into laughter right in his face.

“I’m an interior designer,” Y/N answered earnestly. 

Steve’s blue-green eyes raked over her soft features, assessing her. His penetrative gaze made her squirm, though it was more welcoming than uncomfortable. “I think it suits you. Where do you work?”

“Potts Designs.” 

“The most elite design studio in North America. So, you’re beautiful, graceful, and intelligent.” 

“Stop.” A blush crept over Y/N’s cheeks, tinting them pink. Her lashes fluttered rapidly as if trying to hasten time before her eyes returned to meet Steve’s gaze at eye level. “What about you? What do you do for work?” 

The cheeky bastard wiggled his brows and adjusted his position. From that act alone, Y/N knew he was going to tease her before giving an answer. 

“Guess.” 

“Well.” She had leisurely stressed on the “l”, giving away that she had already suspected such an answer and was immensely entertaining it. “You strike me as someone annoyingly determined and sophisticated. My best bets are financial officer, real estate agent, or a member of the Illuminati," she lightheartedly responded. 

“Illuminati,” Steve barked, vehemently shaking his head. “I’m afraid that they’ve rejected my application a long time ago. I’m just not cool enough for them.”

“Well, it’s their loss,” Y/N joked. “What is it that you do then?” 

“I’m a businessman,” he answered. “I own a threat security company and a couple of other firms. I’m also an angel investor.” 

“Damn, angel.” Y/N fluttered her lashes, resting her hands near Steve’s, enough to touch the rings on his fingers. “Does that mean you’ll invest your time in me?” 

Steve almost choked on air, clutching his stomach as tears formed on the edge of his lashes. He wiped them away with his fingers. "Tell you what, help me plead my case to the Illuminati, and I'll gladly take you as my sugar baby."

“Lucky for you, angel face, women love a man with power. You got yourself a deal.”

She extended her hand, shaking Steve’s. They only looked serious for a minute before their expressions faltered, and they laughed as if they had known each other for years.

Series Taglist: @crazyunsexycool @patzammit @wintasssoldier @themrsroger @theroyalmanatee @panandinpain0 @spectre-posts @googie-jeon

One Decade Later... Sab has finally updated this series! We're finally kicking it up a notch with this chapter. I'm excited about what's coming next!! What do we think of Steve and the reader? I also want him to give her a new nickname based on the information he now has, what do you suggest?

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers #mob steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

[writeshite]

Male reader x homelander please, with smut and seduces him to become the good superhero, please?

Look Into His Angel Eyes

Summary:

“How about a deal? You play nice, and…and I’ll…” you’re not sure what to offer, but judging by his attachment to you, he craves the attention and touch, “...I’ll let you hold me like this from now on, at every session, starting now.” That seems to do the trick, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grip loosens, “Good boy.” There’s an air of delight from him when you say that.

Pairings:

Homelander x Male!Reader

Tags:

Seduction To The Good Side 😭 | Empath!Reader | Therapist!Reader

Words: 1962

Author's Note:

I may have channeled some inspiration from ✨Hannibal✨ (not the cannibalism part 😭) god knows why, I don’t know where this started or where it went, but it exists now. Side note: Homelander has a praise kink. I said what I said.

Next

“Please.” 

A simple word, yes, but not often uttered on a day-to-day basis, especially by someone like Homelander. Despite the volatility of the supe, Vought kept a high employment rate among other companies; how? Simple, EAPs - Empath Assistance Programme counseling or workplace counseling - how Vought managed to garner enough empaths to deal with hundreds upon hundreds of employees plus supes is anyone’s guess. EAPs counseled ten employees, and one supe, max - Homelander, on the other hand, was a particular case. It didn’t take an empath to know how intense he could be. He didn’t have a regular EAP like the others. Instead, he was tossed between the department in a roster.

Now, it’s at this point, one might wonder, how do you get Homelander to attend a counseling session? You don’t. He comes as he pleases. You’d be lucky to get him to stay the whole hour; even then, you’d be lucky not to be stuck with him for more than an hour. The roster ran through names randomly, once it went through all the names, it would start afresh, shuffling the order, and one day, it chose you. The designated office was further away from the others, more spacious, and with a color scheme meant to invoke calm. You had arrived first and took your time to reread the notes handed to you.

Vought preferred not to diagnose their champion, so most of it was circumstantial at best, but it was helpful. Homelander arrived halfway through the designated one-hour session, rushing in with a sour look on his face; he grumbled to himself, pacing the length of the room as you watched, you paid him half attention until he turned to you, “Can you believe that?!” 

You turn to him, “Believe what?” you shift on the couch when he glances down at you.

“Were you not listening to anything I was saying?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were speaking to me specifically,” you respond, shrugging, “you seemed lost in your own world, and I wasn’t sure whether to intervene.” He seems taken aback by your words, offended, even that you didn’t center yourself around him the moment he entered the room. You hold your hands up, “Sorry, why don’t you start over.”

“As I was saying….” he goes off on a tirade about the Seven, Vought, and just about everything else that seemed to strike his ire this past week. “....they’re ungrateful little bastards, all of them, just because I punched a hole through some criminal, I’ve got anger issues.” He emphasizes the last part with quotation marks,

You look to the side and raise your eyebrows, “Well, I’m inclined to agree.”

“Who asked you?!”

“I’m your EAP,” you tell him. “Ok, how about we start simple? You said you the Deep surpassed you as this month’s number one hero; how did that make you feel?”

“Weren’t you paying attention? I’m pissed!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m number one, me!” He says, pointing to himself.

“According to who?” you ask, scribbling down your notes.

“Everyone! That’s why Vought made me, to be number one, not some fish man,” he throws his hands around as he speaks. His eyes take on a tint of red, and you have to clench your fist to ground yourself in the sea of rage. It takes a few tries before you dissipate it, and he becomes visibly calm. He slumps back into his seat and relaxes, “You’re a lot better at this than the others,” he remarks, slightly dazed at the euphoria of overwhelming calm. 

“Thanks, I guess,” you respond, slumping back, most of your energy spent. It takes you a few tries before you can stand, and Homelander’s practically dozing off on his seat; when he doesn’t wake after the first few shakes, you leave him there and clock out for the rest of the day. 

You don’t expect it to amount to anything else, but then your name gets drawn out again. And again. And again. And again. “It’s just until we get more empaths,” Ashley tells you, “Besides, you’re just so good with him. Out of everyone else in your department, you’re the only one he hasn’t threatened with bodily harm.”

The conversation happened weeks ago, but you reflect on it every now and then. You’re not sure what to think on the ‘you’re so good with him’ part until Homelander slides onto the couch beside you, head on your lap as if it were nothing. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just lies there; your arms hover above his head, uncertain; none of the notes mention this in any capacity. Homelander moves his head back to glance up at you; he takes one of your hands and places it in his hair; he moves your hand until you catch on, and once you do, he hums happily - contact makes the distribution of emotion a lot more powerful, and the calm you often throw at him increases tenfold this way. He curls like a cat; when you graze near his ears, “You are all kinds of strange,” you comment.

But he’s already lost in the bliss, his head swimming as everything else gets drowned out, and like a cat, he’s remiss to let you stand when you must. That’s how Ashley finds you; she runs in, frantic, then her mood shifts when she spots Homelander asleep on your lap. She doesn’t mention it, not to you, but she must have said something to someone; your schedule clears up completely, and it’s all just Homelander. “Think of it as a promotion.” You’re told, and in a way, it is. 

You bring it up the week before your paid time off; Homelander goes rigid in your lap, sitting up quickly, “What do you mean time off?”

“You know, contrary to your belief, my existence doesn’t revolve around you,” you say, “I get time off from work too, just like everyone else; it’s only two weeks.”

He doesn’t like that, not in the slightest. His face does the little scrunch up, you lean forward and run your hand through his hair, but he doesn’t melt as usual. He grabs your hand, “You can’t leave,” he states.

“I’m not leaving; I’m going on leave,” you repeat. “I’ll be back in no time, I promise.”

His eyes squint, and you sigh, pursing your lips; judging by the look on his face, you might not be able to leave so easily. Whatever plans you may have, are interrupted when he leans all his weight on you, you fall back against the couch, his arms wind around you, and you find yourself trapped between him and the sofa. A childish move, considering his strength and weight, you won’t be able to leave, “I’d laugh if this weren’t bloody annoying.”

He mumbles something incoherent, “Homelander.” He ignores you, determined to keep you there, “Homelander.” No indication aside from more mumbling, you huff, “John.” He looks up then, visibly smug with himself. “Finding this fun?”

“I’m not letting you go.”

“You’ll have other EAPs around until I get back.”

With some effort, you wriggle your hands from beneath him, taking his face into your hands, “How about a deal? You play nice, and…and I’ll…” you’re not sure what to offer, but judging by his attachment to you, he craves the attention and touch, “...I’ll let you hold me like this from now on, at every session, starting now.” That seems to do the trick, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grip loosens, “Good boy.” There’s an air of delight from him when you say that; you file that away for later and just celebrate that you’ve managed to convince him.

Playing nice doesn't last very long. The supe throws a tantrum on day three of your leave and sneaks his way into your apartment, at least you assume so, since you wake up with John literally snuggled in your bed. It takes a moment for you to realize the shape beside you is him; he’s got his face smooshed into your chest. His cape lies slung over your desk chair, and his gloves and boots are over by the window he snuck in through. Like the session, he doesn’t let go, and you’re left waiting until he wakes up, “John, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “That’s not an answer,” you state, but he does it again. You guess he no doubt threatened the information of your whereabouts from someone. “You could’ve waited until I got back; you’d have been fine. The other EAPs —”

“I don’t want them,” he whines, “I want you.” 

“John —”

“Please.” It’s a desperate plead, not just in his voice or his expression, but in his emotion; it surrounds you, clinging to you. When you begrudgingly agree, it’s almost immediately replaced by glee.

Playing host to a supe with zero social skills and what you suspect might be quickly becoming an unhealthy attachment to you is surreal, to say the least. John practically latches close to you; whatever little boundaries you had before practically vanish as he takes to holding you and situating you on his lap when he can. “By the way,” you comment, “I’m proud that you didn’t kill anyone yesterday.”

You’re standing by the kitchen island, stirring your coffee, as John holds you; his gloveless hands under your shirt - it had taken some convincing, but you’d managed to get him out of the tacky garb that is his costume, granted sweatpants, and a shirt wasn’t much to celebrate. Still, it was better than his everyday wear. “You are?”

“Yes, John, I am,” you affirm, and the surprise from him is washed over as satisfaction rolls off him in waves. His habit of killing people that got his nerves has died down significantly; giving him praise seems to do the trick, and he chases after it at every chance. “Such a good hero, aren’t you?” You feel him nod against your skin; you reach behind you and pet his hair; you spend most mornings like this; he basks in the praise you give him. 

“Your hero?”

You chuckle, “Yes, my hero.” Adoration is what he exudes a lot now, directed at you, muddled in with desire; it’s grown exponentially, it bleeds through each time he holds you, hands almost wandering further, and once or twice, he slips and pecks your skin. But it’s quick, faint, testing the waters. He’s doing it now; his thumbs rub circles on your lower stomach, and his hand travels further down, then back up when he realizes you’ve noticed. You turn your head, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye. You peck the side of his face, a reward for good behavior, you tell him, and he preens.

There are better places for a sexual encounter; unfortunately, for today, your kitchen will have to do. You push the cup away as John leans into your space; when you kiss him on the mouth, there’s a flood of emotion; absolute joy rains down on you as everything else fuzzes out. His hands hold you as close as he can, as yours card through his hair, you push your own want out, and he shudders when it hits him. “You’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you?” you whisper in his ear, “you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

The uncomfortableness of the kitchen floor doesn't register in your mind; the fuzziness increases as John thrusts into you; you’re senses are blanketed by his near feverish lust. More praise falls from your mouth, and he soaks it up, rutting into you faster; when he comes, he clings even tighter to you, lying against your chest. “Keep up the act, and you might get a lot more rewards.”

End Note:

Am I making it that Vought has mandated therapy? Yes, I mean if you had to work there, you'd probably need one 💀 I may have taken a little of Hannibal's manipulative tendencies and applied them to reader, just a bit. Stay Hydrated

#homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #the boys imagine #homelander has a praise kink I said what I said #therapist reader

[lavenoon]

hi so I am extremely soft for Sun basically being all-hands-on-deck for assisting Y/N with outfits, Moon wanting Y/N to be comfortable, and Eclipse being all here for nice textures

how would the boys react to Y/N asking them (independently) to help them put together an outfit (something complicated that needs an extra pair of hands with buttons/zips). can be pre/post-reveal depending on desired fluff content - @clxckwork-sun-n-moon

(:

Pre-reveal: Sun: Flattered beyond compare - them asking means they trust his judgement enough to put their outfit in his hands! For a peacock like him, who's job is reliant on looking the part, that's a big thing. There's also, uh, the thing about having to go up into their room, their private space, to maybe survey what they have? The thought will fluster him enough to fumble, and ask if they have a few things in mind already, and ends up moving the fashion show downstairs. Just take anything that could come in handy to the living room, he can work with that! Would love to take his time and invite them to a shopping trip, but feels like that might just be too much and sticks with what's available. Will however gladly offer to lend things to them - perhaps a specific tie would match better, or a certain set of cufflinks... Very gentle, but focused while working with buttons and zippers. He takes pride in being asked, so he won't risk damaging anything or hurting them by getting distracted. By the time he's finished the bitter pang of knowing this outfit isn't for him comes back to punch him square in the face, and he's lucky he's always smiling because otherwise it would be hard to keep up. Y/N doesn't miss the way his expression twists, and can't quite make sense of it before he leaves with a quick, but genuine compliment.

Moon: So you have chosen violence. Given that this is reverse coded, you have the shy boy, who is awkward af around the nice landlord already, who has no clue about fashion as his only focus is "dark color scheme and good to move in." He near panics, but agrees to help in any capacity he can - then follows Y/N into their home while just listing off disclaimers about how he's really not that knowledgeable and doesn't know what he's doing with outfits half the time, but if they're really sure - Ends up being the one giving the least "advice" because Y/N could try on anything and he'd say they look great, with that earnest expression that just makes it impossible to be mad about it. Y/N can try the process of elimination, and he does a lot better answering "this or that" questions. The living room ends up a mess by the time he's actually starting to help, almost hesitant to make contact. His gaze keeps flitting up to their eyes, checking in with them if things are still okay and he's good to continue. Ends up losing his anxiety by the end of it, giving them a couple earnest compliments. But once he's out the door and back alone he realizes that's it, that was his role in this and that's what it'll always be, and that does sting a good bit.

