#thread: pax

[daisymakesstuff]

From The Detective’s Phone, Pax Izaz Edition

Part 1 | Part 2

#pax izaz #inspired by a tiktok comment thread about people's worst work mistakes #the wayhaven chronicles #bobby marks

[leomlarson]

closed @paxton-brady

location: pax's bday party

Leo had a drink in his hand, but he was startlingly sober. He'd been nursing it so as not to get replacements handed to him by friends who meant well. It was important the remained clear-headed; he didn't want to make an idiot of himself on Paxton's birthday. Well, no more of an idiot than he'd be sober.

Even without the alcohol, Leo was having a blast. He'd already found Stevie, the Ron Stoppable to his Kim Possible, and pulled her outside for a photoshoot — his ginger wig and ill-fitting nylon suit, her naked mole rat, and all — and parties were his element anyway. He was a social butterfly, a flitter. He just loved people.

But he was there for Paxton. Leo had been hyper-aware of not taking up too much of the other man's time — after all, they were all there for Paxton. Still, there was a present he'd been working on for a week burning a hole in his bag and, a semi-respectable amount of time into the party, he decided that he couldn't wait any longer.

He tracked Pax down easily, touching him gently on the elbow to get his attention and offering genuine apologies to both him and the person he was talking to. "Hey, can I steal you for a second, whenever you've got the chance? I've got something for you."

#thread. #with paxton brady. #paxton 003. #paxton bday. #pax and leo sitting in a treeeeee #sorry this is a day late babes!

[unrelatabledude]

I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore I just know that I'm harder to console I don't see who I'm trying to be instead of me But the key is a question of control

(becomes obsessed with desire again) oh fuck just like high school

#for the koujaku came back early au. #it’s so fucked that desire never gets to win he never gets to be his own person #what the fuuuck #fellas you ever sit in front of a mirror so long you stop looking like you #or is that just me #pax art #dmmd #dramatical murder #sly blue dmmd #desire dmmd #aoba seragaki #sorry only nokire and my twitter followers get to see my literal tweet threads about him #this stopped being a joke when i made a desire playlist

[ziggykyeons]

closed for: @paxton-brady

where: pax's place, for his birthday house party

Drink in hand and with a sway about him that made it suspect that it was far from his first drink of the night, Ziggy's other hand land's on the birthday boy's shoulder to get his attention, bleary-eyed but happy to be there as he speaks.

"Man, do you know how much I love you?" He asks, looking at him over his thick-rimmed black glasses that he had donned for his costume. His magnifying glass had already been stolen, and he felt oddly warm from the waist up in his orange turtle neck but cold from the waist down in his red skirt.

"I love you this much," He says with a ruffle of his friend's hair after he indicates to his full Velma look, which had taken more effort than he had anticipated to pull together in an Instagram worthy way in February. "And don't you forget it. Happy birthday!"

#closed starter. #thread. #ft. paxton brady. #pax 002. #paxton's birthday. #paxtonbrady

[n00nb00n]

You wanna know what Optimus Prime, Elita-1, and Rodimus Prime all have in common (aside from all being Autobot leaders)?

All have had their lives utterly derailed and forcibly changed through:

A. Rapidly changing circumstances they were powerless to stop.

For Optimus and Elita, tensions on Cybertron were heating up as Megatron was not only building up an army, but had attacked one of the outer cities. And it all came to ahead when the attack on docks happened (makes the episode’s name especially relevant; it’s literally the dawn of war).

In Rodimus’ case, it was the sudden surprise attack on Autobot City, orchestrated by Megatron and the Decepticons. This all also relates to my second point:

B. Megatron

In all of these instances one person can be blamed: Megatron

It was Megatron who raised an army, attacked an outer city, and attacked the docks, massacring innocent workers.

It was Megatron who gunned down Orion Pax and Ariel.

And it was Megatron who launched the attack on Autobot City.

It was Megatron who held Hot Rod hostage and gunned down Optimus Prime.

Even reborn as Galvatron, he still plays a major role (he was practically holding onto the Matrix for Hot Rod).

Although these were not his intentions, Megatron’s actions came back to bite him and the Decepticons by playing a major role in the creation of Optimus Prime, Elita-1, and Rodimus Prime

In Summary: Through rapidly shifting circumstances and Megatron’s actions, three Autobot leaders were born.

#actions have consequences #transformers #maccadam #g1tf #optimus prime #elita 1 #rodimus prime #megatron #orion pax #ariel #hot rod #me: doesn’t post in a long and just reblogs #also me: here’s this introspective thread on how rapidly shifting times and the actions of a tyrant created three legendary leaders

[humanfucker]

@backonmybullshit91 sent: there’s something very wrong with you. - Ezra ► from this meme.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Orion says, carrying bound papers on his shoulder to set in a cart not too far away. From here he'll be bringing the new publications off to the distributor to be delivered to the folks of Four Corners in the morning.

Usually this is work that, in the wee hours of the night, nobody interrupts him in doing. But he supposes those seven protectors of the town do have habits of staying late at the saloon. He just never expected one of them to stop him directly.

Affording the man (and his colourful red coat) a glance, Orion's shoulders shrug up. "I'm as much a law-abiding citizen as you are, sir."

