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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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Nasty Man™️ Johnny MacTavish would cross every line and break every rule of a lap dance.

He'd see you from across the club and is already plotting ways to get you alone in one of the private rooms so he can have his hands all over you and help you “relax” 🥴

he's a lil’ creep :)

(18+ MDNI, dub-con/non-con themes)

You can’t even remember why you’re here.

It’s loud, bass thumping in the hollow of your chest, the warmth of writhing bodies weighs heavy in the air, and flashing lights seem to follow your eyes everywhere you look without reprieve. That’s why you don’t see him, don’t notice him staring at you from across the club, and now your friends are whistling and whooping at the dark stranger climbing the steps into your alcove.

“This is the guy I told you about,” Kari leans over to whisper-shout, cupping a hand in a feeble attempt to speak over the music pouring out of the speakers overhead.

Ah, that’s right. Kari wanted to see if the dancer from the near constant stream of videos she inundates the group chat with is here tonight. Seems tonight is her lucky night, because when he steps into your circle he pivots towards the two of you, long legs rippling the slash of cut muscle and tanned skin on display beneath ripped jeans slung low on his hips, obliques bunching and flexing with the subtle tilt of his hips with each measured step. Swaggering.

And he comes to a halt—right in front of you. It’s a long way up, craning your neck at an awkward angle to look up at the silhouette of him against strobe and colorful spotlights. You don’t know what you were expecting. The black leather harness straining over his chest and distressed jeans feel fairly standard, as does his physique and rugged handsomeness, but the warmth that ripples off his body feels like a riptide instead of the languid roll of lapping waves, dragging you under and filling your lungs with the scent of sea spray and brine, the musk of his sweat mixed with whatever he’s oiled his skin with.

“Ooooo girl!” Kari grips your arm, acrylic nails scratching over your skin, and it pulls you out of your dumbfounded stupor enough for you to register the hand he’s holding out to you. “If you don’t go, I will!”

Go? With him? Where would we-

“Ye look a bit overwhelmed, lass. Think somethin’ more… private, might be your style.”

Oh…

Kari snakes her arm between your back and the tufted faux leather of the bench and bodily pushes you forward to the edge of your seat, towards his outstretched hand, and you’re caught wholly off guard when gentle fingers hook under your chin, tipping your head back at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze.

The brightest blue of a searing flame feels gelid in comparison to the heat that dances and flickers in his eyes, and they feel sharp as knives against your skin, boring into you, slicing through layers of trepidation and apprehension to get to the core of you.

“Promise ye wilnae regret it.” The pad of his thumb brushes across your lower lip, a slow, exploratory movement that sends a shudder trickling down your spine.

Goading shouts of ‘Go!’ and ‘Get some, girl!’ permeate the hazy bubble you’re floating in with him, echoing and bouncing off of flimsy boundaries.

“I- I don’t know… You should take Kari, she-” You’re silenced by the press of his thumb to your lips again, mouth still parted on half-spoken words, and you can feel the swipe of his flesh across the front of your teeth.

“-She’s not the one who needs help relaxin’. You are,” he finishes for you, and it sounds more like a command than an observation. The fingers under your chin tug upwards, straining the muscles of your neck, and you lift subconsciously from your seat to ease the tension. He takes advantage of this and slots a hand under your arm, pulls you up and firmly against him, and turns your head to the side to whisper low in your ear, “I’ll take good care of ye, lass. Dinnae need to worry.”

There’s a collective gasp from the group around you, excited squeals and peals of laughter that ring out over the music. ‘Go!’ they all chant in a cult-like mantra. Go to the private room with the handsome stranger.

Go to the private room where the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the music isn’t so loud.

His hand still holds your face, cups your jaw to draw your attention back to him, and the hand on your ribs has drifted down to your waist, thumb rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress.

“Ok…” you cede, voice a meek whisper and eyes darting away from his to settle on his lips, feeling too scrutinized, laid bare, under their watchfulness.

It shouldn’t be possible but his smile is somehow brighter than the flashing lights, disorienting enough that you blink a few times until the spots across your vision fade. The hand at your waist slides easily around you, tucking you into his side as he leads you away from the alcove, through throngs of patrons and dancers towards the roped off rooms at the back of the club with velvet lined walls and thick curtains across each doorway.

He guides you down onto the sofa that wraps around the entirety of the room, downy upholstery tickling the back of your legs as he draws the curtain closed, and your eyes mimic the motion with a gentle sigh as you sink into the softness that dampens the sound beyond the room, filters out the harsh light in favor dim ambiance.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you just need to sit here for a moment away from…. Well, away from all of it. Take a moment, and just-

“Och, look at ye… just need a bit of quiet, hm?” The low purr of his voice right in front of you causes you to jolt, eyes snapping open to find him knelt down at eye level with you, arms braced against the sofa on either side of your knees.

You start to apologize but he shakes his head, one big hand sliding over your knee in a soothing gesture.

“None of that. Here to help ye relax, bonnie.” His hand drifts higher up your leg, strong fingers kneading at the supple flesh hidden beneath ruched fabric, and you think distantly that this feels more intimate than a private dance should. “Close those pretty eyes and just focus on the way it feels. Can ye do that for me?”

In the dim lighting the warmth in his eyes blazes bright and fervent with an eager insistence, an illuminating display of hunger and want that burns through your nerves like wildfire.

You take a deep, steadying breath and let your eyes fall closed once more, and the answering growl that rumbles in his chest in response to your submission pools unbidden warmth between your legs.

“Good girl, so good for me. Gonnae take such good care of ye.” Something warm and hard presses against your legs, and before you have time to think about how good that feels, both of his hands find the back of your knees and pull. They force your knees apart, yank you forward to the edge of your seat so that he’s knelt between your legs.

He clicks his tongue at the flutter of your lashes, eyes trying to open and make sense of the jarring repositioning of your lower extremities, and says, “‘S okay, keep ‘em closed. Just need t’ get a bit closer.” It is a dance afterall. But still, the notion that something about it isn’t quite what it should be festers at the far reaches of your mind.

“Give me yer hands.” It’s softer this time, his voice when he makes the request, but the demand and expectation there is clear–he’s leading, and you’re following. With tentative movements you reach out blindly in front of you until you feel the warmth of his hands enveloping and guiding yours, placing them against something rough that scratches between your palms.

His face, you realize, as your thumb brushes over the stubble on his jaw, tracing the strong line of it from his chin up to his ear. The hair is short there too, shorn close to his scalp, but it feels softer, pleasant against your fingertips. He hums, whether in approval or simply in reaction to your clumsy exploration you can’t decipher, and you can feel the way it vibrates in his throat against your hand lingering on his jaw.

Lost in the new sensation of him you don’t immediately realize where his hands have settled on you, palms rough with callouses gliding over exposed skin and up the expanse of your thighs to capture your hips, long fingers only just grazing your rear. He pulls you closer, closer to the edge, and your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders, seeking balance and support from the broad expanse of them.

With his hands splayed across your ribs on either side he presses his face into your neck, dragging his nose up towards your jaw and breathing in long and deep, the shuddering exhale of his breath zapping against your sensitive skin in tantalizing currents.

“Had my eyes on ye all night,” he murmurs, and you can feel the brush of his lips against skin that's begun to warm beneath his touch.

Odd, you think, for a patron to catch the eye of a dancer. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? A lot of this should be happening inversely, or perhaps not at all. It feels like a violation of the rules, a breach in etiquette, to have so much contact with him–to be touching him.

“Need to know, pretty thing. Need to know… what ye taste like.” He’s panting when he voices that particular desire, voice rough and breathless, and it feels funny that he should be the one short of breath when you haven’t taken one since he put his hands on you, still holding onto the dwindling supply of air and withering sense of propriety.

This… this should not be happening, you think as he tips you back, big hands pushing you down onto the couch again and this time your eyes do more than flutter, opening wide as your back meets the cushion beneath you.

“Sir, I- this isn’t what-”

“I ken it’s not what ye thought it would be, bonnie. Doesnae change the fact that it’s what ye need,” he cuts you off, gruff and adamant in his assessment of you.

What you need? You don’t need this. The privacy is nice, yes, and he’s certainly a welcome sight, but this isn’t a dance. This isn’t what you agreed to.

He must be able to see your confusion, the warring thoughts in your mind written on your face as plainly as a line drawn on a battlefield. How your mind struggles to reconcile the sudden shift. How that line in sand has been trampled beyond recognition and you don't know which side of it you're standing on anymore. He has to know because he laughs, a warm flutter of breath ticking across your inner thighs.

The gasp that tears from your lungs when his teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, fanning dormant embers of desire you're only now becoming aware of, only seems to amuse him further. Makes his lips, pulled apart in a grin, vibrate against your skin before biting you again. You try to pull away from him but he curls a massive arm around your leg, holding you firmly in place for his tongue to lave over the imprint of his teeth on your skin.

“Just as sweet as she looks,” he remarks, more to himself than you, and his hands push the fabric of your dress up past your hips. You squirm in his grasp but he just wraps the other arm around you and coos sweet sounds between your legs, hooks them over his shoulders and clamps his hands around your hips once more. “Jus’ need some attention, hm? Poor girl, cannae breathe with these, can ye?”

Is he… talking to your pussy?

You get your answer when you feel the hot press of his mouth over the thin scrap of lace.

What the fuck is happening?

Not normal. This is not normal. This should not be happening.

It makes your head spin, the steady stream of realization that trickles in through the haze of… You don’t want to admit what you’re feeling. Don’t want to admit that amidst your panic and confusion, how suddenly the situation escalated, you never said no.

You aren’t saying no. You should be saying no.

“Such a pretty wee cunt,” he lilts as a hand trails down and pulls your panties to the side, revealing the most intimate part of you to him.

You can feel your body's betrayal of your emotions, the cooling sensation of his breath against the slick gathering between your thighs. It sends tumultuous sparks of pleasure up your spine and makes your fingers flex against the couch beneath you, seeking purchase and finding none. He coos at this, digs his fingers into your hips and presses his lips to your folds like he’s kissing your mouth, tongue flicking out to taste your slick and teeth nipping at the soft flesh.

It’s maddening how good it feels, how tormented you are about even remotely liking it. He’s taken you here under false pretense and forced himself upon you. You should be angry with him. But it's hard to separate the confusion from the adrenaline, the fear from the lust that addles your senses.

“Ye’re thinkin’ too much. Relax.” His voice is rough, pitched low and graveled by his own desire, and he digs his thumbs into your hip flexors, smoothing out the muscles wrought with tension. “‘S’posed to feel good, bonnie. Let me take care of ye, work ye over how ye need.”

You open your mouth to protest, to say someone might hear, might walk in and see you, separated by only a curtain from the rest of the club. The words die on your tongue when he cards his through your silken folds in one broad stroke, warm and wet and so fucking good, illiciting a string of breathy moans in place of your objections. A growl of assent rumbles in his chest again, rocking through you in wicked bolts, nerves firing in tandem with the movements of his tongue lapping at your entrance like a man starved.

Despite how your mind still kicks and thrashes, desperate to pull your head above water and think clearly, your body can't help its response to him, surrendering to the undertow that pulls you further into the hazy depths of pleasure with each fervent swipe of his tongue.

“Tha’s it sweet girl, doin so good.” He has no right, none at all, to make you feel this way. Warm and wanting, squirming closer, trying to find more friction. He doesn’t deserve the sniveling whimpers that crawl up your throat, the hands that blindly seek the shock of messy hair to pull him closer and beg for more.

And he gives it to you, focuses his attention on your aching bundle of nerves in tight, precise circles, coaxing you closer to the swell that’s building at the base of your spine.

