#Had some issues with the silver blonde hair

[beneaththeshadows]

They're the nicest kids in town

The three great grandchildren of Jaehaerys circa 107/109 ac, Laenor, Rhaenyra, and Laena

The general inspiration was early 16th century Italian fashion, though with Laenor, I used some byzantine references

[blondedingdong]

Freshened up my blonde bleach today and now my hair is almost white that is fucking cool. My metallic silver will shine so much better. ;A; One day I might even cosplay Kadaj; been growing my hair out at least and it's getting there hehe.

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Alexia has an epiphany after everything comes to light

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 5 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion.

A/N: it’s finally here, 2 months later! 3.7k words in this one, i’m super proud. happy reading, and please let me know what you think! 💝

With the intention of falling asleep, you slunk in between the mattress and duvet.

Moonlight peeked at you from behind the blinds and danced across your sheets, warping with every movement you carried out beneath the blanket. Reaching out, your fingers were coated in the light, and every crevice in the surface of your skin was emphasised beneath the moon’s pale white illuminance, reminding you of just how many years those fingers had lived through. They’re just hands to hold things with, but it goes beyond just physical things — in between each finger is the phantom of your little brother’s hand when he’s one and learning to walk, bracing you to keep his balance as he toddles around the living room, evoking a proud smile on your face. Scars were peppered along the back of your hand, some little scratches originating from football and others taking the shape of teeth marks inflicted by your siblings. A silver bracelet dangled on your wrist and the charms clinked together, while the blonde hair tie that certainly wasn’t yours sat tightly below it and dented your skin.

Hands would always be hands, no matter how sacrilegious it felt to call them that due to the amount of deep-cutting memories they held. You placed yours down by your side once again, a deep exhale navigating its way out of your body as your muscles relaxed, and you further settled into the uncomfortable makeshift mattress you laid on. The room was cold, the sort of chill that was bliss to fall asleep in but not so lovely to stay awake in. Beside your face, the sheet of the bed flitted gently with every little exhale you let out, and it grazed the tip of your nose, inciting a tickling sensation on your skin. Your legs were constantly shuffling around underneath your blanket, your body tossing and contorting into different positions as you searched for the cold patches of the sheet you laid upon, desperate to fall asleep. You were exhausted beyond belief, yearning for nothing else but the relief of rest, yet you couldn’t find yourself relaxed enough. Deep thoughts, if not worries, were the perpetrator of your sleepless night.

It was hard enough to be sleeping on the floor, let alone trying to sleep while being tormented and jeered by your own flurry of thoughts and criticisms of the day’s events that overwhelmed your mind. For a time in which you wanted silence in your own head, your mind was obnoxiously alive, every thought amplified and incoherent. It felt like the ultimate betrayal to fall asleep, knowing the few hours left with your siblings would waste away during your slumber and you’d wake up to spend one more fleeting moment with them before they were gone, possibly forever.

There hadn’t been a word from the police about your mother all week. That was one more thing to be worried about, as you wondered how she was doing. Had she been admitted to the rehabilitation facility, like the social worker said? Would she even get the help she needed; proper, meaningful help, to get her life back on track? Most importantly, would it be enough to make her less of a hazard and more of a backbone in your siblings’ lives, contrary to all these years they had spent raised among her bottles? You were still afraid to return to your home. Whether she was there or not, it would feel like stepping into a graveyard of everything you had ever loved. The walls that could’ve once recounted the tales of the happiest of families… would they be traumatised into silence? It was a house, but it was nobody’s home anymore.

You hadn’t even given so much of a thought to work, and the sudden acknowledgement of your career’s existence awakened another restless surge of emotions inside of you. You had little faith in hoping that Alexia would understand your situation, regardless of what Vicky had advised. There wasn’t much to lose anymore if you did tell her, because your siblings were getting taken away anyways, but you still wanted to keep that deeply corrupted part of your life hidden away from her for as long as possible. You had yet to tell Vicky about the fostering conversation that happened at the police station earlier that day, but you hadn’t even fully processed it yourself; it would be virtually impossible to focus and get anything done at work, no matter how hard you tried, and you’d rather just stay home instead of get an Alexia lecture special to seal off your already shitty week of ordeals.

It made you sad, honestly. When you first got promoted to the first team you were everything; Barça's stargirl, the promise of a bright future for the blaugrana and the telltale signs of a worthy successor to Alexia's captaincy. Now... despite the performances you put up on the field that still won over the support of the public, you felt like the complete opposite was happening. With every step forward in football came five steps backwards in your personal life, and another step back in your relationship with Alexia.

Some would probably ask you why you were so afraid to come clean to your captain about your situation, the real reason why you're so tardy and 'irresponsible', and the worst part was, you couldn't give them a reason. It was daunting to tell Vicky — probably the most understanding person you could've confided in — so you couldn't even begin to imagine how you'd tell Alexia. Such a decision was made harder when you paid attention to the part of yourself yearning to tell her; though you didn't know if she had any experience regarding the foster system, alcoholism or anything relating to your ordeal, she was older, wiser, and had authority. You wanted to be able to open up to her about everything that has maimed you since you were 13, seek help from your captain, and receive the help for yourself that you’ve always provided for others. It was easier said than done.

The pursuit of help in itself was difficult. Confiding in anyone was a concept that you feared, even if you weren’t explicitly aware of that fact yourself. In a way, it felt like admitting that you had failed at fulfilling your only purpose — protecting your siblings from harm, and keeping them safe.

You glanced up to the bed beside you. You could just barely see a sliver of Magdalene’s forehead and the tip of her pinkish nose; the duvet was bunched because of her curled fist that was closed around it; the sound of her barely audible breathing was a daunting reminder that indeed, she was real. She was living and experiencing this just as you were. Yes, she would wake up and, as well as Dani and Lorenzo, they’d be whisked away for who knows how long — thrusted into the foster system, likely to be seen as mere charity cases and troubled kids with virtually nothing good going for them. Nobody would genuinely care about them. Someone would tolerate them out of pity, maybe, because they'd feel like they're obligated to be some sort of token of goodness in their poor, miserable lives. They'd hardly be tolerated because they deserve it; hell, their own father couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. The social workers saw tha, heard that and witnessed that, then still proceeded to think that there’ll be someone else out there that does, if not their own blood.

Pathetic, you thought. He was pathetic, lame, and utterly so. Everything in your life seemed that way since it began to crumble before your eyes. So, despite the fact you really didn’t want to at this moment, you shut your eyes and prepared for sleep. Those few moments of unconsciousness were your only refuge. At the end of the day, you always came back craving that moment of ignorance towards the rest of your calamitous reality.

The next day, before you could even open your eyes, you were weighed down by insurmountable feelings of dread. You were awake, but you just refused to open your eyes, because that would indicate that the day had begun and you’d have to face the events that were waiting. The sun replaced the pale moonlight as it seeped through the gaps in the blinds, much to your dismay — it was yet another reminder of the day that awaited you, another thing for you to scorn at and curse about under your breath as you turned your back away and buried your head back in the pillow. With only half of your face in the pillow, you opened your exposed eye ever so slightly and squinted at the screen of your phone as it lit up with a message. For a moment, a surge of fear coursed through your body as you considered the possibility of the text being from Alexia. An angry text was the last thing you needed right now, and you couldn’t help the scowl that tugged at your features as you mulled over the many things she could’ve texted you to convey her annoyance. Would it be a simple three word text, so she could really get into you at work, or an extensive paragraph so she could give you the cold shoulder for the entire duration of training? You never knew what it would be with your captain.

You crawled out of your pitiful excuse of a bed on the floor, your muscles slightly stiff from the lack of a comfortable surface you had been forced to sleep on. Dropping the blanket to the floor, you trudged over to the door, adjusting your shirt that was sitting askew on your torso. You shut the door behind you silently, so as to not disturb your siblings, before proceeding to walk down the hallway and towards the kitchen of Vicky’s home. You were eternally grateful for both her and her mother’s hospitality during this time, and you made a mental note to make that explicitly clear to Vicky as you walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Before even entering the room, you knew she’d be awake and ready for training; she was young and eager, like you had been at one point.

“Bon día,” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse and riddled with exhaustion as you slumped into a chair at the dining table. Vicky, who had been chopping up an apple, paused in her tracks and looked at you. For a moment, her eyes examined your state, and the slight wrinkle of her forehead was far from lost on you, but she still offered a smile and a ‘bon día’ in response. A snapping sound echoed through the kitchen as Vicky sealed the container she had put her apple slices into, and she turned around to walk over to the dining table and pull a chair out beside you. She looked at you for a moment, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, brown eyes roving over your face again, before she spoke; “How are you?”

It was obvious enough, but you still humoured her. “Honestly, Vicky, I’m horrible. I texted Jona and told him I’m not coming in today,” you responded, your voice flat and completely devoid of the energetic lilt it usually possessed. The main reason you weren’t going into work was because you physically couldn’t bring yourself to play any football while knowing your siblings were being taken away from everything they’ve ever known. The reason you gave Jona was, you didn’t feel well and had been up all night with a stomach ache. That would have to suffice.

“Okay. Well, text me if you need anything — and I mean it. Actually text me, don’t just nod and say you will,” Vicky said sternly, pointing a finger at you to further make a point. You rolled your eyes playfully, and your lips curled into the faintest of smiles as you nodded. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Vicky replied, standing up from the dining table and bending down to pick her training bag up, slinging it on her shoulder. She knew the real reason for your day off, but she didn’t mention it or ask you what your excuse had been. The telltale signs of uneasiness that were written all over your face gave her the answer she was looking for anyway. “I’m heading off. I’ll see you later, alright?” she spoke again, and you nodded, your smile broadening ever so slightly. “See you.”

You watched her leave the house and shut the front door behind her with a click. For some reason, watching her leave for training made you miss playing football, but you simply weren’t anywhere near fit for training — mentally or physically. The sport used to be your reprieve from all sorts of upsetting emotions and a distraction from your troubles, but now… it had turned into one of those troubles. God, how you missed the early stages of your career, the time when you had been a promising young talent on the rise, when football was fun. You still had time, and you definitely had the potential; you were only 18, you had heaps of time, but even then, it felt like every day, your talent dwindled even more, and soon you’d be left with none. You’d merely be another ‘what-if’, a wasted talent, and that’s not the outcome you had worked so hard for your entire life, back when it was good. Back when your family was still intact.

“Hermana,” a little voice called out from the stairs. You turned to look in the direction of the sound, and your eyes settled on Magdalene, who was standing on the last step and rubbing her eyes. You could hear faint bickering from Dani and Lorenzo upstairs in the bedroom, and a little smile tugged at your lips. Something about the sound of their childish arguing warmed your heart, despite knowing you’d have to tell them to cut it out. It was good to know that they still indulged in the trivial things, like children their age should be doing. You beckoned Magdalene over to the table and stood up from your own seat, walking over to the kitchen. “You hungry, hermanita?” you asked her, opening cupboards to see what there was to make. “Sí, tengo mucha hambre,” she responded softly. You nodded as you opened the fridge, and your gaze landed on a carton of eggs.

The eggs turned into golden pieces of French toast that you put onto four plates and served with drizzles of maple syrup and icing sugar dusted on top. Magdalene was practically salivating, her little face lit up with excitement as she watched the process, and she let out an excited exclamation when her share was slid across the table to her. Dani and Lorenzo’s expressions mirrored hers almost exactly, and from the moment the plate touched their placemats, they began to ravage their food. You took your seat and ate like a normal human being, enjoying and savouring every bite, secretly surprised at how well the French toast had turned out. Cooking was — surprisingly — something you possessed a fair bit of skill in. You had to learn how to cook so you could continue to feed your siblings good, nutritious food; occasionally, you’d treat them to a restaurant dining experience, but oftentimes you’d make them something at home. They loved whatever you put on the table for them.

Breakfast that morning was something you’d hold close to your heart. All four of you sat around the table and talked, bantered, laughed and ate your food. Dani and Lorenzo went back and forth with their opinions about how they thought the upcoming Barça men’s fixture was going to go, while Magdalene updated you on the latest doll she had her eye on. You nodded along enthusiastically, of course, while occasionally chipping into the boys’ conversation with your opinion. To them, they probably just got carried away with their conversations, but for you, it was a bit more… calculated. Usually, you’d tell them to hurry up, and you’d eat your food faster, but you took only a couple bites every few minutes, and you were doing quite a bit of talking too. You were trying to stall as much as you could to avoid the inevitable.

Vicky arrived at the pitch twenty minutes after leaving home. She gave her mother a brief kiss on the cheek before grabbing her training gear and hopping out of the car. The things you had said to her the day before still loomed over her head. She was worried for you, more than she had expressed, because she knew you would just insist that you were fine and worrying about you was a waste of time… but she still worried. She could see the toll it was all taking on you, and Alexia didn’t make it any easier on you. She’d watch from afar, the type of interactions you two would have, and it honestly made her more irritated than she would like to admit. She would watch Alexia’s gaze harden whenever it settled on you, and the venomous lilt to her words when she addressed you. Not to mention, the fact she would never let you explain yourself; Vicky had to be honest, she was growing a little concerned and curious as to why you were beginning to show up late more often, but now, she realised you actually had many reasons to show up a few minutes late to training.

Her training bag hit the pitch with a dull thud as she dropped it beside the bench. She sat down beside it and pulled her boots up, a few specks of dirt flying out simultaneously, and she hit the studs together to get the mud off the soles of her boots. As she was preparing to put her right boot on, a figure stalked over to her and towered above her, simply watching. When she looked up, she internally groaned when she saw Alexia, and the annoyed look on her face. Vicky already knew where this was heading.

“Vicky, where on earth is (Y/N)?” she asked, her tone slightly speculatory. Vicky let out an inaudible sigh before responding. “She doesn’t feel well, so she isn’t coming in today.” It was a lie, and a blatant one at that, but it wasn’t the truth, which was what Vicky had to avoid revealing.

Alexia gave an exclamation akin to a scoff, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I see. She’s still as irresponsible as ever! She’ll take any excuse to not come into work, I’m sick and tired of it, seriously. She shouldn’t be playing for the first team if she behaves like this—”

“Alexia, just stop! She isn’t ‘irresponsible’; she has a lot going on, and it would put you to shame if you knew about it. I respect you — you know that — but come on,” Vicky cut her off, her tone of voice slightly exasperated. It took Alexia aback, because up until now, she hadn’t heard Vicky talk back in such a way, and it stifled her for a moment. ‘A lot going on? What is that supposed to mean?’ Alexia thought to herself. Her contemplation was written all over her face, but Vicky merely got a glimpse before she stood up and grabbed her bags, walking away from Alexia with a disbelieving shake of her head, leaving her captain to mull her words over and decipher the meaning behind them.

When she was far enough away from Alexia, she sat back down on the grass with a huff, and the reality of what she just did dawned on her. It was indirect, but still, the notion was there, and she felt a prominent sense of guilt settle in her abdomen. Shit. How was she going to explain that to you, if it came to that?

Meanwhile, Alexia stood by the bench like a statue, in a state of deep contemplation as she tried to work out what exactly Vicky meant. Her words replayed in her mind over and over again, and her eyebrows furrowed as she thought long and hard about it. ‘She has a lot going on, and it would put you to shame if you knew about it’… What could you possibly have been going through that elicited such a defensive response from Vicky, who was hardly one to react in such a way? She thought about trying to get more out of Vicky and do a bit of probing, but she was rooted to the spot.

She glanced over at Vicky, subconsciously gnawing at the inside of her cheek, before she finally took a step towards her. She hesitated for a second, but then she continued, deciding that it was irreversible, now that she had taken the first step. Her expression was softer now, and her forehead was devoid of the irritated wrinkles it previously donned, as she approached the younger girl.

“Vicky,” Alexia spoke, taking purposeful strides towards Vicky. She sank down to the grass beside her, lazily extending her legs outwards and leaning back on her forearms. Vicky looked up, and her face was ever so slightly riddled with worry, but she didn’t protest against Alexia sitting down with her. “What did you mean about (Y/N)? What does she have going on?” the older woman asked, curiosity seeping into her words.

Vicky sighed. She knew this conversation was inevitable, and there was no way she could backtrack on her words, so she just steeled herself for the explanation she had to offer; Alexia was the captain after all, and like Vicky had tried telling you, maybe she could help you out, if she just knew what was happening. Alexia picked up on her expression of resignation, but she stayed silent and waited for Vicky to speak. Something about the tense air that lingered between them told Alexia that this conversation wasn’t a simple one to be having.