Then he goes to retrieve the next bundle to add to the cart.

#[ i'm thinkinggggg he gives them the name Orion Pax for his nice fake humansona #which is arguably his real name but it feels a bit more human-y than optimus prime LMAO ] #backonmybullshit91 #thread. #backonmybullshit91: ezra. #[ also he speaks totally without accent On God. LMAO ] #au: western.

[icarricn]

Pax // @axdently​  “What sort of Craft do you do?”

For the many times the two have met, they tended to shrink away from shade conversation. All the better for Iona. She found herself stifled by far more than her inexperience. Even if she wanted to learn, there was always a lingering doubt that her feebleness would not allow her. To her, her bite was a mark of her indiscretions. Thus, the powers that came with it were not gifts to be cherished. They were lessons from Ventuswill herself. So, in some way they were still selfishly hers and no one else’s.

“Hm… what makes you ask that?” The priestess questions in turn, arms crossing her stomach. She attempts to keep her back straight and chin up, but there is a slope to her frame still when her eyes flicker between Pax’s nice flooring and his face. Lips squeezed together as she deftly avoids the question at hand. It is rude, she supposes, but it is better than hearing the excitement and wonder always reflected from an earnest answer to that question.

As usual, her deflection wanders into a territory strangely similar to preaching, “Anyway, my Craft is negligent next to the Divine Wind’s. I can’t imagine any power greater than absolute forgiveness…”

#( ft. ) pax #&. iona — threads. #&. iona — ' all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time. ' #( ft. ) pax & iona

[axdently]

𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 ; the seven of pentacles often denotes that your efforts have been paying off and that they'll eventually start to accelerate. when this minor arcana card emerges in your tarot arrangement, it indicates that things are approaching completion so that you may anticipate outcomes. if you've been working through something and feel like you're not making any progress, this card is a very comforting reminder that triumph is right around the corner. you will begin to see the benefits of whatever effort you have put out. on the other hand, it might also mean that you are at a junction in your life and need to evaluate your options and make a choice.   @odiria​ 

her visits in the shop are welcome, though understandably scarce butwhen given notice of them, he tried to set the store speakers to play her favorite songs. it wasn’t often for him to see her in an ill-mood, but together as friends they were in the habit of exchanging warmth and companionship when they could. that’s why he visits her this time. he brings with him, a jar of pickled ginger, and a nearly wilted sprig of blue wisteria. the flowers, in his travels, were not sustainable and within an inch of their life, yet he hoped that she’d still accept the token of his friendship. greeting her with a smile, he speaks in a hoarse and tired voice, “Evening Odie.” the packaged jar of ginger is handed over–– a brown gift bag with a blue bow is placed within her grasp. “Is everything alright? I thought I heard shouting.”

#⸻ 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚-𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒔 ; THREADS. #;; PAX & ODIRIA. #cag: closed

[thefvrious]

@leschanceux said -> if you could live anywhere, where would you go?

"Not here, that's for damn sure." He answers without looking away from the screen. He's been trying to recalibrate the engines, trying to get something going so maybe they can get off this god forsaken rock. "Maybe in the Eiteri System. What about you?"

#leschanceux #zyair of pax ~ thread

[wastedlands]

gonna do my best to finish the carrd by tomorrow night but while i'm here, all of the characters here are loosely connected but especially paxton, sadie, and luke.

#there will be references to the others in their bios and threads etc #because luke is one of sadie's couriers (the ninth to join hence he's called nine) #and pax hangs around the trading post like a bad smell #i’ll find a new place to be from — 𝙤𝙤𝙘.

[buddywellls]

closed for: @paxton-brady

where: four leaf, 7pm on a wednesday

Sat in a booth with a half-drained beer, Buddy does his best to mentally prepare for whatever possible emotions might be evoked from sitting across his ex voluntarily for the first time in months. The beer mat in his hand is stood on it's edge in his grip, tapping it absently against the surface of the table as he tries his best to not drink the rest of his drink in haste.

He's aiming for civilised and hoping he can unearth some hidden ability for achieving that for once.

#closed starter. #thread. #ft. paxton brady. #pax 002. #paxtonbrady

[hvpotheses]

@nightfallens​

“Oh, no. That’s… not intentional at all.” Pax looks up with a slightly troubled expression upon realizing he had stepped out with mismatched shoes that day. Almost half the day has gone. “Could it pass, though? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

#sorry it took me so long to write a starter!! #( thread | pax ) #pax & your choice!!

[unrelatabledude]

tojo brothers wip i post so my friends can see

#i will finish it… Sometime #himeru #kaname tojo #enstars #pax art #pax.mov #THE THREADS ARE MEANT TO BE A DIRECT REFERENCE TO THE WHOLE ARIADNE EVENT BRW #IN CASE SOMEONES IDEAS GET CROSSED #but yeah if you like it do let me know so i have uhhhh #motivation to finish it

[sophios-draws]

chell cosplay that i wore to pax east this year :D

(i used this forum thread as a guide for making the long fall boots) (a video of me walking in the boots)

havent drawn this style lately... i drew the face based on canon chell but then colored it like myself to match the rest of the photo. no face reveal today suckerss

#portal #portal 2 #chell portal #portal chell #cosplay #aperture science #pax east #soph's art #you cosplay glados bc you like glados. i cosplay chell bc i like glados. we are the same.