“Gonnae come for me?” His teeth wrap around your clit and you keen, cry out wantonly at the sudden sharpness of the sensation, the additional pressure, and a litany of yes’s flows forth from lips parted on a moan.

He’s relentless in his pursuit of your climax. Desperate, even, to feel your body go taut with pleasure, pressing his face so far between your legs you wonder if he can even breathe. Each flick of his tongue, scrape of his teeth, pushing you closer and closer until the tension breaks, a cresting wave of pleasure crashing over you and drowning your senses in liquid fire.

He works you to the point of overstimulation, until the drag of his tongue feels like a blade against your skin and your thighs burn from the scrape of his stubble. Only then, does he give you a reprieve, panting when he pulls back and peppers kisses over the raw skin.

“Such a good girl, did so well for me. Knew ye’d be good for me, bonnie.” He gathers you up, rights your undergarments and pulls your skirt back down your thighs before he helps you sit up, and his hand feels warm against your cheek, thumb swiping away the mascara running in inky trails down your face. “Gonna get ye some water, dinnae move,” he murmurs against your temple, lips pressed against your skin in a comparatively chaste kiss before all that warmth pulls away and you're left on your own.

You couldn’t go anywhere if you wanted to, knees too weak to even think about moving off the couch, lest you look like a wobbling faun stumbling back to your friends. But when the curtain opens, bright light from a flashlight shining into your eyes, you panic, eyes closing against the offending light and you push up onto your feet. You don’t stay up very long, however, as a wave of dizziness crashes into you full-force, sending you back down onto the couch in a clumsy heap.

“Oh, shit- are you alright? Hey,” The man in front of you crouches down, hands on your shoulders to hold you upright. He has a badge on his shirt. Security. “Do you know where you are?”

You rattle off the name of the club and some of the worry bunching his brows lessens.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“He’s getting me water.”

“He? Your boyfriend?

“The dancer, his name-” You never did get his name, from him or Kari. “-he has a… a harness? And jeans. I think he has a mohawk too.” There's a funny look on his face now, like he doesn’t really believe you.

“Honey, we don’t have any dancers here tonight that look like that.”

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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turnipstewdios · 11 months

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Half-Lives: Chapter 2

Read here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48120073/chapters/121402672

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Best burgers in Gotham!”

Danny suspected his new friend was enjoying the look on his face a little too much. And to be fair, Jason would know better than Danny would. He did live here. He shouldn’t be this skeptical, given his favorite place to eat back home. Tourists in Amity had been a bit put off by a place literally called “The Nasty Burger” but it had been the best spot in town. So this shouldn’t be so weird. But…

“Do they all wear costumes?” “Yup!” Because yeah. The cashier was wearing tights. And a cape. And a rumpled looking domino mask held on with a string. “Which robin is that even supposed to be?” Because Danny wasn’t super familiar with the difference between the local vigilante’s costumes, but this didn't really look like any of the pictures he’d seen.

Jason looked slightly less gleeful at that. “Honestly… not sure.” he was squinting in the window at the register now. “Kinda looks like the first robin, but I think those are supposed to be Red Robin’s bandoliers.” “Why on earth does this city have a Batman themed fast food restaurant?”

“Why on earth not?” Jason shrugged. “Come on, I’m starving.” Danny followed him inside, and then quietly reaffirmed his decision not to look into fast food jobs when the cashier grimaced, visibly braced himself, and asked if he could take their bat-order in the most horrifyingly cheerful voice he’d ever heard. He frequently talked to dead people who sounded more alive. I’m already dead. Don’t think I could handle being soulless too.

“Hi Benny!” Jason walked up to the counter like he came here daily. Which he might, for all Danny knew. They were only a few blocks from the roof he’d met him on, and he probably lived there. “Rough night?”

“Hi Jason.” The cashier, Benny apparently, looked slightly less strained when he walked over. “Not really. It’s been slower than usual.” “Yeah, it has, hasn’t it?” Jason looked almost put out at that. “The usual?” Benny was already moving to type something in on the register. “Yeah please. What do you want, Danny?” “Erm…” Danny scanned the menu briefly, and ordered the first thing that looked good. Then paused as his stomach complained again, and ordered a second burger and extra fries as well. And maybe also a hand pie.

He started to pull out his wallet, but promptly got distracted by the sight of the fry-cook in the back wearing a Batman costume. Which looked stupid. And so miserably hot. Why? What was even the point? By the time he looked back at the register, Jason had paid for both of their orders while he wasn’t looking. “Hey hey woah, dude, I can pay for mine, you don’t have to get that!” “Nah, I got it.” Which was just, so not ok! Danny had ordered a ton of food, and Jason lived in Crime Alley! He probably wasn’t all that well off, and he definitely shouldn’t be paying for a ravenous half ghost stranger's food! “Hey relax man, I mean it. It’s no big deal.” “No big-? Do you normally feed trespassers you catch on your roof in the middle of the night?” Jason paused for a moment. Then, seeming to make some sort of decision, grinned roguishly at Danny while he grabbed a cup. “Nah, only the cute ones.” And walked away towards the drink fountain while Danny blue-screened. Oh. Oh no. Hot guy flirting. Danny was so screwed.

They filled up their cups at the fountain, (Danny was screaming internally just a little bit) and then Jason went to claim a corner booth to wait for their order. Danny realized that he had been completely distracted from the whole paying the bill thing. He should probably just go with it.

As they sat down, Danny took a moment to really look Jason over in the light of the restaurant. He was, just maybe, not quite as scary as he’d seemed on a dimly lit rooftop. He was still really big though. And looked like he might be able to bench press Danny a guy without straining. He had short black hair with a tuft of white hair in the front that almost looked too bright to be dyed, and really striking blue-green eyes. His clothes were plain, but sturdy looking and well made. His shirt was really tight. He looked great in combat boots.

He also felt like he might, maybe, be ecto-contaminated. It was hard to tell. Whatever it was, it was low enough that Danny hadn’t noticed anything until they’d shaken hands on the roof. Even then, it was hard to get a read on, and nowhere near enough to set off his ghost sense. If he’d met Jason in Amity, he didn’t think he’d have noticed at all. It was odd to find someone like that here though. There was plenty of ambient ectoplasm in the air in Gotham, but he hadn’t noticed any effect on the people who lived with it. Where would the guy even have come into contact with a high enough concentration of the stuff for it to leave a mark? He got broken out of his thoughts when Jason started the conversation up again.

“You must be really new in town if you haven't been to Batburger yet. When’d you move in?” “Ah, just over the weekend. Only got into my apartment Saturday.” “Mm, ok, yeah. You haven't had your’ first rogue attack yet then, huh? Nothing’s happened in weeks.”

“Uh, no. I haven't.” Danny would like to keep it that way, thanks. He’d had more than enough of constant attacks by malevolent entities in High School. He wanted to be able to sleep once in a while. “You been mugged yet?” Danny almost choked on a sip of his drink. “Who just asks that? Casually?” “A Gothamite.” Jason grinned at him from across the table. “Getting robbed or held at gunpoint or taken hostage by whoever broke out of Arkham this week is a right of passage.” Great. He should feel right at home then. “In all seriousness though, have you run into trouble yet? This city’s no joke, even when you know your way around.” Danny glanced down at the table. “I'm fine. I can handle it.” Jason raised an eyebrow at that. “Look, I know, ok? I’m not taking this lightly or being careless. I know I don’t look like it, but I can take care of myself.” He could. Not that he was about to explain the ghost powers to anybody. Gotham was a rough place, but Danny was a tough person. He’d had to be. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go anyway. Their order came up, and Danny waved Jason down while he got up to go grab it. He should take the opportunity to change the subject. The fewer questions got asked about where he was from, the better.

The food did actually smell really good. Carrying it back to the table reminded him how hungry he was. He hurriedly sat down, pulled his burger out of its greasy paper wrapping, and tore into it like… well like he hadn’t eaten in almost three days. It was good. Different from anything at the Nasty Burger, but it tasted great! Jason had also started eating, and the table was silent for a few minutes while they worked their way through the first burgers in the stack. _________________________________________ Danny ate like he hadn't seen food in a week. Watching him attack a hamburger like a rabid coyote would have been funny if it hadn’t been mildly concerning. Jason took a moment to think while they both ate, and tried to puzzle out why he felt so… off kilter. He kinda liked Danny. And that was part of the weird stuff. He’d barely even met him. Knew nothing about him. Jason was a crime lord and a vigilante, it paid to be suspicious of strangers. He shouldn’t be this open to liking the guy this soon. But, Danny felt… safe. Soothing almost. The nerves he’d been feeling all day had calmed down a bit.

He had also turned an adorable shade of red when Jason tried flirting. He’d wondered if he’d overstepped for a second, but it hadn't seen like he minded, just like he’d been caught off guard. (He had also definitely been checking Jason out on the way to the table.) Jason had still backed off a bit though. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if the attention wasn’t wanted.

His hand still felt cold where he had touched Danny’s skin. It’s still like 80 outside, how the fuck are his hands that cold? Could he be a meta? Did he have ice powers or something? Jason had no idea, but something about the contact had felt hauntingly familiar. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about him. He danced around questions about where he was from in a way Jason had seen from way too many street kids. The possible lack of access to food and the worn-down clothes were also not good signs. Jason couldn’t see any obvious bruises or scrapes, but he thought he might have seen the edge of some scarring peeking out from under his shirt. Danny apparently did have an apartment, but the lack of AC probably meant it probably wasn’t the best place. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else living with him either, and Jason couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

Danny finally slowed down half way through his second burger, and Jason took the chance to ask another question. “You know anybody in Gotham?” Danny paused, chewing for a moment before swallowing. “No, not really.”

“No relatives or friends? University?” “Uh, no. My family’s still back west. And I’m not here for school.” “Work then?”

Danny chuckled a bit. “I’m actually looking for a job. Haven't been here long enough to get established yet.” Currently unemployed, but not homeless at least. “How’re you affording the apartment while you look? You got a roommate?”

“Oh, no. I had some savings. It’s enough to pay rent for a few months, I just need to find work ASAP.”

All right, so he did have somewhat of a safety net for the moment. That was good. “What kind of jobs are you looking at?” “Uh, well. I don’t qualify for a whole lot. I was actually going to start with looking into delivery jobs. Just about all the restaurants in my neighborhood do takeout, somebody’s gotta be hiring.” He took another bite. Chewed. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll look for whatever. I haven't actually had a lot of time to think about it yet. You know anything in the area I could look into?” Ah. That, Jason might be able to help with. This was his turf. He knew it inside and out. “Hmm” He took a second to work on his fries while he thought about it. “Yeah I might.” There were a few places nearby that might legitimately be hiring. But there were also a few businesses in the Alley that would hire someone if Red Hood asked. He had used them before to get alley kids and folks down on their luck a job. The small business owners in the area couldn’t always afford to pay the help they needed, so in a few cases Jason had paid the wages himself. The business got new staff, a kid got off the streets, and Jason got to do something useful with Bruce’s money. “I think there’s a few places I know that might have positions open. I’d have to check though.” He took a sip of his drink to wash down the last of his fries, and rummaged around in his pocket for his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll send you some info on places you can check out.” Danny raised an eyebrow. “My number? For job recommendations?” The corner of his mouth tugged up a bit. “No other reason?” “Ha! Well,” Jason smiled back. “There might be another reason.” Danny grinned back, and pulled out his own phone. “Sure, I can do that.”

_________________________________________

It was still hot outside. Danny somehow managed to forget that until he stepped out the door of the restaurant. The un-conditioned air hit his face like he’d been slapped with a warm, damp towel. Why did it have to be so humid? Jason didn’t look particularly thrilled to be back outside either. At least they were both suffering.