Post-reveal: Sun: And here you have chosen death. No longer concerned about propriety and overstepping, because now boundaries are all in the open and secrets no longer exist, he's very eager to show Y/N the full extent of his knowledge. Will no longer be too shy to go into their room, either, and Y/N will have some mild regrets over him judging what they have available. Will also be much less coy about sharing his own wardrobe, and given that he wasn't shy about it before there's just a lot waiting for Y/N. Will still be focused during the actual buttoning and zipping, but his touch will linger longer when he draws his fingers back down the line of clothing he just closed up. God help them when it's at their back - you know what you do when there's sudden pressure drawn down your back? You arch into it, and Sun is living for it when Y/N just moves with his hand, maybe eliciting a small gasp... "There, all set" - and his grin is entirely too innocent when they turn to glare at him. Maybe missing the touch already, which is exactly what he intended <3

Moon: A little less violence, good for him. Given the lack of secrets Moon is much more comfortable explaining that his sense of fashion is very much just "I need to work in it and not get killed by Sun if he happens to switch into it" which will make Y/N laugh and set the tone for the rest of the little fitting. He'll be much more of a menace, pretending to contemplate and at times even impersonating Sun and trying to mimic his speech patterns just to make Y/N crack up as they hold different shirts in front of their body. But when he asks them to "Come here?" with that gentle smile, they don't even hesitate for a second. He's much more confident, maybe even letting out an appreciative hum as he works the buttons/ zippers. Of course, he'll want to look at his handiwork, and helps them turn with his hands on their sides, before grinning like a Cheshire cat and asking if they'll need help getting out of it later, too? Earns him another laugh and a playful smack to the face, but he only laughs too knowing that he will get to help them get comfortable after, too <3

Eclipse: (though not for AU!Y/N, and more a s/o) Eclipse: Oh, he wants to have fun with this! He'd love to start from scratch, and start it all off with a shopping trip to just look around! If the energy is there, he'd love to go to multiple stores and compare, mixing and matching whatever you like, and looking for accessories in the same go! (or another go. multiple trips is also fun, he just gets excited! online shopping he's also definitely open for, if that's more comfortable - he just likes the added bonus of exploration) The actual putting on he'll be quieter, but still giddy. Torn between reverent staring, excited noises and hand clapping, and actually helping, he's a bit of a scatterbrain about it, but it's okay! Just take enough time to get ready! Very, very careful and gentle with any buttons or zippers - he doesn't want to pinch you, or break anything, and animatronics are strong enough for a mindless little tug to end with a loose button or damaged zipper. With four hands he's got a good advantage though, and two can take care of buttons and zippers, while two can hold the rest of the fabric in place. If that happens by having his hands rest on your shoulders, sides, hips, or even all of the above depending on where he's currently zipping/ buttoning, that's between him and you! Will shower you in compliments as soon as he's done, before quietly asking if you like it, too - because he knows that's the most important part, and if he hasn't helped you before and/ or you have very different tastes in fashion, he'll want to check in that everything went well and you're satisfied! <3

#answer let luce #clxckwork sun n moon #accidentally undercover #I feel like I make a lot of jokes abt sun and his fashion so i had to emphasize again #his job *requires* him to look good in a suit and he puts a lot of effort into matching the occasion #him ending up liking suits was more of a coincidence but he likes the ego boost it gives him #this isn't even 1.2K in total so not too insane but yknow. snipe the simps #tried to keep the length roughly balanced bc im normal about being fair #it's a pine forest pre reveal and the boys fancy a good long walk in there #i got so distracted from this im so sorry LMAO #enjoy!!

[runwayrunway]

No. 17 - A Gay Plane Has Landed (A Rainbow Twitter Icon Livery Compilation)

Yep, it’s that time again! As we wrap up the yearly scheduled month of concentrated rainbow Capitalism, let’s go over some of the paint jobs airlines have used as a much more expensive variant of changing your Twitter icon to a rainbow version for the month of June, immediately after it stops being actually timely.    

To be clear: I am not rating the liveries as a whole. Those get their own posts. I am rating the modifications made to the livery for the occasion. I am judging this, not on overall quality, but on creativity and shamelessness. I want to see a tastefully designed plane that will make homophobic people get mad when they find out it’s operating their flight for as long to come as possible. 

It is not activism and it means nothing, but it has the potential to be somewhat funny, and I think the task of integrating a big gaudy rainbow flag into what’s otherwise a regular airline livery is an interesting and difficult one, and it’s fun to see different airlines to take on the same challenge. It also gives me a chance to review a bunch of special liveries that only change part of the design, as opposed to the ones I’ve already covered which invent a full new paint scheme. Some airlines even had multiple goes at it!

I just want to make my stance abundantly and unambiguously clear. This is not a sincere appreciation of a conglomerate of millionaires deciding they’ll make more money if they paint rainbows on their plane. This is me rating airline liveries.   

N653GT (Amerijet International for DHL)

I begin with N653GT because she flew directly over my house at 4,500 feet maybe a month and a half ago at time of writing. I’m a bit sad that I didn’t get a picture because it was nearly midnight, but not too sad, because it’s not like it’d be recognizable as anything except a DHL plane. I’m unsure if this was Amerijet International’s idea, DHL’s idea, or a mixture of both, but calling it an idea is honestly even generous. You could easily just not notice that there’s anything different about this livery at all. 

Grade: D

D-AEAS (DHL)

Unlike the prior airframe, this plane is registered in Germany (rather than the US) and is part of DHL’s fleet proper. I do think I prefer this to the Amerijet incarnation, both because it’s more visible and because the diagonal lines blend with the body at least somewhat. Couldn’t they have extended the red one a bit, though? That color literally already exists in their color scheme. 

Unfortunately, D-AEAS seems to have been repainted to the vanilla DHL livery sometime in October 2022. 

Grade: C-

D-AEAR / “Delivered With Pride” (EAT Leipzig for DHL)

I’m almost angry because I do think this is very well done. It sort of combines the two prior attempts and turns them into something much better. This implies that they’re learning. 

Relocating the rainbow DHL symbol to the top of the tail solves that weird spacing issue with the gap at the end which the Amerijet incarnation had. It also makes the rainbow tail far more dynamic by giving it the distinct curve of an actual rainbow, then improving it even further by stretching it rather than making it perfectly circular, which adds even more visual interest. I really like how this covers the often-neglected sort of concave line where the vertical stabilizer actually meets the top fuselage, which is often ignored in liveries that bother to integrate the tail with the fuselage proper. I find that in this case the dynamic nature of the curved rainbow actually makes me feel like this tail is part of the fuselage proper despite there being no paint which actually leaves it, an effect probably aided by the fact that the yellow line of the rainbow directly flows into the main yellow of the livery. The fact that the red in the rainbow is also present in the rest of the DHL livery prevents it from feeling unbalanced despite the fact that the main logo is unmodified. 

This livery is very new. Hilariously, I think it was only applied around the 15th or so. I doubt this will happen, but it would be hilarious if they removed it immediately after the end of the month. I also sort of hope they don’t, because this is a pretty solid rainbow plane. (...it would be very funny though.)

Grade: B+

D-AINY / “Lovehansa” (Lufthansa)

While I generally dislike the Lufthansa livery so much that I made this blog, I have to give them props for a tasteful pride integration. It’s neither garish nor negligible, and as a little bonus the interior also has a rainbow motif. I hope at least one German was very shrill and indignant about having to rest their neck on the dreaded gay antimacassar. 

It does feel like somebody thought about this, unlike the Lufthansa livery as a whole. And it will be graded as such, independent from the Lufthansa livery as a whole, which I still hatehansa.

Grade: B-

N854VA (Alaska Airlines) 

I really like Alaska’s take on the pride theme.  It actively adds something to the design of the livery without overpowering it - this is still recognizable as an Alaska Airlines plane but also as a pride plane. The font chosen is fine and the little airplanes are cute. It’s nice. It’s tasteful. It’s delightful. I’ll be honest, it got a smile out of me even though my emotional investment in the concept of a gay pride plane is less than minimal, just because I think the little airplanes are a nice and cute design. 

Apparently a lesbian couple got engaged on a flight operated by this plane. Good for them, I guess. A lot of these airlines operate “pride flights” (???) which as far as I can tell are just like a flying club night with the sort of people who would pay money to attend such an event, which sounds utterly miserable to me, but I’m here to talk about the liveries, not any of this. It just felt worth including a mention of at some point, as this seems to be an industry-wide phenomenon even with airlines which operate no rainbow planes, and this is the only one of the planes which I have any reason to believe hosted a gay marriage proposal. So do with that what you will. In my case, I’ll do nothing. 

N854VA was stored in December of 2022, but is only 11 years old, so surely she’s still airworthy. I’m just saying, if anyone from Alaska Airlines is reading this: bring her back. 

Grade: A-

LX-LQC “Be Pride. Be Luxembourg” (Luxair)

I’m a little conflicted here, because the paint splash isn’t the worst concept ever for a rainbow addition but it is just added to the existing white part without modifying the existing livery otherwise and doesn’t do anything especially interesting. It somehow feels small despite being large. Your eyes could honestly glaze over it. That’s sort of one of the hazards of propliner liveries but that’s no excuse. At the same time it’s far too large. It feels clumsy, haphazard. I don’t really think I care for it. The rainbow logo on the nacelles is a decent touch but not nearly enough to save it. 

The airframe was repainted in the standard Luxair livery in December 2022. Still, while they are no longer Pride, they are, to the best of my knowledge, still Luxembourg. 

Grade: D+

VH-QPJ “Rainbow Roo” (Qantas) 

One of the earliest examples of a pride plane comes from one of the oldest airlines still in operation. The A330 (GAY330, as it was called at the time) adopted her paint scheme in February 2017 in partnership with Sydney Mardi Gras and kept it until May 2018. A trailblazer for sure. I think the flag on the tail looks sort of bad, but just replacing the logo with a rainbow version is literally as obvious and simple of a pride livery as I can think of and I’m honestly fine with that. 

Grade: C-

I do, however, respect that the special flight they did for Sydney Mardi Gras included a Qantas-themed drag queen named Qantana. That said, it seems they hired a drag queen to perform as Qantana instead of there simply being a full-time Qantas-themed drag queen, and I have to say I’d respect it a lot more if someone had just committed to making Qantas camp to that degree. I mean, there’s an entire, what, three seasons of Aussie Drag Race? I’m just saying I feel like the fact that it hasn’t happened reflects poorly on Qantas’s general vibe. 

VH-EBL “Pride is in the Air” (Qantas)

As of February of this year, Qantas decided they were going to give it another shot. This new livery, not in partnership with anyone, is very similar to the original. Much like the original, it’s entirely fine. I do prefer the way that the flag’s stripes are ordered from left to right rather than top to bottom this time around, as it’s much more legible. They also seem to have updated to the progress flag instead of just the standard rainbow flag, and they’ve removed that weird out-of-place flag detail from the tail. Again, I think it could be improved by making the Qantas logo on the tail rainbow as well for balance, and on the nacelles for completeness, but the current state is absolutely fine. 

In all honesty this is probably objectively a C but I do feel the need to upgrade the rating slightly to acknowledge the subtle yet palpable improvement. That’s growth.

Grade: C+

C-GPTS (Air Transat)

Another gay330, this time from Canadian carrier Air Transat. Another simple replacement of the logo, though it does feel unbalanced. The rainbow on the light blue looks nice, I’ll give it that, but it’s super blink-and-you’ll-miss-it. I’m unsure why nobody thought of making the text rainbow too. Maybe to save paint? I say this because in a very blatant and literal variant of the changing your Twitter icon strategy, she only wore the livery for the month of June 2019 before being reverted to Air Transat’s standard. 

Grade: D

N247GS (Cape Air)

Cape Air is a regional carrier based in...Cape Cod, shockingly. They’re very Cape Cod, not in a Kennedy way. I’ve had nothing but good experiences flying with them in the Caribbean, where they operate a tiny fleet of Britten-Norman Islanders, but they also do flights in the Northeast US and especially Cape Cod. They’re a nifty little airline and if you’re ever in a position to fly with them I recommend it - flying in a little 12-seater twin prop is a really unique experience compared to a full-size jet. 

This livery is fine, mostly just replacing the standard blue part of the Cape Air tail with a rainbow, but I like the extra touches on the engine nacelles and wheel pants. I also appreciate the airline’s statement that she’ll wear this livery for the rest of her service life. How long will that be? Good question - Cape Air is phasing out their Cessna 402 fleet for their new Tecnam P2012 Travellers, but they still have a pretty big fleet of them and they seem to be going strong. N47GS in particular is 41 years old, which sounds outrageous but isn’t particularly eyebrow-raising for this sort of plane, and she seems to be in good nick, so here’s to many more years of service. Go grandma!

Grade: C+

G-SAJE “Pride Jet /  Jet Pròis” “Flying's for all” (Loganair)

I truly struggle to figure out how to rate this, because this particular plane looks...borderline featureless before modification. I do sort of like what they’ve done here, in the sense that it reminds me of SAS’s old belly stripes livery and it looks very clean and all that. I think I would really like this on most other liveries, but it’s hard to accept it just slapped on a plane white plane. It’s not integrated into the livery because there’s nothing to integrate it into. I don’t know, I feel like there could have at least been something to match the tartan pattern? I’m not going to turn this into a general Loganair review but the tartan is so underused here and I think at least changing the stripes to a sort of diagonal weave pattern would do a lot to make it fit better. I just don’t know. With a canvas this blank it’s hard to think of specific ideas but this leaves me feeling very wanting and unsatisfied. Come on, Loganair. The sentence ‘Scottish regional airline with tartan-based livery’ leaves me frothing at the mouth, you’ve got to pull yourself together because the potential is way higher than the service ceiling on that plane! (...wait, the ERJ-145 has a 37,000ft ceiling? Why did I expect that to be so much lower? Good for her.)

This livery is also hot off the presses, June 2023 release. 

This really is hamstrung by the absolute nothing it’s working with beforehand. I definitely think this is more elegant than Luxair’s attempt but the livery is so bare to begin with. I guess - I said I’m judging this exclusively by the pride addition, but it’s so hard to not interpret it holistically. I’m too good at my job :/

Anyway. It’s fine but the canvas is so underwhelming that I just can’t like it. Sorry. 

Grade: C-/D+

Thomas Cook Airlines

Thomas Cook actually had at least two pride planes (I’ve seen the number five tossed out but could only find these two - G-TCDE and G-MDBD - for sure). It’s...fine. Like, whatever. It’s a little heart that’s rainbow instead of the generic yellow Thomas Cook heart. It’s not too visible but I’d describe it as a sweet little touch. I prefer it to what Luxair did. It’s fine. I wish they did more, but it’s fine. I don’t think either of these liveries were left intact for terribly long, and there was no fanfare or reporting about either of these. Following Thomas Cook’s legendary 2019 implosion and the resulting record-setting peacetime repatriation of UK nationals G-TCDE is currently stored and in a default Thomas Cook livery, while G-MDBD is flying for a new airline in a new livery. No clue what happened to the other potential gay Thomas Cook planes, but I don’t think it matters either. 

Grade: C-

XA-MAQ (Aeroméxico)

The immediate impression is of an Air Transat or Thomas Cook-style tiny replaced element, but the more I dwell on XA-MAQ the more I appreciate her. Like, it is just the red stripe replaced with a rainbow one, but I’ve realised - and this is true of Thomas Cook’s fab (alleged) five as well - that replacing the logo on the tail without touching the rest of the fuselage or the nacelles ends up looking unbalanced, but replacing a little flourish avoids that and fits more smoothly into the rest of the design.  

Also, while both are small, the little ribbon isn’t the only touch. Immediately beneath it on the fuselage is text reading ‘volamos con orgullo’, which is Spanish for ‘we fly with pride’, if my Googling is correct. I find that pretty cute. No, it’s not a lot, but it’s cute. It’s at least an implication that more went into this design than checking off a box. A lot of the others, Air Transat in particular, feel very ‘oh, we made the logo rainbow, guess we’re done!’. 

Plus, bonus points for keeping the livery - it was first applied in June of 2021 and is still in service. 

Grade: B-

G-VPRD “Rain Bow” (Virgin Atlantic)

Wait...huh? This can’t possibly be the right plane, can it? This is just a normal Virgin livery. 

Wait. Wait a moment.

Zoom...enhance...

image: Virgin Atlantic)

That’s your pride livery? The entirety of your pride livery? Not a small part of a more interesting whole, not a large design that’s visible on the fuselage, this tiny...e-girl cheek decoration of a guy who looks vaguely fruity? This is your big move towards inclusivity that you brag about flying to Doha? 

I already dislike Richard Branson, but I will not forgive him for this particular act until he paints what will be renamed to GayceShipTwo entirely in rainbow colours with THIS PLANE IS GAY written in massive letters on it, and also sends me a million dollars directly shipped via GayceShipTwo to my local airport. Is the runway big enough to land it? No clue, but that’s going to be his problem to figure out and is none of my business. And then afterwards he will fly GayceShipTwo back to his house and land her on his own head, killing himself instantly. Likes charge, reblogs cast.