“Get comfortable,” Vicky finally responded, tying the laces of her right boot, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I am, because…”

“I hope you’ll help her, Alexia. She needs your help.”

[sillygoofylittleartist]

This one might be kinda hit or miss for a lot of people because I feel I might have made some controversial decisions. I had a few issues with claw noirs design. First the hair, it looks silly and I knew I wanted to change it so I just gave him a longer messier version of his normal hair. I played around with a ton of colors and dye jobs, for a while I had it blonde with green underneath but there was too much green concentrated in one area so I opted to not make it green anywhere. I almost made it black but that felt too far from normal chat so I didn’t go with that though it did look kinda cool . Classic chat noir has a warm golden blonde so I figured a stark platinum would be edgier but a bit closer to his original look. I didn’t like how clunky and awkward the jacket looked so I changed it to a torn up vest.

I wasn’t a big fan of the purple eyes so I made them green again and just made his pupils thinner and sharper. I also gave him some piercings on his cat ears, more silver studs, a lot of green accents, and some large claws to his boots.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 15

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, references to babies, swearing, references to body image issues, swimming and water games

Top Gun, almost 12 years ago

Jake yawned as he sat in front of his locker, his flightsuit half unzipped and his travel mug of coffee cooling on the bench beside him.

He was so. Damn. Tired. Of everything. He was doing the nightshift with the twins so that Buttercup could get some rest, but the top brass wanted him in at 6 a.m. on the dot to run low-light training simulations with the rest of the squad. His parents were constantly on him about taking Buttercup and the twins for a visit and, for a military family, they were having a real tough time understanding that Jake literally didn’t have enough hours in the day as it was. And on top of that…

His head drooped as he remembered what had gone down that morning in the cute little bungalow that he had finally been able to move his family into a mere month before Buttercup had given birth. He had busted his ass for that house, and she wanted to what? Move away for a job she could do from anywhere? When she was barely healed from giving birth and he could deploy again at the drop of a hat?

Jake shook his head. He had to get his head in the game. If he kept replaying the fight in his mind, he’d be useless up in the air. He’d already fucked up the last three simulations they’d flown, and Cyclone had really been up his ass about it. Even Mav had looked at him with disappointment in his eyes.

Jake pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and his fingers gripped his hair, tugging the blond locks tightly. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t who he was. Star quarterback, homecoming king, only aviator with two confirmed air to air kills of his generation. He’d married the perfect woman and had two perfect daughters, so why was everything so. Fucking. Hard?

“Hey man, are you…what the hell’s wrong with you?” Rooster’s voice came from the doorway but Jake couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He couldn’t move his head or his hands. Hell, he couldn’t even control his lungs, which were starting to burn with the speed of his breathing.

“Nothing” is what he tried to say, but all that came out was a garbled groan.

“Whoa, hey…” he felt Rooster take a seat across from him. “Dude, you’ve gotta breathe. Dude? Fuck…” The bench rattled beneath them as Jake flinched away from the gentle hand on his back. “Dude, fucking relax.” Rooster snatched one of his hands and tugged it to his chest, not noticing the blond hairs that ended up tangled in Jake’s clenched fist. Jake would’ve pulled his hand back but didn’t have the energy. He felt like he didn’t have the energy for anything anymore. “Just…try to breathe with me, okay?” Rooster took an exaggerated breath and Jake struggled to follow. “Dude, c’mon. You like to say you’re better at me than everything, but you’re gonna let me be better at breathing? No way. Try again.”

The next breath that Jake took was a little stronger. And so was the one after that. And the one after that, until he stopped shaking and he was able to release his fists and raise his head.

Rooster was staring off to the side and it took Jake a moment too long to realize it was because the older man didn’t want to see him cry. Jake hadn’t even realized he had been crying. Fuck, he hadn’t cried in years. Not even when the girls had been born. He’d wanted to, but he kept the tears at bay until he was in the privacy of his own shower, and everyone knew that shower tears didn’t count.

Jake used the scratchy sleeve of his flightsuit to wipe away the remaining tears before he sniffled, grunted, and sat up. “Thanks, man.” Rooster grunted and shifted on the bench, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “We, uh…we’ve been fighting,” he admitted quietly. “She wants to get a job and she needs more help with the twins, but I’m always needed here, so I don’t know what she wants me to fucking do, y’know?”

Rooster nodded once, eyes firmly on his boots. “You two will figure it out.”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m sure we will. Thanks, Rooster.”

The older man slapped the wood bench beneath him and stood. “Don’t mention it. Now, c’mon. Cyclone wants us on the flight field.”

“I’ll be right there.” His fingers still slightly trembling, Jake zipped up his flightsuit and downed his now cold coffee. “Hey Bradshaw? You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, right?”

“Tell anyone about what?” With that, Rooster pushed open the door to the locker room and disappeared, leaving Jake alone again.

Clifton, Texas, Now

The cold steel of the bleachers bit into Buttercup’s thighs as she chuckled around the mouthful of buttery popcorn she had just shoveled into her mouth, the crowd roaring around her.

Though she was not a football fan, the atmosphere of the high school football game was intoxicating. It seemed like everyone in Clifton had shown up to support the Clifton Cougars in their first pre-season friendly match. And while the keyword was supposed to be friendly, Jake and Javy were both coaching as though it was the last quarter of the Super Bowl and they were down by like 20.

“Let’s go, Cougars!” Abby cheered next to her, her face painted with blue and gold stars to match the school’s official colours.

“Get ‘em, Uncle Javy!” Charlie roared, her own bag of popcorn flying everywhere.

Her daughters’ enthusiasm increased Buttercup’s enjoyment of the game exponentially. While she had watched the Dallas Cowboys play while she and Jake had lived together and supported him when they won or lost, she had always found herself drifting during the televised games. Perhaps what she had needed was her daughters explaining the game to her. Or, she bit her lip, perhaps it was the sight of Jake in the tight white T-shirt and grey joggers that had her eyes hardly straying from the game in front of her.

He was so…passionate. The passion he had always shown for flying was now being shown as he conferred with Javy to call plays and helped bolster the offensive line. Even from her place halfway up the bleachers, she could see the bright stars shining in his eyes as he had a heart to heart with their rookie quarterback, and she could practically hear the warmth in his voice as he clapped the kid on the shoulder before he ran out onto the field.

There were only a few minutes left in the game and, while the Cougars were winning, and while it was only a friendly pre-season match, the hometown crowd was clearly loving the strength of their team. As the team lined up for one final play, Jake leaned in to whisper to Javy, who nodded enthusiastically before Jake turned and beckoned to them in the stands.

Charlie dumped her popcorn on her seat and turned to them eagerly. “C’mon, Mom!”

Buttercup shook her head. “He wants you two,” she smiled softly at her daughter. “You two go, I’ll hold the fort down here.”

Abby pouted at her. “Mum, please?”

“I’m sorry, babe, but there’s no reason your dad would want me down there,” she bit her lip against the sharp pang in her gut. “You two go.”

Abby’s shoulders slumped a bit before Charlie grabbed her arm. “It’s alright, Abs. You’re gonna love this.” Charlie tugged her sister down to the sidelines.

Jake bent down to talk to them briefly before turning back to the bleachers, beckoning to her again. Buttercup felt heat flood her cheeks but she shook her head. Perhaps there was a reason he wanted her down there with their daughters, but the memory of leaning against him on the dark path to the gazebo gave her pause. They had come so close…too close. And yeah, it had felt really good to be that close to him, but it was just nostalgia. They had been in close proximity for almost a week, their muscle memory from a decade ago was clearly kicking in.

From a distance, Buttercup could see Jake roll his eyes before he leaped the fence and started jogging up the steps to the bleachers.

“Buttercup, c’mon!” he called once he reached her row.

Her sigh barely masked her laugh. “Why? Jake, you know I’m not a huge football fan.”

“So? The Cowboys never lost a game when we watched together, so clearly you’re some sort of good luck charm. My boys could really use that luck right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been winning all game.”

“So?” He fixed her with those patented puppy dog eyes. “The girls want you down there and so do I. Please?”

She groaned as she stood. “You know it’s not fair when you use those eyes.”

He grinned back at her. “I know. That’s why I do it.” Tingles of electricity sparked as he took her hand and led her down to the sidelines. Abby and Charlie met her with a hug as she reached them and Javy grinned at her before turning back to the team to give them a pep talk for their final push with 30 seconds left on the clock. “Okay, now just stand there and be lucky,” he winked at her before turning to join the team again.

Before she could blink, the game was over and Javy was scooping Charlie up in his arms, placing her on his shoulders as the team surrounded him. She squealed as Jake wrapped her up in his arms, spinning her around. She grabbed his arm as her feet touched the ground again, using it to steady herself as he grinned down at her.

“See?” he murmured, as close to her as he had been the night of their dinner. “You’re my good luck charm.”

She felt the heat race to her cheeks as he released her, opting to scoop up Abby as he joined the team’s celebration. She watched as her girls bobbed high above the cheering teenagers and grinned. No matter what was going on in her personal life, seeing her daughters so happy was infinitely worth it.

After the game, she found herself tucked into a corner booth at the local diner, tradition dictating that the Seresin family and Company went out for dinner, whether the Cougars won or lost. Bob had picked up a flight from Dallas to London, stating he’d be back in plenty of time to help with the reunion party scheduled for Saturday night. Phoenix had flat out refused to go to the game, and Rooster had opted to spend the night with her, his wink and nod at Jake enough for the man to know that his friend would at best figure out what was going on between Nat and Javy, at worst keep her from burning the place down. But she found herself happy as she sunk down in the booth, laughing as Javy was immediately tugged away by members of the football team, who were holding court over a bunch of tables pushed together.

“Sorry, fellas,” Jake tilted his head towards his girls with a grin and the teenagers immediately bowed away.

“Huh,” Buttercup mused as the teenagers returned to their table.

“What?”

“Nothing. That was just pretty impressive.”

Jake grinned. “They know that when I’m with Charlie, I’m off limits.”

Something fluttered in Buttercup’s chest as the waitress came over to take their orders.

“Just the usual, Mags,” Jake smiled at her as he stretched his arms across the back of the booth, pausing only to ruffle Abby’s hair.

“Me too!” Charlie settled into her mother’s side.

“Me three!” Abby giggled.

Buttercup blinked. “Ummm…” She scrambled for the sticky plastic menu and winced when it stuck to the table.

Jake stilled her struggle with a light hand on her wrist. “How about the chicken Ceasar salad, a side of fries, and a sweet tea?”

Buttercup couldn’t tear her gaze away from his large hand encircling her wrist, heat radiating up her arm at the gentle touch. Her breath caught and her heart rattled around in her chest for a moment before she was able to compose herself. She was being stupid. It was a simple touch between co-parents, and it wasn’t too far out of the realm of ordinary to remember the food preferences of a former loved one. She always found herself remembering his order of a medium rare steak with fried okra and a loaded baked potato, after all.

“Y-yeah,” she attempted a grin and gently pulled the menu off the table as Jake slowly released her. “That sounds perfect.”

Jake smiled and winked at Mags. “How’s Frank doin’, Mags? All better after his surgery?”

Mags blushed under his grin. “Oh, yes, he is. And thank you again, Coach, for sending your boys over to help with the yard work. I don’t know what I would’ve done without all the extra hands.”

Jake waved an easy hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let Javy know they were helpful.” He winked at her again as she scurried off to the kitchen with her notepad.

“Hey girlie!” Javy hollered over from his spot with the team. “Davidson here thinks he can beat your score at Ms. Pacman!”

Charlie practically crawled over her mother and barely caught herself before she went headfirst into the floor from the bench seat. “Oh hell no! C’mon, Abs!” One quick look up at her father, and Abby dove after her sister, both girls giggling as they shouldered the senior running back out of the way.

“Don’t worry,” Jake murmured to her, watching her as she watched their daughters with the rowdy group of teens. “They’ve known her for years and see her as a little sister, and they accepted Abby right into the fold too. They’d be first on the attack if anything happened to either of them. And Javy is right there. He’ll keep things PG-13.”

Buttercup felt her cheeks warm under the weight of his stare. “Sorry,” she sighed. “I guess I’m not used to this small-town living thing. I feel like I can barely take my eyes off her in London. Everyone there is practically a stranger.”

Jake settled deeper into the booth, his long legs kicking out. “Yeah…everyone here either knows each other or knows of each other. Everyone looks out for everyone else. It’s a weird vibe to get used to, but once you do, there’s nothing like it.”

She quietly thanked Mags as she delivered their drinks and took a small sip of her sweet tea before grinning. “I guess I just never pegged you as the type of person to like the Leave It to Beaver lifestyle.”

Jake’s laughter poked at the small flame kindling in her chest, sending sparks flying. She’d missed that sound. Towards the end of them, there hadn’t been much laughter to go around, but his laugh had always been one of her favourite sounds, especially when they first got together. He’d still had so many walls up, preferring to keep his squad mates at an arm’s length, and that included anyone associated with them. He’d been all biting wit and sarcasm, but once he’d lowered his defences, she’d been a goner.

“I guess I didn’t really give off a Mayfield vibe, huh?” he chuckled. “And you’re not wrong. I spent a few summers here with my grandfather, but my head was always in the clouds or in my cockpit, so I never really enjoyed it. But, I don’t know…” he gazed around while sipping his beer. “My grandparents always said there was no better place to raise a kid than here. So, when I retired…I don’t know, I guess I figured here was as good a place as any. And I would have my grandfather to help me raise Charlie, so…it made sense.”

Buttercup nodded thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the old pictures and news articles that had been pinned to the walls. “It must be nice…growing up in a place with so much family history.”

Jake shrugged. “I grew up in Dallas, but I guess it was nice coming here. Everyone I met had some sort of story about my grandparents growing up, or my great-grandparents.”

“And now Charlie gets to hear about her dad growing up, and her great-grandparents, and her great-great-grandparents…” Buttercup sighed heavily. Her eyes jerked up to meet his as his hand landed on top of hers, squeezing lightly.

“What’s wrong, Buttercup?” The kindness and warmth in his eyes almost had her tearing up.

She shrugged, sniffling back those tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes. “I think you were right. Taking the job in London was the wrong decision. I cut us off from all the support we had, and—”

“Hey, now…none of that,” Jake squeezed her hand again and leaned in, so close to her that she could smell the spice of his cologne and the woodsy undertones that were pure Jake. “I was a stubborn, jealous asshole when I said that. You…you were drowning in Miramar, and I was too scared to be willing to see it. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for that.”

Buttercup chewed on her bottom lip as she looked into those green eyes. “That’s the first time you’ve ever told me you were scared,” she whispered.

Jake hung his head and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah…I’m sorry about that too. I should’ve told you; I just didn’t want to add onto everything you were already dealing with. But maybe if I had…”

Buttercup flipped her hand and squeezed his gently, ignoring the shocks that went through her at the contact. “Communication was never our strong suit, was it?” she smiled sadly at him, and he chuckled in response, the sound sad and longing.

“No, I guess it wasn’t. But hey, we’re both older now, right?”

Her smile brightened a bit, even as her heart began to thud overtime. Was he suggesting…? But he couldn’t be. He was fresh off a breakup, and they lived on opposite sides of the world, and their daughters needed a solid unified front if they were going to adapt healthily into this new dynamic. Buttercup schooled her features before grinning at him.

“Yeah. We’re both older now,” her heart did a funny little flip at his smile, and she schooled that too. “We should be able to communicate way better for the girls. We did promise them a better custody arrangement, after all.”

It may have been a flicker of the old fluorescent bulbs overhead, or the shadow of Mags passing out their food falling over his face, but she could have sworn that a frown tugged at the edges of Jake’s mouth at her words. But in a blink, it was gone, and he was whistling for the girls to return to their table to eat.

“As you wish, Buttercup,” he murmured softly as their daughters raced over. “If a better custody arrangement is what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Saturday morning was a rush of activity and preparation for the Dagger’s reunion party. Jake, Javy, Bob, and Rooster had reached out to all their contacts and invited all the Daggers they had managed to contact. By Friday, they had received RSVPs from almost everyone. Penny and Amelia had immediately launched into planning mode, and Payback and Fanboy had enthusiastically agreed, the pair having stuck together since the Daggers had been disbanded. Omaha, Fritz, Halo and Harvard had all emailed back with their disappointed declines, seeing as they were all stationed in classified locations and weren’t due to be back in a few months.Yale said that he would come if he could, but it depended on his girlfriend’s work schedule. Even Cyclone and Hondo said that they would make an appearance if they were able, but Warlock wouldn’t be able to make it.