Danny felt awkward again. “Hey, thanks for the food man. You really didn’t have to.”

“Again, no problem.” Jason pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and started to light one. “It was nice chatting with somebody.” He looked over at Danny for a moment. “You gonna be able to get home all right?” “Oh, yeah I should be fine. It’ll take me a bit but I know where I’m going.” He did. He’d looked up where the Batburger was so he could find his way back to the apartment. Jason puffed on his cigarette a bit. He looked concerned again. “How far away are you?” “Ah, a few miles?” “A few miles?” Alarmed now. “I thought you were out for a walk on the roofs!?” “I was?” “You traveled a few miles on the roofs!? What are you, a bat ?!” “Uh..” “Dude. You want a ride home? I’ve got a bike.” “Um, I’ll be fine. It really didn't take all that long to get here.” Jason dragged in a breath around his smoke and grumbled something too low and garbled for Danny to make out. It kinda sounded like he mentioned the bats again though. Let the breath back out. “You sure? I’ve got an extra helmet.” He started walking back down the street towards what Danny assumed was his apartment. “Nah, it’s fine. Really. I can get around. It’s kinda fun actually.” “You sound like my brother.” Jason sighed. “Fine.” He stuffed his phone and the box of cigarettes back in his pocket. “I’ll see if anyone I know is hiring and send you the details.” “That would be great man, thanks.” Danny smiled. “No pressure, I’m sure I can find something.” Danny looked up at the building as they approached it. “Could I use the stairs to get back on your roof again? _________________________________________ “Sure, why not.” Jason glanced over at him as they started climbing. He still wasn’t sure he shouldn’t just be insisting Danny let him drive him home. He kept saying he could take care of himself, but Jason wasn’t so confident. He opened the roof access door for the second time that night, and leaned up against the wall of the stairwell while Danny moved over towards the closest neighboring building. … “Hey, be careful. You’re not as likely to get mugged up here, but you can still run into people you don’t want to mess with.” “Oh, whaaat? But the last scary guy I talked to on a roof bought me dinner!” “You planning on making a habit of talking to scary guys on roofs?” “Nah,” Danny’s smile gained a smug teasing edge, and for a moment his teeth looked way to sharp. “Only the cute ones!”

Jason choked on a lungful of smoke. It only distracted him for a second, but when he looked back up, Danny was gone. Fuck. Really, really have to keep him away from Batman.

_________________________________________ Danny made it back to his apartment quickly and without incident. He probably shouldn't have disappeared like that, but he was still stifling low giggles over the face Jason had made when he'd turned around. It had been worth it. He phased in through his window, landed on his slightly creaky floor. And then stopped. He cursed, and smacked his palm into his face. He'd forgotten to get a fan.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #halfa!! jason todd #jason todd x danny fenton #danny phantom #dead on main #batman

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nevadas-night-time-novelist · 2 months

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Continuation of this ask

Conductor x reader Deliberator x reader

CONDUCTOR

He was the rhythm of life, the Conductor, spinning his baton and making melodies out of hopeless noise. He and his brothers and sister kept the world in order, or as much order as they could when up against Improbability.

The Employers lived on a split plane or reality, comparable to heaven in some aspects, except not even good souls could wander this realm, only the Employers could inhabit this place.

And yet to every rule, there was an exception, that being you. Cold marble tiles lay beneath your feet as you sat in contentment in the garden, lazily reading a book while lounging on an iron bench, which had been given plush cushions for your enjoyment.

Catching the fancy of these godly being was near impossible, and yet you'd managed to attract the maestro of life, black and blue wrapped rightly around your fingers. Flicking the page, you set the book down and took a sip of your tea, Romulus raising his furry head to look at you, before setting it back down.

Of course, the Employers had pets, Rom being the pet wolf of one you rarely saw but often heard screaming at Auditor for some unknown reason. He would often lay around in the garden when you were about, seemingly keeping an eye on you, as did his counterpart.

Remus darted down, plucking loose fluffy tufts from Rom and flapping back into the large apple tree at the centre of the garden, letting out a caw now and then.

A sweet bass melody echoed around, Conductor was drawing near. He had a habit of humming as he walked, the deep vibrations calming the environment around. Rom looked up, letting out a "urf" while getting to his feet, Remus flying over and landing on his head.

Your lover would always shoo the pair away when he came to see you, and by now, they'd learned to leave before he even arrived.

His slight heels clicked on the floor, while you continued to read. "My muse," He spoke with a low tone, his voice naturally deep. "how radiant you look today, bathed in the light."

"Hello Connie," You set your book down, laying the bookmark in and closing it, giving him your full attention. "thank you love." He took your hand, placing a kiss on the back of your palm.

To everyone, he was the Conductor. To you, he was Connie. Anyone else who'd care call him your nickname for him would be taught a valuable lesson. "Muse, my dear, my inspiration is currently lacking. Allow me if you will to share your space and soak in your glory to fuel my passions."

Under his angry, stern exterior was a hopeless old-timey romantic. To anyone else, he'd command, but to you, oh you, he'd beg at your feet for your adoration. "Of course, you know I love to spend time with you Connie."

Conductor swept you into his arms, taking your place on the bench with you resting on top of him, your head resting on his chest, you could hear the drumbeat that was his heart. Everything in him was music, even the faint blue veins in his black arms looked like sheet music, little notes formed into them as well. They made up the same melody he always hummed.

He was a busy being, it was rare the two of you spent a long amount of time together, so every second you got was precious. Absentmindedly, you traced patterns along his sternum, relaxing both of you.

"I am a little troubled." He looked at you, half lidded blue eyes. "Stygian was talking with me earlier. He brought up a decently valid point. You... Are still a mortal, at the end of the day, and I don't feel I spend enough time with you." Conductor sighed, even in melancholy, he was so beautiful.

"I don't bring it up to you frighten you. Steeg says you've still got plenty of time on your side. Yet he reminded me that.... In the grand scheme of things, your life is but a blink compared to mine. And it worries me." You looked into his sad eyes, sparkles of stars reminding you why you loved him.

"Connie... I know we're vastly different, but that's what I love about us. I know I won't live nearly as long as you, but that makes the time we spend together even more precious, doesn't it?" You continued to rub his chest, and he sighed longingly.

"Muse, you always soothe my worries." Conductor leaned down, kissing the top of your head. "My love for you grows deeper and deeper, I will devote as much life to you as I can from now on."

You shifted your position, chest to chest with Conductor now, and you peppered his face in kisses, a smile breaking across his face, before turning to gorgeous laughter. "Better my love?"

Conductor kissed your lips, rubbing your cheek with adoration. "You always make my life better, my muse." He needed reminding of it now and then, how fragile your body always was compared to his. Yet when your time came, he'd turn to Stygian again, finding your reincarnated S-3LF over and over, as he had for centuries. In many lifetimes he loved you, and he'd continue to love you for many, many more.

DELIBERATOR

Decision making was a good quality of yours, you would swiftly and continuously end up making the correct choice anytime one happened. Your friends even joked you were blessed by some sort of god because of your skill, and they weren't far off the truth.

Deliberator spent much of his free time watching over this curious mortal, he'd become a little obsessed, gifting them with the power of foresight, watching them scurry around their silly man-made city like a mouse.

He knew fine well he and his kin weren't really meant to mess with the life below them, but each still bent the rules and dipped their toes into mortal life now and then, one off experiments to see how the life reacted. Yet Deli found himself coming back to this one, he couldn't put a finger on why though.

Frequently he'd transform, hiding his Employer appearance to a grunt, blending in as best as he could, but some things, such as his glowing white eyes, couldn't be changed. He'd hide them with shades, even then, they'd glow slightly.

Deli sat alone at a table, pretending to read a newspaper at the booth he occupied while keeping a close eye on you at work. A small and homey diner, which prided itself on good and fast service.

"There you are hon," You smiled, setting down a fat stack of pancakes in front of the frequent customer. He was quiet, rarely ever speaking a word to you, but he tipped generously and was fairly handsome. Salt and pepper hair, sunglasses, dressed in a pressed suit and white shirt, looking like an aged businessman.

You topped off his coffee, leaving enough room for him to throw in the multiple cubes of sugar into the black liquid. "anything else I can get you?"

He set his newspaper down and gestured at the space across from him. "Perhaps a moment of your time?" That was a strange and unexpected request, yet curiosity found yourself humouring him. Deli fought off a smile, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. Of course you would, he knew you'd always make the correct decision.

"Well it's not something on the menu, but I guess I can take a couple minutes break." It wasn't too busy right now anyway, everyone else busy in talking, drinking and eating.

"You seem to have adept judgement." He tipped the entire container of syrup onto his pancakes. "Help me with something I've been mulling over."

You looked at his pile of sugar and held back a laugh. "Is it that you've been wondering if you should ask for a second syrup cup when you eat here?"

"Ah, heh. No, something else. But perhaps I should. From all the things your kind had invented, processed sugar is no doubt the peak of your creations." Deli slipped up there, and he knew you'd picked up on it. "If by some chance, a higher power was looking down and observing you, what would you think?"

Sitting across from him, your eyes meeting the dark shades covering his own, you pondered for a moment. "Like a god? Can't say I'm too religious, but it'd be pretty neat I suppose. But I'd have to wonder why they'd take time from their busy day to humour me."

"Maybe because I see something in you." Deli shoved a mouthful of sugary goodness into his maw.

"You see something in me? What, you're telling me you're some kinda god or something? Pretty far-fetched. Did you happen to break out of Seeking?" You tilted your head, trying to decipher the clues he's dropping, but it's not making sense.

Deliberator set down his fork and took off his shades, revealing white eyes filled with intricate and beautiful abstract patterns, dark grey shapes shifting infinitely in glowing ivory. "No, I do believe I am some form of god to your kind." You stared at him, and the silence around you settled in.

Glancing around, you and your regular still seated in the booth, yet the diner and all else was gone. The pair of you in the comfortable seat lost in the inky black nothing. "Wha-what the hell is this?" Perhaps you'd gone mad too.

Looking back to the stranger, his disguise had faded, showing his Nevadian form. Pluming black fire, black geometric shapes surrounded in milk white lines floating off his body and turning to nothing. "It's uncouth for my kin to take such a deep interest in the world we watch over, and yet something draws me to you. Allow me to properly introduce myself,"

He set down a white glowing set of scales on the table, perpetually equally balanced. "Your kin calls me Deliberator, and I oversee balance and justice in your world. And you, my curious little friend, just so happen to be precisely what I'm searching for."

His hands took yours, and the vast emptiness filled with stars around you. "Another being of balance, one of keen and sound mind. It takes me centuries to find those worthy of my time, there are so few. You have no idea how long I have yearned to find you."

Fear, curiosity, wonder all filled your mind. This had to be a hallucination or something. There's no chance in hell any of what was currently occurring was real. "This... Has got to be the weirdest dream I've had yet. Until a few minutes ago it felt so real. When do I wake up from this?"

Deli spun you around, showing off the world, his world, the things he sees, feels and lives in every moment. "Perhaps when you open your mind to me, see things from a new perspective. It's a lot to ask, a leap from your familiar into the unknowns of godhood, but you'll behold such wonderful sights, experience things you could never have comprehended.

The universe exists on a knife's edge, judgement to maintain balance is needed. I trust in you to uphold that, if you'll take on the burden."

Decision making... A fine quality you upheld over and over, each time making the correct choice...

"With you? I will."

#madness combat #madcom #madness combat conductor #the conductor #conductor #madcom conductor #conductor x reader #madness combat deliberator #the deliberator #deliberator #madcom deliberator #deliberator x reader #madness combat x reader #madness combat reader insert #x reader #x gon deliver to ya

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theclaravoyant · 9 months

Note

Fluff prompt #15 + ineffable partners???