Grade: F

N724AV (Avianca)

I have mixed feelings. On one hand, all they’ve done is replace the barely-above-standard tail-only design with a rainbow. On the other hand, I do like that it’s not just a flag and has something actually visually interesting about it with the way it intersects itself. I do wish they’d also replaced the logo, nacelles, and winglets with the same rainbow pattern, but the general amount of things going on in the middle and front at least prevents it from feeling unbalanced. I mean, did they do an Air Transat? Sort of yes, but their livery is a lot less rear-heavy at base and there’s a lot more to look at here. 

I don’t know. I think it’s fine. Just fine. Can’t knock it too hard, but not exciting.

Grade: C-

                 __________________________________________

Well, that’s it for the good, the bad, and the Virgin Atlantic of every pride livery I could find record of. Let me know which tepid corporate gesture you found most aesthetically pleasing, and remember: I am doing my utmost to psychically harm Richard Branson with my malicious thoughts, and this medical equipment I’ve stolen is going to help me in this goal.  

I’ll have a couple more posts coming out about planes which aren’t gay pride planes but look like they might be, so keep an eye out for those tomorrow and Monday. 

#tarmac fashion week #a gay plane has landed #aeromexico #air transat #alaska airlines #amerijet international #avianca #cape air #eat leipzig #dhl #loganair #lufthansa #luxair #qantas #thomas cook airlines #virgin atlantic #special liveries #compilations #long haul

[bitimdrake]

anybody got a least favorite idiom? Gotta be "like apples and orange" for me. It's supposed to make a point about how utterly different two things are, except in the broad scheme of the world, apples and oranges are pretty damn comparable. They are both fruits. You can hold them in your hand. Taste good. This is a terrible pair of items to chose.

And sure, sure, sometimes the idiom does work. If you're talking about, say, internet media analysts' tendency to drop all media in the same bucket, then it might work. Saying, "talking about Avatar: the Last Airbender and Breaking Bad in the same post is like talking about apple and oranges" is actually a pretty good analogy. Apples and oranges are both fruits. Avatar and Breaking Bad are both critically-acclaimed TV shows. But comparing the half-hour, animated, action/adventure kids' show to the hour-long, live-action, adult drama is, in fact, very much like judging an orange based on how well it go cronch or an apple on how easy it is to peel.

But usually, usually--"apples and oranges" is supposed to be about how the two matters at hand are so completely different you cannot possibly even group them together. And for that, "apples and oranges" is stupid. I could compare the shit out of apples and oranges. I could do a whole 15 minute set just on comparing coloration. Those things you're talking about aren't like apples and oranges. They're like apples and nuclear physics. They're like oranges and playing a concerto. They're like apple/oranges and the concept of entropy. Get a better idiom.

"apples and oranges", fucking stupid

#* #if i don't make a long and intense post about something stupid periodically i'll explode sorry

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

Everything was not fine in the morning.

A stern knock reverberating through the room woke them up. The voice of one of their house servants rang out- something about an advisory meeting and an upcoming project. She was rather rude about it. 

“Yea- mhm,” he groaned, groggily rubbing at his eyes. He made a mental note to fire her soon as he stared up at the ceiling, vaguely wondering how she got up to the door. Didn’t he lock the tower entrance? Ugh, he could already tell that today was gonna be bad. 

fWhip’s bones creaked as they hoisted themself to the edge, wincing. Yup, his ass was sore, just as predicted. As well as just their body in general. Maybe he should start stretching more. 

Thankful they’d already taken a bath last night, they trode down the stairs, yawning unceremoniously the whole way to the bathroom. They were by themself, give them a break. 

His routine went mostly the same as it usually did on the days he actually woke up early enough- one disadvantage of having a schedule as sporadic as his. 

He looked in the mirror and spotted the familiar dark turquoise hue he’d completely forgotten about. Goddess, how was he gonna deal with this? It’s not like he could just hide it by lurking in the shadows or whatever- the color was way too vibrant for that, plus the hair on his face would be a dead giveaway. It didn’t help that blue-green isn’t a very usual hair color (at least in the Grimlands), and his citizens and staff knew very well about his aversion to change, so lying about it being a dye job would be out of the question. Well, even if that wouldn’t be a complete lie. 

Whatever, they just had to get ready and let ten-minutes-from-now fWhip deal with this. 

Ten-minutes-from-now fWhip was just as unhelpful as ten-minutes-ago fWhip. He sat at his desk and drummed his pointed nails against the wood, making a tapping sound as he schemed. A hood would be too obvious, and a hat would be more suspicious than the hair, if he were to be honest. Maybe he could dye it back? That could work. He just had to repeat the steps he made the potion with the night before, but in orange, right? Oh, scratch that- that’d take too long. They glanced at the clock ticking away on the wall to find they only had an hour and a half to figure this out. They whined in frustration, but quickly pulled back the reins on their emotions. Now was not the time for moping. He had to think of something, and quick.  

Perhaps he could harness the very little amount of magic he had to glamour it back to its original color? Who was he kidding- he’d most likely just make it look worse. 

Wait.

Magic. Who had magic that also happened to live a ten minute flight away and was the least likely to judge them for this? Gem! They shoved away the knowledge that Gem would absolutely bully them into next week. She’d, at the very least, keep this situation a secret from everyone else. 

Well, it seemed like a better option than sitting in his room, moping, as much as he wanted to do just that. 

He excitedly jumped up from his chair with a plan in mind, making his way over to his window to throw it open. They hopped up onto the windowsill on the other side in a crouch, spreading their wings out and giving them an experimental flap. He hadn’t snuck out like this since he was, what, eighteen? It gave him a weird rush of adrenaline as he took off, heading straight for the Crystal Cliffs. 

As usual, the flight didn’t take long at all. The glistening, purple crystal roofs came into sight fast, and Gem’s house tucked into the side of the mountain not long after that. fWhip scanned his eyes over the few wizards meandering through the town, searching for a distinctly large hat he knew well. 

Gem was quick to spot. She stood next to the small pond in front of her nether portal, seemingly watering a few of the flowers around the lagoon. fWhip made sure to pull his coat over his head as he landed behind her, hunching his shoulders to hide as much of his face as possible. “Gem,” he hissed lowly.

Any attempt they had made at secrecy was demolished as she screamed, dropping her metal watering can that soon clanged loudly against the stone at her feet. The wizard whipped around, guard dropping at the sight of her brother and clasping a hand to her heart. “You asshole!” She shouted breathlessly, shoving a hand to his chest in response to his laughter, making him stumble back slightly. “You can’t do that- I’ll have a heart attack!”

fWhip’s snickering quieted. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. It was pretty funny, though, you have to admit.”

Gem didn’t retort, taking in their hunched posture and shadowed face. Sure, it probably wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d seen him do, but it wasn’t expected either. “What are you doing?”

The Count sucked in a breath. Here goes nothing. “Okay, Gem, I’ve got a bit of a situation and I need your help- but I need you to promise not to laugh, okay?” They adjusted their grip on their coat to keep it in place as they held out their hand to Gem, pinky out. 

She huffed fondly, rolling her eyes before wrapping her own pinky around his. “Sure.”

Gem wasn’t given any warning before she found herself being pulled into her house, yelping in surprise. fWhip dragged her into her storage room, dropping her hand and taking a deep breath. She watched them quizzically as they let their coat fall back down onto their shoulders, revealing their new hair color. “Don’t. Laugh.”

Of course, she burst out in hysterical wheezing, bending herself in half and throwing an arm out to brace herself against the wall.

“You promised!” fWhip whined. “You can’t break the pinky promise!”

It took her a bit to compose herself again, though she was still wiping tears from her eyes when she stood up fully. fWhip could even see Gandalf coming to investigate the commotion out of the corner of their eye. “Sorry, sorry,” she giggled, letting them know she was not sorry in the slightest, “just- what did you do?” She asked, astonished. 

fWhip blushed in embarrassment, dragging his hands down his face. “Listen, I don’t know!” He groaned, starting up at a pace. “I was working on a commission for Mezalea and I was down in the workshop testing out dyeing potions and it wasn’t working and I went to grab some gunpowder and the box fell and the whole thing exploded and-” They paused in their pacing and took a deep breath before turning back to look at Gem, gripping their vibrant hair in their fists in some twisted sort of demonstration, “this happened. I don’t know how or why or how to fix it,” they walked forward, gripping the front of Gem’s dress pleadingly, even throwing on their best puppy eyes, “so can you help me?”

Gem stared at him for a moment before taking his hands gently in hers and untangling them from her clothes. She could tell they were stressed about this, no matter how much of a front they put on. To be fair, she’d be the exact same way. “What, with a spell or something?”

“Anything you can,” he groaned, “I tried washing it out, nothing. It’s stuck stuck in there and I’m on a bit of a time limit- so please?”

His sister hummed in thought, glancing worriedly at her own clock to see they only had just over an hour to figure this out. “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything. Alright?”

“Deal.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of failed spells, gross potions that made them feel sick to their stomach, and a hole burnt through their coat from an accident with Gem’s staff. Nothing worked. As the time ticked by, the wizard flipped through her spellbooks frantically for anything and everything that could help their cause, but nothing came of it. fWhip had long since buried his head in his arms on the desk, defeated. He was gonna have to show up to the meeting like this, wasn’t he?

Gem placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into the spot in hopes of comforting the man. “Listen, I’m sure no one will care that much. Just explain what happened and let them talk about what the meeting is actually for. It’ll be over before you know it.” She smiled in a way she wished soothed their fears. 

fWhip sat up once more, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes harshly. He would not cry over this. “Ignoring the fact that they are definitely going to laugh at me- It’s not even the hair that’s really upsetting me.” He sighed, staring into the wood of the desk hard enough to burn a hole through it. “It’s just… I feel so stupid, you know?” Their voice quivered as they finished the sentence, making them want to curl up in a corner and die as fast as they could. Gem’s balcony wasn’t far, it wouldn’t take long to-

“fWhip,” Gem breathed, wrapping her arms and wings around him tightly. They blinked tears away, squeezing her back securely. She smelled like old books and the slightly musty essence of magic, a scent that subconsciously made their muscles relax. They were safe. “You are not stupid. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” she whispered, stroking his hair and ignoring the unfamiliar pigment. “You made a mistake, sure, but everyone’s done it. Remember that time I broke my arm because I was so focused on catching frogs I didn’t notice the drop?”

They giggled wetly into her shoulder, recalling the incident. “And had to spend a week in a sling ‘cause Lucy didn’t trust you to not overwork and damage it again?”

Gem fell into her own burst of giggles at that. “Exactly. Now, are we gonna go to that meeting, or do you want to stay here and drown your sorrows with ice cream?”

The offer was tempting, but fWhip shook his head as he pulled back, wiping his eyes as discreetly as he could. They’d have to convince her to mope with them after. “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

She smiled at him for a moment before her eyes lit up with an idea. He didn’t even have time to question her before she had plucked her oversized wizard hat from her head, plonking it down on fWhip’s instead. “There! Fixed,” she grinned.

The Count snickered, which dissolved into a full-blown laughing fit between the two of them. It was silly, but maybe they needed a bit more silliness in their lives. fWhip reached up and fixed the brim to where it was meant to be. “Thanks, Gem.”

“Of course.”

The meeting went about as well as expected. fWhip was laughed at by basically every emperor, even if a few- cough, Katherine, cough- were nice enough to try and hide it. Sausage made a point to comment on fWhip’s new hairdo as often as he could, and Jimmy definitely taunted him the loudest, but who cares? Gem was by his side, standing up for him the whole time, and by her word, the meeting was over before he knew it. They even went back to her’s and drowned his torment with sweets, laughter, and a bit of rare purring from Gandalf. And, really, who could ask for more?

>Previous<

#fanfic #my fanfic #empiresfic #empires smp #empires s1 #fwhip #count fwhip #geminitay #wizard gem #roseblings

[downybirbs]

4 some reason I started thinking about my pkmn au and katakuri’s team I made for him, and realizing that piers is a character that exists and then walking back to totally revise kat’s team 😭 piers even stole kat’s entire color scheme too.

I think I am much happier with the revised version now!! i have the urge to get all my charlotte family!pokemon thoughts out so the rest will be under the cut 😇

Idk much about Pokémon meta so idk if giving him a tyranitar is too much for a gym leader, but I thought it was fitting since kat is like a pseudo legendary himself- not really a villain but still the boss fight of wci 😭

Starting with Perospero! In this AU, I imagine that when he was younger, Perospero was a contest master, then taking over the role as leader at the family gym when big mom leaves (either retired or became an elite four member🤔). After many years as leader, Perospero finally retires to go back to contests as a judge. Retiring from the gym, he dumps it on Katakuri to take over.

Katakuri doesn't really want the responsibility of being gym leader, but pressure from his family and the high expectations put on him makes him accept. Katakuri is a strong trainer though, all his siblings think he is the best and believe he would make the perfect gym leader, so he doesn't want to disappoint them. The gym converts from a normal type gym to a dark type gym, but Kat doesn't bother redecorating the gym from Perospero's tea time theme, just paints over it with his own signature colors ahdfdhkgfadkfjhkgjlgfh.

I have thoughts about Brulee too!! Moreso if she was an actual game NPC and what role she would have :^3c She lives a bit separated from everyone else, a cottage near the woods outside of town. She gets called a witch by local children and puts up an unpleasant front🥺 But if you befriend her, she will let you battle her despite her believing that she isn't any good at it. She would operate similarly to the battle cafes in SWSH, always being a double battle and awarding you random but valuable goodies if you win. But the twist being that she pulls two random pokemon from her team of six for every battle, so sometimes it could be a very easy battle, sometimes pretty difficult! Just to keep the player on their toes :^)

And some thoughts about the pokemon selection!!!

I started out with lickilicky with perospero, and just created a team of what I thought was fitting- which turned out to be a lot of normal types!! I had haunter on his roster for a long time, but then I though to just commit to the normal typing.

(EDIT: I was about to go to bed when I decided to replaced kecleon with indeedee! Honestly I might keep pivoting between these two, but indeedee fits with the tea time theme for peros’ gym :^))

The shellos came from perospero making the candy sea slugs,, I imagine him treating them like little purse dogs,, his special slimy babies,,😭 🥺 And the ducklett was inspired by a twitter post! Came wandering into his house one day and would not leave,, a little marspero goodie for me,,

Before committing to dark type for Kat, it was half dark and half fairy!! But now the fairy types are just his lil buddies along side his gym team,, they watch his gym battles🥺

(EDIT: I’m crying, kat can be easily swept by fighting types 😭 I might go back to the drawing board and switch someone out! even though I really liked what I picked 😔) I think kat would combat the weakness by having absol and sneasel use psychic type moves.

I also do think kat would get a weavile and a kingambit, but I’m not sure when !

Snubbull is the pokemon that he has had the longest. As children, perospero found snubbull, gifting it to Kat and insisting that they looked alike. Baby kat denied this heavily at first, but eventually Kat and snubbull became the closest of friends. Ever since Kat became gym leader, snubbull has the dream of fighting in a gym battle with him 🥺

Brulee didn't really catch her team in the traditional sense! They just kind of gravitated towards her over the years. She has known her rapidash and morgrem since she was a little girl, back when they were just a ponyta and impidimp. When impidimp was wild, he used to tease and play tricks on her, when one day he spotted her in the woods crying, the day after she was attacked and got her face slashed open 🥺 that's when the wild ponyta appeared to comfort her 🥺 And instead of teasing like normal, impidimp ran over to comfort her too!!

thank you for enjoying my psuedo fanfic ramblings,, maybe i will add more later to this, who knows!! i just wanted to get this all out of my head asksjbfdlh;hlj

#one piece #op #pokemon #perospero #charlotte katakuri #charlotte brulee #charlotte perospero #my fuckin ramblings #this post stemming from me not wanting to accidentally steal piers' entire fucking thing #despite not having the same team at all kat in universe gets call out posts online from piers fans for trying to copy him #and kat doesnt understand bc he is old and doesnt understand stan culture

[neoninky]

TWST Fic 'Her Ivory Crown': Chapter 5

Ch. 5: One Slip Down the Rabbithole

Day 2 of the Festival was in full swing for the Magift match and Malleus was nowhere to be found. Again. The Night Raven dorm leaders that made up the team stood in a circle in the arena corridor, trying to all get on the same page before the game started but with all those personalities on one team...beating Royal Sword's team wasn't their only challenge.