With such a large crowd, they had all been put on prep duty. Natasha and Bob had cleaned out a few of the empty dude ranch cabins to make space for their guests. Rooster had planned a huge menu of comfort food that they hadn’t really been allowed to eat while they were in the Navy. Jake and Javy had raided the local liquor store and brought back a veritable treasure trove of potent potables. Buttercup, Abby and Charlie had gone decoration shopping and brought back an embarrassing amount of cliche summer decorations, including flamingo floaties, sun-shaped sunglasses, and plastic pineapple cocktail cups. However, nothing truly got done until Penny rolled in with Amelia on Friday night, taking one look at the party supplies that had been strewn around the ranch house and sighing fondly, directing them with military precision.

Finally, after what felt like hours of hanging bunting, blowing up balloons, and cleaning the pool, Buttercup was lounging on a chaise by said pool next to Natasha, the Texan sun beating down on their skin as they laughed at the boys, all crammed in the pool playing an aquatic version of Dogfight Football.

Buttercup sighed contentedly as she sipped her margarita and watched her girls play with Payback’s kids, her eyes catching occasionally on Jake as he tackled Javy into the water.

“...are you even listening to me?” Natasha sighed, pulling her hat further down on her head to shield her scar from the sun.

“Hmm?” Buttercup’s eyes followed Jake as he threw the red foam football down the length of the pool, his muscles rippling as the water lapped at his waist.

“Damn, girl,” Natasha sighed as Payback’s wife, Maryanne, settled into the lounge beside them. “You’ve still got it bad.”

“Fuck off,” Buttercup muttered as she dragged her eyes away from the game. “Charlie, no tackling!” she shouted, as she noticed Charlie sneaking up on Payback’s son, Richard.

Amelia sighed and stood from where she was dangling her feet in the water. “I’ve got ‘em.”

“Amelia, you don’t have to do that…”

Amelia smiled at her and headed over to the grassy hill. “It’ll be good experience, don’t worry.”

Buttercup watched Amelia join the kids, immediately launching into whatever game they were playing with gusto. Shaking her head, she turned her head and noticed both women staring at her. “What?”

“Don’t what me,” Natasha grumbled. “Everyone can see how you two look at each other.”

“There’s no look,” Buttercup sighed.

“Honey, there’s definitely a look,” Maryanne sighed, watching her husband as he dunked Fanboy into the water. “He stares at you like he’ll never get enough.”

“It’s true,” Penny piped up from her spot under the umbrella. “He looks at you the same way he looked at you when you two first started dating. Like the sun rises and sets with you, like you hold the key to all of life’s happiness. Those kinds of looks don’t come around every day, sweetheart.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes and snuggled further down into her chair, determined to ignore her friends. There was no look. She and Jake looked at each other in a completely platonic, non-romantic way. If there was a look, it was the long-suffering look that parents shared with each other when their kids did something ridiculous. She opened her mouth to tell them that, but something smoky and slightly acrid filled her lungs instead.

“Hey, Rooster? Why does it smell like something is burning?”

In an instant, all the heads in the pool snapped to her. Except, it wasn’t Rooster who moved, but Jake. In one smooth move, he heaved himself out of the pool, his biceps flexing and contracting against his body weight as he swung his legs over the side of the pool.

Buttercup’s mouth turned to the Sahara as she blatantly stared at him, her eyes tracing the droplets of water that skimmed down his pecs and abs, blinking as he grabbed a white towel and quickly tousled his hair with it before picking up his tan baseball cap and slinging it over his head backwards, keeping his damp hair out of his eyes. He slung his towel over his shoulders as he strode for the grill, grabbing the tongs and flipping the burgers with practised ease.

“No look, my ass,” Natasha whispered as he passed, snorting at the dazed look on her friend’s face.

“Fuck off…” she murmured, her eyes tracing the rippling lines of his back.

“I thought Rooster was the chef here, Hangman?” Maryanne teased, her eyes watching Buttercup closely.

“Hey, everything else was done by me!” Rooster called, throwing off Fanboy’s overly enthusiastic tackle with ease. “Hangman’s just overly protective of his grill.”

“A man and his grill have a special relationship that nobody else can understand, Bradshaw,” Jake’s grin was filled with light and ease, clearly having no clue the effect he was having on his ex-wife.

“Seems like you have a lot of relationships that nobody else can understand, dude,” Javy waggled his eyebrows at him

“Did you really almost marry a former beauty queen that’s almost half your age, Hangman?” Payback asked, climbing out of the pool and catching the towel his wife threw to him.

“And can I have her number?” Fanboy smirked as he climbed onto one of the pool floaties.

“No,” Jake grimaced as he rolled the hot dogs. “Mickey, you don’t want her number.”

Javy cackled, flipping Fanboy’s floatie before he could flip Jake off. “Isn’t that the exact same thing I told you when we met her and her dad on the golf course?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Maybe. But y’all are acting like I came to my senses at the altar or something. We were barely engaged.”

“You were touring venues, Dad,” Charlie groaned as she flopped onto her towel by her mother’s feet.

“She had the Save the Date cards printed too,” Abby pointed out, sitting on the edge of Natasha’s chair.

Buttercup giggled at Jake’s expression. “They’re not wrong, Jake. You were going to marry that girl.”

Jake turned his eyes to her, and her breath caught at the anything but teasing look in them. If anything, those green eyes were heavy with guilt. Guilt and longing and a look that she recognized but didn’t want to name. Naming it made it real. Naming it made it breakable, and if it broke again, she didn’t know what she would do.

Suddenly, she was desperate to cover herself. What had she been thinking, wearing a bikini in her ex-husband’s backyard? She was too exposed, too much of her left revealed for him to see. Her hand blindly searched for a blanket or a towel or her wrap, anything to keep the heat of his gaze off her before it burned her again.

“Is this any way for a distinguished unit to greet their superior officer?”

Fanboy and Payback jumped to attention, whirling to salute Cyclone and Hondo as they strolled through the open back gate. Phoenix rolled her eyes while Javy and Rooster bestowed him with a one finger salute, and the spell that had hung between Buttercup and Jake broke. He blinked and turned back to his grill, and Buttercup ceased her senseless search for her wrap. She was being stupid. There was nothing between them, so there was no reason to cover herself up. Besides, it had taken her a long time to be proud of her body again, and she would flaunt it if she wanted to.

“Knock it off, Beau,” Penny cooed as she greeted the Admiral with a warm hug. “Everyone should be at ease today.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled softly down at her before reaching out to shake Jake’s hand. “Seresin! Thank you for the invite.”

“Glad you could make it, sir,” Jake responded warmly. “I hope you brought your appetite. We’ve cooked up enough food to feed an army.”

“We’re both starving,” Hondo shook Jake’s hand. “We appreciate the invitation. I know we didn’t part ways on the best of terms.”

Jake shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all water under the bridge.” Jake turned his attention to the grill for a moment before calling out, “Food’s almost ready everyone!”

Bob popped up from his seat under the cabana. “I’ll go get the stuff from inside and bring it out.”

“I’ll come with,” Natasha called, avoided Cyclone’s gaze with a fierce determination.

Jake’s eyes followed Bob as he put out a hand to stop her. “Actually, Phoenix, can you do me a favour and put all the meat in the trays? I’ll give Bob a hand.”

Natasha eyed him skeptically but nodded. “Sure…but if you do anything to piss him off, I’ll break your face.”

“Bold of you to assume that Charlie and Abby wouldn’t beat you to it,” Jake grinned as he followed the former WSO into the kitchen.

His former brother-in-law was standing with his back to him, his strategic mind undoubtedly figuring out the best way to get all the salads, sides, buns, and veggies out without spilling anything.

“You know, if we flip the lids so that they’re flat, we could stack the salads and I could bring them out and you—”

“Whoa, slow down there, Bobby,” Jake chuckled as he moved to stand beside him. “I want to talk to you for a second first.”

Bob’s eyes remained on the table. “What about? You and I don’t really have much of anything to discuss, do we?”

Jake flinched but nodded. “Yeah, alright, I deserve that.”

“You deserve a lot more than that,” Bob huffed. “I told her to stay away from you, and—”

“And I fucked it up,” Jake bit out. “Just like you always knew I would.”

Bob’s eyes finally raised to meet his, and there was a fire in them that Jake hadn’t seen since Natasha had been brought to the medbay, bleeding from her eye and nonresponsive.

“She was sick, Seresin,” Bob hissed under his breath. “She was so sick and you…”

Jake’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he worked to dislodge the words he had been struggling with for years. “I wasn’t around to notice.” Jake sighed even as his heart panged. “I know. I missed half of her pregnancy and then I deployed again when the twins were like three months old. I agreed to deploy again even though I knew she was struggling. And the one thing that seemed to spark her…” Jake shook his head. “I’m not trying to make excuses, Bob, but I was scared. My wife wasn’t herself, I was running on next to no sleep, the brass kept wanting me for training exercises, and the girls were so young and helpless. Everybody needed a piece of me and I couldn’t deal. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, ever since you got here.” Jake took a deep breath and held out his hand. “I wanted to thank you…for taking care of my family when I couldn’t. I know they’re your family too, but since I wasn’t capable…I’m damn glad you were.”

Bob considered his hand for a moment. “I don’t think you weren’t capable,” he muttered after what felt like hours, and he shook Jake’s hand. “I can’t imagine what was going through your mind. You always felt the need to be perfect…you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect in every aspect of your life, and when home wasn’t perfect…” Bob shrugged and released his hand. “You both cracked under the pressure. I’m not saying it was all her fault, because she was really sick, but it takes two to get married. It takes two to get divorced too.”

Jake blinked at him. “Jesus, Bob, you’re like Dr. Phil without the accent.”

Bob scoffed and started flipping the lids on the salad bowls. “And you’re still a dick, just without the flightsuit to justify it.”

Jake laughed and started loading the condiments into a metal tray, feeling lighter than he had in a while.

“They ate everything,” Rooster muttered, gazing down at the empty metal trays and all the empty bowls. “I’m pretty sure Fanboy even ate part of the watermelon rind.”

Jake laughed loudly, clapping his friend on the back. “Why do you sound so surprised? You do remember who we’re dealing with, right?” At that, a loud crash and a screaming chorus of “We’re alright!” rang out from the backyard.

Rooster sighed, hanging his head. “I’m too old to deal with this shit anymore…”

Jake grinned and tossed his head. “Why don’t you go make sure nothing valuable got broken out there? I’ll handle a bit of the clean up in here.” Rooster shot him a look and he rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s my house. My kitchen. Don’t worry, I’m not going to mess up your precious system.”

“Yeah, you’d better not,” Rooster muttered as he strode out the double French doors to the backyard, scooting out of the way to let Buttercup go by with the empty dessert tray.

“They’re a bunch of animals,” she sighed, taking in the mess.

Jake chuckled. “Careful, or you’re going to start sounding like Rooster.”

He started gathering up the metal trays and stuffing them into a recycling bag.

“You’re not cleaning up now, are you? Everyone wants you out there.”

Jake shrugged. “Just a bit. Rooster will have my head on a spike if any bugs get in here because we left the mess for too long.”

“Oh…” Buttercup bit her lip as she looked around, then back to him. She seemed to be steeling herself before she nodded and said, “Let me help you then.”

Jake smiled softly and murmured his thanks before the two of them fell into a bittersweet rhythm together, dodging and weaving around each other as they stacked plates, snagged garbage, and rinsed cups.

“Now, this takes me back,” Jake’s voice was wistful as he began scrubbing down the serving utensils.

Buttercup smiled as she grabbed a ladle from him to dry. “Christmas…New Years…St. Patrick’s Day…”

Jake snorted. “You were the cutest little elf I’ve ever seen.”

Buttercup gasped in mock outrage. “I was a leprechaun, thank you very much.”

“Still adorable,” Jake shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I can’t say the same for you and Santa Claus.”

Jake turned to her, letting the tongs fall into the sink with a dull thud. “What was wrong with my Santa Claus?”

“Other than that you wouldn’t let anybody but me sit on your knee, and you told Rooster and Javy to fuck off when they tried to ask you where the presents were?” Buttercup grinned at him.

“Hey, I was a very jolly old Saint Nick!”

“If by jolly, you mean horny…” Buttercup bit her lip, wincing internally. She hadn’t meant to say that. She really shouldn’t have said that. But there was something about the normalcy of being in his kitchen, cleaning up after a Daggers party. It was warm, it was calming, it was familiar.

A gush of wetness against her bare belly tore her from her thoughts and left her gasping at Jake’s cocky face.

“What?” he smirked. “You’ve been in your bathing suit all day and didn’t get wet. Thought I would help you out with that.”

Buttercup put down the dish she was drying and started winding up her towel. “Now you’ve gone and done it, Hangman,” she glared playfully at him, brandishing the wound towel in his direction before snapping it in the direction of his bare thigh.

“Hey!” he yelped, rounding the island to escape the towel’s sting. Safe behind the island, he grabbed the sink sprayer and aimed it at her, laughing at her squeals as the water rained down on her.

“Get back here, Seresin,” she cried, winding up her fabric weapon again as they began to chase each other around the kitchen. Around and around they went, water from the sprayer and the sink splashing up and towels whipping back and forth until Buttercup’s foot hit a damp patch of tile and slid out from under her.

Wincing, she braced herself for a fall…that never came.

“Easy, darlin’,” a thick arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, steadying her against a sturdy chest. A sturdy bare chest. “You alright?” Green eyes gazed down at her, worry and that touch of something that would remain nameless filling them.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she murmured, one palm braced against his pec.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over her cool bare skin.

“Because you get to play hero?” she murmured, feeling his heart begin to beat harder and faster as she leaned against the counter, and he caged her in between his arms. They both knew she could easily escape, and just as easily tell him to back up, but she didn’t.

“Because I get to hold you again,” he admitted softly, his nose grazing hers for all of a nanosecond.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the heat of him press closer to her. “Jake…”

A low groan vibrated in his chest. “Tell me to stop…tell me we can’t…”

“I…” her breath shook. She knew they shouldn’t. Their situation was messy enough as it was. Not to mention he was fresh off a broken engagement. And, if this fell apart again, the girls would be devastated. She would be devastated. She couldn’t open herself up to him again…and yet, she also didn’t have the strength to say no to him. “I—”

“Hey, Seresin, I—oh!” Cyclone hesitated in the doorway. “Sorry, I’ll just…”

“It’s fine, Admiral,” Jake sighed, knowing the mood had been shattered. “What can I do for you?” His skin felt cold as Buttercup slipped under his arm and went back to drying the dishes.

“Well, there were rumours floating around that you were planning on joining us again, putting those skills of yours to good use in a few years. I was wondering if there was any merit to that?” Jake gulped as he sensed Buttercup going taut behind him, but Cyclone continued. “I was playing golf a few weeks ago with General Beaumont and he mentioned that you might want back in. Tell me the old man wasn’t just pulling my leg, Seresin. We need an Ace like you back on duty.” The clatter of metal against metal caught Cyclone’s attention, and he stopped, seeming to finally realize the tension that had clogged the air. “I should go see what Hondo got up to,” he bowed out with a slight frown in Jake’s direction before clicking the doors closed behind him.

“Buttercup…” Jake turned to see her tense back and bowed shoulders leaning against the sink.

“You want to go back?”

Jake’s eyelids fluttered closed. Shit.

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[whoishotteranimepolls]

Poll analysis part 5

This one isn't so much related to fandom behavior. Overall, it's more about how certain characters or apparently where some people draw the line enough to have made a fuss in the comments or my inbox. I find it interesting where the standards are for some people and I mean I just drew the line at no sentient weapons or mechs

And when I say cause a fuss that would mean causing crap in the comments to messaging me asking me to ban characters or entire franchises because they're problematic for various reasons which I will get into. To flat out harassment of me for allowing these characters in my polls and the people who voted for whatever character they have a problem. It's the full spectrum of bad behavior. This is going to get weird

Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi why is she the only character people are causing crap about for being 17? I have gotten so many messages about this one character. No one gives a crap about the other underage characters apparently, but the 17 year old cat girl is too much. And again, I think I would have gotten at least one message about one of the 15-year-olds but no just the underage cat girl. I am so confused why this is the line for so many people. When I say she has been a problem, she has been in two polls and she has been the source of 7 polite messages. 12 not nice messages full on harassing messages. Calling me a disgusting pervert for even allowing her in my polls. 11 comments that had to be deleted 12 tags/Reblogs that had to be hidden. All because they said something like she's 17 you perverts. I have set a new record for the amount of people I've had to block over a single character and she's been in two polls. I didn't get this much crap over the character that looked 12.