15. "I wouldn't trade you for all the stars in the sky"

AN ~ that's the thing I'm sensitive about !!! This is distinctly more hurt/comfort than fluff, but I swear it's heavy on the comfort. Set Post-S2/post-canon, established relationship. Read on AO3 (~800wd) prompt me

The planetarium show opens with what he has to assume the humans are using ironically: in the Beginning. Crowley leans over and whispers something about “having it on good authority…” and Aziraphale has to chuckle. He swats Crowley on the arm, and leaves his hand there, and if it gradually makes its way to being intertwined with his then well, that’s just a bonus isn’t it.

This is nice, he thinks, being an us.

But he has a feeling that’s not what causes Crowley’s running commentary to die on his ever-snarky lips as the humans weave their stories about the stars and the telescopes and rockets and the formation of the Earth and the heat death of the universe. Space dances around them in the highest definition and farthest-reaching images that have yet reached the human eye. By the time the show is wrapping up Crowley is staring, silent, reverent. Naked yellow eyes, positively enraptured.

“They’re bloody brilliant, aren’t they?” he murmurs.

Aziraphale longs to capture this moment. He could sit in it forever.

The house lights have other plans.

“We should-”

“Right. Yes.”

Crowley’s eyes snap away and hide as he clumsily shoves the dark lenses back onto his face and all but charges out of the room. Aziraphale’s heart seizes, and he can only follow, brushing through thank-yous and vague excuses for missing the impending canapes and he’s not sure what to say- not sure what to say- not sure what to say. He’s always been so clumsy with intimate moments and he’s quite sure it’ll kill him if he somehow makes this worse.

He catches up with Crowley, where else but the Bentley. He’s waiting outside of it, on a nearby bench, safely obscured behind his glasses even as the long stretch of a mirror-like water feature ahead of him reflects a black and blue and sparkling night.

“Sorry,” he says, barely looking as Aziraphale comes to take a seat. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone in there I just- I haven’t seen them like that in quite a while.”

Aziraphale frowns. “How long might that be?”

“Well.” Crowley waves a hand. “The light’s a little strange with these things, you know, and they’ve never been very good with distance.”

Aziraphale has a terrible feeling, a terrible knowing, that he’s not talking about the glasses.

“Oh, Crowley.”

“There’s no need for all that, angel,” Crowley insists. “Honestly. It’s a very old wound. It just took me a little bit by surprise.”

Part of Aziraphale wants to gush love and apologies and try and heal that innocent little angel with the tuft of red hair. Another firmly reminds him that he’s promised (himself, more so than Crowley) not to bring up who Crowley insists he isn’t and doesn’t want to be. Mostly though he’s more than a bit shocked, a bit hurt, a bit sorry that he somehow didn’t know that all this time. They’ve really got to stop doing this to each other.

But then Crowley smiles. It’s a smaller smile, but it brings a bit of sparkle back that had been temporarily chased away.

“Actually I can sort of see it in ultra-violet instead, which is pretty cool. Can I show you?”

He offers his hand and Crowley takes it. They take a deep breath together and a miracle works, and the world fades and changes around him. It looks mistier like this. A strange and beautiful blue. It reminds him of somehow standing under an ocean rather than a sky, the pinpoint lights don’t stand out so much but rather merge and combine and gently glow, swirling around them like the softest fabric.

They let the breath out, and it is gone. The sky rearranges itself to the way Aziraphale is more familiar with it. His chest aches a little, bittersweet.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes.

“Yes.” Crowley still hasn’t let go of his hand, or his smile. “See? I told you. I’m alright.”

Aziraphale shifts in his seat so that he can lean a little more against Crowley’s chest. He rests his head back. Their breathing is the only sound for a long stretch, until some waterfowl alight in the reflection of the sky. He’s always been clumsy with intimate moments. But something - surely not The Spirit - compels him eventually to speak.

“I never meant to imply that you were not.” He swallows. “Or - I suppose I did, but I only ever wanted to help. But I understand now. I never meant to undo you or change you or… I mean, I never wanted you to go back to being them. I only wanted you to be happy. Safe, as much as I could make you.”

Alright.

It’s something that’s been understood between them better for a long while now but still, something heals putting the words to it. “I only ever wanted you, Crowley,” he vows. “I wouldn’t trade you for all the stars in the sky.”

#aziracrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #good omens #gomens fic #prompt me stuff #clara's fic tag #@ just a funny i've MISSED writing fic for you <3

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sweetrevxnge · 2 years

Text

Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Three | And Between It All...

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

Word count: 2.6k

───────── ⋆ ☆ ⋆ ─────────

Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt.

The watch on your wrist jolted you awake, alerting you that it was 0600. After a moment of wrestling the twill blanket off of you, you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palms, willing yourself awake. Through the window, you could see that the night had not fully vanished yet, the clear sky still painted a dusky hue.

With Ben’s advice in mind, you had made a point to set your alarm early to allow yourself ample time to get to training, especially since today was scheduled to be the first day of “Force Training” with Master Skywalker, marking the completion of your first week at the Academy. Hopefully being early would put you back in his good graces and ensure a minimally terrible training experience.

The rough texture against the soles of your feet let you know that yesterday’s robes had never made it into the hamper, remaining a crumpled mess on the ground, blue stain peeking through the layers. You shuffled over to your dresser, pulling a fresh set from the creaky drawer. Donning the new robes, you cinched them tight around your middle, adjusting the material to fit your frame.

In the tiny mirror resting atop the drawers, you caught a glimpse of the tufts of tangles embedded in your hair, evidence of a good night’s rest. Opting for the same braid as the day before, you began working at the knots, hissing as the teeth of your comb tugged at your scalp. Once a cohesive braid had been woven, you pulled a few pieces out from the front, framing your face with tumbling strands.

You fumbled through your bag of personal belongings in hopes of locating the lip balm you had stowed away. You weren’t sure why you had brought it—the last thing a Jedi should care about is their appearance—but it was one of the few items you had taken with you the day you left. The thin metal tube grazed your fingertips and you snatched it, pulling the cap off and dragging the rosy balm across your lips, smacking them together as a finishing touch. Its pigment was subtle, made from the crushed petals of a Dantooine-native flower. You weren’t quite sure why you had gone out of your way to wear it today, but it raised your confidence just enough to prepare you for the day ahead.

As you walked your familiar path to the dining hall, you noticed an array of vibrant colors bleeding throughout the sky, rays of amber light spilling over a blush backdrop, a sharp contrast to the dark treeline beyond the campus. There was something so enthralling about sunrises. During harvest season, you spent many mornings under the rising sun, captivated by the unique display of light. This was the first sunrise you had witnessed at the Academy, having had slept through them the past week. Maybe this was a sign, one representing a new beginning for you here.

The training grounds were empty when you arrived, your watch face displaying 0642 as the current time. Surveying the area, you spot a makeshift bench made of what looked like bamboo poles laid across two rocks. Good enough, you thought as you carefully sat down, afraid that the bamboo’s integrity could be misleading and you’d fall right through it.

Sounds of various birds and insects buzzing and humming filled the crisp air, lulling you into a relaxed state as you closed your eyes, hoping to finally meditate. You had tried once before on Dantooine, but had little success with actually focusing on the Force. There had been a brief moment of synchrony in that attempt, feeling as if all of your senses had been amplified, sensitive to the most minute stimuli, until it disappeared a moment later. Every subsequent attempt to connect with the Force had been unsuccessful, yet you had faith that you would entwine with its energy once again.

Concentrating on the input of your senses, you absorbed your surroundings—from the chitter of wildlife, the waft of the damp grass, to the rising suns’ warm rays kissing your skin.

Abruptly, the presence of the suns was gone, leading you to believe that you were beginning to immerse yourself in the Force.

“I see that you took my advice.”

A spike of adrenaline flooded your veins, your eyes flying open to ascertain who had just interrupted you. It wasn’t long before your vision focused on the tall figure standing before you, blocking the sunlight’s path.

“What the fuck, Ben?!” you gasped, clutching your pounding chest. How long has he been here? you thought, now feeling self-conscious in your vulnerable state. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Ben laughed. “I’ll admit, I do have a bad habit of scaring the life out of you.”

You crossed your arms with a frown, playing up your anger to a level it wasn’t. Truthfully, you weren't sure how to respond, feeling as if your social skills had disintegrated in the presence of Ben.

“Yeah, w-well,” you stuttered, “friends don’t scare each other like that.”

“So, that makes us friends, right?” Ben cocked an eyebrow, a smile forming on his face.

“Don’t make me regret saying that,” you groaned, rolling your eyes to evade his intense gaze. Ben could hardly be classified as a friend, considering that most of the friends you had didn’t make your heart race the way he did. “Why are you here so early, anyways?”

He shifted his weight, his long legs folding into a crossed position as he sat in front of you, his eyes now leveled with yours. “I have a hard time staying asleep, so I always end up getting out here early,” he replied, his hands mindlessly tugging at the grass, breaking the blades between his fingers.

There was nothing to say that he was lying, given that this was his first morning back since your arrival. But even so, there was a hint of insincerity in his explanation.

“Have you tried asking Master Skywalker to import some juma juice? That should do the trick.”

A deep chuckle erupted from his throat. “Something tells me that he wouldn’t approve,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “But maybe I’ll track some down next time I’m off-world and give it a try.”

The air fell silent between the two of you, but not in a terribly uncomfortable way. The suns illuminated the two of you as you sat there—you, absentmindedly picking at your nails while Ben worried a few blades of grass between his fingertips, the green pigment slowly bleeding onto his skin. For someone who was a new addition to your life, you felt as if you had known Ben for a lifetime.

As it neared 0700, students began to trickle into the grounds, slowly turning the quiet cove into a bustling hub, one filled with conversation and laughter.

Master Skywalker was among these additions, surveying his apprentices from his position at the front of the group. His eyes found you, enthralled in conversation with his nephew, who dare he say, looked cheerful. He lingered on the two of you, a smile creeping up on his face.

Your conversation was interrupted by a voice booming over the lively group of students, indicating that training was starting.

“Good morning, everyone. I hope you all slept well,” Master Skywalker announced, causing a swarm of heads to turn at once.

A cacophony of voices returned his greeting, including yours. In the commotion, the Jedi Master’s gaze fixed on you, causing you to shift nervously on the bench. Ben noticed this in his periphery and glanced at you, an airy chuckle escaping through his nostrils before he returned his attention to his uncle.

“I’m going to be spending the morning with my newest apprentice, but I will be leading advanced and intermediate groups this afternoon and evening,” he explained, pacing back and forth slowly in front of the group. “Does that sound okay to everyone?” The group nodded in return, accepting this itinerary as if they really had a say.

At his uncle’s words, Ben turned to face you and mouthed a quiet ‘lucky you’. You shook your head dismissively, kicking your foot out to hit the sole of his boot.

“In the meantime, I want all of you to work on meditating this morning,” he continued, feet stopping at the center of the cohort. “Really focus on searching your feelings and embracing the Force. Try to absorb its energy as it surrounds you.”

You leaned forward to be closer to Ben, trying not to invade his personal space while trying to be discreet. “How exactly does one ‘absorb’ the Force?”

“Think of it like photosynthesis. Imagine that you’re a plant, absorbing the Force’s presence like sunlight and converting it into usable energy.” Ben whispered, his deep voice difficult to hear at times. “That energy is what powers our strength, our abilities.”

“I guess I’ve never thought of it like that,” you said, satisfied with the explanation. “I haven’t had much luck with harnessing the Force’s energy. Hopefully he’ll be able to help with that.”

It was true, you had only been able to use the Force a handful of times. The discovery of your Force-sensitivity had been recent, not allowing you much time to explore it.