"Well where is he??" Vil huffed at the smiling, ancient fae standing in Malleus' place. 

"He wasn't in his room this morning, unfortunately," Lilia said with a calm smile, "he may have gotten cold feet...or just forgot that today was game day and not another day fufufu~" 

Leona's tail whacked the ground as he crossed his arms, "Tch, like we need that bastard's help..."

"We kinda do though..." Idia, actually there in person, muttered, still trembling all over and feeling exposed. He wanted to be angry at Ortho for making him show up but he knew it was impossible. 

Lilia remained unphased, "Don't worry, I'll happily take his place today. So let's do our best, ok?" 

Riddle just sighed and grabbed his broom as his teammates all gave a half-baked chant in varying degrees of enthusiasm, or lack thereof. This was going to be a disaster. The boys' nerves peaked as they heard more and more voices and sounds of a gathering audience grow outside in the stands. The game wouldn't start for another twenty minutes at least but it wasn't every day that Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy squared off on the field. If you wanted a good seat for such a show, you needed to be there early. They all entered their corner of the field to finish getting ready as the Royal Sword team did the same on the other side. Riddle could feel someone staring a hole into his back and judging from the smirk on Leona's face, he wasn't imagining it. 

"Geez, the look on that one's face already..." 

Riddle turned around and saw the icy stare directed at him, coming from Zehn across the field. Riddle's brow scrunched into a slight scowl as he returned the favor. Leona just chuckled bitterly as his tail flicked back and forth, "You do something to piss him off, little prince? Good. This will make it more interesting." 

"Agreed..." Riddle's ominous tone didn't go unnoticed by his teammates as they also stared down the rivals across the way. It wasn't until Zehn looked towards the stands and did a wide-eyed doubletake that the tension ceased. "Heeey! Night Ravens! Good luck today!"

The seven NRC dorm leaders turned to the familiar voice in the stands and quickly mirrored Zehn's look of shock. There in the very front row stood Sacred Crown Hall's dorm prefects in their powder blue classroom uniforms that matched their Headmistress' staple color scheme. They each had a handmade brooch on their blazers that sported their brother school's colors but the small accessories were completely overshadowed by the multiple ribbons and added decorations each one had, clearly inspired by each of the Night Raven College dorms.  Manari, who had shouted to them a moment ago, waved to them with a big smile with Scarabia colored ribbons intricately tied into her high ponytail and an elaborate headscarf in the same colors that looked a lot like Kalim's with the gold beads and everything. Elise wore the same seashell hairpin she got from the Octavinelle boys in her side-swept bangs and tied her hair back with a large silver and lavender hair bow that matched the ribbon choker she also wore. And between the two smiling girls was Rosabyrine's queen, her usual white roses in her long braided hair replaced with brilliant red ones and black and red ribbons weaved in to match. Reine waved to a stunned Riddle and mouthed the words 'good luck' before sitting down with the rest of her girls, who also adopted the red and black additions.

 "W-wait...we have GIRLS rooting for us now?!" Idia's brain broke for a solid minute of introverted panic when he saw Hebe and her dorm sporting Ignihyde's black and blue colors unironically. 

 "Oh ho~ It would seem so. Such pretty little supporters, what a nice change!" Lilia just laughed mirthfully, admiring Petra's familiar green and black add ons in particular. He would definitely need to get a picture with her later on. 

 "Oi oi, things are definitely getting more interesting now..." Leona's eyes were back to the end field where Zehn went from looking cold and distant to outright pissed in mere seconds. The dorm leaders of NRC couldn't say that they were all in complete agreement about anything as long as they had known each other. But there was a first time for everything and today was that day. The boys said nothing but gave each other a look that told each of them the same thing: win or lose, they weren't about to just let these Royal Sword bastards come on their turf and make fools of them. Especially not in front of this particular crowd. Even the most composed of them felt their competitive streaks spike in their blood as the seconds to the game's start ticked down. When it was finally time, Vargas entered the field with the disc and met the eager teams in the middle. 

 "Alright boys, you all know the rules - magic is be used ONLY for taking the disc and shooting it into the other team's goal! No attacking the other team directly, no excessive roughhousing of any sort!! This is to be a good, clean game!!" He said all of these things to both teams and the crowd but wasn't subtle about giving his home team a confident smirk. 

The crowd was already cheering on their favorites as the two teams met in the middle, poised and ready to snatch the disc as soon as Vargas let it fly. Leona was front and center, flanked by Lilia and Vil. Kalim, Azul, and Riddle positioned in the middle ready to defend. And Idia was as far back as he could possibly get while still being in the position to defend the goal since this required the least amount of running or flying. The look of terror on his face didn't give the rest of his team much confidence but there really wasn't a better spot for him. Leona didn't exactly care; he was too focused on snarling at Zehn and the two boys flanking him. The lion's growl deepened when the golden-eyed boy didn't even bother to look at him, "Don't ignore me, damn it..."    Vargas' whistle sounded and the game began in a storm of flashes. Half of the crowd erupted into cheers as Leona bolted down the field, Vil and Lilia close behind, in possession of the disc. He was incredibly fast but the speed and precision of the Royal Sword boys were nothing to sneeze at either. The girls of Sacred Crown were in a mixed state of shock as the first point of the game was scored so quickly. The lion had the biggest smirk on his face the school had ever seen. 

"Night Raven takes a swift lead!!"

The crowd was split in two: half cheers of victory and half cries of outrage. But their small victory was short-lived as RSA quickly recovered with a goal on their end. The tide fiercely turned back and forth for several minutes. The boys on both sides were moving so quickly that it almost gave the girls whiplash. 

"I knew their rivalry was intense but this is ridiculous!" Manari yelled to her two friends over all the excitement before quickly getting distracted and joining in herself once Kalim managed to steal the disc for his team, "YEAH KALIIIM! WHOO!!" Jamil heard her from a few seats back and shook his head, trying to hide his small proud smile. These girls were nuts...

On the field, the boys on either side were fiercely zipping back and forth, focused only on what or who was in front of them. Riddle swerved to the side on his broom just in time to dodge a blast from the other team. He didn't see where it came from but catching a glimpse at Zehn's face as he ran by with the disc gave him an idea. He was RSA's captain for a reason: he was fast on his feet and his magical shots were even more so, but his main strength was how almost flawlessly his teammates maneuvered around him like a small army.  Every once in a while one of the faster Night Raven's could break their formation just enough to allow their teammate to snatch the disc away from them but it never lasted long. It was quickly turning into a dead heat game of endurance. 

-

A time-out was called just in the nick of time, giving the boys a moment to breathe. Zehn's team looked just as tired as NRC's but they huddled around each other like a pack of gladiators while the others were sprawled out and tiredly bickering amongst themselves. They managed to stay tied for several turns but now NRC was a point behind. It didn't help that Leona or Vil's tempers kept flaring either. Both wanted to win but neither was fully ready to bend to the other apparently. Lilia just sighed and took a moment to hover in midair while Kalim and Azul were breathing heavily on the ground. Riddle was just irritated and embarrassed by all this ruckus.

"You do realize that we still have an audience watching us? And yet here you are bickering like bratty children."

Leona just huffed at the crimson-haired boy and flicked some dust his way with his tail, "You're one to talk, you tiny fire ant. You blow up at the stupidest things..."

Riddle only proved his point by immediately gnashing his teeth and turning bright red, "HOW DARE YOU!"

Kalim jumped up and tried to pry them apart to no avail. Lilia hovered back down between the testy lot, smiling mischievously, "Your passion is admirable, boys, but save it for the next round. Besides, this is probably the best we've done against that princely school in ages don't you agree? Fufu~"

They all snapped out of their tantrums at the senior's words. He wasn't wrong. Normally the game would have been leagues out of their reach by now. Leona and Riddle grumbled and calmed down which Lilia took as a truce of some sort. Lilia's smile broadened but his eyes had a cunning look to them, "Now...surely you have noticed a pattern to the other team's movements?"

"Hmm. Whenever they gain possession of the disc, they pass it to their captain and then position themselves around him like a wall," Azul mused, "Their shots and defenses are almost perfect." 

"Indeed. But their movements have become predictable. If we can throw them off, then we can catch them up." 

Vil had already collected himself and was more than ready, game face perfectly in place, "There isn't much time left. Let's make it count. Let's get the disc and rotate it between us. That way they will have to break formation to get it back into their hands. Once that happens, we can break through. One last push is what we need to stay focused and don't make your passes sloppy!"

The boys turned their attention to the girls in the stands once again as they shouted out encouragement to them and they finally all seemed on the same page. Idia had no idea what was going on but didn't bother leaving his spot right by the goal to find out at this point. The game resumed with a whistle blow and the boys set their plan in motion. Riddle and Azul mounted their brooms once again while Kalim fell back, closer to the goals to support Idia. Leona switched places with Lilia, putting him in the middle. Once the disc was thrown back into play, Lilia charged forward at lightspeed and snatched it away from the other team before they could even blink. Just as they discussed, he passed it to Vil who passed it to Leona and the disc kept moving about throughout the team's formation, pulling Zehn's teammates one direction after the next. Zehn, however, didn't falter and kept charging forward, his eyes glued on the disc. He raised his magic pen to counter Lilia right as the Diasomnia vice took possession of the disc but faster than he could catch, Lilia sent the disc flying to Riddle who caught it and sent it flying straight into the opposing goal, evening out their scores. The poor goalie never stood a chance. The crowd was on their feet in seconds, cheering as loud as rolling thunder. Elise threw her arms around Reine as they both celebrated just as loudly.

 "They're amazing!!" Elise was practically singing she was so ecstatic. The girls were so into what was actually happening, they completely forgot which team they were technically supposed to be supporting. However, their cheers quickly turned into screams in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly that all Reine remembered was hearing someone yell before her hand went instinctively to her magic pen...

-

Riddle's adrenaline was pumping at a blinding speed after making the goal but he almost didn't hear Kalim yell, "RIDDLE, LOOK OUT!"

A blast of magic hit his broom like lightning with such force that he was sent flying through the air and plummeting to the ground. His breath hitched his throat as every muscle stiffened, awaiting impact. Instead, he felt something cushion his fall as a loud voice rang out from the crowd. 

"BOW TO THE QUEEN!!"

A bright flash surrounded him as dark branches sprang up from the ground and formed a woven sphere around him and his broom, catching him and slowly lowering him to the ground in the process.  Riddle shuffled carefully within the woven cage and peered through the wooden tendrils to see Reine standing up from her seat. Her magic pen extended out to where he was. She looked pale as she muttered something he couldn't hear, making the branches release him. Was this her magic? She fell back into her seat breathing heavily as the rest of the team ran up to Riddle. 

"Riddle! Are you alright?!"

His head was spinning but otherwise, he seemed unharmed, "W-What happened?!"

The game had come to a chaotic standstill. Vargas seemed to be yelling at one of the boys on Royal Sword's team while Zehn and the others seemed to be arguing. Azul and Kalim helped Riddle back on his feet and pointed out the scorch mark on his broom. 

"After you scored, one of the RSA players grabbed the disc and shot it too aggressively!" Kalim hastily explained, "He must not have been paying attention because it flew right into your broom!"

"He probably did it on purpose," Leona growled, his ears flattening on his head, "the bastard...they're over there right now, whining about it being an 'accident'. Tch." 

"Are you hurt at all, Riddle??" Lilia looked him up and down curiously, "Doesn't look like there's a scratch on you. Whoever caught you certainly has sharp reflexes." 

The redhead turned back to the stands to look for Reine. Her seat was empty.

-

The restroom was thankfully empty as Reine coughed roughly into the sink. She reacted so quickly with her unique magic that the after-effects hit her hard. Once Riddle was safely put on the ground, she quickly excused herself from the crowd and ran to the arena's bathroom, her head foggy the entire way there. She froze as she saw the dark liquid ooze in the sink beneath her. Reine quickly turned on the water with shakey hands and washed it down the drain. Everything is fine. You're just tired. A knock came from the other side of the door as the princess splashed the cool water on her face and washed her hands in a hurry.

"Reine? Is everything ok??" It was Manari's voice. 

"Yes! Just a second!" She sighed in relief once the black substance had been cleared away and turned off the running water. 

Manari looked at her friend with concern as she exited the bathroom, "Hey...are you alright? You ran off so quickly after everything happened."

"Yes, I'm ok. I'm sorry I scared you," Reine hummed softly, "I think the adrenaline just really threw me for a loop there. But more importantly, is Riddle ok?"

Manari's expression lightened, "Yeah! Thanks to you and your magic! I don't think I've ever seen you move that quickly before!" 

Reine heaved a big sigh of relief making her friend chuckle, "Easy there. Everything's alright. Come on, let's hurry back - I gotta see what happens next!!"

The excited girl grabbed Reine's arm and lead her back to their seats, her little episode completely forgotten. Thank goodness. 

-

The game had continued without any other hiccups but the end result was, unfortunately, the same as always: in spite of the boys' vigorous efforts, Royal Sword Academy ended up winning the day yet again. The girls would be bold-faced liars if they said that they weren't disappointed but they hid it behind a polite round of applause for their brother school's victory. The Night Ravens weren't so classy about it. 

"UWAAAHHHHHHDaaamniiiit..." Kalim sobbed so loudly that there was no doubt everyone could still hear him over RSA's boisterous cheering. Azul gently patted him on the shoulder, sighing in disappointment much more refinedly. Vil wasn't so gentle.

"Kalim! Get a hold of yourself! Straighten up and clap for our rivals' victory. Honestly, do you think our fellow students want to see their team show such a pitiful face?"

Kalim shut his mouth and clapped as best he could along with his teammates even with fat tears still prickling in his eyes. Leona did the same though his ears had never been flatter. Riddle was too distracted to care. His eyes kept searching the audience until he spotted the girls, looking about as happy with the result as they were. Reine caught his gaze and gave him a shrug and a sad grin. He relaxed seeing her back to normal and returned the gesture. At the very least, she seemed alright. 

-

A loud crack sounded as Leona's tail whacked against the bleachers in annoyance. The girls felt bad for him as he shuffled grumpily by without a word or a glance their way after the two teams cleared the field. The female dorm leaders managed to sneak their way onto the field to get a moment to chat with the boys. Leona wasn't interested apparently. Neither was Idia who swiftly disappeared as soon as they were done. But this didn't dampen the girls' spirits at all. Elise offered the lion a sweet smile, "It's alright, Leona, you were amazing out there today!" He said nothing but gave the girl a calculating look as if he were trying to decipher her true meaning. 

Vil just rolled his eyes at his classmate's rude behavior, "Do not mind that brute, ladies, he's just angry that he missed out on his third afternoon nap today."  

The grumpy lion whipped his head around to snap at the blonde but was interrupted by an eager surprise attack on his leg.

"Leona-Ojiiii! I found you!" called a small and very adorable voice. A tiny little lion cub child brightly smiled up at his uncle. A resounding chorus of enamored awww's came from the girls as their hearts melted at the sight all at once. Leona had never wanted to crawl into a hole so badly.