[revasserium]

Hello, Rain! Congrats on the 2k followers! 🎉💖 Hope your day is going well!! For the event, may I request Marius and butterfly lovers? ☺️

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

14. butterfly lovers

marius von hagen; 5,103 words; fluff, no "y/n", slightly canon-divergent, highschool sweethearts to lovers, marius being the simp he is, mentions of dif socioeconomic backgrounds, verbal bullying from other students

summary: marius does not have many friends at starhigh; you see fit to change that fact.

a/n: this is loosely based on both his "precious mornings" ssr and also his "world of glitz" ssr so vague spoilers for both and you'll understand this more if you kinda sorta know those but otherwise it's just a cute lil fic to feed my marius obsession (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

001. want and need

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Those are the first ever words you say to Marius von Hagen.

It is, by all accounts, a strange kind of meet-cute (if you can even call it that, years later, with his arms curled around your middle, his chin hooked over your shoulder — the pair of you reminiscing on your school days, marveling on the passage of time, how quick things flash by. But back then, time had seemed an infinite thing, ticking solidly through from morning till night, Monday to Friday and onwards), but even then, Marius had an alarming amount of charm and self-awareness, a shockingly prurient view on the world.

Rich and spoiled as he may be, no one could say that he wasn’t brilliant.

“Sorry?” he says, blinking over the stack of notes he’d been going over in the library as you slump down in the seat opposite, tossing your bag onto the table and propping your cheek on your hand.

You shrug, “Just wanted you to know that… I don’t want anything from you. So, yeah,” you repeat, pulling out your own set of notebooks. They’re a bit battered but full of multi-colored tabs that bulge out the sides and top, your textbooks, clearly secondhand. Marius blinks for a second but doesn’t comment, leaning back slightly to look you over.

“Then, senpai…” an easy, self-serving smirk twists the corner of his lips, “why’re you here?”

You pause, fingers hovering over a pink gel pen, your shoulders tensing.

“All the other tables were full.”

It’s a bold-faced lie, but Marius makes a show of turning to look at the tables around you both — sure, they’ve all got one or two people but none are full. You could’ve chosen to sit at any of the other tables, with any of the other students. And yet.

“And,” you add, rather sniffily, “how’d you know I’m not in your year?”

Marius considers his answer — because Payton had presented him with a roster of everyone in his class (with headshots) the week before his first day and asked in that smooth gentle way of his for Marius to “make sure he’s done his homework”, because since then, almost every single person in his grade has tried to come up and introduce themselves, toppling over each other to try and make an impression, to stake their claim on his friendship and by proxy, Pax Group.

Because he wouldn’t have forgotten a face like your’s.

“Cause…. I know all the pretty girls in my year already.” He winks.

Easier to play up the foppish, rich fuckboy facade than admit any of those other things which are infinitely more true, but no less harrowing for a growing teenage boy to try and admit.

Predictably, you roll your eyes and continue on your journey of emptying the entire contents of your schoolbag onto the remaining space of the table.

“Right.” Your tone is disbelieving and Marius feels a thread of intrigue twang in his chest against the initial shock of your blunt appearance. You don’t believe him, and yet you’re still here. You claim that you don’t want anything from him, and yet.

“So? Are you gonna introduce yourself? Seems kinda rude to sit down at someone else’s table and not even tell them your name.” Marius taps the heel of a pen to his cheek, the intrigue slowly festering into curiosity. It itches inside his chest and he finds himself leaning in as you slate him a long, piercing look.

“Fine.” You say, and then you tell him your name — first and last, with no title, no frills, no mention of a family dynasty or some kind of foreign conglomerate empire. In fact, Marius realizes as he runs through his quick mental list of all the who’s who of society, he has no clue who you are or who you might be related to. It’s a difficult thing to achieve at Starhigh. And then he remembers —

“I’m on scholarship,” you say, dropping your eyes back to your now open notebook, twirling your pen once before setting in to scribbling along some sort of complicated looking diagram. Your voice is flat, almost curt, cut short by the implication of those three words.

Scholarship.

Marius knows that the prestigious academy accepts a handful of scholarship students a year, mostly as marketing fodder to pander to the masses — look at us, opening our gold-gilded doors, our marble-foyered halls, peeling back our velvet curtains to accept commoners who are driven enough, who are brilliant enough to shine amongst the ready-born stars.

“Well, guess someone’s gotta keep the test scores up,” Marius says, now entirely taken with the task of watching you take notes. You pause again, glancing up. There’s a spark behind your eyes that makes his heart stutter.

“Ah… so you do know about us.”

Us. You say the word so casually but it still makes Marius flinch inwardly. An “us” precludes a “them” — one group, and the other. Somehow, Marius doesn’t like the thought of you and him being othered from each other so obviously by your respective social circles, even though he knows it’s unavoidable.

“Sure I do — I mean, none of us study hard enough to make the numbers we post every year,” he says, with a stab at casual nonchalance, putting an extra emphasis on his use of “us” just to be a tad more self-deprecating. That should be the tactic here — people like to feel superior, so debasing himself a little from time to time is necessary.