“That’s kinda the whole reason why he’s here, silly. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Ben winked. “I’m always right.”

Could this really be the same Ben who sat with you during lunch yesterday? It seemed as if someone had replaced him with a more charming, confident clone of himself.

The students began to disperse, a silent signal for you to join them and begin your training.

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you later, Ben,” you said as you stood, making your way toward the Jedi Master.

“I’m counting on it.”

Leaves crunched beneath your feet as Master Skywalker led you through the forest, hiking to his preferred meditation spot. He was a bit ahead of you, leading the way through the array of trees, wind whipping their tall branches as you passed them.

The hike had been fairly quiet, both of you far too lost in your own thoughts to try to make conversation. But you didn’t really mind the silence. It allowed you to fully indulge your anxieties about the possible outcomes of today's training.

“What do you know about the Force?”

The question caught you off-guard, pulling you from the scenarios your mind was creating to fuel your nerves. A gnarled root protruding from the ground caused your footing to falter, but you caught yourself before slipping entirely.

“It’s a power that the Jedi have,” you said, clearing your throat as you gathered your thoughts so as to not sound unprepared. “You can control things without touching them, using your mind.”

The Jedi Master chuckled in response. “Okay, not a bad starting point.”

So much for not sounding unprepared. Though, what did he expect? Just weeks ago, the Force had been nothing more than a legend to you, a tale of glowing swords, Jedi Knights, and rulers of the galaxy bending it to their will. Now, you were engrossed in it, blindly stumbling in the dark as you tried to understand its ways.

“We’re almost there,” he said, nodding ahead at the clearing the two of you were approaching.

Nestled in the middle of the clearing was a narrow creek, the water glassy as it reflected beams of light, filling the space with the sound of the current rushing over stones. Upstream, there was a weathered ledge jutting over the stream, its slate surface visibly softened by years of rainfall running over it. Master Skywalker came to a stop beside it, resting his fingertips on the gray top.

“Sit here with your legs crossed.”

Heeding his instruction, you hoisted yourself onto the ledge and settled into a crisscross position. Gravel was scattered around the surface, some shards prodding you through your robes. You watched as the water rushed below you, awaiting further directions.

“The Force is not a power you have,” he began, circling you from behind the ledge. “It’s about the energy between all things. A tension and balance that binds the universe together.”

You nodded in response, digesting the information being given to you.

“Close your eyes.”

Following his order, you straightened your spine and closed your eyes. You felt Master Skywalker take your hands in his calloused ones, placing them on the rock’s surface on either side of you. “Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe. Reach out with your feelings. What do you see?”

You furrowed your brows in concentration, trying to conjure an image of the Force in your mind. A moment later it appeared, and it was… familiar. The Academy, seen as if you were a bird passing overhead, soaring above dense foliage of the forest and the pointed tops of the wooden structures that housed you. Images flashed through your mind, nearly hallucinatory, causing you to question if these were memories or your consciousness experiencing this firsthand.

The first thing you noticed was life—life surrounding you. You could sense yourself, as well as your classmates, chatting and laughing amongst themselves near the temple.

But that wasn’t all. You could also sense the flora and the creek’s inhabitants. Birds cawing overhead, insects buzzing below, and creatures that were too small to see with just your eyes alone. The overwhelming awareness of it all plunged you into something deeper, something so intense it felt as if you might drown. But that was impossible, because you were tied to this vitality as well.

There was another aspect as well: death. Decay, dead flesh, and rotting vegetation, all sinking into the soil beneath you, concealing bones and debris from the surface above. Despite the tonal shift, you sensed there was nothing to fear. Death and decay gave way to new life, nourishing the generation to come.

Warmth spread across your face from the suns above, not only heating your skin, but the rocks and the tumbling water beneath you as well. But there was coldness too, emanating from the darkest places of the Academy, where the land and seafloor could be one in the same. A mother fox huddled with her babies, sheltered and safe in a hidden cave. A predator who gnawed on the bloody entrails of an unfortunate creature. All of these sensations came to you in a single moment, flooding your senses for just that portion of time. You realized that this was just one beat out of trillions, a never-ending cycle that was too enormous to visualize. And between it all, there was–

“Balance,” you said, brows relaxing as the corners of your mouth turned upward into a smile. “An energy, a Force.”

“And within you?”

“That same Force.” You opened your eyes to find that the pebbles were no longer stagnant, but levitating around you.

“This is the lesson, that the Force does not belong to the Jedi,” he said, staring in awe at the floating stones as well. “It’s so much bigger than that.”

You understood now. Life and death, warmth and cold, peace and violence, light and dark. Each force opposing each other, but needing one another to be complete, to be balanced.

#star wars: episode VII - the thirst awakens #aye tumblr can you stop ruining my formatting pls and thank you #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing

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solohux · 2 years

Note

There is a lot of fics where kylo brings an abandoned baby home ( honestly that sounds like a kylo thing to do lol) but imagine if hux Was the adopter! Could you please write hux coming back from a mission with a baby he found and he diden’t have the heart to leave her alone?

Kylo isn’t used to this.

The main hangar bay of the Finalizer is bustling with officers and stormtroopers in a moving sea of grey and white as the successful entourage from a mission on Jiraau are welcomed back and the crew disembark, receiving salutes from all of their comrades for taking out another rebellious faction and once again proving that order is above chaos.

But General Hux is nowhere in sight.

He was the commanding officer leading the assault on the Jiraau rebels, having conquered the planet’s wild terrain on various missions when he was a lieutenant; it only made sense for Hux to lead the ground assault this time too. Before the departure, Kylo remembers seeing an excitement in Hux’s eyes, one that only came with the thrill of battle. He’d unpacked his twin blasters from their velvet-lined box from underneath his bed and strapped them to his thighs in their holsters, and Kylo could only watch with hungry eyes and a lightly ajar mouth as Hux slid his slender fingers over his hips and thighs before caressing the blasters.

But now, Kylo finds himself biting his lip with concern, teeth digging into his skin whilst his gaze searches through the Force for his beloved. His presence is nearby but it’s hazy, as though Hux’s mind is filled with a concoction of emotions that are making him too difficult to read. Kylo clenches his fists, making his leather gloves squeak under the pressure of his anger. Despite his heavy and domineering presence, Kylo passes through the officers like a shadow; they’re all too focussed on celebrating with each other than to notice the skulking form of their agitated leader.

The proud, modified shuttle that carried Hux’s alpha squadron to victory is being tended to by a couple of droids, all beeping and whistling to each other as they work to patch up any scorch marks on the ship’s exterior and run diagnostic on the engines.

“Niney,” Kylo says, squatting down to his favourite BB-unit. The little black droid whistles happily and bumps its head against Kylo’s knee in an affectionate gesture but Kylo can only focus on his missing love. “Where is General Hux?”

BB-9E gives a few pondering beeps before he rolls past Kylo and towards the ramp of the stationary shuttle. The ball-shaped droid may struggle to get up the steep incline but he does so nonetheless, beckoning Kylo to follow him with little gestures of his head.

The shuttle is meant to be empty and yet there’s still the soft warm glow of the overhead lights in the passenger’s wing as well as some hushed whimpering sounds. Instinctively, Kylo’s hand lingers over his lightsaber but Niney’s angry beeps deter him from actually grabbing it and igniting it. The droid presses on, leading Kylo towards the light and gentle, unfamiliar sounds of cooing.

When the two come to the doorway into the passenger’s wing, Kylo freezes.

Hux is nestled on one of the benches, looking a little worse for wear. His face has scratches and mud on it whilst his hair is tousled and out of place in a very un-Hux-like manner but the most alarming thing about the entire scene is the small baby cradled in Hux’s unyielding arms. She can’t be more than a couple of months old, still tiny as though neglected. But despite her size, she looks calm and content to be rocked and fussed over by Hux.

“I thought we agreed no pets,” Kylo says, lifting and removing his helmet gingerly and setting it down on the bench.

Hux looks up and smiles—smirks—and relief floods Kylo’s veins that his General is truly okay despite not disembarking with the rest of his crew.

“She’ll be no trouble,” Hux jokes, adjusting the blue blanket around the baby’s head so that her soft tufts of brown hair can be seen. “I’ll make sure she’s looked after. Fed and watered and I’ll even take her out for walks.”

Kylo chuckles, momentarily forgetting that it isn’t a Loth Cat in Hux’s arms but a real baby so when the reality of the situation settles on his shoulders, he finds himself needing to sit down.

Hux gives BB-9E a pat on his head, “Thank you, Niney. You can go back to your duties now.”

The BB unit beeps happily and rolls away, returning to his important post.

Kylo raises an eyebrow, “Did you ask him to keep guard?”

“I just asked him to make sure that you knew where I was,” Hux replies. “I wanted you to meet her before anyone else.”

“Who is she?”

“An orphan.” Hux gently touches her little cheek, brushing away a stray tear. “We were coming away from the battleground, a junkyard, when I heard a strange noise. I couldn’t leave until I’d found out what the sound was. How could it have possibly been a child? We were in the middle of a ship graveyard and yet there she was, lying in a transparent durasteel pod with no one around. She was so tiny and so alone. I couldn’t leave her, Ren. I couldn’t.”

Kylo doesn’t need the Force to sense the despair in Hux’s mind as the memories of him finding the baby resurface and cause him hurt. He cuddles the little bundle close to him and kisses her head, rocking her softly.

“It’s okay,” Kylo says, shuffling closer to his beloved until their hips touch.

“It’s not,” Hux replies. “What do I know about raising a child? How could I possibly look after her? I can’t give her what she needs. My own father was—”

“You are not your father, Armitage,” Kylo says, placing a firm hand on Hux’s knee. “She needs you. She needs you to be the father that you didn’t have.”

Hux goes quiet, gently touching the hair on her head, with clear and projecting thoughts about ending anyone who dares harm it. Through the Force, Kylo can sense Hux’s mind combing back through vicious memory after vicious memory, remembering the way Brendol would berate and abuse him at every given opportunity. He cuddles his new baby closer to him as those memories fade and he turns to Kylo.

“Oh, Ren,” Hux sighs, looking into Kylo’s deep eyes with regrettable sorrow. “I’m sorry, my darling. We’re going to separate, aren’t we? I can’t ask this of you. I can’t ask you to do this with me.”

“You can,” Kylo says softly, cupping Hux’s cheek. “And I will. We’re one, aren’t we?”

“So you tell me,” Hux pouts. “Something about soulmates in the Force.”

“You’re my darkness and my destiny,” Kylo says, stealing a quick kiss. “The Force has shown me that time and time again. And now she’s here too, a part of you. A part of me.”

Hux’s eyes brim with joyous tears though he tries to hide them as he looks back down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Kylo follows and stares at her too, searching for a signature for her in the Force.

She’s there, in his circle, with Hux, like glowing embers in his heart and mind. He’ll protect them with everything he has because they’re his family; Kylo Ren, of all people, knows that blood does not make family.

#kylux #kylux babies #m:writing #thank you for the prompt darling! <3

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murthastick · 11 months

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--- I haven't written in a while - especially not in English. Please be kind ---

Shura was standing diligently, her martial stance polished by years of training. Her feet, clad in silvery sabatons, were planted firmly in the soft pink and white clovers that covered the ground. One of her hands wrapped in armored gauntlets was loosely closed into a fist and resting behind her back, while the other was supporting her blue crested helmet at around the height of her left hip. The morning light filtering through the branches overhead bounced off her spotless breastplate, forcing her to squint slightly when the reflection would hit her eyes. The summer breeze swaying her blue cape was saturated with the warm scents of pine sap and sun-bleached soil. And lavender. She took a deep breath. It was undeniably a fine morning there in the palace’s gardens, and yet even the expensive perfume of her ward tasted bitter, and the sunlight on her skin felt cold. Something’s been on her mind for some time - “on her mind” feels a tad reductive, she’s lost her sleep over it - and she had finally mustered the courage to bring it up that day. She wasn’t expecting the chance would present itself so early in the morning, though.