"Oh my goodness! He is SO CUUUUUTE!" 

"Leona has a precious angel as his nephew? Awwwww~!"

Cheka turned his wide eyes towards all the girls and smiled happily at each of them, "Oooh Leona-Oji knows so many pretty girls!" Leona's ears plastered themselves onto his scalp as the girls all giggled at his nephew's adorable line.

"Ne, ne are one of you his girlfriend???" 

Leona's eyes nearly popped out of his head and the rest of the boys were dying on the inside from trying not to fall down laughing, "O-OI! Cheka! Don't ask those kinds of questions!" 

Manari was laughing so much she had tears in her eyes, "He is the most adorable thing I have ever seeeen. Hey Cheka! Wanna take a picture with us? You can be our little prince~<3"

The cub's eyes sparkled as he immediately lept in the middle of the group of older girls, happily letting them take selfies with him. Leona just let out an exasperated groan, waiting for his nephew's bodyguard to show up. The other boys silently admitted to themselves just how envious of the lion cub they suddenly felt and then just as quickly buried the feeling. 

"You smell pretty!" Cheka giggled cutely as Reine held him in her arms as they took the last picture together. Reine's heart had never felt lighter. The mood suddenly left when she saw Cheka's face shift from happiness to a worried look over her shoulder. When she turned around, Zehn was approaching with a stoic expression on his face. 

"Lady Reine. Might I have a word?"

Reine kept her voice light as she gently put Cheka back down and guided him back towards Leona, "Of course Zehn, I'll be just a moment." 

Any levity leftover from the moments before quickly evaporated as Reine asked the girls to head back without her. The boys didn't need to be asked and promptly left the arena with the girls and Cheka. Riddle fought the urge to look back and make sure that Reine was actually ok being alone with the cold boy. Elise was feeling the same and offered to wait for her at the gate, much to Riddle's relief.

The air between her and Zehn felt a bit too heavy and alien for her tastes, but she held her composure as she sat back down on the bleachers and invited him to do the same. He did and stared at the red flowers in her hair.

"You seem to be having fun here..." his tone sounded kind but his face was unamused.

"I am enjoying my time here. It's a nice change of pace....but that's not what you want to talk about is it, Zehn?" She felt that same tremble in her hands as he scooted a bit closer to her. 

"No Lady Reine, it isn't...I want to talk about our possible future together," the boy's touch was delicate as he took her smaller hand in his, "I am glad you are enjoying this reprieve now. Soon you'll be entering your final year at Sacred Crown and after that....well..."

Reine was painfully aware of what came next. Though she wouldn't ascend the throne right after she graduated, the process would be quick. She had been working, studying, and molding herself for this as long as she had understood what it all meant. Part of that was finding a suitable partner that would support and elevate her every step of the way. That was the part Zehn was referring to, specifically. It made her heart speed up. Reine never once felt reluctant to take on a suitor and, eventually, a husband. She was actually looking forward to it very much...so why was she so afraid? Reine took a breath, gripping tightly on every thread of determination she had within her.

"Zehn...I know what you want to ask me. I've known for a while now. And I need you to know this...I will be the next Queen. As Queen, I need a strong King by my side."

The boy's eyes lit up, "Naturally, my lady. No one would expect any less nor should they."

"Yes. But. I expect more than just that...strength is one thing but I also need a King who understands where I want to take the Rose Queendom in the future." 

Zehn frowned. He was quite familiar with Reine's desires, at least in this regard. The entire court was. She would make a beautiful queen. She would be perfect for the future of the White Queen's legacy...but...

"Lady Reine, as my future queen, I feel the deepest love and respect for you. You will be a magnificent queen and in time, all of our people will understand the ways of the White Queen and leave the archaic ways of the Red Court behind. You will help them realize this, as will your daughters, and theirs. Just as your mother, our beloved White Queen has in her time." 

Reine's heart sank a bit at his words. His very kind words that somehow held such a heaviness in them. 

"I want to understand our people as they are, Zehn. As they shall be. I want to build a place where we both can be as we are, peacefully, not bound to one set of ideals or the other. That is what I need my future King to understand, what I need you to understand." 

The boys clasped both of her hands in his a bit too tightly as he gazed into her dark eyes, "Your dreams are beautiful, Lady Reine...but they are just that. Dreams. Enjoy your fun now, while it lasts but realize now that this is all it is. Please know that I say this out of love and compassion for you, my princess...my queen. In the future, you will rule with the highest authority, you will be the face, the heart, the soul of our homeland. Our people will need you in the present with the future held tightly in your hands. A future that can actually come true without ruining yourself and the legacy queens laid down before you..."

Reine's heart pounded in her chest like a deer on the run as his eyes pierced into her with every word. She wanted to take her hands away from his lips as he pressed them gently to her knuckles. She wanted to run, to disappear. Reine said nothing. She couldn't speak or move at all. All she could do was cling to her resolve as it broke apart and slipped through her fingers at every syllable that left his lips. Her throat burned as all she could say was his name. His gaze softened at the sound of his name, "Lady Reine...please...please choose me. I will protect you and the Queendom we build together until the end of our days. That I can promise you."

"Zehn....I...I need time to think. This is a lot to decide right this second." 

He felt a sharp sting at her words. He understood and respected her desire for time. He would give her all the time in the world if that's what she wished...however...if not him, then who? What possible debate could there be?? He felt a wave of coldness wash over him when she finally pulled her hands away and stood up to leave.

"I will consider it and give you my answer, Zehn. That I can promise." 

He stood up and bowed to her, silently accepting her decision. Before he could offer to walk her back to her dorm, her eyes changed ever so slightly to a questioning look. 

"There is one more thing I must ask, Zehn."

"Yes, Lady Reine. Anything."

"Did you tell your teammate to shoot the disc at Riddle during today's match? Or was it really an accident?"

His blood froze as the words left her mouth so effortlessly. Her gaze was calm, undoubtedly patient as if she had her finger on a trigger that she could wait for ages to pull if need be. 

"It was an accident, I assure you, my princess. What would make you think otherwise?"

Reine merely hummed softly in her answer before turning and leaving him behind, "I can see myself back to my dorm. Congratulations again on winning the match, Zehn." 

The chill under his skin quickly left along with her as Zehn felt his temper start to boil. All because of one crimson runt that somehow caught his beloved's attention so effortlessly. Still, he meant what he said before: the princess could have her fun for the time being. 

-

Reine sat alone in her dorm room, staring into the mirror above the fireplace. Elise had been waiting for her as promised at the arena's gate and they had walked back together. The booths from Day 1 were still open and would be throughout the week, still, Reine encouraged her friend to go enjoy the rest of the day with the others at the Monstro Lounge, knowing it had become Elise's favorite spot. So here she was, alone with her thoughts as she gently plucked the red roses from her hair and placed each one on the fireplace mantel. Her head still throbbed a bit from earlier so much that even sitting on the bed made her feel a bit dizzy still. This was all too much...she needed to do something. Reine looked over at her phone and looked over the photos she had taken with Cheka and everyone after the game, bringing back some semblance of a smile to her face. She nearly dropped her phone as it started to ring. Her eyes widened as she saw the number and quickly answered it.

"Mother??"

"Hello, my darling."

Her mother's velveteen voice cascaded through the other side of the phone. It was such a rare occasion that her mother took the time to actually call her that for a moment, Reine thought she was dreaming again. 

"I wanted to check in with you and see how you doing. Are you enjoying the festival with Mr. Cavalier? He speaks fondly of you always."

Reine jolted with surprise. Zehn spoke to her mother about her?? She shook it off and took the opportunity to speak her mind.

"About that, Mother...Zehn and I actually did have a talk today. He made a proper proposal of courtship..." 

"Wonderful! I'm so happy for you, my dear girl. I shall send you the rings immediately so you can make it official." 

Reine's stomach lurched at the mention of the matching rings. Every young queen-to-be was given a pair of magic rings for her and her chosen suitor, to bind them into an official courtship. It was like a pre-marriage of sorts. Signaling to everyone that they were bound to one another and intended to marry in the future. The bond could be broken by the princess's decision but it rarely happened. 

"M-Mother, I don't think it's time for that....I...haven't....exactly given him my approval yet." 

"Oh...? Well, the answer is clear is it not? Zehn Cavalier is the finest young man a future queen could ask for, my dear. You are more fortunate than you realize."

Reine felt that same sensation she always felt when she and her mother found themselves in these sorts of conversations. As always, she took a deep breath and got ready to jump.

"Mother. Zehn is a very....promising...suitor, I'm sure. But...I'm not sure at the same time. I don't think he is the one that I want to marry, Mother. I do want to marry but not him. I just want something, someone else to be in my life when I take your place-"

"Reine....how many times must we talk about this, my flower?" the Queen's prior sweetness completely left her tone and all that was left was the voice of someone who had had enough, "I've humored you and listened to your daydreams of recreating our homeland to be this perfect little wonderland that no longer exists in reality. We are Queens of the White Court, our ways are ways that have carried a glorious legacy for generations. You need to understand this and your King needs to as well. I wanted to give the freedom to at least choose your fiancee because I thought you could handle that properly, at the very least...perhaps I have given you too much freedom."

Reine's throat tightened, "M-Mother, please. Don't-"

"Reine, enough. You are my heir, my Queendom's future ruler, and you are acting like a child. Zehn will make a perfect King to rule by your side. He is the perfect candidate to carry you and your queendom to its proper place....take your time if you must, but I will have your rings sent to you. And then, we can put all this nonsense to rest once and for all, hmm?"

"...Yes Mother," Reine refused to let her mother know of the hot tears running down her face, "of course."

"That's my darling rosebud. I love you, my dear. Be sure to give your other friends my regards."

With that, the call was cut short and the room fell silent, save for Reine's occasional sniffle. She placed her phone on the nightstand as her heart pounded in her ears. She opened her mouth to exhale but her breath came out too short, too quickly, choked out by the ragged sobs that were expelled from her sore throat. She tried to stand but the world shifted too quickly and Reine soon fell into pitch black. 

-

Elise couldn't believe that she left her phone behind after changing her clothes earlier. She had been in such a rush to join the others at Azul's booth that she completely forgot to put it back in her satchel. The marine princess sighed and greeted the ghosts as she walked through the dorm's front door and headed straight to her room. Sure enough, there was her phone just laying on the bed. How she missed it with its bright turquoise case, she'll never know. Just as she turned to leave a second time, a loud thud came from the ceiling above her, from Reine's room.

Elise felt a chill of panic rip through her as she sprinted up the stairs and burst into her friend's room without knocking. She shrieked when she found the white-blonde collapsed on the floor like a lifeless doll.

"REINE?!"

--------------------------------------------

Tagging:

@iscarlettappel

@foxwitchaine

@victoria1676

@nuitthegoddess

@1ndigowitch

@wysteriadelights

@aiimee9

#neoninky #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #twisted wonderland #her ivory crown #sacred crown chronicles #sacred crown hall #night raven college #twst oc x canon #twst oc schools #twst oc dorms #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #kalim al-asim #vil schoenheit #lilia vanrouge #twst oc #reine castilene #elise coralette #manari ali #magift #twst canon: bad moms

[tiredassmage]

I continue to love Tyr SO MUCH every time I read more about him. Just think he deserves some appreciation in ~the ask box~ and maybe a break. He sounds like he needs a break.

(Tbh he and my cipher agent Five sound like they’re in a very similar boat of “can we catch a fucking breather please?” “No” “okay thanks”) and love that for them

;_; I HAVE NO WORDS. MY ENDLESS APPRECIATION BACK TO YOU. Jkahdjdjfufjfkf. This literally means the world to me and let me also just say, you in my asks is always an absolute treat, I cannot thank you enough.

I really, really do love him, so like... unfortunately for him, he's suffering from my infamous main obsession syndrome and that means I also spend lots of time on his problems jsjdjdkfkf. He really could absolutely use a break. WHY isn't this man retired, honestly? Get out of the game, Nine. You lived. You literally evicted the Sith Emperor. Find a nice, remote planet and just fuck off, dude, take your husband with you. You deserve it, bestie!! (I give him maybe two weeks, tops, before he'd lose his patience. Someone tell him how to turn off all those spy instincts and that nasty sense of responsibility to see the conflict to its end because he can't help but feel he has to do something, knowing what he does of the Empire. Seriously. Tell him to stop. He worries me sometimes. Don’t you dare self-destruct like that, you dumb bastard. I’m watching you, Tyr.)

Imperial Agent support club tbh. They've done enough, damn it. 😔🤣 I probably owe them drinks, if Five would also like. xD

Okay, Tyr appreciation without me babbling off about him because while we’re here. I love playing pixel dress up with this man, so like, favorite ‘fits time!!!!

This is still my favorite look for him, I think. He’d never confess, but ‘the Red Blade’ is still probably one of his favorite covers and returning to a level of that persona on Rishi was way more fun than it had any right being.

It’d also be remiss of me to not mention his absolute classic(tm) - this eventually served primarily as a cold weather ‘fit, but was one of the earliest sets I acquired for him, so it’s one of the default outfits/color schemes I imagine him in.

I would say he has the most outfit slots unlocked of all my toons so far, but I think Lensan’s starting to give him a run for his credits, if he hasn’t already won. Tyr was really like... my descent into outfitter madness. The beginning. The first time I finally grasped the absolute potential of giving them different outfits for different occasions. It’s all been downhill from there, man. What do I play games for - and especially their money markets - if not to play pixel dress up, tbh? (Lensan has an absolutely outrageous amount of blasters I keep in his inventory for the sole purpose of stamping them to outfitter slots, it’s kinda hilarious.)

Also kudos to him for being the only character I have that hasn’t snatched a 2nd combat style bc I may have no idea if I’m doing half of it right, but you can pry Operative out of my cold, dead hands. Superior solo experience. It has stealth. It has a combat roll (that I miss when I play literally every other game, ngl, I’ve been corrupted). Solid single target output for my purposes of story content. I picked it up as a second for Len simply to make Section X dailies less a pain in the ass and I haven’t swapped back to Merc for him in ages, oops. >.>

I also need to go off about him and Shara one day because this bitch STILL probably hasn’t processed his feelings about how all of that went down and, honestly, Tyr, please. C’mon. I’m still judging him for how he tried to convince himself Nathema and Umbara and all of that was just like. Not an issue he needed to talk about. He was fine. Obviously. Theron was back!!! Alive!!! End of story, right???!!!! No!!! Absolutely not!!!! Shakes him by the shoulders, stop repressing your own feelings, you know you can talk to Theron!!!

Idiot. I love him. I love this man so much. I want to spin him around like a Rubix Cube.

#answered #dot talk #ch: tyr #literally like adskfndslfndsf you've slain me i love and appreciate you for supporting my... idk kdasfnlsanfdsd #swtor #imperial agent #swtor oc

[sapphirecrook]

[STORY] Call Me Fang - Chapter 2-2 Mounting Tension

TUMBLR TEXT:

Download (it looks nicer)

ORIGINAL:

The document this is in, is like 30k words. A lot of that is spillover, surpluss, but there's an easy 20k of like, done in the last week. This is exactly how it went with that first idea, only with a lot more… I dunno. Stability? I'm having fun. Who CARES.

-----

The hallways.

They are full of colors. 

Until now, I’ve only been exposed to a few people at a time. Or seeing blurs and flashes as the car speeds by. Or a mass of them crossing the street.

This world has fewer traffic lights than makes sense to me. Judging by Naser’s mannerisms while driving, I wager pedestrians won the war on cars and Naser will be shot out of a cannon if his bumper so much as grazes the tip of a shoe. 

The colors though.

Dinos in all shapes n’ sizes. All the colors of the rainbow. The student body mass occupying the school is best described as ‘phantasmagoric,’ a flowing mass of colors that I must painfully navigate. 