Kikuri Hiroi from Bocchi the Rock! My original problem character because of her Moe art style she looks 12. Even though she's 28, I've resorted to just putting her age in the post to avoid the things turning into a dumpster fire after that first poll.

Uncle Iroh was a character. I did not expect to cause issues because everyone loves Uncle iroh. Apparently some people find it weird that some people find him hot. Because multiple people have made a fuss in comments or in my inbox about how it's gross or weird to find him hot because he's a grandpa. Ironically, one of the people making a fuss about iroh really has a crush on Silvers Rayleigh the irony in that is hilarious.

Toji Fushiguro I've gotten a few messages about him saying he should be banned because he's a crappy father. A terrible person and anyone who finds him attractive should seek psychiatric help. People he's a villain calm down This is Tumblr. I feel like people have forgotten Loki mania where he was considered the god of Tumblr. I think Tumblr has a thing for villains. Look at the persistence longevity of the Hannibal fandom. So please calm down people it's still not a justifiable reason to ban a character from my polls.

Dracula from Castlevania because genocide and sexism once again I'm sorry people sometimes find villains hot. I'm confused about the sexism part. I think it's because of the way he treated Carmilla, But I'm still confused because that man loved his wife

Franken Stein from Soul Eater. I've gotten a message that he should be banned because he's a groomer. I watched Soul Eater and I'm also confused about this one. If any Soul Eater fans can anyone help me? I'm again so confused about this one. If anyone from Soul Eater should be banned for bad behavior, it is not Stein

Gojo, is a little bit of a headache character for me for the thousands of comments I've seen calling him the Blue-Eyed demon seriously Tumblr what has this man done to you? How did he hurt you? He is also a character I have had people message me asking me to ban because apparently he's racist. I'm so confused.

And to build upon this, someone sent an entire list of characters that should be banned because they have blonde hair and blue eyes because if they win that reinforces white centric colonial beauty standards I should have screenshotted that message. These polls are done for stupid fun and I don't think they are going to reinforce colonialism. In fact, many of you have told me they're going to kill the British monarchy and I think that's the opposite of reinforcing colonialism. That list is too long to post in its entirety here. Remember I said this was going to be a little weird.

Someone actually messaged me saying I should not put Victor from Yuri on Ice in future polls because he is not a good representation of the lgbtq+ community

I've also received similar messages about Grell Sutcliff and Yamato for the trans community

Dungeon Meshi You think would be free of criticism because it's so loved however Laios Touden should be banned because he's blonde with blue eyes and a bad representation of people with autism. I wish I was making this up. Marcelle and Falin are not safe either because some people have it out for blondes and they are also not good representation of the LGBTQ+ community

A bunch of Fullmetal Alchemist characters should be banned including Mustang, Hawkeye, Ed, Alphonse, Armstrong, Hughes basically everyone but Scar. Because those characters perpetrate and promote genocide, racism, ethnic cleansing, imperialism, the military industrial complex, colonialism, fascism, sexism, misogyny, and white supremacy. I honestly think someone missed the entire point of the show but that's just me.

Someone wants the entire Apothecary Diaries franchise banned because it's sexist, misogynistic and a poor representation of Chinese culture.

And basically any villain or abusive parent. Someone has complained about or pushed to get banned because it makes them uncomfortable. Because God forbid characters have flaws

So many One Piece characters are problematic just for being One Piece characters not for anything they've done in the story or their character arc or anything like that. It's really because I have a group of people that think I should ban the entire franchise from my polls because the one piece art style is misogynistic. Oh boy. I should have screenshotted some of the essays I received in my inbox. Some of you need to take a chill pill because if I get another essay about one piece being misogynistic because of the art style, I'm going to shame you by posting that crab publicly. Because I will admit the art style is not for everyone, but especially when it comes to the female characters. But those female characters are some of the best written you will find in all of Shonen anime. Plus if we really want to start banning anime franchises for being misogynistic, It's going to be a bloodbath. Because if One Piece is misogynistic for the art style, Naruto is misogynistic for the writing. And I could probably find something misogynistic about most Shonen anime. So again let's not even go there.

The only justifiable reason I would ever ban a character is if the fandom becomes so toxic it's no longer worth it for me to put up with the drama. Now all the blogs I have had to block have been dedicated to one of two things. Naruto or Dungeon Meshi. One of those fandoms I already refer to as my problem child fandom and the other one I hate to say is quickly becoming its twin.

So can we all just agree to calm down because if I banned everything someone had an issue with because it's sexist, misogynistic, racist, etc. There would be no characters left. So let's calm down everyone and please keep the complaints and the tantrums to a minimum. I am a fellow fan that runs this blog for fun and I'm very tired of this crap.

[sammylkcho]

"Deeper, sinking, ever frowning" P1- ?

You had to cover two coworkers' shifts in the afternoon due to a "family emergency" that both of them had at the same time—quite the coincidence. You accepted covering their shifts without any issue because you didn't want to argue over the cheap excuse they were using, not to mention you already had enough of your own problems. So, your shift that was supposed to end at 4 p.m. stretched until around 8:45 after covering both shifts.

When you finished packing up your things and saying goodbye to your night-shift coworkers, wishing them a good evening, you decided to walk home. It was only four blocks, and you'd be there in no time. You were eager to get home since you and your fiancé had agreed to make some delicious cheese empanadas when you got off work, meaning you'd have to apologize for being late.

While imagining the dramatic little scolding Sebastian would give you when you arrived, a small smile played on your lips as you twisted the silver ring on your finger back and forth.

You couldn’t wait for the big day. You already had a bunch of ideas to share with the wedding planner.

Only two more blocks to go before you reached your home, and just thinking about the empanadas was making your mouth water. Sebastian had passed on his love for them to you.

You were about to pull out your phone from your pocket to text Sebastian that you were almost home when the flashing red and blue lights stopped you in your tracks.

You were already there. You didn’t have any blocks left to go.

You blinked several times to realize that police tape was surrounding much of the street, along with three police cars parked right in front of your house.

This must be a mistake, right? Maybe there had been some kind of disturbance on the street or at a neighbor’s house, and they wanted to see if anyone knew anything.

It had to be that.

With shaky steps, you approached the police cordon, only for one of the officers to roughly grab your shoulder, causing you to stumble awkwardly over your own feet.

"Excuse me, do you live here?" asked a blond-haired officer, holding a small notepad in his left hand.

You looked him up and down for a few seconds before nodding, your head lowered, unsure of what was going on.

"Yes, I live here with my fiancé. Has something happened?"

The word "fiancé" left a sweet taste in your mouth, but you brushed it aside for the moment to focus on what was happening and to find out with more certainty why they seemed to be investigating your house.

When you lifted your head, you noticed the officer rubbing his nose in frustration, as if irritated by something in particular.

The seconds dragged on, feeling longer with each passing moment. The silence was maddening. You had no idea what was going on, and that was frustrating. Was Sebastian even aware of this? Where was he, anyway?

"You see... There was a murder of about nine people recently, and the killer wasn't found at the scene. Now," the officer paused, tapping the small notepad with his index finger, seemingly trying to find the right words. "it seems that your fiancé, Sebastian Solace, was the perpetrator of those murders."

"Excuse me, but that has to be a mistake." you said, your body going rigid as you listened to the officer from start to finish.

You felt as if you were on autopilot, no longer fully aware of your surroundings after hearing his words. The world seemed to stop for a long fraction of a second as you tried to process what you'd just been told.

The situation felt unreal, like a bad dream you were having because you’d fallen asleep at the counter during one of your breaks.

Sebastian could never have done something so horrible, let alone murdered nine innocent people. He would never do something like that.

The Sebastian you knew was the most loving, caring, and playful person you'd ever met. He was both your best friend and your future husband. He’d been with you through every difficult moment. He was the little and big brother who liked to annoy his two siblings, reluctantly helping his younger brother with his homework when he came over, and buying little gifts for his older sister, things they used to do together when they were younger. He was the best son, always there for his mom, even if they argued over some silly thing. He always apologized to her for being an idiot.

Sebastian Solace wasn’t capable of something like this.

You forced yourself to snap back to reality when the thought of finding Sebastian crossed your mind.

If the police had been here for a while now, they must’ve found him already, right? They wouldn’t have taken him away to the station or somewhere worse by now.

Court would be too soon of a step, and you hoped they hadn’t taken him there yet.

"Miss, I ask you once again to come with me for questioning—" The officer’s words fell on deaf ears as you rushed past him, your eyes scanning for any sign of Sebastian.

Your gaze darted back and forth as you tried not to trip over your own feet, your body trembling more and more from the anxiety eating away at you.

When your eyes landed on a particular police car, with about four officers surrounding it, you got the idea that someone might be inside.

You hurried over, faster than before, not caring about what might happen next.

You felt a brush against your shoulder, like you’d bumped into someone, but you paid it no mind and got as close as you could to the car’s tinted windows. It was hard to see inside, but when you squinted, you made out a figure handcuffed in the middle of the back seat. Blue eyes met yours for a split second before you were abruptly shoved back.

A policewoman had pushed you, gripping both your shoulders to face you.

The only thing you noticed was her lips moving quickly and firmly, as if she was reprimanding you for something. But you didn’t bother to process her words, nor her appearance—your mind wasn’t on your side at that moment, nor was it focusing on reality.

You were only thinking of those blue eyes you had seen for a fleeting moment but had known almost all your life.

They’d already arrested him. Had they even given him a chance to explain or defend himself? Once again, the situation felt too surreal.

You wanted to do something, anything, but you didn’t feel strong enough.

You had to do something—you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.

[ladythornofrivia]

MY SCAVENGER || Kylo Ren!Aemond x Rey!Reader

a/n: i’ve been thinking about what one-shot I should do next. Though I’m currently writing Saltburn fanfic, I love Star Wars. Even Reylo! Have fun reading! (Some dialogue in the beginning doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the movie.)

warnings: interrogation, torture kink, lust at first sight, breeding kink, p in v sex, fight scene, violence, aemond has issues, loss of virginity, aemond is a d*ck, kink size, obsessive aemond, dom/sub, aemond not only uses the power of force on reader but also with his d*ck. Bl*wjob, degradation kink, creampie

pair: aemond x reader

Somewhere in the galaxy far away, the leader of the First Order, Aemond Targaryen, was hunting for the map that’ll lead him to Daemon Targaryen, the last Jedi ever existed. Or so he believed.

While Aemond knew the legends of his uncle and his journey as a Jedi warrior, but those who commanded under Aemond’s order and leadership, not a soul in a galaxy believed Daemon ever existed, not in the history textbooks or screens. The stormtroopers only meant to serve their skilled leader.

As young as he was, Aemond Targaryen is known for his cold and calculating nature. He kept his helmet on, under any circumstances, and wields a red lightsaber. Tall and lethal, no one really knew what he looked like—it left to the imagination far and wide, leading his troops picturing of his appearance. Aemond wouldn’t dare make his troops or his other commanding officers enter his private quarters.

In the galaxy, everyone feared him.

Until you.

A nobody living in the stories of galaxy.

Hunting for scraps and leftovers for the sake of small profit to keep on living. Finding rare scraps in Jakku, was meddlesome. A nightmare. Filled in stacks of desert sand and humid waves lingered and pierced your skin.

Deserted land has been your home. And in your home, inside the AT-AT Walker, after you scratch another tally mark on the metallic wall, you cooked a loaf of bread and fried vegetables and scraps of thin meat. You wondered when your life will begin anew with reborn purpose. A nobody, in the galactic space, hoped your family would return.

You hoped that your life isn’t meaningless.

Jakku has been destroyed; in chaos, you’re forced to leave—of taking refuge, but more companions in your journey agreed that Jakku is nothing but a junkyard, and there you met a legendary shooter and a Wookie Warrior. But the plans failed.

For Aemond Targaryen spotted the map to Daemon Tarygaryen’s location. But the expectant acquirance wasn’t the astromech, droid BB8, rather, something far more interesting.

Aemond captured you—after minutes of chase and defense in the thickened forest. “Bring the girl,” he ordered, as your body fell to unconsciousness by the force, as he carried you and fled away with his ship, brought you to the First Order base, entrapped in metal straps as soon as you woke up.

Luminous lights and thick air provoked your tightened lungs to breath and your skin had broken a perspiration.

The doors opened, unveiling a tall, dark figure between the gaps of archway. Stomping on his shoes echoed until became nothing.

“Where are the others?” you asked, rasping, eyes hazed.

“You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves and cravens you call friends,” he said, taunting, his voice was nearly a merry. “You’ll be in such a relief that I have no clue to where they are.”

The reflection of his mask stared back at you. “You still want to murder me—challenge me,” he assumed.

“Well, that’s what happens if you’ve been chased and captured by the monstrous creature in a mask,” you snapped, low voice laced with venom.

His mask has taken off, long silk strands of silver-blond hair flowed over his chest, as the violet eye and the substitution of his sapphire gleamed at you. For a second, you never thought that your captor is skilled fighter, but it’s also young—young and handsome. His milky skin aglow, a good correlation to his deep stone wedged on the empty socket of his amputated eye, lined with scar that is faded. Outline of his jaw sharpened, shadowed as he strode closer to you.

Thundered, his mask dropped at a nearby stand, the grey sand flew and dissipated as his lithe frame inched closer.

“The droid,” he said, almost frantic. “Tell me about the droid. I know the droid has the map to Daemon Targaryen. Ever heard of him?”

Looking at his eye, you shook your head, “Never heard of him,” you answered, the illuminated lights flashed over your eyelids each time you blinked.

Aemond inched his face closer. “Your heart beat is pounding awfully loud.”

“Must be the heat,” you retorted.

He chuckled. “What a clever liar you are. But not clever enough. Now, tell me about the droid.”

“He’s a BB Unit with a Selenium Drive with a Thermal Hyperscan Vindicator.”

“It’s carrying a navigational chart, which the droid possesses the map.” His head tilted. “You, a scavenger, living on Jakku—a deserted planet with nothing to offer.” His face leaned closer. “You know I can take what I want.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking at his smooth pink-colored lips.

“My,” he said, licking his lower lip. “It appears you have some sort of interest in me, showed no signs of fear.”

You looked away, face reddened from the strict heat in the room and the huskiness in his voice. His hand outreached to your side temple, though no contact. You felt the Force strengthened and battled against the mobility of your system.

“You’re lonely. Alone and desperate. Waiting for someone to show up and rescue you. Waiting for someone to lead you out from the land, from the galaxy and into the great land with trees and life. I can sense the anger…not only that…something far more…delicate…in the matter based on your compromising position,” he cooed.

You resisted, of course, but your energy drained quicker.

His body leaned back, taking a good look of your exasperated form. “Tell you what, I’ll release you, but only if you can give something to me, in one condition.”

You (e/c) locked onto his. “And what would that be?”

Only the corners of Aemond’s lips curled.

“Please, no,” you begged, wrists tied up behind your back while Aemond was sitting on a spare chair, his thick and lithe legs spread wide while you’re in between them, knees already hurting.

“Shhh, trust me, my little scavenger,” he cooed again, his gloved hand flattened behind your head and dragged it downward. “So, are you going to be my good woman, or do I have show you the force again?”

Gulping, you succumbed at his voice. Maybe another way of his “force”.

“Good woman,” he praised, and unzipped his black trousers, his long and thick cock sprung out it nearly hit your cheek below the eye. “Sorry, darling, my cock couldn’t help but to view at the sight of you,” he said, smirking, tugging your locks, hauling you closer to his engorged tip, leaking. Your lips opened, taken his length in, choking. It felt as if your eating a whole uncut rod—or a thicker lightsaber. “All trapped underneath me, my power. The force within can’t abide much later.”

Gagging proceeded in your throat, but you took his length in precarious and fervent care.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his other hand flicked, the force brought your head down further to the end of his swollen cock, his large balls. “Argh! That’s…it.”

It was impressive for him to not only deal with a woman with capable resistance, but also has a coy nature she has been hiding—a tease.

The force no longer hostage you; your mouth watered as you took his cock well, swallowing the taste of his flesh, his warm flesh. Oh, how delightful. You never dealt a Jedi or a commander to have desirable or naughty urges. But you figured that even the force cannot contain beastly urges of a man. Aemond was one. But, has he ever been a woman before you? Jealousy pitted down on your heated belly, flickering.