A faint smile crept on her lips as she thought about the irony of this folk hero, protector of the city, who fought and won countless battles against both monsters and men, feeling her own knees lock and stomach churn in fear at the prospect of… having a talk.

- Thought of something amusing?

Shura turned towards Fern, comfortably sitting sideways on the elegantly carved marble bench a few paces away. Her white linen dress hit by the sun gave an ethereal glow to her light purple skin. The elf tucked a rebellious tuft of hair behind her long ear, looking back with a wide smile and a curious glint in her eyes. Shura felt a pang in her chest. She knew that if she were to speak now, her voice would betray her, so she simply softened her gaze and shook her head. If Fern noticed anything seemed off, she didn’t show it. Instead, she leaned forward and plucked another flower to add to the wreath that was slowly taking shape on her lap, humming a cheerful tune.

A few more moments passed quietly. The half-orc began slowly pacing back and forth, trying to hide her restlessness behind the facade or a professional royal guard on duty. Left, right, left, right. Stop. Turn around. Left, right, left, right. Stop. Another deep breath. She tilted her head back and briefly closed her eyes, letting the light caress her face. Another gust of wind carried along the muffled, worried voices of the maids and butlers calling out for the princess. She didn’t have much time. If she wanted to talk, she needed to do it now.

- Are you sure about this?

Fern didn’t look up from the second garland she was braiding, fighting against a sprig of lavender that didn’t quite want to stay in its place.

- About avoiding a tedious gathering His Lordship my father organized without caring for my opinion on the matter? - she chuckled, shaking her head - I have never been more sure, dearest. Shura’s lips narrowed in a serious line. - That is not what I meant, Princess.

The formal tone confirmed that something, in fact, was not right. Fern lowered her feet from the bench to the grass below, straightened her back and folded her hands over the wreath on her lap, inquiringly tilting her head. Her guard could feel those green eyes locked on her and sighed deeply. Shura’s gaze wandered to the side and fell on a dried bush that suffered too much from the previous winter’s cold and never recovered. The graying leaves blurred together as she racked her brain about what to say next. Fern waited patiently in silence for her companion to find the right words, plucking the petals off the flowers on her knees in an attempt to suppress her growing concern. Shura cleared her throat after what felt like an eternity. - My mother died last month. The elf nodded, doleful, as her ears dropped slightly. - How are you two faring? - Still grieving, of course. Father is holding on rather well. We all knew it was coming -. She pinched the bridge of her nose and furrowed. - But that’s besides the point. She didn’t know what Fern’s face must have looked like, she couldn’t bring herself to glance her way. The fist behind her back clenched harder. - She was a little over 40 summers. That’s old, for an orc. I’ll be lucky if I’ll live to see my 70’s. How many more years do you have in you? Five, seven hundreds? The response was gentle and measured. - That is the expected lifespan of my kind, yes.

The sabatons kicked a pinecone and made it disappear in a patch of taller grass. - D’you ever think about it?

Fern sighed quietly and set the now bare flowers to the side, absentmindedly running her fingertips along the marbling of the bench. - I cannot deny I do. Quite often, as a matter of fact. It’s hard to ignore how time leaves its mark on everyone but me and mine. Shura felt the warmth leave her body and a painful pressure in her palms and heart. She bit her lip and fought back the tears stinging in her eyes. - So we agree. Fern’s ears twitched, confused. - Forgive me, dearest. I’m not sure I follow. The half-orc sucked air through her teeth and set down her helmet on the ground before pacing back and forth once again, her arms crossed tightly on her chest. The more she talked, the more her tone turned pained and frustrated. - Even if we don’t consider our… social differences… agh, what am I trying to say here -. She scratched the back of her head before continuing. - You deserve someone of your status, someone of your kind, that’ll be able to give you the best life you might ever need, and who will be there for the rest of your life.

The princess raised an eyebrow. - And what if, pray tell, you are what I’ll ever need? - Archer’s teats, Fern! - she lashed out - My life is nothing but a heartbeat compared to yours. You’ll have to bury me just like my father did with mother, and it’ll be all too soon! Why are you doing this to yourself? Fern’s expression darkened as her ears dropped and she lowered her gaze to her knees. She crumpled the linen in her hands, frowning, and Shura felt her heart sink. She took a step closer. - Fern… You should give those suitors a chance. It’s what’s best for you. The laughter that burst out of those lavender lips took the half-orc aback. She looked, baffled, as the girl threw her head back and wiped a tear from her eye, giggling like a child, and she cursed herself for the warmth that view spread in her stomach. It was the most beautiful sound, and she - she thought - will probably never hear it again. - Imagine -, Fern started, fighting back another wave of giggles, - Imagine for but a moment, the most delicious food you’ve ever eaten in your life. Simply decadent, and yet the serving is small enough to vanish in a single bite. Now, would you gladly partake in such a delicacy, knowing that it won’t last long and you’d wish for more, or would you refuse? Shura’s jaw dropped in disbelief. - What.. - Forgive me, the metaphor might have not been the most appropriate, but you’ll recognize it follows the same logic you just displayed. Fern breathed deeply until the laughing fit calmed down, and she turned a more serious look towards her guard. - First of all, I would appreciate it if you of all people wouldn’t tell me what is or is not in my best interest. It is a conduct I would expect from my father, but I thought you had a modicum of trust in my judgment. This time it was Shura’s ears that dropped, ashamed, as she continued : - And about your main concern… you’re right. Your lifespan might only be a short breath compared to mine, but by the Archer -, she got up from the bench and tenderly held Shura’s hands, so big and rough compared to hers, and looked into those ice blue eyes with a smile of pure adoration, - by the Archer, dearest, it would be the sweetest, most refreshing and invigorating breath of air that will ever bless my chest, and I intend to fill my lungs with it until they’ll burst. Her hands were so unfairly soft and delicate. Shura felt her cheeks flush as she stared at her love’s big, bright eyes, then the curve of her lips. Has her perfume always been this good? She found herself slowly leaning forward towards her face, but stopped in her tracks as Fern pressed a finger against her mouth and pouted. - So no, Shura. You cannot dump me. She could not help but let out a quiet chuckle at such a mundane sentence. She leaned her forehead against Fern’s and opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden noise nearby made both take a step back and stand straight up. The voices of the servants were now loud and clear, and getting closer. She picked up her helmet from the ground and assumed her royal guard stance once again, as the princess huffed and flattened the creases of her skirt with her fingers. - We could talk more about it later. Seems like my little escapade has been cut short. Shura muttered an approving grunt. - Mh. Let’s. She felt Fern’s tender touch on her forearm for the briefest of moments before the elf started walking forward to meet the people looking for her. Shura followed suit, diligently staying on the princess’ left just a step behind her. She turned her eyes to the sky, ignoring the maid scolding them both, and let the sun soak her skin. The wind was warm and smelled of pine sap and lavender. It was a fine morning.

#Fresh Lavender and Dead Leaves #ocs #oc writing #murthastick #dnd oc #sapphic #beginner writer

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wonkypete · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Monster High Draculaura Doll And Partial Die-ner Playset.

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therapytrust · 2 years

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Bix braids

“I propose a clockwise swirl with an estopian incline-” “You have wonderful hair,” the barber suddenly muttered in Swan’s ear. These stylings, which were shown slowly rotating along with featureless heads, were elaborate and sculptural, featuring bacterial looking shapes, brightly dyed permaform braids, hair pressed into cubes and pyramids, hair molded into tall colorful spikes. The only light came from the glowing images of hair designs that materialized one by one along the darkened walls. The barber had been sitting silently for quite some time off to the side in the shadows. It had all sorts of levers and chromed fittings, while above him, fastened to the ceiling, a web of glassy rods formed a grid-like scaffolding. The chair on which Swan had been instructed to recline was the centerpiece of an imposing appliance that filled the entire room and was complex in the way things almost never were any more. Above this, in stylized almost unreadable lettering, a sign glittered: Salon Delafan Delar. The door to the barber’s workspace featured a glowing medieval-style painting that depicted old testament prophets milling about with ever-changing haircuts. There was a dust-coated bench with a long meandering streak-mark drawn by someone’s finger. This hallway apparently served as a waiting room. One looked as if it were made for an eight-foot-tall giant while most were quite small, a couple of them too puny for even Sen to get into. All of the FeelgoodSuits were different sizes. There was one that was coated with tiny segmented beetle shells, another was covered with tetraplastic gemstones. Rather than the usual blue-gray rubbery stuff, their external skins were made from materials as unlikely as metallic fur (whether real or fake Swan had no way of knowing). More interesting though, were more than a dozen FeelgoodSuits hanging in display cases along the walls. Among other objects, he saw transparent globes of ferrofluid, waxy-looking cubes, a helmet thing that sprouted hundreds of bent pipes, and a sparkle-coated cylinder with a web of wires draped across it. To reach the barbershop from the Pos 4 lobby, Swan had to weave his way down a cluttered hallway. He wore a rather elegant dark gray cloak that extended to the floor. His own graying hair was combed straight back to accentuate his brainy forehead. The barber was a middle aged man with a long face and prominent chin. “Nothing contagious I hope,” the barber muttered as he sorted through tufts of Swan’s frayed and tangled hair. “You act like you’ve never been touched.” He found himself in a small room reclined on a padded chair while the barber examined him. Swan, in a supreme act of courage, had made his way to the above-ground floors of the Cumulus where a few tradesmen still operated.

#Bix braids

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dansnaturepictures · 2 years

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25/08/2022-Lakeside walk, home and Peregrines in Winchester

I had a rare later and longer evening Lakeside walk after working in the office today, making the most of the sunny conditions a beautiful evening after much needed rain this morning and during the day. I went to see if I could get a close view of a Great Crested Grebe as I did on a cameraless walk last Monday evening after an office working day, I did see two adult Great Crested Grebes looking really nice tonight I didn’t get very intimate views as I did last Monday of adult and one of the youngsters and it seems the youngsters have gone elsewhere this week so not for the first time this year on an evening walk with a camera after something without camera making me want to come in the evening and then the moment not happening again as is natural but the walk being remembered for seeing something else.

And tonight’s something else was Spotted Flycatcher. I was thrilled to see I believe a group of these flitting around in the trees beside and in the middle of Kornwestheim lake. It was thrilling to watch these mobile birds in the air on a memorable summer evening. I took the sixth picture in this photoset of one. This is a monumental bird for Lakeside for me I’ve only seen one once here before in early September 2020. And as I thought I should keep a special eye out for them to see if it would history repeated itself, as on Sunday I saw with Spotted Flycatchers at Hayling Island only my second ever Pied Flycatchers, and in 2020 days after seeing my first ever Pied Flycatcher with a group of Spotted Flycatcher at Old Winchester Hill I saw my first ever Spotted Flycatchers at Lakeside near the picnic benches at Monks Brook Halt steam railway platform in one of my best ever birdwatching moments at Lakeside. So this was funny and felt amazing.