I see guys in skirts, ladies in pants, modest attire to punk to ‘that has no name,’ to one guy I am pretty sure is trying to boil himself alive in the sun. Too many layers, too much black. I salute him.

And quite a few seem willing to just talk to me. Compliments on my looks are so unusual I’m glad I seem to know only a few. Distantly. Fang has friends, and I can’t manage this. I try my best, and it seems to go well enough. It’s just that it kind of tears down my ego to be plagiarizing a person and get rewarded for it. 

I try to shrug off most conversations. This is all quite a lot without having to remember a slew of new names. 

The colors.

Wings, claws, horns, crests. Tall and small. They’re cute. And some look edible, like gumdrops. No shanking in the hallways, no nerds shoved in lockers. Perhaps those take time to get started, but for now, it’s all calm and I feel a weird ease and tension. 

Swimming through this sea made the act of finding my first class more difficult. Far more difficult. As did at least one person demanding to know what the make up was. Microglitter is a term I saw on the foundation. That’s what they got to hear.

I say that, not knowing their gender, though I’ve seen quite a few ‘actually they’ outside of Fang. People are more willing to be themselves? 

All the differences. They stand out. 

Like the technicolor nightmare that is the student body.

And the fact is quite a few people seem to joke about a certain “Dr. Giegler” in a tone of voice that implies they’re something to watch out for. Doctors do be like that. I know quite a few doctors with schemes that warrant distance. 

There’s also the detail that so many buildings around here incorporate greenery into their design. Private properties are more hit and miss, but the school, shops, etc. Public spaces just breathed fresh oxygen like crazy. Half the lockers were shrouded in plants. Which I have verified are real plants, not plastic crap, meaning someone here has to walk around to supply them with water. And soil. Whose job is that?

Probably whatever goes for a flower club around here. Solar punk has always been a style I hoped to see implemented at large. Organic forms in concrete, integrated greenery, solar panel patios. I wish I could high five the man who made this place. 

There’s only so many minutes to appreciate fine interior design.

Time to learn what homeroom is.

Ms. Roberts has a bit of a reputation of being the worst teacher in school. In terms of being stern, often unamused, and rarely allowing people to use their phones for more than a minute at a time. Her old fashioned style of dress compounds the aura of ‘no fun zone’ her manners radiate. As does her age. By far the oldest teacher in Volcano High, with ample rumors she’s intentionally delaying retirement so she can ruin more lives. 

But can you trust the rumor mill? 

Her room further reflects it. A tidy, well kept classroom, with plenty of posters and whatnot talking about the importance of setting your future, college applications, essay due and tips on various educational subjects. Her desk is pristine. Always. 

“And there you all are. In your last year of school, before you tumble from the nest and have to fend for yourself. I sure hope you have the wherewithal to make the most of it, because regrets are difficult stains to undo. Learn now, when it is easy and accessible, lest you have to learn harsh lessons in trying times.” Her voice was measured, deliberate, articulate. It almost sounded rehearsed, slathered in a deep professionalism.

“With some effort, and this is effort you are expected to perform as part of the year, you’ll find yourself a college to attend, a career to enter, or at least a direction or path in life to take by graduation. Now, I’ll repeat what I just said, because there are undoubtedly those among you who disagree. This effort. Is part of. The curriculum. While there is no final or grade associated with it, participating in extracurriculars, finding your skills and drives, engaging with the job fair, and leaving this place with a purpose? It’s a far greater boon than anything Lars can teach you about higher order algebra.”

Her stance in front of class was stiff, powerful. Towering over the others, her eyes often gazing over the golden reading glasses she wore. The thin chain that held it glittered in the morning light that came in through the windows. Her yellow eyes scanned the room, obviously marked by the darker lavender that made up spots around them. Silver hair in a simple bob, adding a mechanical feel, if you squint enough.

Those eyes were on the hunt. For anyone foolish enough to use their phones, or fall asleep, or otherwise disrespect the importance of her message. Many become lazy in the decades; Ms. Roberts used each year to sharpen every edge. 

“REED! Put that phone away.”

“Uhm, it started buzzing, first of the month, the emergency…”

“I am not a fool, Reed. The emergency broadcast system does test the first of the month. At noon. And it’s not September yet. So unless you want to read it aloud to the class. Pay attention.”

“Eh, whatever. I already know what I’m gonna do. Delivery work. I’ve been doing it for a while, and my bro’s in on it too.”

“That’s a good answer. Important, stable, necessary industry.” Her tone betrays not a hint of judgment in either direction. And thus, Reed slinks back into his seat, more alert during his illicit phone operations. 

“Hey. Fang, right?” The green dino next to me…

Is he wearing a green hoodie? The same as his scales… What the hell dude? Never wear flesh colors like that. 

“What’s up?” Do I know him? Not in the DMs of recent at least.

“Yea. Like, got a spare like… paper and pen?” He sounds like he couldn’t even understand the fashion faux pas. 

I look at my bag and fish around in it. I don’t recall packing any, but there might be some Fang left in there. Surprisingly, I fish out…

Oh, my god.

That is slightly embarrassing. 

An entire 5-pack of exercise books. Okay, that’s not embarrassing. That they’re all with a non-binary flag cover, is. It’s cute, I do like that flag, cool colors, but fuck if pulling out five of them, wrapped in plastic, out my bag like I’m doing a lottery draw isn’t…

I pull out one, and fish out a spare pen. A pansexual pen. I guess a nonbinary is necessarily pansexual, if at all, given the big three are all male/female binary related, huh? Pens are just like that.

Naser must’ve stuffed it in here, I think I saw him carrying this to the car? And a bunch of other ones too.

Whereas I just had a big moment, the recipient seems completely unphased, like the flags are meaningless colors. Good for him. Live life free of judgment, airhead. 

“Wow, coooool.” His eyes are red. His irises are green.

Man’s a walking plant, and I used to know a real one, so I’d know. 

The snicker tips off the guard. “Mx. Fang. Mind telling the class what’s so exciting?” 

Fuck, caught… helping someone? A true crime in this town.

“Just helping a fellow citizen, teach!” I give her a big smile and a wink, like I’ve plenty of other big guys back home do. 

“Hrm.” Her eyes stare daggers. I am immune to most conventional weaponry, so she’s free to exercise her efforts. Emotional damage hurts like hell though. “Harold, this is your final warning. Stop trying to make a call in class. What in the name of goodness makes you think that would ever work?”

I lean into my chair, giving the green guy a thumb’s up. He’s cute, in the same way a house plant is cute. He should wear brown shoes. Halloween costume: done. 

I turn to the window, with my duty fulfilled. I took a window seat for a reason. Been a while since old Sol graced me with his ample rays so freely. The world out there is so vivid. Bountiful greenery, bright blue sea, sparkling sands, clear sky, impeccable warmth. Warmer than I’d really like, though just being reminded of a world of light and life, it refills a part of me that I never knew was empty to begin with. 

It is then I am reminded of the pink raptor behind me, through the application of a paper airplane. 

The message? 

“Dude, wassup?” 

Eloquent. 

I am unsure what his deal is, but he is insistent on distracting me. He looks familiar. And only once I look over my shoulder and actually look at him do I realize that he resembles Reed. Because he is Reed. He was in several photos, you dummy.

Had to check my phone for that, which looks silly, I imagine. 

Once he caught on I’m listening, he leans in. 

“I just wanted to know how you’ve been.” His attitude is immediately obvious. His slight shrug, that polite, easy smile. That faint aura of smoke. The very loose top. Man’s a bro. I feel like I could tell him I’m not Fang, right here and now, and he’d just fist bump me and say ‘that’s radical, dude’ or something. 

“How have YOU been?” There, that gets him off my back.

“You know. Mysterious places, perfectly legal, enjoying a responsible amount of weed.” Not tobacco, but weed? Fair enough. 

“Do I look like a cop?” “Maybe. So, when were you gonna tell me about LJ?”

Tattletale Trish. “Tattletale Trish.” “More like ‘we’re in a band and I feel like you’d tell me the second you knew’? Not accusing you here, just figured you’d be running the halls to tell me. You finally cracked old LJ’s cold icy heart.” His playful attitude appends it with a wink. “Oh, yea.”

“So, when’s the next band meeting?” His smirk makes me feel like he already knows. Formalities, from a guy like him? “Today. I’ve been doing a big think.” “Always nice to use your noggin.” He taps his temple. The constant smile and those half-shut eyes, I’d believe anyone if they told me he’s trying to hit on me. Except, of course, for the complete lack of anything actionable. Just chill. He’s chill. “We have time anyway. Best use it surgically.” “Yea. Fine by me. I had a weird night.” “Why, bad sleep?” “More like, not used to sleeping on a soft bed. My van’s cot has a style and it needs unlearning. That, and mom and mom make healthy, nutritious meals made of real food, instead of easily digestible fast food. Shame.” 

I’ll be honest. I might be the pressing mystery, but Reed’s summer sounds like a story worth telling when I get home.

“My man, what the hell have you DONE all summer?” “Good times.” 

“Are we talking ‘five baby Reeds’, or ‘wanted in five countries?’ Because there’s a subtle difference.”

Despite the pressure, he keeps smiling. “Just good times with good friends, Fang.” The way he’s leaning in, and lightly tapping the table, his head on his hand. I just can’t tell if he’s hitting on me or if he’s putting on the pressure for a reaction. 

I guess prying too much would be hypocritical of me. And, if anything, embolden him to push back. So there’s two wins to be gotten by keeping skeletons in closets. 

“Eh, sorry. Just excited.” “No worries. Trish’ll have to write both of our ‘what we did in summer’ papers then.”

I roll my eyes. I turn back right on time, as Ms. Roberts has just gone into her next segment. A time she used to scan the room for inattentiveness, by the looks of it. And so begins her next segment “it’s never too early” and all.

Why do I have this weird gut feeling I’m going to hear this spiel again? From Naser? He just has that vibe, I guess. Class President. At school an hour early. Adds up.

Next up is History & Civics. Now there’s a subject I need to double down on. I imagine math is mostly the same, given this universe operates by similar language and whatnot. Or the translation in my dino brain does that for me. Fang’s body is doing a lot of heavy lifting. In fact, it is literally doing all the lifting so far.

But history? That’s gotta be eons apart.

Sigh.

Well, someone’s gotta call out my bad puns.

The teacher is a strange woman. Now, admittedly, I’ve had a history teacher that was athletic. This takes the cake. Judging by the whispers, she doesn’t even host any sports related activities or PE? A mysterious woman indeed. Just a very buff history teacher. 

I’ve also never seen a teacher wear a varsity jacket? 

Her opening spiel starts off about the importance of learning from history, and that history is ‘the here and now digested as the past’ or something. Which is accurate, and I agree. 

That’s what I would say with more sincerity if she didn’t immediately veer from school topics into what the finals and midterms and everything were going to be like. How to properly prepare for a test, and how to digest and critically implement her teachings into one’s life. 

She sounds like she’d rather never, ever see this class again over actually teaching anyone anything. Her words say that. Her energy feels like a coach about to hype up the team. The contrast dazes me. 

During my way in, I managed to snatch a seat a bit away from Reed. The trick was to wait. It seems Reed refuses to reserve seats, so I was ‘forced’ to not be near him. The texts were still coming. We were both in the back. Excuses were there to do so.

Pretty sure the teacher was too caught up to notice anyway.

I guess it’s not a bad idea. Reed seems chill. And a friend or bandmate, so gaining rapport and building something of a relationship is going to happen eventually unless I want to burn Fang to the ground. I’ve yet to see any matches.

Cool, he’s sending trivia. Love me some trivia. 

# Reed (Friend/Bandmate? He/Him) 

> R: “did u know that volcano high got its name from the founder not knowing calderas are *inactive* volcanos?”

> R: “some say it was intentional, a joke, but the jury’s out on that”

> R: “u have now learned more than this entire hour will”

> F: “Exciting facts”

> F: “I’m voting for you for Teacher of the Year.” > R: “we all know that prize goes to either John or Quintin.”

> R: “you can’t beat cooking class in terms of bribery through treats”

> R: “and you can’t beat the man who fired a functional railgun and proceed to make out on top of it”

> R: “pretty sure he’s the only teacher not allowed to be near another teacher exclusively to avoid PDA complaints”

> F: “Public Displays of Affection, or does Quintin throw around palm pads?” 

> R: “knowing quintin its probably both” 

> R: “which is weird given Roberts does computer science” > R: “did you know Roberts apparently wrote like, part of the stuff that goes into .snd codec and .pht compression?”

> R: “Not the recent ones, but, like, whichever ones they had when she was 30”

> F: “Prehistory.” > F: “Of course she’s a mathemagician.” > R: “it’s how she can smell our phones”

Wait what the fuck

There’s a guy who makes RAILGUNS in this school? This world may have more in common than I initially thought. Perhaps he knows someone who is into Dimensionology or Portals. 

Trivia always helps spice up conversations. The teacher hardly noticed. She’s on a tirade about proper note taking and the importance of learning intermittently. Like, piecemeal. A little bit at a time, to soak it in. And how tests are structured and you can cheese it. 

I wonder if other teachers will be this distracted by senior year?

# Reed (Friend/Bandmate? He/Him) 

> R: “by the by, trish n rosa wanna do a thing thursday”

> R: “at the mall”

> R: “u in?”

> F: “I’ll probably be preoccupied with band stuff.”

> F: “Maybe next week, after the auditions blow over.”

> R: “0 rush” > R: “remember to hydrate and smoke two blunts a day”

> F: “Screw off.” 

> R: “okok” > R: “only two blunts, no water”

Okay, okay, fine, he got a snicker from me. It’s the speed that gets me.

Also, I feel strangely affable? Like I’m holding my own in these conversations. I guess being myself works well enough. At least, in these more freeform contexts. I doubt being me will work when I have to play music, since I wouldn’t. 

Thinking about it, an audition? Gives me the chills. I’ve never played, and now… ugh. It’ll come when it comes. 

I decided to put my phone aside and look at the teacher. She’s getting really animated now. Is this her redemption tour? Compared to Ms. Roberts, it's quite amusing. Class flies by when you get a show for free. I’ve even returned to my old habit of leaning the chair back.

And my sense of balance has only grown since I last did that.

One day I’ll grind one of these babies down the rails at the front door. 

Maybe one day I’ll stack it three high and show the world the true karmic balance of my inner life. 

Or just maybe, with a little luck, I’ll cross a tightrope on one. 

Hoho.

Bell rings. That was a solid period of nothing but a teacher looking desperate in a varsity jacket. Art, unintentionally so, is still art. 

Or maybe not. There’s that one guy who wouldn’t shut up about art being an intentional expression of self, not expression in its own right. But that would include a recording of this. Thus this isn’t art until someone bothers to add that tiny spin of intention? 

Yuck.

I deftly hoist myself up, swing my bag over my shoulder and go. Then I stumbled, as the backpack swung right into my wing. Ow. Fang, would it kill you to have only four limbs in places that are workable?

Once outside the class, I excuse myself from Reed, so he can move on while I think about what’s next. Lunch, right? 

Oh, wait. 

# Trish (Friend/Bandmate? She/Her)

> T: “okay, took some fist fighting”

> T: “And running”

> T: “Choir team can suck it” > T: “We’re in the music room”

> T: “So come on, we gotta hear the big news!”

> F: “First band meeting, ho.” 

Fate has given me a goal. Time to puff out that chest and do the big move of the day. If I play my cards right, it’s just this, the announcements, and then sneak off during free period to begin working on the stuff. A mental distraction will help normalize and keep busy. 

Just gotta keep moving. 