It felt so wrong, but, your heart was aching for him, despite “meeting” under the matters of selfish urgency and a brink of death.

Aemond sighed, his silver-blond locks befallen on his broad and lean backside, his throat bobbed, heaving and sighing at your warm and slick mouth.

“Your thoughts are troubling you again,” he said. “No, I have never been with a woman.”

You doubted. Tortured at the thought of a previous woman, a torture where a previous woman might do better than you—an inexperienced scavenger.

“I never lie,” he said. His index finger flicked, and the hair ties on your head casted, your longish locks flowed, nesrly covering up your breast. “In fact, I never did.”

Semen spurted in your slippery mouth.

“Take it all in, darling,” he encouraged, hearing your throat quenched its thirst, smothered in his slick and spurt of his thick semen.

The room became hotter as Aemond strapped your wrists above your head onto the prison bed.

“Stay still, woman,” he grunted, his lips inched downward to yours, seeing if the pace of his breath matched with yours.

Your chest steadied from a grasping breath you tried to behold with gentleness. Aemond sensed it, too.

“You’re steady…Good.” And plunged his suppled lips to yours, caging your soft ragged breaths, playing your tongue with his, heavy sighs played out in the air, his palm snuck in your cloth, smooth fingertips tracing the lines of your stomach, the soft steep of ribcage.

“With you under my protection, nothing can go wrong, little scavenger,” he said, his tucked hand withdrew, and flicked a sharp movement, and your clothes shred and tossed across the room under his Force.

Gasping, Aemond silenced your lips again under a deep passion. A sheer underwear tucked your maidenhood. Frustrated, Aemond snatched and ripped in one swoop, his cock engorged twice, hardened, his throat dried and croaked at the sight of your flawless beauty, picturing the lines of stretch marks on your lower belly from the swollen pregnancy. Aemond thought beforehand that if the First Order has been under siege, in one way to promote a difficult position that couldn’t diffuse, he needed an heir, an heir of a stronger, faster and more calculating version of himself.

“Hold on, scavenger, I’m sure this will be painful for you, but you’ll grow to love the feeling of my cock, grinding inside your walls. How do you feel now, little woman? Are you willing to give an heir for me?”

You gasped. There was so much life ahead of you. Unsure of his words, you were sure he’s crazy to know that one, obtaining pregnancy is scandalous—especially if a father is a notorious leader. He could be killed, and could be tortured or his enemies will use you and the child to proceed their victory to reach Aemond.

Gulping and vibrating under him, you uttered. “Why me?”

Your heart is torn in half. What if Aemond is only using you as a spare time hobby? What if he’ll soon find a lover who’s more beautiful and mature and not childlike like you, and for you to be thrown in the dark and be forgotten? Numerous possibilities rushing in your mind—and halted—when Aemond said, “I won’t betray you. Betraying is the enemy’s job.”

“But you’re the enemy,” you remarked.

“In this room, you’ll only see the real me, as the real Aemond, a beast hidden in a skin of a man,” he murmured. “I must have you,” he grunted, pushing his cock into your constricted folds, pumping and sliding in a tremendous pace that the bed rocked.

Moans ascended in the roofs, Aemond’s quiet grunts entered through your ears. Your legs wrapped around his slender waist, bobbing as his powerful thrusts electrified your drenched walls.

Your eyes lulled, but Aemond grasped your face and aligned it to his, violet eye narrowed. “Look at me as I fuck you good—heavy and fast. Your belly will soon swell with a future Jedi, a more powerful warrior than any good-for-nothing troops in the galaxy.”

His legs ached as his one hand untied the knot on your wrist and hauled your body up for you to snuggle him, bed rocking continuously as your voice rasped, airily sighing with your eyes closed, almost seeing pink stars swirling in your closed lids, your mouth sucked Aemond’s neck, offered a low hiss through his teeth.

“That’s it, my good angel,” Aemond purred,the flat of his large hands enveloped and motioned against your naked back. The heat in the room faded, the coldness bumped into your bare flesh; the air condition is activated, encouraged your warm bodies to go at full speed.

“Aemond,” you moaned, head threw back.

Aemond’s pace became sloppy, staggered at you calling his name. “Say it again, my darling scavenger. Say my name.”

“Aemond…Aemond,” your hips gyrated, in pleasurable heat.

His lips curved. “I knew you would love it eventually.”

“Need you to come…inside me..in me…on me…in my mouth or face. Fuck me good,” you begged, corner of your lips salivating, tongue buds prickling, in hopes to taste his cock again.

But you missed the part where Aemond’s eye gleamed in darkened shade, in secret thrill.

Grabbing your hips, nails deepened and bruised your flesh and bones as his thrusts shoved harder, sending your voice wailing through the roof. You were sure that the Stormtroopers would stop and listen over your voice. Aemond couldn’t care less; he loved seeing you like this.

“Almost there, my scavenger,” he groaned, kissing your cheek, last few rounds set in; your arms slightly flailed yet gripped around his neck, face nuzzled onto his lean neck as he blasted hot white liquid inside you.

Kissing on several spots on your face, Aemond tugged your body down with him, with your side profile pressed against his chest, his hand rested on your back head while the other brushed your back.

“The child will soon grow into you,” he reminded.

“What about the droid?” you asked, puzzled.

Aemond scoffed. “Forget about that damn droid. It is you who I am enamored to, who I am now devoted to.”

“Is this the power of force?”

“No, this is my love yearning for someone—for you, my sweet,” he said. “The force is neither the army nor the galaxy. The force is within us, and only us can gather. The force can sometimes break us.”

“You didn’t break me,” you noted, admiring his sapphire eye.

Aemond smiled. “No, but you tamed the force within me.”

And you both shared a tender kiss under dimmed light.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @liannafae

[asnowperson]

An essay on the theme of children-parent relationships in Hagio Moto's works by Murakami Tomohiko

For years, I avoided reading the essays that were included at the end of bunkoban volumes. Reading Japanese prose felt like a chore to me, to be honest. A too high of a hurdle. And most of the time, the contents went over my head.

That being said, since I started reading them, I've come across some pretty interesting ones. The analysis written by Murakami Tomohiko, manga critic, at the end of Mesh's vol. 3 (Hakusensha Bunko, 1994) was particularly interesting for me. So, I tried my hand at translating butchering it. The author compares the boys in Hagio's manga and their family issues. You can find it below the cut.

If anyone wants to read the original, I can send pics/scans!

Province of children 

Murakami Tomohiko  (Manga critic) 

For a child, what does it feel like to be neglected by their parents? 

Mesh is the protagonist of this story. His mother, elopes with a man when he was young. His father, doubting whether he’s Mesh’s real father or not, drives him away from himself, and places him in a boarding school in the faraway Switzerland. For 12 years of his life, he believes that his mother abandoned him, and his father hates him. It’s not hard to imagine how deep the scars such feelings left in Mesh’s heart are.  

Mesh’s mother gave him a girl’s name, “Françoise-Marie.” We do not know if she wanted to have a daughter that bad, but as Mesh was separated from his mother when he was 2, he never knew the truth. But how much of a deciding factor that name became for him, and how it kept bearing heavy on him in his later years, are beyond any doubt.

When Mesh was 12, silver locks started to appear on both sides of his blond hair. After seeing a proof of genetics at work, his father finally recognized him as his own son. But that wasn’t the salvation the he was looking for. When his father shifted the blame on Mesh’s mother’s licentious behavior  for doubting his paternity, a new wound was opened on the young boy's heart.  

“I won’t say that my mother was a saint. But for a child who lives in a dormitory... a mother something that he needs.” 

Thus, in chapter 1, "Mesh,” our protagonist runs away from his paternal home. He is picked up from the streets of Paris by Millon, a young art forger. In the final chapter, “Sure Love and  Real Death,” he is reunited with his mother, now living in her homeland of Lorraine. She is mentally instable and still running after the image of her "daughter" who never existed. Mesh is an abandoned child who hates his father so much that he wants to kill him, and who is struggling to break free from her mother’s chains. This manga chronicles his story of breaking free from his parents.  

Children discarded by their parents. Children separated from their parents. Such children fumbling their way in their quest to find their personal salvation had been recurring motif in Hagio Moto’s works before Mesh. It is also is the principal theme of this work.

If we look back, in "Bianca (ビアンカ)," she drew a girl who danced away the stress the divorce of her parents caused in a forest. In “Girl on Porch with Puppy (ポーチで少女が小犬と),” she shows us another girl who sees the world through rose-colored glasses. Grown-ups who lost their dreams point their fingers at her, and shoot her with death rays. Or take Emil Bruckhardt from “Snow Child (雪の子).”  He was taken in by his grandfather after his parents’ death, who anly accepted for taking the child in if it was a "boy." 12 years of Emil's life was spent by his side, pretending to be a boy. Young Tim from “Poor Mama (かわいそうなママ)” pushes his mother out of the window. He could no longer bear witnessing her misery, as she spent her days sitting at the window sill, gazing off in the distance, and sighing. The free-spirited and brave Eru of the Nobe family in “Red-haired Cousin (赤ッ毛のいとこ)" shows no sign that would make you think that she is an orphan.  

They were all children torn apart from their parents.They had to find somewhere to belong, and find it themselves.  

The Poe Clan has two boys who were taken away from their biological human parents and turned into vampires, destined to live until eternity. If we think about under the same light, we can say it's their story of trying their hardest to create a pseudo-family for themselves time and time again on their endless journey. The beautiful Poe instalment, "Birds’ Nest (小鳥の巣)," and works like "Heart of Thoma (トーマの心臓)" that followed it, all take place in worlds that have nothing but boys torn apart from their families. It is no coincidence that dormitories were chosen as their settings.  

Mesh was published in Shogakukan’s Petit Flower magazine between the 1980 summer issue and 1984 June issue. Mesh was preceded by "The Visitor (訪問者)" in the 1980 Spring issue.  

In "The Visitor," we follow a central character from "The Heart of Thomas," Oskar Reiser, during his childhood, before he starts to live at the dormitory. Its main theme is directly connected to that of Mesh. Young Oskar’s parents quarrel over his birth. One day, a single gunshot steals that little boy’s mother from him forever. The one who fired the shot was his father. The boy covers up for his father, and the two set out on journey with no destination. However, Oskar’s father leaves him at the school, of which the principal is an old friend of his and Oskar's real father, and leaves for Southern America alone.  

Oskar kept yearning for his father, the father who stole his mother away from him, without begrudging him. He did so, because he had nothing else in life to cling onto. As his father and mother argued about his paternity, the child lost that household as the place he belonged. Young Oskar’s only wish was to be forgiven by his parents, and to believe that he would be acknowledged as the son of that family. To make his wish come true, to beg for his father’s forgiveness, Oskar covers up for his father, the murderer of his mother, and sticks even closer to him.

Our protagonist Mesh is a direct continuation of the image of boyhood we see in  "The Visitor"s Oskar Reiser. This link continues until Hagio’s current serialization, "A Cruel God Reigns", and shapes the main plot of her stories. “Children abandoned by their parents” has been present as a principal theme since Hagio Moto's early works. The turning point which made this theme even deeper, might be just this period that connects "The Visitor" to "Mesh."

How did Mesh rationalize his mother giving him a girl’s name? He mostly introduces himself using his alias, “Mesh,” to new acquaintances, and he is very adamant about it. Those who are unaware of the circumstances are left perplexed by that name, and mistake Mesh for a girl. He seems to find that amusing deep down. He crossdresses and appears on stage, and he is approached by homosexual men. Both makes him feel uncomfortable. Yet, he doesn’t seem to have a the willpower to resist.

Actually, I have also experienced something similar. So I believe I understand how Mesh feels a little.  

When I was roughly Mesh’s age, I was a child who liked to act like a girl. In high school, I put a tablecloth on my desk in class, made flower arrangements with artificial flowers in an empty wine bottle instead of a proper vase, and listened to lectures while holding a stuffed doll. Mine was quite a free-minded school, and it was an age when all kinds of rebellious acts were "in." But still, when I think back upon it, what I did seems outrageous to me. Maybe I was just too eccentric, which is why my teachers never said anything to me.  

I was jealous of my mother’s colorful outfits. I often borrowed and wore them. Her sleek green trench coat and tank top with pink and white borders from Kamoi Youko’s underwear brand, Tunic, were my favorites. I once even made a dress for myself. I chose the fabric with my girlfriend, did the basting at her place, and she sewed it for me. She tagged along because she found it to be fun, but I’m certain that she was weirded out.  

I am still a sucker for stationary and fancy items girls would like. If I go to Sony Plaza or American Pharmacy, I am confident that I can spend half a day there. There aren’t many fathers who would go to buy picture books and plushies for their kid, but get carried out and just buy whatever they want. 

Putting it like that makes me sound like a man with perverse hobbies, but sadly, I am not such inclined. I have never felt attracted to men, and never have I ever wanted to be a woman. My interest in crossdressing had something different in it. But I am interested in feminine, rather, “girlish” things, but it only means that I am slightly different than your average, common man.  

That being said, my mother’s influence on me cannot be ignored. When I finished my dress, it was her who was the happiest and told me to wear it and take a little tour outside. During my freshman year in university, she was the one who lamented the most when I cut my hair that was reaching my butt, and made a hairpiece with my hair for me. When I was in grade school, I once trimmed my eyelashes with a pair of scissors because they were getting in the way when I was using the microscope. I remember her being frustrated to the point of bursting into tears, and getting so angry with me.  

I believe it was my mother who slowly created my very particular aesthetic sense by praising things like long eyelashes, lustrous, straight hair, a slender physique which becomes female school uniforms. All things that would be the charm points of budding young girls, and she did it at every chance. I am an only child, and have no siblings. When I was a child, my mother once asked me if I wanted to have little brothers or sisters. I told her that I would like to have an older brother, which seemed to perplex her. Maybe my mother wanted to have a daughter. She could be looking for the shadow of the daughter she never had in me.  

I don’t really know the truth of it. Maybe she just said that I looked like a girl just to express how cute her son was, without putting much thought into it. But the words she said, words I have no recollection of, very likely had a huge impact on me and awakened something deep inside my soul. My personal preferences took shape around that idea, and before I knew it, it seeped into my entire being.  

My mother was a beautician, and was often away from home on business. After she opened her own store, she was always busy with work. But that was all there was to it, and it was not like she had left me, or we were separated by death.  And it never became a reason for my parents to hurt or to oppress me. I can say that overall, I grew up in a your rather ordinary, warm household. I still started to shape my very own personality, alongside the one my parents took part in creating. Then how about a child who feels hated, or abandoned by his parents? How would he feel? To heal the wounds he got from his parents and to ail himself, would he acknowledge it all, and accept everything? Or would complete denial be his only choice? 

That's why Mesh wanted to kill his father and break free from his mother’s curse. While he wanted to be freed from his mother’s desire to have a daughter, in some corner of his mind, he was curious about what would happen if he complied. Maybe that’s what made him stand on the stage as a woman, and occasionally enjoy being photographed as one. Maybe that’s why he sometimes shut up and endured it when men treated him like a girl.  

Maybe fulfilling his mother’s wish meant securing a place in her heart for him. It might have been a self-defense mechanism — a feeling that only children abandoned by their parents know. That’s why when he faced her, and saw that his mentally ailing mother would never accept him, a boy, Mesh said: “Just what does Marché want? How can I get close to what she wants? What should I become? Marché’s dreams, and my dreams... If only I knew...” 

“A thousand pairs of scissors. Scissors that cut and mince. I could have become a flower, a bird, a daughter... I could have become anything you wanted. I could have died a thousand deaths if you wished for it.” 

We do not know the reasons why she wanted to have a daughter. No matter what they might be, accepting them as they are, that complete subordination, is an expression of his willingness to bend to his mother's will. What does it feel like to hear “I hate this child” from a mother who can’t even tell his son apart? But Mesh even accepts his mother trying to stab him with shears without saying a single word.  

Where does Mesh’s determination, which is almost commendable, come from? What steeled his resolve so? I think it was something closer to despair, rather than a wish to be delivered. Mesh’s hatred and his murderous thoughts towards his father are the two sides of the same coin. Killing his father, who hated both him and his mother, and accepting death by the hands of the mother who forgot her own son: They are actually one and the same. Thus, the child abandoned by his parents try to erase his ties to them. By resetting everything, he tries to make it as if he never existed.  

There is probably just one thing he’s trying to say with his behavior.  

"I’m sorry.  