There were a fair few birds about in the trees here with some brilliant views of Chiffchaff too, Blue Tit, Great Tit seen well pecking a branch and Long-tailed Tits always a treat here. A nicely sunlit Kestrel flying over the northern path, Woodpigeon including a young one seen well what a few weeks I have had for them I took the eighth picture in this photoset of this one, Blackbird, top views of Black-headed Gulls in the nice evening light, Moorhen well, a young gull I believe Herring Gull having a good splash on Concorde lake which was nice, Mallard and a special view of a Tufted Duck were other great birds to see tonight. I enjoyed hearing the high pitched calls of Ring-necked Parakeet and Green Woodpecker at Lakeside tonight. It was great to see Starlings, House Sparrow and Collared Dove on a bench by the bowl when cutting through Lakeside on the way back from the station earlier tonight. Bird’s-foot trefoil, fleabane and I seem to recall great willowherb were nice flowers seen tonight. I was treated to a view of a Peregrine at both St. Thomas Church and Winchester Cathedral in Winchester at lunch time. I didn’t take my wet backpack after the morning rain out for lunch and consequently didn’t take my spare binoculars that I have in my work bag so I couldn’t quite tell but the one at the cathedral was either a youngster or William the male who I’ve not seen for a while. Winnie was at St. Thomas Church I believe. A great set of Peregrine views these last couple of days. I liked seeing a Grey Squirrel at Winchester Cathedral at lunch time and the cows looked nice at Lakeside tonight. I liked seeing Grey Silverfish at home tonight.

Having the charm of an evening walk at Lakeside was wonderful tonight, with the lowering sun transforming the landscape to how I see it here in the day time, casting shadows, shining through and above trees with ripe reflections into the lakes as they became like mirrors. The steam railway track was lit up nicely by the sun at one point too a memorable image coming down the northern path. The glorious emerald of the trees were shining so well in the sweet evening light. There were pretty sky scenes with nice clouds at home tonight.

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fawnandshadows · 2 years

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25 Days of Elriel — Day 4

Five Golden Rings

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

The sun was coming down from the sky in yellow ribbons, and illuminated the children's hair like five golden rings.

Lily and Rose were playing with their cousins in the first snowfall of the season. It was the soft, fluffy kind of snow that resembled powdered sugar, and melted just as easily on the warm ground. The earth wasn’t nearly frozen enough for the snow to stick, but the children wouldn’t listen to Elain, and dashed out of Rhysand and Feyre’s River House to play in the snow, determined to make a snowman.

Rose was five now, and Lily nine. At eleven Nyx needed light poking and prodding to join his cousins outside, but as Elain looked out the frosted window she saw him teaching his cousins his technique to catch the most snowflakes on his tongue. Even Nesta and Cassian’s son, Eric, who loved playing video games more than anything else, was trying to gather enough snowflakes in his palms to craft a snowball.

Elain stood by the kitchen window, watching all of the children playing, and huddled the newest born in a bundle close to her chest. The top of her golden head poked out of the soft blankets, and gleamed in the light. She had her mothers hair, and her father’s violet eyes, and little spit bubbles coming out of her small bow-shaped lips.

“Elain,” Nesta complained from her perch at the kitchen table. Her back was flat against the wall and her feet propped on not only the bench, but also on the three pillows Cassian had miraculously provided when he heard his wife complaining about her aching feet. Her long, elegant hands were outstretched as she said, “Your time with Lux is over, it’s my turn.”

Elain gently tucked away her smile as she moved towards her sister, the tile floor chilled under her feet.

“I need to inhale the newborn smell before it goes away so I can remember why I’m doing this again,” Nesta said with as much gentleness as she could muster at five months pregnant. Her sharp inhale was heard throughout the entire kitchen, Nuala and Cerridwen sent each other secret smiles at seeing the coldest Archeron undone by a baby, as Nesta turned into a puddle. “That’s the good stuff.”

“She’s a person,” Elain said softly, her fingers brushing the small tuft of golden hair on Lux’s head. “Not a chocolate cake.”

“But she’s cute enough to eat,” Nesta replied as she crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at the child who gurgled and spewed small spit bubbles in response. Her attention turned to her sister, and Nesta sniffed at the air trying to discern something. “Do we have chocolate cake?”

A Grinch like grin spread on Elain’s face, “Maybe.”

“Mommy! Mommy!”

The sisters heard a tiny voice and the crack of the backdoor hitting the wall, and they shared a look, happy Rhysands wasn’t around to hear the destruction of his house.

“Mommy!” Rose said as she waddled into the kitchen. Her puffy snow jacket was zipped uptight, and her red scarf was wrapped around her neck and stuck into the coat. Her baby blue eyes had turned golden brown like her mothers, and her black hair was dusted with snowflakes, her pudgy hands were closed around a muddy ball. “Look what I find,” Her top hand opened to reveal a pink worm writhing around on top of a bed of mud. “Just like home!”

Elain bit her lip to smother her laughter, and Nesta pulled Lux closer into her chest to protect her from the mud or the worm, or both.

“That’s right,” She said and crouched closer to her daughter, her hands tucked between her knees. “The worms eat all the bad stuff in the garden so the flowers can grow.” Thankfully, her voice was even enough that her daughter didn’t notice the shake in her shoulders.

Tires turning gravel over on the ground sounded through the house and Rose’s face lit up like fairy lights as she exclaimed, “Daddy!” and ran towards the door. With one last look at her sister Elain strolled after her daughter and placed her hands on her small, puffed shoulders and pulled the small body into her front, just in time for the door to swing open right where Rose had been standing. “Daddy!” Rose smiled her toothless grin, but it faded as her Uncle Cassian came in.

“Hey, Rosey-Dosey-Pocket-Full-Of-Posey,” Cassian greeted with arms full of plastic grocery bags that most likely weighed more than all of the children combined. “Whatdaya got there?” He asked and leaned down as Rose stuck her tiny hands up in the air, almost clipping his nose.

“Wowm!” Rose said proudly, her dark curls bounced out from under her knit cap.

“Nice, did you catch it for dinner?” Cassian asked and playfully chomped his teeth at her, which caused Rose to immediately clutch her hands to her chest, as if she could protect the tiny worm from the hulking policeman.

Rose gasped, her eyes opened wide and bottom lip trembling, as she weakly said, “No.”

It was obvious to Cassian that he had horrified his niece as he looked at his sister-in-law for help, but he floundered as Elain smiled at him with mischief in her eyes.

“She wanted to show her father what she found,” Elain explained. “Not feed her hungry uncle.”

“What about her hungry uncle?” Azriel asked as his dark head poked around Cassian, who was still blocking the doorway. The sight of her father’s face was enough to spur Rose back into her frenzy.

“Look Daddy! Look!” Rose said as she jumped in front of him, her little legs bending at the knees and mudd slipped from her full hands onto the checkerboard floor. “Look what I find!”

Azriel slumped over, his nose a healthy distance away from the wet earth cupped in his child's hands. Like his brother, Azriel was carrying way too many groceries than what the Archeron sisters had sent them out for. Four bags of marshmallows were spilling out of one of Azriel’s bags, and upon further inspection Elain realized that all of her husband's grocery bags consisted entirely of s’mores ingredients. All seven bags.

“Mud?” Azriel asked as he looked into the brown goo dripping onto the floor.

Elain peeked over her daughters shoulders and saw that the little pink worm had vanished. She realized this at the same time Rose did.

“Caz ate it!” Rose screamed and dropped her hands, the mud slapped against the tiled floor in a sopping wet sound. She pointed an accusing finger at Cassian, who looked at the child in shock. “Caz ate my wowm!”

“No I didn’t!” Cassian said and took a step back which caused Rose to shriek at the top of her lungs, her face bright red and fat tears ran down her cheeks.

“You’ll crush it!” Rose wailed.

Elain help up her hands and said, “Nobody move,” Her voice stern and gentle. “We’ll find the worm Rose-Petal, don’t worry.” She soothingly shushed her daughter. Feyre had just given birth a month ago and was getting some desperately needed sleep upstairs.

“There’s a worm in my house?” Rhysand asked as his head looked over Azriel’s shoulders, and he tried to push past his brother, but Az wouldn’t let him through with a brief explanation.

Violet eyes looked at the dirty floor as Rhysand said, “That explains the mud.”

Elain could hear the strain in her brother-in-law's voice, and pieces started puzzling themselves together. They were having another one of their competitions; Who could carry the most groceries into the house, but apparently they didn’t foresee Rose’s lost worm. Her brown eyes scoured the floor, slipping over the muddy patches, and saw a small pink worm making its escape towards the open door.

A horrid ripping sound of tearing plastic filled the air and groceries tumbled to the ground as one of Rhysand’s bags spilled out the bottom. An avalanche of vegetables effectively stopping the worm’s great escape, but not before Rose let out another painful cry, her eyes on the wiggling pink form.

“What is going on?” A groggy Feyre said from the steps. Her figure was still a little plump and full from giving birth to Lux, and her hair was thrown into a messy french braid, but the dark smudges under her eyes had faded from her nap. Her blue eyes took in the muddy floor and the spinning, bruised tomatoes before looking at the three brothers. “Not another competition?”

“My wowm!” Rose bent to retrieve the small invertebrate that looked like it was wrestling with itself. “If’s alive!”

Azriel bent to one knee and placed the bags on the ground in a shiny, plastic circle around him.

“Rose-bud,” Azriel said gently and watched as his daughter cupped one hand to house the worm, and the other was petting it with one pudgey index finger, the rest were balled in a tiny fist. Her wide-eyes deliberately avoiding her father’s. “I think the worm might want to go home.”

“Our home?” Rose asked with pleading brown eyes, and Azriel hid his amusement at the fact that her mother gave him that expression all the time, almost daily.

“No,” Azriel said gently. “We wouldn’t want to take it away from all of its worm friends, would we?” Rose shook her tiny head, black curls spiraling around her upset face. “Why don’t you and mommy go put it back?”

Rose sniffed and blubbered an “Ok.”

Elain smiled gratefully at her husband and extended a hand to her daughter. Azriel had come so far from when he wept and held their new born child in his arms; He had been so hesitant about everything after Rosemary’s complicated birth, but she had proven herself to be just as resilient as her parents and infinitely more soft-hearted. The first time he had seen Rose playing in the dirt was when she was two — they were all sitting outside having dinner on a warm Spring evening, and Rose had crawled away from her family to play in her mother’s beautifully kept garden — and almost had a heart attack to see her surrounded by so many thorns.

Rose had taken after her mother, though, much to Azriel’s dismay. She was always following her to the garden and asking about different flowers, she even had a plastic toy gardening set that Azriel had gotten her last year for Christmas, and would mimic her mother’s actions as Rose watched her work. And she was always bringing in all sorts of insects and spiders and worms into the house with her.

Azriel had learned the hard way when he came face to face with a spider not to put his face too close when Rose held out her hands to show him her new friends.

The mother and daughter made their way outside, the chilly December air nipping at their cheeks, and Elain watched as Rose walked towards the little herb garden Elain had planted and kept for Feyre and knelt to deposit the worm. She heard Rose’s little voice saying goodbye to her new friend, but it got drowned out by the joyful cries of Nyx and Eric as they jousted with two fallen sticks and as Lily cheered from the sidelines.

The snow had faded into more of a chilly mist that coated her cable knit sweater, the hem of her dress hovering just above the chilled earth under her bare feet. She hadn't thought about putting shoes on as she walked her daughter outside, and the habit of going barefoot was still lingering from the warmer months.

Silent footsteps fell behind her, and two strong, flannel clad arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a well muscled chest. Warmth oozed into every cell in her body as Azriel wrapped her in his embrace, anyone else would have been surprised, but not his wife. She had become scarily good at knowing when he was around.

“Did you manage to get it?” Elain whispered and let her head roll back so that it was snuggled into the crevice of his shoulder, her face pointed up to the sky.

Warm lips landed on her chilled ones.

“Did you think I would disappoint you, my love?” Azriel asked and Elain felt one arm leave to rustle in his coat pocket before reappearing with a Reese's Peanutbutter Cup in its palm.