#GVH #goodbye volcano high #callmefang

[magicalbuffalotransformerman]

too much asbeel in my head

more post

was 2 am when i wrote this originally

{Judecca.}

{The frozen ocean at the bottom of Hell. The lifeless mirror reflecting millions.}

{Asbeel roams this cold, cold abyss with little a care left in their mind. A testament to their armor's durability thus far; a warning for a fate to come.}

{Freedom.}

{Is it what you envisioned, Asbeel?}

"Well?"

{A voice. Elegant, suave. Not Gabriel. Intriguing... another soul roaming Judecca. Asbeel turns to face this other soul.}

"Not what you'd hoped for, eh, y' big lug?"

{Undoubtedly an Archangel, yet... not fallen. Or dead. Quite the surprise. Asbeel cocks their head to one side, trying to place the identity of this archangel.}

"Yeah, I get that. It's lonely when you're the last angel in Hell, isn't it, Asbeel?"

{They know their name. Why do they...? Ah. Hand signs. Asbeel knows those, crudely. They'll use those to communicate, seeing as they lost their notebook to Gabriel.}

[who] [you]

"Simple; you. Just popping in from another timeline, or alternate universe, or... whatever you wanna call it. Seeing how shit's going down over here."

{...mm.}

"So... that V1 beast destroyed everyone else. You must've been spared through imperception, I reckon."

{Asbeel seems... content, with this deduction. They nod in response.}

"Well, lucky you. I guess. I'ouno- what's it like being alone? No one to talk to, no one to fight with? No Maurices to cuddle?"

{Another Archangel that calls the Faces 'Maurices'. Asbeel should surely be a match for... Other? Asbeel?? 'Shiny'? Uhm.}

[poor]

"...Y'know... I've always wondered how this realm's Council's punishments and handicaps worked - as far's I know, there's magical, mechanical, and organic handicaps. You can't speak. What type of handicap do you have?"

{Ah... Asbeel doesn't remember their punishment well. They remember the snuffing of their light, and the celebrations those sickly Councillors threw after their punishment, but... not their forced silence.}

{They feel no magic around themselves, and they were able to talk before the punishment...}

[mechanic]

"You sure?"

[indifferent]

{The other Asbeel simply nodded, solemnly.}

"So, I don't have much to... go off of, here. I could just interrogate you to get the full scope of th- Oh! Hey, you want to hear a story?"

{...a story. Asbeel's a fan of those. They nod in response.}

"Okay. So: there's this one fellow in a small rural town down South. Real backroads type place, fulla inhuman fellas. They're all werecats. Haven't heard of a werecat before I visited that town, so it was quite nice to meet a buncha them. This one lady I was introduced to had a jack-o'-lantern for a head! Pretty cool, I thought, since all the other folk had normal he...

{Asbeel's focus shifts from the second Asbeel's story to their form. It's likely a good story, judging on how much the second Asbeel is emoting whilst telling it, but the first Asbeel has their eyes somewhere else.}

{For starters... the second Asbeel has four arms. Four arms, and very shiny armor. Asbeel could almost compare their old armor scheme to this Asbeel's metals and colors... they miss their old armor scheme. All those greens and purples... ah.}

{Coal Asbeel also notices how Chrome Asbeel is wearing high heels. Coal hadn't considered how tantalizing a person in high heels could be before - since love is a sin or whatever, they don't care anymore - but now? Seeing themself from another time wearing them and ROCKING them? Quite the culture shock.}

{Those arms, though. Chrome's arms are quite enticing... maybe this sudden rush of positive emotion is a side effect of having been in the Lust layer for a month and a half. Maybe Coal's seen too many Mindflayers. Ach. Back to the second Asbeel. No Mindflayers........ mmm... their finger armor's segmented and the colors are pretty.}

...and then I left. Wh- As? Asbeel, were you listening?"

{...Coal gives Chrome a guilty shake of their head.}

"...I recognize that body language."

{Coal Asbeel prepares for a mean conversation out of instinct.}

"You like me. D- am I right? Do you like me?"

{Oh. This is. Is this? No, it's not much worse. A little better than an argument. Twice as embarrassing, though. A weary nod.}

"Anything of note?"

{Ah. Uhm.}

[cool] [arms]

{The second Asbeel seems to giggle at this response from the first Asbeel, closing the distance between the two an}

{they're hugging them}

{four arms}

{hugging them with four arms}

{this is}

{wow}

{coal asbeel melts into the hug}

"Mmm... Judecca isn't the best place for a weary giant like you to wander around alone, As. Would you agree?"

{wrap your arms around them as a response}

"Do ya... wanna come home with me?"

{please}

{please}

{pl

{tighten the hug}

"Understood."

{floating}

{bright light}

{...}

{...Judecca.}

{The frozen ocean at the bottom of Hell.}

{The lifeless mirror. Reflecting millions.}

{Empty once more.}

{Just like Hell.}

#asbeel ultrakill

[skippythedragon]

In all honesty idk what this is.

This looked better on the computer

#ninjago #ninjago fanart #don't know which ninja this is #seriously #could be like half of them judging by the color scheme #drew this at 1 a.m. so didn't think about who it is #ninjago city

[harkanya]

@alstroemeriadissonance part 3!

Friday

There was silence from Rosa that day and Vyn was thankful for the distraction in his own work. A healthy stack of psychology essays from students took up residence on his desk in his home office awaiting his attention. These essays were a considerable portion of the students’ grades and they had spent a proportionate amount of effort on them, Vyn hoped. He didn’t want to wield the Red Pen of Disappointment unless absolutely necessary.

Soft music filtered in through a speaker on the wall, enveloping the good doctor in serenity and peace. Or, rather, that was the intention.

Instead, Vyn blinked several times and shook his head, having fallen back into his new habit of daydreaming. Fifteen minutes had been spent mentally redecorating a wing of his imaginary estate and filling it with objects he had remembered seeing in Rosa’s condo. A soft and white rabbit plush toy for the bed, a vase filled with lilies for the table and a bookshelf filled to the brim with law, philosophy and the romance novels Vyn had once considered frivolous.

“‘The Princess’ Pensive Suitor’?” he had asked, holding the book, with its hideously bright color scheme, in one hand.

“Kiki–Kiki gave it to me!!” Rosa had explained, stammering with embarrassment. She’d turned away from him with rapidly darkening cheeks. “Yes, there’s a scantily clad man riding a white horse on the front but she said the plot was fantastic! And… and you yourself said you can’t judge a book by its cover!”

Did she dream of him riding to her rescue on a white stallion across meticulously manicured and impossible landscapes of technicolor flowers?

More importantly, did she dream of him with half his shirt open and billowing in the wind seductively, his chest glistening for some inexplicable reason?

…..what am I doing?

His mental estate, with all of its opulence and grandeur that symbolized who he was, felt empty unless she was roaming the grounds. Empty and devoid of pleasure unless she was within his walls. The paintings on the walls were lifeless, the tea tasteless, the natural light he’d prided himself on had grown dim.

With a sigh, he stood up from his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, walking to his window which overlooked the garden. The garden Rosa would help him tend the very next day. The weather forecast called for typical cold conditions but lacked rain until the evening. The perfect time for pruning, cleaning and garden lessons.

The dictaphone was by now full of his self-evaluations regarding his new problem. Dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, phenylethylamine… all chemicals related to the euphoric feeling of love. This was the first instance Vyn had ever felt such a thing and the physical symptoms alone were quite alarming. The butterflies in the stomach effect was especially pronounced when in Rosa’s physical vicinity. Other problematic symptoms included the urge to smile when around her, the desire to touch her in some way and to engulf himself in her scent…

Utterly embarrassing. If he wasn’t able to tighten his control of himself, Rosa would turn to see him grinning like a lovestruck high school student one of these days.

A facepalm moment, Marius would say. Big oof, Luke would say and then would add something about hashtags.

Yes, he’d studied the psychology of love and attraction out of both curiosity and necessity. After all, many of his patients had troubles that revolved around love or the lack thereof. Experiencing the damn thing was another ball of wax entirely. As a young teen, Vyn had been absolutely convinced of his immunity to such folly. After all, his father was the first victim of love Vyn had ever known. Love at first sight, no less.Vyn had firsthand knowledge of how devastating such folly could be as it robbed him of his mother, archaic Svart laws aside.

And yet, here he was, pining for the woman who plucked a card from his carefully-erected test and had exceeded expectations so spectacularly. Vyn found himself staring down at the garden, wondering if he should bake for her tomorrow, if she would like it and whether she would enjoy tending the plants with him by her side. What tea should he prepare? What tea set should be used?

Is this what my father felt when he met mother?

I feel like I’ve lost control of myself…

In his mind’s eye, he recalled her peridot gaze softening ever so slightly when she laid her gaze upon him. It was a look wholly unlike any he observed her lavish upon Luke or Marius or Artem, or so he’d hoped. Surely there was something there. His overtures were elegant as always, caressing her skin like silk. Vyn cataloged her blushes, her stutters, the way she’d dip her head when embarrassed by his compliments.

Another hour had been spent toiling inside his own head. Vyn took a steadying breath and returned to his desk, determined to get some work done before tomorrow.

#tears of themis #marius von hagen #artem wing #luke pearce #vyn richter #mo yi #someone is horribly lovesick and hates it hahaha #mental redecorating #pining #boy is down bad

[roger-that-cap]

all the flowers will bloom

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: honestly nothing, really! well, i’m busting out this chapter once again, before i go into work so there are most likely typos!!

background: so this is inspired by the myth and stuff, but there are for sure some differences!! the world of mythology is so so intricate and it’s hard to get everything down and accurate- so i took the liberty to not LMAO

word count: 3.1k

You remembered having a slightly rebellious phase that lasted maybe ten years. It wasn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, and the things that you did were simply things that people with normal parents did. The type of parents who weren’t afraid of their children being stolen from them. One time, you remembered sneaking into a forest where nymphs you didn’t know were, and they loved you on sight, without even knowing who you were. An even more grand escape involved a human celebration, the solstice to be exact, and a man with sea green eyes. He was taken by you, and for a minute, you remembered being taken by him. You were loved by everyone who knew you, and by those who only met you briefly, even the older gods. 

  So why had you not heard of anyone coming to get you? It had only been a few hours, but you knew that your mother had already gone crazy. She had some kind of danger meter when it came to you, and you were surprised that she hadn't sensed the fact that you were scared and somewhere unfamiliar yet. You used to hate the danger meter that always seemed to know when you were up to being the young soul you were, but now you were counting on that bothersome danger meter. 

   Hades had been kind enough to show you to where you would be staying herself. You expected a ghost or some sort of half dead spirit to give you a tour of the place, the one place  you were never supposed to be, but she did it herself. She was rather monotonous, and she sounded like she would rather be counting the souls in her domain one at a time, but she did it. The short tour ended with the door slamming in your face after you told her that your mother would be searching for you, and then there you were. 

 There were no windows in your room, and you weren’t even sure that you wanted any in the first place. The windows in your home showed beautiful mountains and valleys and there was even a meadow, but the Underworld was nowhere near as beautiful to you. You missed your colors, you missed singing to the flowers and coaxing soil into being healthy enough to grow crops. It hadn’t even been a full day, and you were facing from withdrawals. And you were too scared to even address the fact that you could still smell the death, and that you could still feel it lingering around you even after the Lady of the Dead cast whatever spell that she did. 

  It felt like you were being sucked from the life that was always naturally within you, and it was terrifying. 

 The room was just as dark and dismal as the rest of the Underworld, or, at least what you had seen of it. It was depressing and gloomy, and it made you feel like a prisoner. With every passing second, you regretted not listening to your mother. You sat on the stiff bed, your eyes welling with tears as the extent of what happened started to sink in. Your hands shook as you wiped your cheeks, even though the action was useless against the new army of tears that were marching down your face, rounding the curve and clinging to your skin. 

You knew what was happening. You replenished the tree. You fixed it, and with fixing the historical tree that you should have known about, you ultimately and unintentionally signed your life away, consenting to being stolen down into the Underworld until you could fix the entire Elysian Garden. You thought it was an impossible feat, and if by the grace of all the Olympian Gods you did succeed, it would be years before you finished. A sob escaped your throat and you turned to lay on your stomach, sobbing into the pillow that was less than comfortable. 

You were going to be dead before you even got a look at flowers again. 

§§

Before you even realized that you fell asleep, you were being woken up by the feeling of death grasping at you, tickling every hair on your body. You rolled to the side to catch your breath on the hard bed and let yourself cry again, the pitiful noises so loud that you didn’t even hear anyone approaching you. 

 Two hands grabbed you and turned you on your back, and you coughed weakly at the ceiling. “It should work,” you heard a voice mutter, and then there was a warm palm right on your throat, the other above your sternum as you tried to catch your breath. All you could focus on was the warmth, the sheer warmth that you expected to find nowhere in the realm of the dead. As your airways unclogged, you turned to the side and hacked again, breathed in and out a few times, and then turned to look towards the person who saved you. 

  She looked different. Somehow, she looked even more intimidating in the all black clothing she was wearing. It was a far cry from a dress, and closer to the suits that you saw humans wear. She was staring down at you with her calculating and cold eyes, examining you and surely judging. You made your own judgement. “Why are you so warm?” 

 Her hard expression faltered. “What?”

You narrowed your eyes at her, forgetting for a moment that she was as old as dirt and that she could easily take your breath away without any effort. “How are your hands so warm?” you got utter silence from her, and you knew that she was cursing at you in her head. “You’re dead.” 

 There was the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. “I’m not dead. I’m a god, I don’t die.”

You didn’t think you could, either, but you had been at Death’s door twice already within twenty four hours. “How are you the Goddess of Death and the Underworld if you’re not dead?” 

“Are you not the Goddess of Agriculture?” She asked, one of her brows arched. “Then why are you not a stalk of corn?” 

 You shook your head. “That’s not the same.” 

She gave you a look. “It certainly is.” 

“How are you ruling over a group of people without ever knowing how it feels to be the way that they are?” You asked. 

 “You do not know how it feels to be a flower, yet you make them grow.” She reasoned, and you shook your head adamnely. “I do not have to be able to die to know how someone feels. I have witnessed it for years and years.”

“But I do know how it feels to be a flower,” you corrected, voice soft as you began to slip onto the mindset you got when your bare feet touched the grass. “I feel every living thing near me, all the time. I can feel the energy that comes from flowers. I can feel the way they drink up the sun and the rain, and the way they weave their roots into the ground. I can feel seedlings sprouting from the soil, and I can feel buds coming alive to show petals. I know how it feels to be a flower, and a tree, and a shard of grass, and a stalk of corn. That’s why I do so well with them.” 

  It was silent between the two of you as you got an eyeful of her, and she did the same to you. You found  yourself staring into her eyes, and you noticed that they held more color than Bucky’s seas. Her eyes might have been the most colorful thing in the kingdom she ruled. She blinked, and you stopped your staring. “Will you bring that same confidence to my garden?”  

“I do not know if I can fix something so dead.” 

“My tree had been dead for thousands upon thousands of years, and you made it bloom again.” 

“It wasn’t surrounded by death,” you pointed out, and she crossed her arms. “I mean, well, it was, but not like everything down here is. This place drains me.”

“It will until you accept that you’re here,” she said, and you scowled at her. “You will wake up in pain until you understand that you’re here. It’s a side effect of dying.” 

  Your heart raced in your throat. “Dying?” 

“You’re not dead, not yet.” When you gave her a horrified look, she smirked. “A human would be dead the second they arrived, but because you’re a god, it will work slowly for you.”

  “Are you saying that I have a literal deadline?” You asked, voice wavering slightly as you tried to be brave while thinking about all the ways you could possibly get the godforsaken garden to grow, and as fast as possible. If you didn’t see your mother again in one piece, there would be hell to pay. She would find a way to resurrect you to kill you all over again. 

 “As long as you let me take the death out of your system, you’ll live long enough to fix my garden.” 