"I couldn’t be the child you wanted.  

"I couldn’t meet your expectations.  

"I’m sorry that I was born..." 

In “The Visitor”, in the middle of his endless journey with his father, Oskar says these words time and time again: "I will be a good child. I won’t talk about my mom anymore. I’m sorry." Then he obliges his father by starting to live in a dormitory, and waits for his father to be back from South America. This must have been no different than choosing death for Oskar, a child who wanted to be the son of a warm household. 

When he doesn’t resist his mother’s attempt to kill him, something inside of Mesh shattered to pieces. He arrives at Paris train station with his broken hopes as his baggage, and he catches a glimpse of his father boarding a train. His father, who acknowledged him as “his son who shares the same blood as him” without so much as a thought about how that made Mesh feel. All Mesh can do is to stand there, motionless. Even if that's the only place he can come back to now.

All children need a place they belong. A place where they feel they can just “be.” Children do not belong to their parents, or other adults. No one shall undermine their right to self-determination. Mesh shows us how much hardship children have to endure, and the sacrifices they have to make when grown-ups forget this fact.   

[jaazzpur]

Morningstar family redesigns

I kinda wanted to expand on my choices for my redesigns for fun

So first, Lucifer. I really don’t have a lot of issues with his original design, I think it’s fun and fits within the Hazbin universe! I just wanted to reimagine him.

I always liked the idea of Lucifer having curly reddish hair, something about his fall turning his hair red (this design isn’t 100% biblically accurate as it is just for fun), but I toned down the red to be closer to his original blonde since I also like blonde Lucifer, and I figured he’d liked to keep his hair neat so I decided to put it up and take away the hat

I wanted to keep the ring leader theme in his outfit, but I wanted to further incorporate the snake element in his design since I think he’d be proud of his fall (hence why his suit looks burnt and torn, and he shows off his burnt arm, I figured he’d do this intentionally to remind others of his rebellion)

Lastly I changed the entire family’s main colors to purple, as biblically out of the 7 sins Pride is purple and since he’s supposed to rule pride in the show I figured he’d be more purple themed then red, pretty simple🙏

Next Lilith, I think she was the only one out of the three where I didn’t really like her original design. Not only because she didn’t have much going on, but she also looked really similar to Lucifer, to the point where they almost look blood related.

I think Viv’s choices for Lilith were a bit odd, as she had SOO much potential that just wasn’t used.

I kept her blonde hair but I gave it some tan undertones and I put it up into a semi-low slicked back pompadour inspired by some hairstyles you might see young women have in the early 1900s or late 1800s, but I gave her a little down section that fades into a dark purple and looks somewhat feathery due to one adaption of her describing her as a “screech owl”. I kept the purple theme somewhat like the original and plus she technically rules over pride as well, I would have loved to have given her a red theme if pride was red.

Based on these different adaptations of Lilith a took inspiration from each, giving her a flame-themed dress and the upper body of a beautiful women yet still somewhat demon-like, I also put some fluff at the bottom of her dress since I thought it looked kinda like smoke puffs and clouds. Her stomach is covered with gold rings that look somewhat like a snake belly, and I gave her a necklace with a style inspired by some eastern jewelry, the jewels on her necklace are each the color of one of the 7 sins which I thought would be a fun touch and a little bit of a “showing off” of her role as the queen of hell.

lastly I kept her horns since she is meant to be a succubus, but I stylized them a bit to look less like those big ram-like ones since I didn’t really like how odd they looked against her head. I also gave her long slender fingers that faded to a black naturally as in biblical lore she steals babies from mothers and I thought making her hands that she stole the children with look creepy and eerie yet still beautiful was a nice touch.

Lastly, Charlie! Again, I didn’t really have a problem with the original design. I changed her suit color and theme to prides color, put I made her hair curlier and more red/orange like her dads, and I wanted some parts of her suit to resemble his a bit hence the buttons and the back of her suit going out like her dad’s (but a bit shorter for convenience.)

I imagine her being a bit showy so I kinda decked her out in silver, I thought it’d also be a fun mirroring of how her mom is covered in gold. Her shoes are pretty similar to the original, I put a little split at the front of the shoes in the dark purple since Viv has said she has little hooves which I’m not sure is true but I thought it was a fun idea so I kinda hinted at it with that

I changed her irises (is that what they’re called?) to look more snake-like like her dad, and I gave her little horns since I thought they were cute and I wanted her to maybe show them on purpose because she wanted to blend in more with the citizens of hell so they might feel less intimidated by her presence as the princess, that’s also why I didn’t give her a crown :]

Overall this was just a fun little project I did out of curiosity and boredom, these designs aren’t made to criticize or taunt vivziepop since like I said I love her designs already

[orqheuss]

How to ask for help - PART 1

(Ominis/GN!Reader FLUFF)

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Summary:

The five times you helped Ominis, and the one time he helped you.

Word count: 2.9k

AN: This is so stupid, lol

Part 1: 'Water' You Doing?

September, 4th year

“Bollocks!”

You had just been leaving the main greenhouse after asking Professor Garlick a question about your chinese chomping cabbages when a curse came from your left. It was common to find you in that spot as of late, especially with the freshness of the autumn air nipping at the skin of your nose and cheeks. It was a beautiful day by all possible accounts in your book— the sun was softly burning down through the teal painted glass above your head and the leaves were just beginning to twinge the slightest shade of orange. The soft breeze that spun around the tiny outdoor space was a secret comfort to you, and you often spent time there reading under one of the many flowering trees that lined the pavement. As you strolled to your favorite spot under the giant tree at the center of the courtyard, you pondered over what the professor said about your precious foliage— deep in thought about the concerning brown spots decorating the leaves of your tiny, but ferocious, cabbage. You nearly lept out of your skin at the sound of the loud swear coming from the other side of the space, your heart picking up exponentially as you whipped your head in the direction of the voice, trying to see who the person was. By all accounts, it looked like you were alone among the plants, until the ripple of the pond just behind the buildings caught your eye. 

Creeping carefully down the stairs and around the bend of the largest green emporium, you scan your eyes around the circled fish pond under the large weeping willow. You almost didn’t see them at first with how their clothing blended in with the grass, but at the farthest corner from you was a student— a boy, you realized, not much older than you from what you could tell. The green and silver adorning his house robe glittered in the leaf shaped sunbeams, making the silken hem look like scales on a garden snake. He was carefully leaning towards the waters edge, his blond hair catching the reflection from the water below and making it look like the shifting glass of the painted murals in the Defence Against the Dark Arts hallway— your mind brought forth a particular comparison between the large sea serpent tryptic and the way the soft sage green of the water melded with his flaxen locks. You edged closer to the boy, moving around the bend as quietly as you could as to not disturb him. Seeing him more clearly now, you noticed that his fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the pool, his knuckles turning a, somehow paler, shade of his skin tone with anxious strength— one wrong move and he would be drenched and spitting out algae. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, the hiss of curses spilling from his clenched teeth as he desperately searched for something under the surface, whipping his head to and fro like he couldn’t see through the murky depths. You decided to make yourself known, letting your last few steps ring out in the space as you cleared your throat. 

“Are you alright?” You asked the stressed stranger. “Do you need some help?”

He startled at the sound of your voice, his body jumping slightly and his head tipping precariously closer to the watery surface, before taking a deep breath through his nose and replying. 

“No, thank you. I am quite capable of handling this myself.” His voice was clipped, irritation prevalent in each word. 

You paused in your steps, confused at the hostility of the strange boy. You were just trying to help him, what was his issue? Your brows twitched in curiosity, hesitantly making your way closer again as you reached out a hand. 

“Are you sure? You’ve been out here for some time—”

His icy tone cut you off. “Thank you for the astute observation. Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving me alone, I would greatly appreciate it.” 

Your hand retreated, shoulders straightening at being chastised like a petulant child. Why was he being so rude? You were just trying to help. It wasn’t like you insulted him. 

You cleared your throat again, your words choking against the embarrassment lodged in your throat. “My apologies— I meant no offense. I’ll leave you to it.” 

Your feet swished against the ground as you turned to take your leave, proverbial tail tucked between your legs from the verbal onslaught by the blond Slytherin, when a sigh stopped you. The boy adjusted his stance, leaning up to kneel on the ground and run a hand over his face and through his hair, dislodging the swoop tucking the strands into their neat style. From him came another sigh, heavy and full of regret, before turning his cheek in your direction to speak to you more directly. 

“No, don’t go, it’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t take my anger out on you— you’re just being nice. A trait that this school seems to be lacking sometimes.” 

His hand was outstretched towards you, like you had originally done to him, his fingers twitching and hesitant like he meant to grab onto yours before you could disappear. You moved closer again as he hung his head, his chin nearly touching his chest. The tiniest bit of color could be caught on his alabaster cheek. 

He let his hand fall again, his fingers curling into a tense fist at his side. “I’m not one to normally accept help from others, but in this instance I could use some assistance if the offer is still available.” 

You stopped next to him, keeping a respectful distance between you both. Seeing your approach, he raised to his feet, turning towards where you were. 

“What do you mean you ‘normally don’t accept help’— oh.” You raised your eyes from the ground, “meeting” his gaze for the first time. That being said, there wasn’t really any gaze to be met. He was blind. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Oh.” 

You balked, shame pressing heavily against your shoulders. “Oh— oh my. I am so very sorry—“

“It’s fine.” He cut you off again, his sightless eyes shifting to the floor as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “I appreciate your kindness nonetheless.” 

You took a shuddered breath, fighting to calm your heartbeat down to an acceptable tempo as you took in the boy once again. His eyebrows were squared across the tops of his eyelids, eyes still focused on the ground and his jaw clenched. 

He looked quite constipated, actually. 

He probably often had people asking him if he needed assistance around the castle. No wonder he was so snippy, he was embarrassed. Just from the little bit you had gathered from him, it was very apparent that he preferred to be independent. Not that you could blame him, of course. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like trying to navigate the world without your sight. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite impressed with the boy in front of you, even if you didn’t know him all that well. 

It was his turn to clear his throat, dragging you out of your thought spiral. 

You schooled your face into a gentle smile, letting your tone soften naturally. “It’s no trouble. What can I do?” 

He seemed taken aback that you still wanted to help him, his posture relaxing slightly but his shoulders stiff as boards and his face now twisted into an expression of aloofness— pleased with your response but still wary of your intentions. All it would take from you would be a little push against his back and he would be, quite literally, swimming with the fishes. Your heart ached a little thinking about the fact that he had to worry about that from your peers. 

The blond pointed towards the spot he was leaning over a moment ago, his white eyes darting around in his skull as if refusing to meet yours. His other hand fiddled with the end of his robe sleeve. 

“My wand seems to have rolled into the pond. I—” he coughed, “I can’t see without it.” 

Your response was instantaneous, your helpful nature taking over and banishing your previous trepidation. “Oh! I can help you find it, if you’d like?” 

He exhaled the breath you didn’t realize he was holding, letting his guard down a little bit more at the genuine eagerness you had to help him in his time of need. You quickly made your way to where he was pointing, edging around his body to keep a safe distance, before kneeling in a similar manner as he once was. You peered into the swampy surface, eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary through the thick greenery and streaking colors of the koi fish swimming below. The boy sat with you, peering into the water himself as if trying to sense the location of his wand. After a moment, your shoulders slumped, unable to find his magic instrument. He noticed the change in your posture right away, forcing his own shoulders to shift towards the ground and his eyes to close, the crease in his eyebrow returning as he thought through his other options. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t see anything—” A gasp cut off your sentence, your eyes wide and a smile stretching across your face as your eyes looked under the surface again. The boy flinched at your sound, leaning closer to you and his eyebrows shooting towards his hairline in surprise. 

“What? Do you see it?” 

“Yes!” You cheered, your toothy grin bleeding through the solitary word. 

There, just under a large patch of clover, was a softly glowing red light— a beacon calling for its lost owner. 

You quickly shucked your house robe from your shoulders, throwing it in the direction of a dittany bush before hastily rolling up your sleeves and shoving your hand into the pond, causing tiny ripples to split the top into multiple little waves. The boy jumped back to avoid being splashed, nearly losing his footing against the wet concrete. 

With a sound of triumph, you wrenched the wand free from the algae it was tangled around and back towards its anxious owner. Using the corner of your shirt, you carefully dried it off to the best of your ability before turning back towards your damsel in distress. 

At first you were shocked by how close he had gotten in the mere moments you had been on the ground, but then as your eyes tracked up his face more, your breath stilled in your chest. Your mother had told you once that it was quite rude to stare at people you didn't know, but Merlin, his eyes. You had never seen eyes like that before. Wrapped around his pupils was a deep phthalo turquoise— the color of the north sea after a terrible storm. The hue seemed to bleed into the center, skipping over where his pupil should be and instead leaving a swirling pool of a lightly toned peat-bog, much like the pond you had just been elbow deep in a mere moment ago. Cutting through the oceanic depths were little zigzags of cornflower— like streaks of lightning on a summer night. They had to be some of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. 

“—Hello? Are you alright?” 

It was only when you heard his voice that you realized just how long you had been transfixed by his opalescent eyes. Your cheeks heated to an uncomfortable degree as you hastily looked away, desperately trying to ignore the look of concern turning down the corners of his lips. 

“Yes, I’m alright.” You couldn’t seem to clear the lump that lodged itself just under your jaw. “Here’s your wand.” 

You held out your prize to him, tapping it against his knuckles so he could locate it and not letting go until it was securely in his hand. You both stood from your hunched position, dusting the grass from the knees of your trousers and gathering the things you had discarded in your rush to help. Now facing each other, the air became tense with anxious energy— neither of you knowing who should break the silence first and walk away. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, your teeth worrying at your bottom lip as you looked around at the plants growing by the waters edge. 

The boy’s voice took on a questioning lilt when he broke through the awkward silence. “Thank you for helping me, I appreciate it immensely. But, I must ask, why didn’t you just use Accio to summon it? Do you not have your wand with you?” 

You didn’t think your cheeks could get any more pink. Shite, why didn’t you think of that? 

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth. “I honestly forgot that spell existed. This is all still a little new to me.” 

The boy balked, his words leaving his mouth before he fully thought them through. “Oh! Are you a muggleborn?” He seemed to instantly regret asking, his eyes squinting shut and his face twisting into that constipated look again. You thought the rosy tint stretching across his cheeks and the tip of his nose was lovely. “My apologies, that was…insensitive of me to ask. I’ll just leave you to—” 

“Wait!” You said, suddenly very intent on keeping this not-so-prickly-anymore boy talking. “It’s alright. No offense taken, I promise.” 

He stopped mid turn, listening to what you have to say.

“I suppose you could say I’m a muggleborn, even though I never knew that was a term until I came here, of course.” You laughed lightly, hoping to clear away the stiffness that seeped into his body once again. “Been here for four years and this all still confuses me to no end.” 

He faced you again, a small smile turning the corners of his mouth. “I would imagine so. I’ve grown up around magic and a lot of it is still a mystery to me.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous tick he seemed to have. “So, you’re a fourth year as well?” 

You smiled bigger, pleased to see that he was just as awkward as you were when it came to idle chit chat with strangers. 

“Yes! I think I remember seeing you at the sorting. It’s all a bit of a blur, really.” 

A wry smirk tweaked his lips. “I think I remember you as well. You were wearing a ribbon in your hair, correct?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No, that must have been someone—” You watched as his smile became more wolf-ish as his words registered. You chuckled lightly, your eyes falling shut and missing how his own softened the tiniest amount at the sound of your joy. He thought your laughter was like the twinkle of wind-chimes. 

With your smile never leaving your face, you stepped closer to the friendly Slytherin, extending your hand towards him in a friendly greeting, giving him your name finally. He smiled bigger, a genuine thing that made you feel warm as he took your hand in his. 

“My name is Ominis. Ominis Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

A loud voice from your right startled you both out of the happy bubble you had created. “There you are, Ominis! I’ve been looking all over for you! What are you doing— oh, who’s this?” 

The sudden volume of the stranger made you both jump, causing your feet to skid against the wet tile decorating the fish pond, knocking your balance off kilter. Ominis, to his credit, tried to keep you from tumbling into the water, his hand tightening against yours and his feet shuffling for stability. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. 

You vaguely registered a head of curly brown hair and freckled cheeks as your head was submerged, your clasped hands taking the blond down with you. 

You breached the surface seconds apart, your clothes now soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your body. Looking to your new friend, you couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips at the sight of a sizable lily-pad draped against his dripping hair. Your joy must have been infectious, because it didn’t take long for the blond to begin laughing as well. 