She couldn’t contain her giddy smile as she reached for the candy and slowly undid the wrapping. She didn’t want any of the kids to be aware of the contraband Azriel had slipped her.

“Thank you.” Elain said, but it was muffled around the peanutbutter cup. She raised the other half to her husband, his hazel eyes glowing with happiness as he accepted her offering between his teeth, his hand had found its home on her stomach again.

He knew how rare it was for Elain to share her peanutbutter cups, so he didn’t ask any questions.

“Daddy!” They heard Lily shout from behind them, the sound of her boots hitting the hard ground was in stark contrast to Azriel’s silent steps, and the parents turned just in time to see Lily launch herself at her father.

“What’s up Lily-bean?” Azriel asked as he caught his daughter. Her golden hair flounced around her tanned skin, the ever-fading plumpness of her cheeks had been flushed from playing with her cousins, and her hazel eyes were bright from exercise.

“I won the snowball fight!” Lily exclaimed proudly, and Azriel did an excellent job of not showing his surprise. He didn’t even look at the exposed, snowless ground. “Nyx and Eric were too busy fighting each other, so I got them by surprise.” Lily grinned and showcased her uneven front teeth; One baby tooth still stood firmly in place, and the other was the first to be lost just a week ago — Lily came running into the room, tears on her face as she clutched her tooth tightly in a fist, and proclaimed that something was wrong. It wasn’t until that moment that Elain and Azriel realized they had forgotten something.

“That’s my girl.” Azriel said with pride.

“I say goodbye,” Rose said quietly, her hands solemnly clasped in front of her as she approached her family. “But I pwomise to come back and visit.”

Her wide eyes looked up at her mother, and Elain swore Rose was given to her as payback for all the puppy-dog looks she had given to Azriel, and held up her muddy hands, silently asking to be held.

Without thinking twice Elain bent and collected her daughter to her chest, ignoring the muddy handprints on the white yarn of her sweater and the worm smell that was coming off of the tiny digits and planted a kiss on her daughters delicate curls.

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @jujugirlfrombookstore @courtofjurdan @offtorivendell

#25 days of elriel #elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #was this not fluffy enough for you #i am obsessed with their family #everyones family #the entirety of the archeron family has me by the throat

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mouse-on-venus · 3 years

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My Bench Trio Designs!

(Click for better quality // pls rb! likes are worthless in the algorithm!)

Image Descriptions under the cut due to length

[ID: Four digital illustrations of the dream smp characters Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo. The first three images show four full-body shots of the characters and the fourth image shows the characters' faces, all at 3/4 angles.

The first image shows 4 Tommy designs standing on a light blue background. He has sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. The first is labeled "S1" and shows Tommy with his hand on his hip, smirking at the viewer. He wears a red and white shirt, a long sleeve white shirt underneath, and a green bandana around his neck. His hair is short and curly, and there is a bandaid on his cheek. The second Tommy is labeled "Exile," and he faces the viewer with his hand in his jacket pocket and a sad, numb expression. He wears the same shirt, except it has several holes and rips and bandages can be seen underneath it. He wears a large, torn brown jacket. His bandana is now tied around his upper arm and his pants are ripped--he is barefoot on one foot. His hair is longer and messier and there are scratches on his face. The third Tommy is labeled "Post-Exile," he smiles at the viewer with his hand on his hip. He wears a plain gray shirt and a red flannel jacket, his bandana is now around his wrist, noticeably ripped and dirty. He wears dark brown boots and his hair is longer, but tied into a low bun. The fourth Tommy is labeled "S3," where he stands with his hand in his jacket pocket, smiling sadly at the viewer. He wears a red and white windbreaker jacket and a blue wool scarf, his bandana is still on his wrist. his hair is shorter but messier, and there is a cut on his cheek--his right eye is red and swollen. There is a white streak of hair over his forehead.

The second image shows 4 Tubbo designs standing on a yellow background. He has goat horns and brown goat ears.The first is labelled “S1,” and shows Tubbo smiling with wide eyes at the viewer. His hair, mostly yellow-blonde with brown roots, is just longer than his ears and his horns are short and nubby. He wears a long sleeve green collared shirt with a red patch on the shoulder, sloppily buttoned. he wears a red bandana around his neck. The second design is labelled “President,” and shows Tubbo in a full black suit with gold shoulder tassels, looking up worriedly at the viewer. His horns are longer and his hair is shorter, though his brown roots have grown out some, and he now has a chip in his right ear. He wears a white eyepatch over his right eye and there is a star-shaped red burn mark in the middle of his face, as well as burns on both his hands. he wears the bandana as a necktie. The third Tubbo is labelled “butcher,” and looks to the viewer with a slightly more determined expression, his hair pulled back by his bandana. he wears the same eyepatch, as well as the same green shirt underneath a white apron. He wears gray butcher gloves and more burns can be seen on his forearms. The fourth design is labeled “S3,″ and shows Tubbo standing with his hands in his pockets, looking to the viewer with a bored look. His hair is much longer, grown out to be mostly brown, and his horns are long and pointy. He no longer wears the eyepatch, but his hair is swept to cover his right eye, and the bandana has returned to his neck, angled to cover his mouth. He has a new green-yellow flannel and a brown vest with a large, fluffy fur hood, as well as brown winter boots.

The third image shows 4 Ranboo designs standing on a light purple background. The left half of his skin and hair is shades of white and the right half is shades of black, he has circular eyes--one red and one green--and bubbly, cartoonish markings underneath them, resembling tears. He had pointy ears with red and green tufts. He has no visible mouth and the first three designs show him standing with one hand behind his back.The first design is labelled “S2″ and shows Ranboo in a full black suit, his red neck tie is sloppily tied. His hair is short and angular, and he wears a small gold crown. The second design is labelled “S3,″ his black blazer is gone and he wears only black pants, shoes, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is longer, tied back with a golden ribbon that trails onto his shoulder. The crown is gone and his tie is still tied sloppily. The third Ranboo is labelled “Lethe,” and shows him in a suit with a red blazer and a black dress shirt and tie. he wears a domino mask with green and red eyes, and he wears the crown again, no ribbon. the fourth Ranboo is lablled with three question marks, where he stands hunched with his arms hanging at his sides. He has the same outfit as his second design, though his tie is completely untied and his sleeves are unrolled. He wears no ribbon in his hair, letting it fall loosely over his face, and his eyes are large, wide, and bright, glowing purple. He is barefoot. This design is covered in dark purple shadows, even affecting the background.

The fourth image shows the faces of Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo on the same drawing, blue, yellow and red squares behind each of their heads, respectively. Tommy and Tubbo are from the final designs from each of their own previous images, while Ranboo is shown in his second design. Tommy looks to the viewer with arched eyebrows, and his red, swollen eye can be easily seen. Tubbo faces the viewer with bored eyes, his bangs pinned off to see his full face. His bandana has noticeable tears, and the star-shaped burn over his face crosses over his right eye, leaving it slim and swollen. Ranboo looks to the viewer with wide eyes, and there is nothing new about his appearance. End ID.]

#if this doesnt get notes ill actually cry #bench trio #dsmp bench trio #tommy dsmp #tubbo dsmp #dsmp ranboo #not to guit trip anyone or anything but my drawing app says that i spent a collective 57 +however many sketching hours on this sooo #SHSKHSSH But seriously im just glad i finally finished this. got sick in the middle so i didnt get this done as quickly as i hoped but #i leanred a lot! i think my drawing style is going to change; mostly because i dont think this should have taken nearly as long as it did #and the colors are still a little funky especially considering how long i spent on them...i NEED to get better at coloring DHSKDJ #also i am now a ranboo anti :) hes too hard to draw SHSKDJDB #no but seriously hes ridiculously hard to draw... this is like the fourth design ive given him? and im still not fully satisfied??#whatever. this project took so long that i changed my mind about a lot of these designs and its too late to change them now so.#BUT it looks like im complaining a lot but i actually had a lot of fun :) whatever i post next will probably be a lot less serious #and definitely really experimental SHSKSH #anyway rant over #mouse squeaks #my art #kinda wish i coulda added way more tags to this... cmon dsmpblr dont you dare let me down DHSKDH #WAIT #eye injury #face scars #ask to tag #drawign

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liam-cadmus · 3 years

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— AU wherein;

The hybrids are being hunted, leaving their only choice to escape. The End and Nether dimensions are in shambles, every creature scrambling to escape the hands of the watchers.

The cold biting wind of the void feels heavy on their shoulders later replaced by the warmth of purple flames, burnt chorus bark lingering in the air, charred fruit mushed and smeared against the off-white color of end stones. A piglin hybrid, no older than eleven or twelve, holds the hilt of his netherite sword, the edges sharp and chipped after hundreds of use. The sword glows, enchantments covering the durable metal, a red sheen making it more deadly. In his other arm holds an asleep child, light blond tuft of hair rested against his shoulder, eyelids covering bright blue eyes. A pair of slate eyes watches their surroundings, as various shulker boxes are opened and closed, equipment and supplies being dumped and prepared.

A father with wings dark as the void covers them, matte feathers curling protectively around the children. The unlit portal made out of obsidian lights up, violet particles sparking before a vortex opens, two hybrids tumbling and falling down in their haste. A woman, dressed in regal blood red clothing, and gold tinkling in her every movement stands up, blowing dark hair out of her face. A boy grips to her hand tightly, yellow sweater dusty and covered in soot.

The ground rumbles, as the island shakes, the family holding unto each other tightly as they finish packing, the ender chest snapping shut. The blond-haired father carries a satchel, throwing it on his body before providing elytras to his sons, firework rockets dumped alongside it. The asleep six-year old is carried by the woman, as the father holds a hand on either side, the twins preparing their elytra for flight.

A phantom hybrid stands across the islands, with a young enderman prince beside him, waiting for them to fly over the empty void so that the portal could be closed.

— Dream SMP, Hermitcraft, X Life SMP + other MCYT(’s.)

— Characters:

~ Philza — the only ender avian left, “Angel of Death” and leader of the antarctic empire. married to kristin and father of three adopted boys. kristin is the “Goddess of Death”, with pure white wings.

techbur twins — piglin hybrids

- high IQs and leadership.

- they both have pointed ears. and fangs/tusks.

- towering over everyone as 6′5 foot hybrids.

- scars mark both of their faces, standard piglin birthmarks.

- loves gold. yellow.

- four years older than tommy.

~ Wilbur — the oldest of the techbur twins, smokey grey eyes with pinkish brown curls. wears a bright yellow sweater and maroon beanie, gold piercings and a small golden crown hanging on one of his ears. creative and talented with instruments, educated in leading and planning. faster than most piglins, and one of the fastest (land) hybrids.. can control people’s thoughts or mind using his voice. has the ability to turn intangible (ghostbur) but this is rare, because of how much energy it uses.

~ Techno — the other half / twin, dark slate eyes and long, silky pink hair. white loose button up and high waisted pants, his hair usually braided with yellow flowers. has a small music note pierced to his ear, and gold rings on his fingers. heightened senses and brute strength. quick-witted and devastating in the field, has the ability to limit or control someone’s movements. has no control whenever his eyes turn blood red, violent and relentless, only stopped by his family.

~ Tommy — a nether avian, the first and last in history. the youngest. swift and stealthy, despite his outgoing and bright personality. bright blue eyes and light golden blond hair, small dull dark red horns. a fast runner, and an even faster flier. has dark red wings with splatters of black on some feathers, tipped with gold. a force to be reckoned with. has two rings on his pinky, one from each twin that gives him protection.

Others: —

- Xisuma — a phantom hybrid, the one who was waiting for them so that he can close the End dimension.

- Ranboo — the enderman prince. will be close with tommy and tubbo. (bench trio, my beloved.)

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