So he tells himself.

You, however, don’t seem to be buying it.

“I’ve seen you in here every afternoon for the past two months.”

Marius leans back, stretching his arms over his head and yawning hugely.

“Nowhere else to be, so…” but even he hears the strained edge to his voice, the flatness that drops at the end of his would-be cheery tone. You hike an imperious eyebrow and Marius feels heat cresting up the back of his neck.

“Nowhere else?” you echo the words back at him, but in your voice, they sound softer, more wistful.

He slumps back forward, making an exaggerated face.

“Yeah, my brother’s busy with the company and my dad’s… off somewhere in Europe doing whatever he does in Europe,” he waves a would-be careless hand and sighs dramatically, “what’s a guy to do with all that time but —” he motions around the gorgeous library reading room with it’s floor to ceiling windows and endless stacks of priceless reference books and first editions.

“But to study,” you finish for him, amusement dangling off the end of your words like a comma, hinged there, waiting for the rest of the sentence, the remainder of the story.

Marius chews on the inside of his cheek and doubles down with a light laugh and another good-natured wink. Meanwhile, he can’t help the way his mind is racing. Why would a scholarship student randomly come up to him in the library, loudly declare that she “doesn’t want anything from him” and then proceed to invade his personal space?

It reminds him, outlandishly, of the story of a man who’d struck gold, and then, terrified that someone would come steal it from him, proceeded to bury it all back with the sign “NO GOLD BURIED HERE” tacked up over the mound of freshly dug earth. The denial so egregious that it rebounds back into confirmation instead.

Were you really trying to get closer to him by telling him to his face that you had no such intentions?

His chases down the line of thought, the speculations spiraling wilder and wilder until your voice snaps him sharply back into focus.

“Oi! Are you okay?”

Marius blinks, jerking back as you click your fingers in front of his face.

“Huh? Oh yeah sorry —”

You cock your head, that strange, knowing spark still flickering behind your eyes.

“Where’d you go off to, hm?”

Marius opens his mouth before shutting it again, shaking his head.

“Just… never mind.”

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” you ask, cocking your head to one side, birdlike.

“Do what?”

“Keep things to yourself.”

And this time, Marius feels himself being caught off-guard — there’s a skip to his already arhythmic heartbeat, a skid in his breath, a click-shuffle-snap in his mind’s eye as he tries to refocus his attention on what you’d just said. And when he does, heat and heat and heat claws its way up his skin, bleeding into his cheeks before he can force it back down.

“I - I don’t know what you mean.” There — that quaver in his voice. He curses himself for it. The vulnerability of it all.

“I’ve seen it, y’know —” you say, sighing as you drop your eyes back onto your notes, now highlighting something in a bright, blinding chartreuse, “the way people flock to you. But I mean, everyone titters over everyone else here, don’t they?”

Marius stares, nearly open-mouthed at the casual, almost bland way you’re laying it all out, as if he weren’t the storm-center around which all of this social grandstanding spins.

“What do they ask you about first? Oh, lemme guess — is it the fact that you’re confirmed to be Pax’s next CEO or whether you like girls with short hair? I guess the short-hair thing is a bit less on the nose, right?”

You flip a page in your notebook and methodically tab it with a pink sticky note.

“What do you want?” the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and Marius realizes too late that he’s staring, wide-eyed and desperate, his heart now pounding inside him like some angry, caged thing, thudding so hard against the back of his throat that he actually feels like it might leap right out of his mouth.

Placidly, you raise your eyes back to look at him, meeting his wild, bewildered gaze with the steady, solid one of your own.

“Like I said… I don’t want anything from you.” Your voice is calm, your words sure.

Disbelief roils inside him like sickness and he swallows hard as he realizes his hands had clenched into white-knuckled fists on the table between you.

“Then why —” his voice isn’t light anymore, instead it's jagged around the edges, raw and torn and bleeding.

He feels naked, exposed, stripped in a way that he hadn’t felt since the first time his father had taken him to visit the family shrine.

You purse your lips and sigh, and this time, you look just as tired as he feels as you slowly start to gather up your things.

“Because… you just looked a bit lonely and I thought you might like some company.”

You tuck your last gel-pen back into your bag before hoisting it onto your shoulder, turning and walking away.

002. oh bully you

“Senpai… you know it was super mean of you to just leave me like that yesterday.”

You jump nearly a foot in the air as Marius drops into the empty desk directly in front of you, straddling the chair back with his legs on either side, crossing his arms over top of your opened textbook and peering up at you from beneath his damnably long lashes.

He bats them at you as you blink down at him, trying to reconcile the sight of him with the space of your classroom — which is not his classroom, because — right, of course, you’re not in the same grade. So, why —

“Oh~ reading even during lunch period? You’re so studious — hey d’you think you can help me with the history homework? I suck at names and dates.”

You stare at him for two whole seconds longer before narrowing your eyes.

“What’re you doing here? This isn’t your classroom.”

Marius pouts, feigning hurt, “But senpai… it’s lunchtime! Didn’t you say you wanted to keep me company yesterday?”

“Yester — “ you break off, understanding finally settling over your confused expression as you soften in your chair. casting him a reproachful look.