A hand appeared in front of you, the heavily freckled arm connected to the, now very bashful, stranger that sent you tumbling. He reached to pull you out, waiting for you to accept his help before easing you out of the pond and doing the same to his friend. He smiled sheepishly at you once you were back on dry land, grabbing your discarded robe off the ground and draping it around your shoulders. 

“Sorry about that.” He apologized, before holding out his hand to you again. “I’m Sebastian Sallow. I hope I didn’t dampen your opinion of me after startling you like that.” 

You shook your head, still smiling at the ridiculous situation you had found yourself in on what was originally a relatively normal day, and introduced yourself to the blushing brunette, watching as he took off his own robe and pulled it around the shoulders of your newest friend. 

Turning back to Ominis, chuffed that he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were, you sighed happily. 

“Well Ominis,” you simpered. “This seems like the start to a beautiful friendship.” 

like what you read? here's more!

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Haiiii can I req tywin lannister bottoming for the first time x soft top targaryen male reader? (Both are around 20) XXD thnks!

(Ps reader is the king and tywin is his hand)

My Dear Tywin

Pairing : Young Tywin Lannister x Male king Targaryen reader Tags : First time bottoming, smut, tenderness Word count : 2609 Authors note : Sorry for the wait love

In the heart of King’s Landing, the Red Keep stood watch over its subjects. Inside the keep’s ancient stone walls, a world of politics and schemes unfolded like a tapestry woven with silk and blood. Though the sun had dipped below the horizon, the king’s chambers remained alight with the flickering glow of candles, their flames licking at the shadows that seemed to dance along the walls.

Y/N Targaryen, the young king, sat at his intricately carved table, an array of maps and parchments sprawled before him. His silver-blonde hair caught the candlelight as he leaned forward, intense violet eyes scanning the sprawling territory of Westeros. He was a king burdened by the weight of his crown.

Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, entered his chamber.the very embodiment of authority. His immense presence filled the room, and a sense of dread and respect followed him like a shadow. He was a man of great ambition, a tactician whose mind worked like clockwork, adjusting to the chaotic nature of the realm.

“Your Grace,” Tywin began, his voice low and gravelly. “We need to discuss some matters..”

Y/N looked up, and for a moment, their gazes locked. In the space between them, an unspoken tension crackled like static. Y/N was used to Tywin's forthrightness, his unyielding demeanour, but tonight, something felt different. The firelight cast shadows upon Tywin’s sharp features, revealing a vulnerability hidden beneath the layers of his stoicism.

“Of course,My dear Tywin,” Y/N replied, fighting the urge to smile. There was something about Tywin that captivated him—a mix of ferocity and a layered complexity that made him more than just a hand. “But before we delve into issues of the realm, I believe we should take a moment for ourselves.”

Tywin frowned slightly, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “ourselves, Your Grace?”

Y/N rose from his seat, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “Yes. A king must understand the needs of his hand, must he not? And I think… perhaps you could use a moment to step away from your troubles.”

Before Tywin could respond, Y/N moved closer, the space between them growing charged with a feeling neither could ignore. In a moment of boldness, Y/N reached out and placed a hand on Tywin's chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath the layers of fine fabric.

Tywin’s breath hitched, his stoic façade faltering. “What are you saying, Your Grace?”

“I’m saying you carry the weight of your duties,” Y/N replied, his voice softening. “Let me help you share that burden, even if just for tonight.”

Tywin’s throat constricted, and for the first time, he found himself at a loss for words. The young king's confidence was intoxicating, igniting something deep within him. “This is inappropriate,” he managed, though his voice lacked conviction.

Y/N took another step closer, their faces mere inches apart. “Is it? We are both men of age, Tywin.”

Tywin’s resolve began to waver, the walls he had built around himself crumbling under Y/N’s unwavering gaze. “And what do you propose, My King?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with daring.

Y/N let a smile bloom on his face, taking Tywin by the hand and leading him toward the large canopied bed draped in rich, deep crimson. “Let me show you,” he whispered.

As they reached the bed, Y/N turned to face Tywin, his heart racing. He studied the older man, whose face betrayed a bubbling mixture of apprehension and intrigue. “You’ve always been the one in control, Tywin. Would you let me guide you for once?”

For a long moment, Tywin said nothing, the tension thrumming between them. Slowly, he nodded, the admission a quiet surrender to desire. “Very well,” he finally conceded, his voice steady, though a hint of vulnerability crept into his eyes.

Y/N’s heart soared with triumph, yet he understood the weight of what he was about to do. He was about to take a step into uncharted territory, and with it, he would unravel the tightly wound threads of Tywin’s meticulous control.

With gentle hands, Y/N drew Tywin closer, their bodies pressing against each other, the heat rising between them. “Trust me,” Y/N murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of Tywin’s mouth. “I promise, you’ll find more than just release.”

Tywin’s breath hitched as Y/N closed the distance, capturing his lips in a slow, tentative kiss—soft, yet electrifying. Tywin, initially stiff with surprise, melted into the touch, the kiss igniting a fire he thought long buried. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling him closer.

As the kiss deepened, Y/N guided Tywin backward until he fell onto the bed, the weight of his armour sinking into the plush mattress. Y/N hovered above him, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall around them, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Tywin’s breath came in heavy, laboured gasps as he struggled to relinquish control to the man above him. Yet, as Y/N continued to kiss him, Tywin felt the barriers begin to crack.

With a gentle nudge, Y/N urged Tywin’s body to yield, positioning himself between the other man's thighs

Y/N’s soft lips trailed down Tywin’s neck, his tongue leaving a scorching path of wet kisses. Tywin trembled beneath him, his muscles taut with tension. As Y/N reached the base of his neck, he paused, his hot breath ghosting over Tywin’s skin. “Let go,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding. “I wish to see you truly let go.”

Tywin's hands fisted in the sheets, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to resist, to maintain his composure, but the heat building within him was becoming too intense to ignore. With a low groan, he arched his back, pushing his hips upward, seeking friction.

Y/N's hands roamed over Tywin's body, tracing the contours of his muscles under the fine fabric of his clothing. Tywin's breath hitched as Y/N's fingers found a particularly sensitive spot, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Your Grace," Tywin gasped, the title slipping from his lips in a moment of weakness. "We mustn't…"

But his protest was cut short as Y/N captured his lips in another searing kiss, swallowing his objections. Tywin's hands moved of their own accord, gripping Y/N's shoulders, then tangling in his silver hair.

Y/N broke the kiss, his violet eyes boring into Tywin's with an intensity that stole his breath. "Don't fight it, Tywin," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

Tywin's mind was fogged with desire, his body aching for Y/N's touch. He knew this was wrong, that he should put a stop to this, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Y/N was looking at him like that, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Please, your grace" Tywin heard himself say, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it.

Tywin blinked in surprise at his own plea, a mixture of shock and arousal coursing through him. His lips parted as if to retract the word, but no sound emerged. Instead, he found himself holding Y/N's gaze, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

The younger king's eyes softened, a tender smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "As you wish," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

With deliberate slowness, Y/N began to unfasten the buttons of Tywin's tunic, his fingers brushing against the older man's chest with every movement. Tywin shivered at the contact, his skin tingling under Y/N's touch.

As the tunic fell open, Y/N leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along Tywin's collarbone. Tywin's head fell back against the pillows, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure washed over him.

Y/N's hands roamed lower, tracing the lines of Tywin's abdomen before hooking into the waistband of his breeches. Tywin instinctively lifted his hips, allowing Y/N to slide the garment down his legs.

Now clad only in his smallclothes, Tywin felt exposed, vulnerable.

When Y/N's mouth finally closed around him, Tywin cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily. The sensation was overwhelming, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Tywin's breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest as he lay exposed before the younger king. Vulnerable was not a word he was accustomed to, but as Y/N's gaze raked over his nearly naked form, he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine.

Y/N's hands caressed his thighs, his touch feather-light and teasing. Tywin bit back a moan, his body aching for more. But Y/N seemed content to take his time, exploring every inch of Tywin's skin with reverent hands and lips.

Tywin groaned in protest, but he knew better than to argue with Y/N when he wore that look. Instead, he watched through hooded eyes as Y/N stripped off his own clothes, The flickering candlelight danced across Y/N's skin, casting shadows that accentuated the planes of his chest and curves .

Y/N's skillful tongue worked him over, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

Just as Tywin thought he might lose himself completely, Y/N pulled away, leaving him panting and desperate. "Not yet," the younger king murmured, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I want to make this last."

Tywin marvelled at the situation, his mind reeling as he realised the depth of his actions. Here he was, the Hand of the King, the most powerful man in Westeros after the monarch himself, lost in a moment of unbridled passion with the young ruler he was sworn to serve and protect.

"This is wrong," Tywin breathed, even as his hands slid up Y/N's back, fingers splaying across the warm skin. "We shouldn't…"

"Shh," Y/N murmured, pressing a finger to Tywin's lips. "Just feel, Tywin."

“Calm yourself,” Y/N murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Tywin groaned, he watched through hooded eyes as Y/N retrieved a vial of oil from the bedside table. The younger king slicked his fingers

Y/N’s slick finger pressed inside him, stretching him open. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that made him gasp and clench around the intrusion.

Tywin tried to do as Y/N said, focusing on the pleasure rather than the discomfort. Gradually, his body began to accept the invasion, and he found himself pushing back against Y/N’s finger, seeking more.

Y/N worked him slowly, carefully, his touch gentle yet firm. He added a second and then a third finger, stretching Tywin wide, preparing him for what was to come. Tywin’s head tossed on the pillow.

“Please,” he heard himself beg, the word falling from his lips unbidden. He was beyond caring how desperate he sounded, lost in a haze of lust and need.

Y/N smiled. “As you wish” He withdrew his fingers, leaving Tywin empty and aching. Tywin almost whimpered at the loss, his hips twitching with the need to be filled again. But Y/N merely chuckled, reaching for the vial of oil once more.

Tywin watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Y/N slicked himself up, his cock glistening in the candlelight. The sight made Tywin’s mouth water, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

“Do you wish for me?” Y/N asked, his voice a low purr.

Tywin nodded frantically, too far gone to speak.

Y/N positioned himself at Tywin’s entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against his hole. Tywin tensed, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. Buthis king was gentle, pushing forward slowly, letting Tywin adjust to the intrusion.

When he was fully seated inside Tywin, Y/N paused, giving him a moment to acclimate. Tywin could feel every inch of him, stretching him wide, filling him completely. It was a strange sensation, one that bordered on too much.

But then Y/N began to move, and all thoughts of discomfort fled. He set a slow, steady rhythm, rocking into Tywin with deep, measured strokes. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure shooting up Tywin’s spine, making him gasp and moan.

Tywin's body moved on its own, meeting Y/N's thrusts with a desperate hunger. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming him entirely. He could feel the coil of tension building in his lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with each stroke of Y/N's cock.

"My king," he gasped,"I… I can't…"

Y/N's pace increased, his hips snapping forward with a newfound urgency. He leaned down, capturing Tywin's lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his cries of ecstasy.

Tywin clung to him, his fingers digging into Y/N's back, leaving crescent-shaped indents in the younger king's skin. He was lost, drowning in a sea of sensation, unable to do anything but surrender to the overwhelming pleasure.

"Come for me," Y/N commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I wish to see you fall apart."

Y/N's hand wrapped around Tywin's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. That was all it took to send Tywin hurtling over the edge. With a cry of ecstasy, he came undone, his release spilling over Y/N's hand and onto his own stomach.

Through the haze of his orgasm, Tywin felt Y/N stiffen above him, the younger king's own release pulsing deep inside him. The feeling of Y/N's warm seed filling him only prolonged his pleasure, drawing out the aftershocks until he was spent and boneless.

As the waves of ecstasy gradually subsided, Tywin slowly drifted back down to earth. He became aware of Y/N's weight on top of him, the younger king's sweat-slicked skin pressed against his own.

They lay there for a long moment, their bodies entwined, their ragged breathing slowly evening out. Tywin knew they would have to face the consequences of this later, to deal with the fallout of their forbidden tryst. But for now, he was content to bask in the afterglow, to revel in the warmth of Y/N's body against his own.

As Y/N pulled out of him, Tywin winced slightly at the sudden emptiness. He could feel Y/N's release trickling out of him, a shameful reminder of what they had done. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when it had felt so good, so right.

Tywin lay there, his mind reeling as he tried to process what had just happened. The room was silent save for the sound of their laboured breathing, and the soft rustle of the sheets as Y/N shifted beside him.

A part of Tywin wanted to get up, to put some distance between them, to reassert the boundaries that had been so thoroughly breached. But another part, a deeper part, wanted nothing more than to pull Y/N back into his arms and lose himself in his embrace once more.

However Y/N left him no choice as the young king wrapped his arm around Tywin's waist holding close. He was the Hand of the King, the most powerful man in Westeros after Y/N himself. He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to protect. How could he do that if he was the king's lover? But even as the doubts swirled in his mind, Tywin found himself leaning into Y/N's touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Perhaps, for once in his life, he could allow himself to be selfish. Perhaps he could take what he wanted, consequences be damned. With a sigh, Tywin settled back into Y/N.

[vampirememory]

Intuitive PAC | Who is your next lover?

Howdy! I had this one in the drafts for a little while! I think I intended to have more than three piles, but since it's been a while since I've started it, we are keeping it at three! Choose a pile and get some intuitive predictions on your next lover! This may or may not pertain to your future spouse, use discretion as needed.

♢ There are three piles to choose from. Pile one is the green bow, pile two is the pile of papers, and pile three is the green fan. Feel free to pick one or several piles.♢

Due to the fact there are only three piles, you may not have a message here. Take what resonates and leave the rest!

Pile 1 ♢ Green Bow

Someone shady/snake-y. Slithers like a snake, might walk very quietly and elegantly. Firm boundaries. Misunderstandings. The color blue (favorite color or blue eyes). Tattoo that wraps around the arm. Brilliant blue (lots of blue coming through). Snakebites. Elegant.

Masculine/Males: May be tall with darker features (brown/black hair; seeing curls) with possible blue eyes. Thin & agile. Wears a lot of black, somewhat mysterious and seductive.

Feminine/Females: long black/brown hair, red lips, somewhat of a devil's smile (whatever that means), player energy.

Both/All/Other: dark on the outside, but a softie on the inside. Still dark inside though, it just softens for you. Nice hands. Gold jewelry/a watch. Black & white layered tops, dark academia aesthetic, or old money aesthetic. Possibly wealthy or a very good thrifter.

Pile two ♢ Pile of Papers

Bright and cheerful; red, cherries. Kissable, huggable, adorable. Exit sign, might leave soon (out of town for a trip? For the summer?). Black pearls. Picnic blankets and caressing under a big oak tree, Summer vibes.

Masculine/Males: blonde, strawberry blonde. Boy next door vibes. Sweet and cute, very rosy and sweet. Buys you a lot of flowers, flannels are a closet staple with silver jewelry. Might have a silver or gold tooth, or possible missing teeth (punched out?)

Feminine/Females: shoulder length, poofy light brown hair, almost ginger. Friendly smile and appearance. Cute summer dresses and floral patterns. Brown sandals, crocs with lots of jibbits.

Both/All/Other: friendly vibes! Soft lovers. Happy to have you in their arms, treats you like a gift. May be clingy. Slightly tanned skin. Romantic softies. The relationship may not last long due to outside influences, but it'll be one to remember and one you'll look very fondly at (you may stay lifelong friends because the relationship simply wasn't meant to be; platonic but mistaken for romantic).

Pile three ♢ Green Fan

Heather? Heathen? Black tongs, barbecue or cookout, might meet them there. Plastic cups, drinking and a poolside. They might be a bit drunk when you meet them (liquid courage I heard). Crop top with possibly the American flag? With black mesh?

Masculine/Male: jock? Physically strong. Baseball caps & a large sneaker collection. Nice hands. Dark eyes, like the galaxy (heard that specifically).

Feminine/Female: darker colored makeup, dark under eyes, large eyes (very white & clear), long lashes.

Both/All/Other: doesn't take alcohol well, you might meet them while helping them to their car or something. If it doesn't resonate, you still might be helping them do something when they're struggling under some type of influence and not at their best (injury? Exhaustion?). Might be really embarrassed after this encounter, but fell for the way you care for them. Possibly Black or Hispanic, maybe foreign which is why they need help (possibly you speak their language? Or are incredibly patient?). May take a while for the relationship to start due to ego issues on their end (embarrassment), they really care about a good impression. Might be interested in business, politics, or international affairs.