You figured that was what her touch was doing to you. You remembered someone touching your throat after you fell, and you knew it was her. She took the death out of you, but it still hovered over your skin, anxious to get back inside of you and eat you whole. It knew just as much as you did that you had no business being there. At least, not alive. 

You knew that the likelihood of you being able to fix the garden was slim to none. Part of you wanted to say no to save yourself from the humiliation of pushing yourself. You were supposed to be an expert at growth, some even said you were better at growing than your mother. She focused on the big picture, getting out as many crops as possible and sometimes forgetting quality, but you took your time. She was more powerful than you by miles and miles, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe you could do it. You were going to have to, if you wanted to leave. “Has anyone else ever tried to grow your garden?” 

 The Goddess of the Underworld was so silent that you thought she didn’t hear you, but when you looked over at her, she was staring right at you with her undead eyes, an unreadable look on her face. “One.”

  You nodded and looked at your hands, and the flowers that were hanging on to life by a thread. You shook your head and sighed, and then sighed again. “I would like to see what I’m working with.” 

     §§

Hades walked quickly, but her steps lacked urgency. She walked with her head held high without even knowing it, and her steps were so loud that it cleared every dark and bare hall that they echoed in. Her subjects held the image of her with respect, and you saw every single one of them at least bow their heads to her. She kept her eyes forward, never once looking back at you to check that you were following. She stepped into an elevator-like contraption and looked forward once you stepped in the space next to her, and looked at the buttons on it. 

“This is… fancy.” 

“Did you think there were stairs to every single level?” She asked, and you pursed your lips. “That’s a lot of walking.” Her finger hovered over a button, number two, and then you realized that you were on the middle ground, the third level. “You aren’t to go on any of the levels but the third by yourself, do you understand?” 

 You held back your scowl at being told what to do. “Why not?” 

“The first level is the entrance to my kingdom. There are plenty of wailing souls and rivers that no living thing should ever see. It would give you quite the shock.” Your brows shot up. You didn’t expect for her to give you a reason, and maybe it was because your mother never really gave you any good ones. “The second level, which is where we’re going, is for the best of humanity. It’s full of honorable humans and demigods. That level is called Elysium.” 

You knew of that level. Everyone who had swooned and fawned over Achilles made sure that Hades put him in Elysium after he died, where he would be with all of the other warriors and scholars. Even your mother favored the young man, but it wasn’t enough to get her to beg to Hades. You were starting to irrationally fear that nothing was going to be enough to get her to beg the woman, maybe not even you. 

“The third layer is the Asphodel Meadows. There's not many things left that make it a meadow, but it’s for the typical human. It was designed for people who haven’t done wrong nor good, the ones who didn’t particularly make a mark on the world and those around them in a good or bad way.” 

“I’d bet a few people I used to know are there now,” you said softly, and she looked over at you with a confused look on her face. You shrugged at her, thinking that she was judging your human friends  for not doing any spectacular deeds in their short lifetimes.  “My friends, I think they may be there now.” 

“You make friends with humans?” 

“I make friends with anyone and anything,” you said. “If they allow me to.” 

She stared at you for a long moment, and then started to talk again before finally pressing the button. “The fourth level is nothing more than a thick layer between the third and the fifth, which is Tartarus. You know that.” You did. You knew that only the worst of people, and the Titans, resided there. Humans who killed for fun or did major harm went to Tartarus, the lowest level of the Underworld, and the most torturous.  “Never attempt to go into the fifth level.”

You didn’t want to. No one wanted to see Tartarus with their own eyes, and hear what no doubt was screams and sounds of pain and anguish. It was a world full of punishment for horrific crimes, and it was no place for someone like you to be. She surely didn’t have to tell you twice. 

“Where’s your dog?” You blurted, and she gave you a mildly annoyed look as she waited for you to elaborate. “You have a three-headed dog.” 

She breathed in through her nose and rolled her eyes at you, but you were looking at her face closely enough to see that a small smile was threatening the corners of her mouth. “Cerberus is destructive. He guards the gates of the Underworld, which means you will probably never meet him.” 

“Oh.” You couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing such an unusual and rumored to be humongous dog was enticing, but you didn’t want to see souls getting carted off while screaming, either. The doors opened, and she stepped put first, once again not even worrying about if you were following her. The second that you stepped out of the closure of the four walls, you were met with something that you never thought you would see in the Underworld. 

  There were remnants of colors all around, like there was once a beautiful set up that could have rivaled the above ground. You saw dead ivy crawling on walls of the cave-like walls, and you could feel the crunch of dead grass beneath your feet. Death was swirling all around you, and even though you felt sick, you couldn’t help but push that feeling aside for curiosity. You could almost picture everything in your mind. This place was without a doubt, once very alive. 

  “How did it use to be so alive?” You whispered, mostly talking to yourself as you forgot that the Goddess of the Underworld was standing feet from you, watching you take everything in. “It used to be gorgeous, I can feel it.” Your frown quirked upwards just a bit as you stepped forward and then went downwards again once you felt a familiar yet faint feeling, and once you touched a leaf with your pointer finger, you were slammed with it. “This… my mother did this.” Your head whipped towards Hades, who was watching you with a bored expression. “This is my mother’s work, that’s why it felt so familiar. She was here?”

“She’s the one who made this garden, young god.” When your face went slack, she smirked. “Not out of the kindness of her heart, I will admit. Steve made her.” 

“Why?” 

“Because even the dead deserve something beautiful to look at.” When you started to open your mouth, she held a delicate yet strong hand up, halting your lips from moving. “I know what the above grounders think about us. It’s called the afterlife for a reason, you know. These are people down here, regardless of whether you want to believe it or not. So, yes, they deserve something as simple as a meadow.” 

You let her words sink in and echo softly against the walls as you stared at the dead plants, struggling to hold onto the last bits of your mother’s energy that still lingered. “Did they die because she left them?” 

Hades frowned. “They died because she killed them.” 

You shook your head adamantly, quickly denying her claim. “My mother doesn’t harm land. She never has, and she never would.”

“What makes you so sure that she’s not spiteful and hateful towards me that she wouldn't do that?” 

“My mother-”

“Is a harsh woman. She is as punishing as she is gracious, and you know that. Your mother and I never liked each other, and it only got worse as the years went on.”

You knew that your mother’s hatred for the goddess before you ran deep. You doubted that it was deep enough for your mother to harm the earth, but you never knew. Hell, you never knew that your mother had ever even been to the Underworld.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to revive what my own mother has destroyed,” you admitted. “She’s much stronger than me. If she really did kill it like you said she did, then I don’t think I’m powerful enough to reverse it.” 

A staring competition happened right there between the two of you, her eyes the same calculated look as always and yours holding the one that pleaded for understanding, for release. “You’d better figure it out, flower girl. Preferably before your mother decides to wage a war for you.” 

 The goddess turned to walk away, and when you caught sight of her back, your lips opened before you could even stop them. “What’s your real name?” 

  She stopped in her tracks without turning around, but you saw the tension grow in her back. “Why?” 

“I’m not going to call you by the name that the humans do,” you said, not even bothering to contain the scoff you wanted to give. “I try to call everyone by the names that they have given themselves.” That, and the name was meant to be scary. It was supposed to intimidate and incite fear into people, and you weren’t scared of her. She showed no side of herself that made you think that she was anything like your mother said she was. 

  She turned around slowly, her face expressionless and she looked you right in your eyes in a few moments of silence. “I renamed myself Natasha.”

  Natasha. For a split second, you wondered where she got the name from. Did it come to her in a vision? Did she read it in a book somewhere? Did she take it from a human she admired? Did she even spend time admiring humans? “Then I will call you that.” 

“You can call me whatever you want to,” she sighed out, turning on her heel again to stalk away from you. 

“You didn’t even ask my name,” you called out, heart racing slightly at the idea of benign left alone in the Underworld, outside of the protection of the room that you had woken up in. 

  “I know enough about you to last me many lifetimes, Persephone.” 

“I-it’s Y/N,” you muttered, but the doors to the elevator shut right on your words, and then you were left alone.   

****

taglist: @teenwonder @saamwilscn @messuhp @username23345 @dontmindmejustreading @bitchuwish @blackxwidowsxwife @anxiousgoldengirl @russianredassassin @dailyavengering @blackluthxr @coxmicbabygirl @alytavzla sorry if i missed anyone!!! you can ask to be removed or added at any time!

#natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #lgbt marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanov x reader #hades!natasha x persephone!reader #hades!natasha #greek mythology au

[danganronpa-imagine-headcanon]

*heavy breathing* hfnenfjsjsn may i pls have byakuya, fuyuhiko, hiyoko, and miu with a reader who (sfw, ofc) involuntarily age regresses (usually around 4-8) in certain situations due to trauma? gn reader too please?

Hi anon! Of course I can do that— always happy to write for age regression! This was super adorable :D Also, I got your other message, and of course I can add Mikan! That’s perfectly fine with me. I hope you like this! Have a nice day :D

-Mod Kirumi

Also, a quick note— Age regression is ENTIRELY sfw, and is not to be confused with ageplay/ddlg, etc. It is a coping mechanism, and it’s entirely good and okay to use! Do not interact with this post if you are an NSFW account, or an ageplay account, even ‘sfw’ ageplay. You will be blocked.

Byakuya, Fuyuhiko, Hiyoko, Miu, and Mikan with an S/o who age regresses!

Byakuya Togami

•Byakuya wasn’t too sure what age regression was when you told him about it

•He didn’t want to judge sometime he had no knowledge on, though, so he did his best to be neutral on it

•He thanked you for telling him and asked you if he could do a bit more research

•And, after he had, he understood it a little more, and just let you know that if you ever needed him, he would be here for you

•And so, that was that!

•He’s a relatively good caregiver— He definitely softens up, even in the slightest, when you’re regressed, offering you a small smile and acting like a parent going along with the schemes of their kid

•He thinks you’re kind of sweet when regressed, though!

•He sees you genuinely happy and safe, and he really likes seeing you in such a mindset

•He... Doesn’t cook that often, so he typically resorts to giving you simple things— like fruit snacks or cereal

•He can make you a bottle of milk or give you juice though! So he’s got that much going for him

•You have forced him to color with you more times than either of you can count

•He won’t talk to you about it when you’re bigger, but he’s more than happy to color pictures with you when you’re regressed and even hang yours up on the wall!

•You have a strict bedtime though if you’re regressed at nighttime

•He just wants you to get a reasonable amount of sleep

•He’s so mean for wanting you to take care of yourself! Making you go to bed at a certain time and everything!

•But— really, he’s a sweet caregiver

•He doesn’t mind that you age regress, and he’s happy you’re able to have a space you can be safe in

•He just wants you to be happy

•And if he can help you be more comfortable, then he absolutely will, no questions asked

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

•Fuyuhiko didn’t know what age regression was— you had to explain it to him

•And, once he had properly understood, he only repeated it for confirmation

•“So... You regress to a younger age to cope? And it’s usually involuntary?”

•You nodded

•And after that, he shrugged

•“Cool.”

•There wasn’t much of a discussion after that until you regressed in front of him

•He wasn’t too sure what to do— but he definitely did his best to take care of you and make sure you were safe!

•And, after he watched over you the first time, he was fine with doing it the others

•He lessened the vulgarity of his language when you were regressed, though— that was something that he had to work on

•He forgets that you can’t survive off of sugar and juice, though— he forgets to give you some kind of nutrients

•He’s getting better though! He is!

•Sometimes, you two will just curl up on the couch together and watch cartoons

•It’s not a half bad way to spend your night, believe it or not!

•Fuyuhiko would learn the names of your stuffed animals for you, and actively try to learn about them

•He might make a couple mistakes, but you got to give him credit for trying!

•Fuyuhiko would also give more light-hearted pet names to you, like kiddo, or bud, or something like that

•He doesn’t have all that many for you

•So— Fuyuhiko doesn’t mind that you age regress! It’s not too much of a problem for him, and if he can help you in any way, he would be more than happy to do so

•So, just tell him if you need anything, yeah?

•He’s always going to be there!

Hiyoko Saionji

•Hiyoko already acts a little childish herself, so when she found out you age regressed, it was no big deal, really!

•She could easily look after you, and besides! It helped you cope, and she was happy about that

•Hiyoko would definitely partake in games with you when you were regressed— She’d love to dress each other up!

•She would also probably play tag or hide and seek with you— just for the pure fun of it!

•She’d share her gummy bears with you, if you wanted it, and that was truly saying something

•Hiyoko also would be happy to make you anything you needed! A bottle? She’s got it! Juice? Cool, she already had a bunch of that in her fridge? Candy? Obviously!

•She would also know all of the names of your stuffed animals by heart, and with you permission, she would play with them with you

•She finds them adorable, and she thinks you are too! She’s happy to be able to spend time with you like this!

•You two have also probably made several trips to the park together

•Overall, though, Hiyoko treats you really kindly, going along with whatever you say when regressed and agreeing with you, trying to be nice to you!

•You’re in the mindset of a child, and she loves you anyway, so why would she wanna be mean to you?

•So— Hiyoko, although she may not show it too awfully often— is grateful that you told her and trusted her enough to know this

•She loves you dearly, and hopes you know she’ll accept you for anything!

•If you ever need her help, or if you want her assistance, don’t be afraid to ask

•She’s always gonna be right here to help you!

Miu Iruma

•Miu definitely had to work on not being so vulgar around you whenever you age regressed— it definitely was not what you needed to hear

•But— overall, whenever she did learn to not speak in such a vulgarity...

•She was a pretty good caregiver! She was kind and patient towards and you when you were regressed

•She’s definitely made you some cool toys you could mess around with when regressed!

•She’s also used to trying to give her all when it comes to something— So, stuffed animals? You’ve got five now! Favorite snack or drink? She’s bought it all, no worries! Favorite show or cartoon? She’s got the DVD’s and bought you plushies of the characters!

•Really— Miu’s worried of messing up, and she just wants you to feel safe and happy, and know that she’s going to do everything in her power to make you feel safe and alright

•But— whenever she does stop focusing as much on her worries... she’s really calm, and kind with you

•She’ll hold you close and press a bottle to your lips— or softly toss your stuffies at you for you to catch

•She’s really sweet

•Miu would also be in more fun moods, occasionally!

•She’d take you to run around at the park, or go get ice cream!

•She might even take you to Build-A-Bear!

•So— Really, Miu is understanding and accepting of your regression!

•She’s happy to know that it helps you cope, and if it does that much for you, then what more can she ask for?

Mikan Tsumiki

•Mikan has studied several coping mechanisms... so she already has an ideal understanding of age regression...!

•She would certainly agree to watch over you when you were regressed— she’d love to be a part of something if it can help you out!

•Mikan is really soft and caring towards you, going along with most things you say if it’s not going to harm you or others

•She’s always happy to play games with you! Like tag, or hide and seek! She finds them really fun and sweet to do

•Mikan doesn’t mind letting you have milk or juice, or even sweeter snacks! She would just make sure you drank enough water and had a balanced nutrients given to you, that’s all...!

•Mikan would love to hear you talk about your stuffies, if you wanted!

•Their names, personalities, where you got them from, they all interest her!

•She’s happy to learn about things dear to you

•Mikan, while she doesn’t mind playing with you and being excited, on some days, the both of you just need to curl up close together and take a nap

•She would really like cuddles... they’d make her feel safe! And like she was able to protect you!

•She enjoys calmer moments she spends with you, when you mumble in a lighter and more child-like tone and she’s able to just look after you and fulfill your needs

•She likes that, she truly likes that more than anything!

•So... don’t be afraid to tell her things

•She loves you, okay? And she’ll always, always accept and love you, no matter what..!

#byakuya togami #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #hiyoko saionji #miu iruma #mikan tsumiki #danganronpa #danganronpa agere #danganronpa age regression #sfw agere #agere sfw #sfw age regression #age regression #agere #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa writing