“Well you didn’t seem like you wanted the company so I thought —”

“Wha — I never said that! You just caught me off guard! I was just asking what you wanted to do for the rest of the afternoon, but you stormed off. Ah… I thought you were angry with me — you’re not angry with me, are you senpai?”

You let out an exasperated sigh at his antics, but a smile still breaks across your lips.

“Did I say I was angry?”

Marius’s grin widens by degrees.

All around you, people are beginning to stare. What is Marius von Hagen, society’s most elite golden child doing with a no-name scholarship student like you? And acting all chummy when no one had ever seen you two together before? Whispers gather like a rising tide but Marius doesn’t seem to notice as he casually reaches over your textbooks to peer into your bento.

“Whoa! That looks so delicious! Did you make it all yourself? Can I have some? I’ve always wanted to try home-cooked food from someone my age!”

You smack his hand lightly and click your tongue.

“Manners! And if you wait patiently, I’ll let you have half.”

Marius smiles cheekily, looking all too pleased with himself as the whispers and murmurs gather in strength and volume. And by the end of the day, there’s not a soul in school who doesn’t know about the strange new friendship between you and Marius von Hagen.

003. rumors

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah — and with Marius —“

“Everyone says he’s nice but hard to get close to, so how the hell —“

“Maybe it’s some kind of… arrangement?”

“But why would a von Hagen need any kind of arrangement?”

“Dunno, but maybe it’s a charity project?”

“What? Adopt-a-pleb? Ha!”

“I’ve seen them around campus — he’s always following her around —“

“Ugh, so weird! Unless they’re dating? But god, he’s so out of her league it’s not even funny.”

“Hey do you know anyone who knows her?”

“Ew, no! Who would any of us know who knows her? She’s scholarship!”

“Maybe that’s why he’s so into her? Like… y’know those kids who grow up in the desert and have never seen snow?”

“What, like he’s never seen a poor person before?”

“Up close? Have you?”

“Ugh, it’s just so… weird. I bet he’ll lose interest in her by the end of the month. There’s no way they’re actually friends.”

“Yeah, that or… they’re…”

“Oh… that.”

“You don’t think…”

“Well… if she’s really that good… I guess a guy could overlook anything, right?”

004. in place

He has always been quiet when he paints, but there’s something in the thick, churning silence today that makes you pause, looking up from the book of sewing patterns in your lap. The sun’s long since set, and there’s only the two you left in the arts classroom.

Marius frowns as he leans back, a streak of dark blue paint smearing his cheek.

You glance at the canvas, pressing your lips.

“Okay. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” he sounds distracted as he picks another brush and leans in to carve a thick slab of black through the heart of the already dark and chaotic painting.

“You’re stewing. What’s wrong?”

“How do you know I’m stewing? I’m not stewing,” Marius huffs, tossing the paintbrushes into a can, his lips pursed into a pout as he turns towards you.

You snap your book shut and sigh, “Because. I just do. And you just admitted it.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Did too — now spill it.”

“I —” Marius lets out another loud sigh before knitting his arms across his chest, turning back toward the canvas and picking up his brushes. He squints at the painting as if it’s done him some grievous personal harm, and then jams his brush into the middle, his strokes going wide and harsh.

“Have you heard the rumors?”

You scoff, “What, about us?”

“Yeah…” his voice drops, and you almost laugh at how childish he sounds before you realize that you’re both still children. You wonder if things will change when you grow up — the thought of it seems so far away. Like this, in the fluorescent brightness of the empty art classroom, the night outside stretches like an uncertain future, unfurling into impenetrable darkness.

“Sure I have,” you say, watching him as he pulls back to examine the dark blob on the canvas.

“You’re not mad?” He doesn’t look at you and you don’t make to look away.

“Why would I be mad?” You open your book again to mark your page before tucking it away in your bag. Marius pauses as you start to pack.

“Because it’s horrible! The things they’re saying — I mean, I’m used to it because I’ve grown up around people like this but you’re —” he cuts himself off as you whip around, eyebrows raised.

“I’m what? Different?”

Marius gapes, scrambling for words that do not come.

You pack up the rest of your things in a terse silence, then you push out of your chair with a loud scrape.

“But y’know, the people who talk behind your back? They’re right where they should be.”

Marius frowns.

Your lips pull into a wide smirk as you shoulder your bag, “Behind you.”

You’re barely out the door before Marius lets out an incredulous laugh and topples back into his chair. He lets a second pass and then he’s launching out of the chair, grabbing his own bag and slinging it over his back.

“Senpai! Wait for me! Hey, you wanna go to that really cute restaurant that just opened last week? It’s got a Michelin Star but I’m sure I can get us seats!”

005. be-friend

“Marius! You’re so funny!”

“Wow, Marius — that’s incredible! You’re so smart!”

Marius laughs, carding a hand through his hair, his expression bright and open and unassuming, but the group of people around him all inch in closer, as sunflowers might strain towards the sun.

“Hey.”

You lean against the doorframe with an amused grin.

Marius looks up, his eyes visibly brightening as he sees you.

“Senpai! I was waiting for you!”

“Bullshit. We’re gonna be late for the show.” You tap at your wrist where a watch might be as Marius bounds out of his chair, shaking off his hoard of simpering admirers.