I didn't get much appearance on this, I see that you might be focusing more on helping them rather than their appearance so you might not get a good look at them.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!

[amaramizuki666]

dp x dc crossover  unlikely find

  dick held the tiny glowing child in one arm, close to his chest. the vigilante in the bat cave, decoding the information he got from the cults servers. dick glared at the screen, he felt angry and violated.

this cult stole some luthor tech and used the dna of “the ancient of space” the being they worshiped, and used nightwings dna to complete the missing dna sequence to “create the perfect vessel” for their space deity thing to inhabit.

 dick looked down at the sleeping kid in his arms, the little boy had deathly pale skin, pointed ears, glowing teal eyes, and a head of fluffy black hair with white glowing dots that remind him of stars. the baby took a breath, “4 minuets” dick mumbled the child only takes a breath every 4 minutes.

 dick remembers when he found the tot, he was on the floor surrounded by the broken glass of his pod and some liquid, dick feared the boy was dead. 

  but now dick was standing in a very empty batcave, wondering how to brake it to his family that he technically has a child with some non human being. 

‘im gonna have to call constantine’ dick notes, he walked away from the bat computer and wrapped his other arm back around the baby.

    dick felt so confused and overwhelmed. his dna was used without his consent, a unknowns dna was used without their consent. he had a kid now with no way to contact the other genetic donor if contastine doesn't know how.

should dick even try to contact the other donor? they obviously weren't human. but even then. dick would want to know if he had a test tube baby with someone, he would especially want to know if someone managed to get his dna.

   “fuck” dick took out his phone and pressed on his top contact. “what do you need” johns voice rang tired and aggravated “john” dick says his breathing shaky and uneven “dick, ya ok kid?” constantine asked “i uh, i need your help will you come to the cave?” “yeah ill be right there just give me a five minutes” dick hung up and leaned against a table. he adjusted the baby in his arms. dick just hopes mama space wont be a big bad.

                                ~~~~~~~~~

    constantine stared at the toddler in dicks arms. pure terror streaking over the blonds face “kid why are you holding a child of the infinite realms?!” “um i have no idea what the infinite realms is, this kid is mine” dick says rubbing the back of his neck. 

“YOURS!?” “yeah made by a cult who mixed nightwings dna and the dna of this ancient they worshiped” the vigilante explained with a soft sigh.

  johns face turned white “ancient?! do you know which ancient?” constantine asked. “um yeah the ancient of space? i actually called you to see if you could contact them” dick says and adjusts the sleeping toddler in his arms.

john is silent for a few moments before speaking “i actually know them personally, ill call them but i have no idea how they are going to react to this” he jesters to the child in dicks embrace.

  dick watchers john closely while the blond pulls out his phone. After ringing a few times the person on the other end picks up. "Hay it's been awhile....... yeah I'm not calling about a demon issue this time....... um you see aparntly this cult- ......... yeah cults suck, but this cult got ahold of your dna...... yeah no clue how, but they also took nightwings dna and created a child...... yep uh so congrats it's a boy can you pop down here?... ok see ya in a few" dick watched as Constantine talked to his.. co-parent? With curiosity.

Once the conversation between the two was done John turned to dick "ok he will be here in a few he seems to have taken the news well" Constantine says.

As soon as the words left the blonds mouth a swirling Lazarus green portal opened in the cave. A young male looking around dicks are steps through.

Dicks breath catches in his throat as he stares at the being in front of him. He was wearing a jumpsuit that looked to be made of the night sky. He had hair as silver as the moon and eyes that shined Lazarus. His cheeks and pointed ears covered in consolations much like the boy in dicks arms.

His skin was a pale green till you get to the top half of his face where it looks as if his skin is made of the night. The beings gaze drifted from Constantine to dick to the child.

Dick instinctively held the little boy closer, the shifting of his tiny body causing the boy to wake and open his glowing Teal eyes. "I'm not a threat" the being says after assessing dick.

"I'm guessing your the poor guy who got roped into this mess" the being says and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Dick nods "yeah I'm nightwing, I'm guessing your the 'ancient of space'".

The being smiles at him, his sharp teeth showing "uh I prefer danny if ya wouldnt mind" dick raises an eyebrow at not just the name but at the males southern accent.

"Sure, then call me dick" the vigilante says, dicks gaze locked onto the being, watching for any signs of hostility. "Dick?" The being asked with a small snort "it's what my parents called me". "Well if you both arnt going to address the elephant in the room I am, so danny what are you planning to do with the kid?" Constantine questions.

The mood of the room becomes tense. The boy in dicks arms is trembling. "Well I assumed dick here wouldnt want to take care of a child at his age, what are you 20? Pluse being a vigilante. So I was gonna take the tot and raise him in the realms. I mean it would be better to keep the kid on the other side of the vale with his half ghost nature, and with the GIW still being around" danny says his glowing eyes holding dicks gaze, searching for something. Dick didnt know what.

"And besides I'm sure elle will be thrilled to have a brother" the being adds his gaze honeing in on the boy hideing his face in dicks chest. Dicks expression twisted into one of frustration.

"Then what I never get to see our kid again, your just gonna what take him?! You seem to have made all these decisions by yourself, when this is both of ours issue" dick snaps causing danny to flinch back.

"I didnt mean to make you upset. I just mean it would be safer and healthier for the kid to be with me. He needs a stable supply of ectoplasm to stay stable, pluse if the GIW gets ahold of him who knows what those fucks would do. Also I just assumed you wouldnt want anything to do with a kid made by our stolen dna, isnt that why you called? So you would have to deal with this?" The being says his arms crossed.

Dick flatly stared at the male "well you shouldnt have assumed, I called so we could work this out together. I'm not dumping our kid on you. Also who the fuck is the GIW." The vigilante states shifting the boy in his arms to his hip.

"Dont worry about that kid, danny and the JLD are taking care of them" john cut in and danny nodded. "Ok so we will be co-parenting then right?" Danny asks tilting his head "I mean i guess so also for the record I'm 26 not 20" dick says.

Danny smiles and walks closer to dick looking down at the kid in his arms. "Hi there my name is Danny but you can call me papa if ya want, I promise I'll keep you safe" danny says, the boy in dicks hold looks at him, his glowing Teal eyes study him for a moment before he turns, stretches his arms out, a silent demand for danny to hold him.

The being compiled without hesitation. Sweeping the boy from dicks arms holding him close to his chest. "Have you named him yet?" Danny's attention back to dick "um no I havent" the vigilante supplied.

"How about callisto?" Danny asked dick thought for a moment "sure why not". "Ok then its settled little tot your name is callisto." Danny says smiling softly at the boy. Dick watched in awe of the scene and only one word came to his mind watching Danny's face soften, beautiful.

Dick thought the being holding his child was very beautiful. "Ehm any way we should get to know eachother a bit better, mabey over a coffe" dick says before he could think. Danny raises a brow at him a smirk gracing his blue lips. "Are you asking me on a date hero boy?" Danny asked amusement clear In his tone.

Dicks smirked right back at the being "it Doesn't have to be but I wouldn't be opposed to the idea". "Well you cant jude me for fucking demons after this, I'm out have fun" Constantine says abruptly, yeeting himself through a portal.

Danny laughed "well then, how about I show you my haunt, it's where callisto will for the most part will be staying due to his biology. Then we can leave him there with my sister while we get that coffee, and who knows mabey I'll end up showing you my room" Danny says winking.

"Well then shall we" dick replays winking back makeing his way towards the Lazarus portal in the middle of the cave. Putting an extra sway to his hips while walking.

Danny whistles and follows after him, yeah mabey co-parenting with a non human will be some fun.

______________________________

Ok so yeah I've been kinda dead this part week, sorry. Also here are some fun little facts I wanted to add but couldnt fit in

- i picked callisto because it reminds me of constalation

-callisto is wearing one of steph's shirts

-dannys isnt the ghost king

-danny is a full ghost, he was killed by the GIW, along with everyone else in amity

-dannys haunt is an amity look alike but it has an observatory like building in the center that is Danny's home, pluse the whole town looks very spacey

-dan is rehabilitated and is basically Danny's big brother figure

-everyone in amity came back as ghosts because of the ecto contamination, and because of the violent deaths they faced by the GIW

-danny is working with the JLD to decimate the GIW

[ornii]

Mad Max: Coins of Rage!

This was a request from @ab1nsur

I decided to throw a little spin on it. Hopefully it’s still passable as decent.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve been working at the arcade. The job was open and since it’s Halloween, kids are enjoying more festivities, so they had to hire more support than usual. Look no further to you, Dustin’s older cousin who he tries to ignore due to your playful teasing. It was your average Thursday afternoon, sitting at the desk you propped yourself up, reading the latest comic book. Your eyes focus on the Issue 7 of the Uncanny X-Men comic, watching the always beautiful Jean Grey. What took you off the comic was a brush of Red hair walking past you. The Most off putting part was the length, boys this young shouldn’t have hair that long.

Slowly lowering your comic book right below your eyelids you peer over to the fairly calming ruckus, while it was full of kids laughing and having fun. There was a certain, natural calmness about it, since it hasn’t been calm in Hawkins for a while. Your eyes dart around and spot the red hair, right at the dig dug machine. That hair was attached to a redhead, no surprise there, but it was, a girl.

Sneakers, Jeans, and a Red Track jacket, she definitely wasn’t the definition of a “Girl” that everyone else thinks. Your eyes focus on the screen in front of her to see her score going higher and higher, until she loses, but broke the high school. From the small reflection in the glass you could see a smile, but it slowly faded as she got her stuff and left. You shrugged it off, letting it go for the time being.

It wasn’t until the next Day that you got an earful of the truth, working another shift; reading another comic, this time the Silver Hawks. But your enjoyment was suddenly cut off by the inappropriate cough of someone you knew to get your attention. You slowly lower your comic and see a trio of Boys at your counter, you knew them too well. Dustin, Will, and Your Cousin Lucas.

“(Y/n), this is an emergency.” Dustin says, placing his hands on the desk, you squint at him to inquire more.

“Okay? What’s the issue?” You ask.

“We need to find Mad Max.” Lucas said, you stared at him for what seemed to be forever.

“…Who?” You ask, and the boys drag you over to the Dig Dug game, and see that the top score was replaced by a Title: Mad Max. Their high score got blown out of the water by this Mad Max.

“I can’t believe someone got higher than me.” Dustin says, and you shook your head “A real tragedy.”

“You know who Mad Max? He has to be cheating.” Will said, Lucas nods, “Nobody gets that high without breaking the system.”

“I don’t think she was breaking the system.” You said, which was a major fuck up.

“She?” The boys say together, and you sigh.

“Yeah, she.” In less than a minute you were accosted by the boys asking questions about this Mad Max Girl.

“There’s no way! What does she look like?”

“Is she Elizabeth Taylor hot?!”

“Is she totally rad?”

You shut them down by being louder than you wanted. “Hey!” You said, “im not letting you wackos stalk a girl, you want your score back at the top? Beat hers.” You said and walk back to your counter, the trio were obviously miffed by it but didn’t push any further. You thought that this was finally the end of the Mad Max Saga, returning back to your comic and enjoying your reading. Subsequently, the boys couldn’t surpass Mad Max, losing their quarters in the war.

They didn’t return the next day, probably reeling from their defeat from Mad Max, and it was Friday, so it was even more odd they didn’t show up. She did of course, Mad Max, you’re inside one of the old machines, cleaning our cobwebs and changing fuses. Pulling your head from inside the back of the machine you see from the window Mad Max exit a fine car, argue with some blonde guy and he speeds off. She flips him off and storms inside. Guess things aren’t always so good for Mad Max. Her first stop was Dig Dug, guess to best her own score. You finish emptying the machine and decide it’s probably best to warn her. You casually approach, hands in your pocket as you approach, She vaguely sees your reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t do anything.” She said in a huff.

“I know you didn’t, just wanted to ask you.. are you Mad Max?” You said, you already knew the answer, but she didn’t know how much you did. “Who’s asking?” She replies.

“Just asking.” You reply, and she keeps playing, her silence basically answering your question. “Look I just.. want to apologize for my cousin and his weird ass friends.” You said, she Turns to you.

“Cousin?” She said, “Yeah, Lucas, really annoying, Dustin and Will are okay..” my bad for them being creeps.

“They were pretty weird as school.” She said, which made your eyebrows rise. “They did it at school too?” You groan, “my reputation is gonna be in shambles.” You said, obviously being sarcastic which got a dry chuckle from max. She’s already back at her game and you decide to place a sack of quarters at the center of the console. She looks at it, and then back to you.

“As an apology for my cousin and friends, they’re mad you beat their High Score or whatever.” You explain.

“So, why are you sticking up for some creeps?” She said, and you shrugged. “Lucas is family, he’s got Dustin, Mike and Will. They’ve been friends since they were born, far as I’m concerned they’re family too.” You said, Max looks at you and for a moment you saw a hint of sadness, but she quickly buries it down and shrugs and takes the quarters. “If they have any more high scores you let me know.” She said with sarcasm. You give a small smirk and nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be Seeing You, Max.”

[maracujatangerine]

82. Taking Note

CW: mental health issues, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

The pale light of an overcast winter’s day flattened all the colours; the yellow curtains, the violet saintpaulia on the windowsill, the pet’s own blonde hair, everything taking on a washed-out tinge of grey. Coriander sat at the kitchen table, pen in hand, staring at a blue notebook. Miss Lydia had asked it to choose one of the notebooks at her bookshop yesterday.

“Perhaps you would like to try writing down your thoughts?” She had suggested, gently. “It is not for me to read. I promise that I won’t. Cross my heart, and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!”

She laughed, but the look in her brown eyes was serious.

“You can write down anything you want, and it will be for your eyes only, okay?”

The pet had nodded and told her that it understood. Now, Miss Lydia was out. She had gone for coffee with Cecilia, and the pet had elected to stay at home.

The notebook it had chosen had a Japanese-style drawing of a cresting wave on the cover, the white tips of the wave rendered with splashes in glossy silver. The white pages were neatly lined in black.

The radio was on in the background, a piece by Händel tugging at some half-remembered string at the back of the pet’s mind. Cory knew that Miss Lydia had left Radio 3 on for the pet’s sake, but that she wouldn’t mind if it changed the station, just like she hadn’t minded that the pet had chosen to stay behind when she went out.

It used to agonise endlessly over such small decisions. Did Miss Lydia want it to say yes or no? Would this thing make it a better pet, or would that?

Nowadays, more and more, it felt like it could trust that its owner said what she meant. If she needed it to come, she would let it know. If she gave it a choice, she truly wanted it to make up its own mind.

That was an unprecedented freedom. Generosity beyond its wildest dreams. It knew it was extraordinarily lucky.

It should be happy, should it not?

And it was grateful, it was!

But happiness eluded it

In the beginning, everything had brought it joy. Or, well, at least relief.

Having its wounds treated, feeling its body healing, aches and pains receding to the back of its mind and gradually fading away.

Hunger, the dull gnawing of an empty stomach, the weakness and loss of focus that comes with days and days without enough food to eat. The terrible fear of feeling your own body consuming itself to stay alive. No more!

In its life with Miss Lydia, Coriander could still feel hungry, sometimes. At the end of a long day, before lunch at work, out on a hike in the woodlands. But it never felt truly hungry. That bottomless need for sustenance was a thing of the past.

These things brought relief. The joy came later.

Miss Lydia gently petting its hair, and Coriander genuinely wanting - and daring - to lean into her touch.

Playing the tin whistle for Miss Indira and the doctor responding with enthusiastic applause.

Laughing together with Miss Lydia without the pet having to carefully guard every word to avoid angering its owner.

Working at the shop and being given a nod of approval from Miss Carla at a job well done.

Sitting in the garden and watching flowers bloom from seeds they had sown together.

These were all things of joy, of beauty. Miss Lydia was consistently fair and kind. The pet felt healthy now, strong, even. Its damaged shoulder still impeded its daily life, its scars ached sometimes, and the nightmares refused to go away, but these were mere trifles in the grand scheme of things.

So, why wasn’t it happy?

It should be. It had been.

But now, lately, it was like some undefined malaise had taken hold of the pet. A depressing weight that suffused everything, that stole joy out of everything, just like the grey winter light leaked the colours away.

Looking down on the pages, the pet realised it had written the same sentence over and over.

Why did this happen to me?

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