“W-wait! Marius! We’re all gonna head to the Ace Club later — you know, the super exclusive one? Don’t you wanna come with us?” one of the girls asks hopefully.

Marius turns, smiling as if he doesn’t hear the strained desperation in her voice, the flash of annoyance in her eyes as she looks you over.

“Sorry! Maybe next time — I’ve got a theater date I can’t miss. Bye!”

“You know if you keep calling them dates, people are going to get the wrong idea, right?” you ask breezily, sounding less concerned and more amused.

“So? Let them get the wrong idea.”

You cast him a mischievous grin, “Ah… the prince in love with the pauper. Tale as old as time.”

At this, Marius pouts, “Senpai… so mean to me… and you were the one who wanted to be my friend first.”

You wave him off with a flap of your hands, “Sure, but you’re the one who stuck around.”

“Hmph, maybe after tonight’s show, we’ll go our separate ways then,” Marius makes a show of harumphing and stomping off in front of you as you laugh and jog to catch up, swatting him in the side with your bag.

“So you’re just hanging out with me for the theater perks?”

“Yep! Well, I knew you’d find me out eventually,” Marius smiles, teasing as the pair of you make your way off campus and turn towards the community theater.

After a while, Marius bumps you with his elbow, “You really are super good at costume design… are you sure you don’t wanna —”

“I don’t want a handout, Marius.” Your voice has gone cold and clipped, and Marius bites his lip, shoulders shrugging up as you continue to walk.

“I wasn’t offering one. It’s just… there’s a Pax program for young aspiring artists to study abroad in Europe and…”

“And you’re offering to get me in? That’s literally the definition of a handout.”

“No! I’m just telling you about it. I swear I won’t say a word about your application — if you even apply, that is…” he sounds eager in a way that you haven’t heard in a long time. Not since he’d entered the school fine arts contest under a pseudonym.

You give him a sidelong look before sighing, “I’ll… think about it.”

“Okay! That’s —” he reigns himself in as he skips out in front of you, looking not unlike an over-excited puppy, “that’s… good! Wah — I’m so excited for tonight’s play! Hamlet, right?”

You laugh as you hurry to catch up to him, “Yeah. But it’s not like you haven’t seen it before — didn’t you say that you dad took you to see it in London or something?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How?”

Marius rolls his eyes, smiling cheekily down at you, but when you catch his eyes you see them go soft, the light in them somehow molten as he looks and looks and looks at you.

“Obviously, because Ophelia’s dress wouldn’t have been made by you!”

006. stay and leave

“I got in!”

Marius blinks at the flat beige of his bedroom ceiling as your voice rings out from across the phone line. The bed beneath him is perfectly made, the silken sheets freshly pressed from this morning.

“A-ah! Congrats, senpai!” he tries to sound like his usual cheery self but he’s not sure how successful it is.

A beat.

“Marius?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Another beat. Marius shifts, curling onto his side, cradling the phone to his ear as he stares at the halo of light cast by his artisan bedside lamp.

“For… telling me about the program. And… for not pulling any strings on the back end.”

Marius grins, flipping onto his back again, “How’dyou know I didn’t?”

Your laugh comes through the line, soft and sweet.

“Because. I know you.”

Something inside Marius squeezes; he fists his fingers into the soft silk of his nightshirt. Warmth spreads from the base of his spine up through the rest of his body till he’s tingling from his toes to his nose. He wrinkles it, feeling abashed as he scratches at his cheek, even though he knows you can’t see the gesture.

“R-right — so! When do you leave?”

“End of the summer — so…”

“So?”

You sound hesitant in a way that he’s not used to.

“I’ll miss you.”

He almost misses the words, they’re so soft, so quiet that he almost thinks he might’ve imagined them. But he knows your voice almost better than he knows his own, knows the color and shape, the weight and temperature. Knows how it gets pitched when you’re excited, and flat when you get mad. Knows the giddiness that fills it like sweet champagne bubbles when you know something and want to share. Knows the dull coolness of it when you’re done or tired or annoyed.

“Senpai…” Marius presses his cheek ever closer to the face of the phone, “if you keep saying that, I might ask them to rescind your acceptance letter just so you can’t go.”

He smiles, bracing for the sharp bite of your reprimand, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he hears you sigh.

“Just promise you’ll come visit, okay?”

“Sure! I’ll come every weekend if you want! My dad’s old jet’s been sitting in the hanger anyway.”

“Mm, maybe not every weekend.”

“Aw… senpai, I thought you’d want to see me!”

“I do! Just… you know what I mean.”

Marius chuckles, throwing his free arm over his eyes, reveling in the temporary darkness. A strange, hot tightness gathers at the back of his throat as he sighs. He feels the tickle of words on his tongue — and what is it about the nighttime that makes it so much easier to say the things he might never have the courage to in daylight?

“Senpai… if I asked you to stay… what would you say?”

“Hm?”

“If I — I mean… if I told you, right now, that… that I didn’t want you to go…”

You hum as if contemplating his question. Marius squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’d tell you you were being a spoiled brat and very selfish,” you say, but there’s a lightness to your tone that makes Marius smile.

“Well… I’ll never escape allegations of either of those things,” Marius replies.

“And then, I’d tell you that you’re being stupid because — why ask me to stay, when you can just come with me?”

Marius sits up, “Ha?”

“I’ve seen your art, Marius. You’re brilliant. You’d be the first to get in, even without being the next CEO of Pax.”

Marius stares at his own hand, now lying limply in his lap. He’d never considered entering the program himself — it’d be a huge conflict of interest. But… if he didn’t apply as himself then…

“Aren’t you being a little selfish too, senpai? Asking a guy to move across the entire world with you.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Marius drags his hand down his face, feeling his heart thudding right beneath this throat, a strong, startling hoofbeat that thrums through him. It beats behind his ears, rushes blood to his fingertips. He squeezes at the bridge of his nose, a recklessness filling him like helium to a balloon and suddenly, he’s weightless as he lets himself fall back onto this too-big mattress.

Later, long after he’s hung up the phone, your voice still echoing in the recesses of his half-asleep mind. He smiles to himself, pressing a palm to his chest to feel the rhythmic, certain beating of his own heart.

That, he thinks, is the girl I’m going to marry someday.

007. want and need (redux)

Years later, long after he kisses you for the first time at the airport in Florence, when you’d come to meet him for his first year in the young artists program, Marius flies you back under the guise of an anniversary trip.

You have a feeling you know what he’s going to do, and he knows you well enough to know that you do too.

Still, when he gets down on one knee, your eyes are gleaming with unshed tears.

“Remember when you told me you didn’t want anything from me the first time we met?” he asks, grinning up at you, a velvet box in the palm of his hands.

“Well… I can’t the same because… the truth is, ever since that first meeting in the library I’ve wanted so many things from you — I wanted to hear you laugh, to watch you when you designed your clothes, to listen to your voice every night on the phone till I fell asleep…”

There are flowers everywhere, and the sunlight is magnificent on Marius’s white tux. He looks like a prince stepped right out of the pages of all your favorite fairy tales; he looks like a daydream. You briefly wonder if this is a dream, but Marius charges on, and amongst all the tittering guests that surround you in the gallery, you’re the only one who notices the slight tremor in Marius’s voice, way his breath is just a tad more shallow than it usually is.

You reach down to pull him up, and you shake your head.

“Y’know, I lied to you — that first time, when I told you I didn’t want anything.” Your voice is scratchy from the tears, but Marius grins.

“Oh? Then… you did want something from me?”

You press your hand to his chest, the steady beat of his heart thudding beneath your palm.

“Yeah. I wanted… this.”

It’s a horrible, cheesy line, but all things considered, you think it feels right.

Marius laughs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours, cupping your cheeks.

His smile is radiance itself.

“Good… because I want this too,” and he reaches down to open the lid of the tiny velvet box. You barely notice the ring for the feel of it as he slips it around your finger.

“But… I want so much more than that too — I want your everything — your body, your mind, your soul, your life — I want you to spend it with me, because even though you never wanted anything from me… all I’ve ever wanted to do was give my everything to you.”

You swallow, wiping at your eyes with an exasperated laugh.

“Dummy, you’ve always had it,” you hiccup as Marius tips your chin up with a finger, his eyes going soft as he looks over the planes and contours of your face — ever an artist, his gaze always both hungry and admiring. As if he could never get enough, but that won’t ever stop him from trying — from wanting.

“I’ve always been yours,” you say, and time itself is caught in the negative space between your lips.

Marius nods, reaching down to thumb at the solidness of the ring now circling your finger.

“Then… that’s the only thing I’ll ever want or need.”

#tears of themis imagines #tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tot x reader #marius von hagen #marius von hagen x reader #marius x reader #x reader #lu jing he #tot marius #tot #tot fluff #tot imagines #marius von hagen imagines #marius von hagen scenarios #marius von hagen headcanons #tears of themis scenarios #floofy floof floof #this is incredibly self indulgent and i am okay with that lol #scheduled post

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘ART DECO,

-GOTHAM!OSWALDCOBBLEPOT X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; oswald goes feral for your thighs…and whats in between them.

⋆ tags/warnings. small GOTHAM!oswald x female reader. SMUT!!!! like, this is PURE porn. Might make a series of just gotham villains eating reader out lol. also oswald being an unintentional god at oral sex.

♫ “You're not mean, you just want to be seen. / Baby, you’re so ghetto. / You’re crazy all the time.” Art Deco by Lana Del Rey

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

He always starts out so so slow. Too slow- almost unsure. He’s inbetween your legs after a long day- you’d think he’d want to be the one on the recieving end, but you realize now how foolish the assumption is. After all his planning, his busywork, his anger…he just wants to take it out. And you, his one true love, get to reap the benefits. He needs spoil you. Put all his energy into something more productive, rather than another god foresaken tantrum.

It takes his mind off it all. And it always starts out innocent. Him- mindlessly ranting about his plans for the city’s underground. The range from his bragging about his new ideas; whether it be teaming up with the GCPD or Pax Penguina. He speaks earnestly, head resting in your lap- just between your thighs. He buries himself in them. A comforting pillow, he says, and he feels a rush of euphoria whenever he gets to touch you. The love of his life. The only person he can trust. It’s far better than any simple hug in the begginning of your relationship.

It morphs into something more carnal the more you shift underneath him. At first he finds it irksome, how you cant just stay still.

“Would you stop that?” He huffs, exhaling roughly as his voice cuts through the air. You hardly pay any attention at this point, having stopped a few minutes ago. Lost in thought, he finally lifts his head up to look at you. “Y/N?” He prompts, expression a mix of concerned and annoyed.

You look back down at him, humming in response. He rolls his eyes- petulant little thing. “As I was saying…”He moves to speak, head moving back, when you thread your hands through his hair. His breath catches in his throat and he looks back at you. The annoyed expression is wiped off his pretty face, replaced with one of flustered surprise. His hair scrunches underneath your fingers; the by product of styling.

He just looks at you, slack jawed, and you only push him closer to where you need him. He quickly closes his mouth, blinking. You already know what he’s thinking. That you’re obscene. But he simply doesn’t mind, no, he’s glad for the invitation.

“Right now?” He always asks, a bit ruffled, in the middle of his ranting. It comes out in a soft whisper.

“Please?” You ask, looking into his blue green eyes. They always shine in the flourescence. He doesn’t respond, simply pursing his lips; still a bit surprised, but far from angry.

He finds the confidence in himself to lay his head back down, keeping the eye contact. He shifts himself in between your thighs, and in an angonizingly slow movement, presses his nose and lips to the soft plush of your skin.

He lays a kiss, just barely the ghost of one. A soft peck at first, before his eyes depart from yours. You sigh contently as his attention fixes entirely to your thighs, kisses pressed gently and peppered all over the skin. As you urge him with your hand threaded in his hair, his lips become more and more earnest. You know he’s ready to go further when he gets rougher, wet sounds of his lip sucking a near bruise into your thighs.

He looks up at you through lidded eyes, and he’s a bit too nervous to ask the question out right- but he doesn’t have to. You simply nod, hand urging him further and further.

He sighs into your skin, and his finger tips shake as they pull down the scuff of your lace panties. You swallow as the cool air of the bedroom hits your clit- and the feeling of his hot breath against it. He’s not staring at you anymore- eyes fully fixed on your vulva beneath him.

His shakey breath makes you impatient- and you find yourself pushing him down once again. He hesitates- but quickly goes to work.

It starts off with one long lick, his tongue peering out to savor the strip of skin between your legs. The feeling makes you shudder- and it fills him with confidence. God- he can taste you, smell you. It’s intoxicating.

“So wet…” He mumbles, and you don’t even think he grasps the sheer eroticism in his words. You swallow, and in an instant, his tongue comes out again- string of saliva falling onto your cunt.

He chooses to tease you one final time- tongue massaging the wetness into the skin around your folds, going everywhere except where you really need him. You let a soft whine escape your lips, and it spurs him on. You’re feeding his ego, as if it isnt already big enough. A small grin spreads across his face.

He finally puts his tongue to good use, dipping into your folds. He sucks gently, tenderly. His head bobs up at down as he focuses- and just as he’s done all the previous times, feeds off the praise in your moans. With more confidence and earnesty, he becomes a fucking god at eating you. And he doesn’t even know it.

He flicks at your clit with his tongue at an almost inhuman speed, switching between sucking and kissing the entirety of you with his mouth to focusing directly on your clit. Your thighs clenching around his throat makes his head spin. You don’t need to touch him to know his cock is throbbing- mindlessly grinding down into the bed for any friction he can get.

His saliva is soaking you, and you cant help but pull his hair as your eyes roll back into your head. Wet and sloppy noises fill the room as he presses both his nose and lips into your cunt. It’s positivley sinful- the way he rocks his head against you. His hands come to push your thighs even further into the mattress, and you remember how strong he really is against you. His movements speed up.

Faster and faster and faster. Harder and harder and harder.

His tongue is going at a rapid pace, sucking eagerly at your tender flesh and swollen clit. You feel your orgasm coming over you in short spasms before release hits you like a tidal wave. He’s still eating you like his last meal- oblivious to your screams of pleasure. He’s lost in his own.

As you cum beneath him, he refuses to let go of your thighs. Pushing you further and further into the bed. Selfish in everything he does, this is no exception. It’s almost dehumanizing now- you’re almost nothing but a meal to him to be savored.

He doesn’t stop until you struggle out of his hold, begging between sobs of pleasure and pain from the sheer overstimulation of it all. You have to damn near rip his hair out, pulling him back with a loud pop off your sopping wet cunt.

He pants as he finally looks up to you, noticing the tears in your eyes from the indulgence of it all. His tongue is still slack out his mouth, dripping with your juices and his spit. Those blue green eyes looking almost innocently up at you, like he didn’t just tongue fuck the life out of you.

You almost want to laugh- but the only sound that comes out is the rushed breathing and pants between the two of you. Your thighs are wet with your slick, and both of you are shuddering. You can tell he wants to apologize, for going to far, for the overstimulation. But nothing comes out of his mouth. You can see the bruising imprints of his hands into your thighs, and he lets go almost instantly.

A satisfying thought slips into your mind as his tongue darts to lick his lips.

You’ll do it all again tommorrow.

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