#I really enjoy reading all of your tags and comments!

[the-fab-fox]

ALL OF THIS SO FREAKING MUCH.

Y'all. We have been saying this. Pleading with y'all.

My number one question to my bestie Jen any time comment numbers in used to get I'm no longer getting on newer fics:

Has my writing gotten worse or something?

And I fucking GUARANTEE I'm not the only one who has this thought and has to be talked around by friends.

Think about this. When a book is popular... When it's popular because it's good... Do you know why it's popular...

Not because it's good. I mean, that's the reason it got there but it's not how it got there.

The how is by people talking about it... Reading it... Telling their friends... Making posts about it... Tagging the author in social media to tell them and your followers how it made you feel...

THIS IS HOW YOU CAN HELP YOUR FAVORITE FANFIC WRITERS.

Share with friends in the same fandom you know that will love it. Talk with them about it. Make posts on your blog about it linking it. And for the love of Apollo, Dionysus, Inari Okami, Tyche, Loki, Athena, Hades, Persephone, Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Ares, Hephaestus, Hestia, and Agni (my patron gods)—COMMENT AND TELL THE WRITER WHAT YOU THOUGHT AND FELT.

We are not being unreasonable. Especially since it is still an issue that you readers have the power to solve if you would just take maybe two minutes max (unless your comment is long—which yes you can absolutely leave long comments, ones I've gotten are some of my most cherished ones) and all the suggestions of what you could do up there in TOTAL - maybe an hour or two max, depending on how many people you have to share it with.

But really. Stop. Stop. Stop. STOP TRYING TO GUILT TRIP OR GASLIGHT (yeah. Some of y'all really do be doing that) INTO THINKING THAT WE DON'T DESERVE TO BE ACKNOWLEDGED WITH COMMENTS. THAT JUST READERS READING SHOULD BE ENOUGH FOR US. THAT WE SHOULD WRITE FOR OURSELVES AND NOT COMMENTS.

Like I'm sorry. Yes we write for ourselves first but that does not mean we can't and shouldn't expect readers to do their job on their end.

I'm not going to sugar coat this lesson or cut it into mini bite sized pieces any longer.

FANFIC READERS. you may not want to hear this but listen up.

Your job as readers is to comment and kudos the fic you like. If you love it, you should absolutely be doing that and taking the time to share it with others who would enjoy it as well. If you are rereading it so much, comment periodically to tell the writer this and what it means to you and share.

The numbers look like they do on AO3 because you all failed to do your job.

But you can fix it. You just have to start. Doing. Your. Job. As. Fanfiction. Readers.

Full stop.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[runnning-outof-time]

A Deal that Goes Both Ways | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @peakyswritings

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: Feelings get spilled as Tommy comes to (Y/N) to have her patch him up yet again.

Warnings: smoking, language, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1867

A/N: this became a full on fic…..I just didn’t know when to stop it haha. I hope you like what I did with the prompt, Reb! You didn’t add who you wanted it to be with so I went with Tommy (of course) — and this could also be read as a prewar Tommy story too…I didn’t really slap a time period on it. Enjoy! :)

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED — I’d love to know what you thought of the story!

Comment/Message me if you want to be tagged!

Not again was the first thought (Y/N) had as she heard the knock sound off of her front door. Only one person would be knocking at this time of night...and he'd most likely be knocking for only one reason.

"What happened this time, Thomas?" she asked with a sigh as she opened the door to see the man she knew was standing on the other side.

"Why so formal?" he asked nonchalantly, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips, resting on the side that wasn't split and still bloody.

"It's two in the morning," she responded, turning and walking deeper into her home. The foosteps sounding behind her told her he was following. "I'd much rather be sleeping."

"I can go if you want," he offered.

"No, you've already woken me up," she dismissed his suggestion, "what happened this time?" she re-asked her initial question.

"Same old," his nonchalant nature returned as he sat down in the chair (Y/N) pulled out for him.

"So a bar fight? Or bet gone wrong?" she paused getting the necessary supplies to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Neither," Tommy shrugged, looking down at his busted knuckles as he flexed his hand.

"So not the same old?" there was a slight tinge of surprise in (Y/N)'s voice. "Please do tell what happened."

"Someone spoke to me the wrong way," he responded, his explanation still very vague. (Y/N) didn't press for any more info because she knew this was all she'd get out of him.

What Tommy wanted to say was that he had to punch some bastard's teeth in for speaking about her the wrong way, and then he proceeded to fight said bastard and two of his drunken friends when they wouldn't let it go. He couldn't admit that to her though.

"Ahh..." (Y/N) trailed off as she moved over to him, placing the supplies she gathered on the table beside him as she stopped to stand between his parted legs.

Tommy resisted the urge to reach out and hold her waist even though he so desperately wanted to do so to steady himself.

"Let's see what we've got here," she said, more so to herself as she gently took hold of his chin to get a better look at his face. The hiss he let out made her realize that his jaw had also been bruised in the altercation.

She quietly got started on dabbing the blood off of his split lip, and followed it up with putting some ointment on the cut in hopes it wouldn't get infected.

She then examined the rest of his facial features for any other injury all while trying to shake the feeling of his intense gaze that was focused on her face. She couldn't let her feelings for him get the better of her... not while in this position.

"Let me see your hands now," she instructed him once she considered his face finished.

"They're fine, love," he brushed her off, keeping them balled in fists resting against his thighs.

"Let me see them, Tommy," she insisted, her eyes meeting his to convey the serious nature of the situation.

The slightest sigh escaped his lips as he flattened out his hands. (Y/N)'s eyes immediately went to his right hand, and she took it into hers to get a closer look at his bloodied knuckles. "Goodness, Tommy," she breathed softly as she grabbed a wet cloth and began to gently wipe the blood off. She couldn't help but wince as he hissed at the feeling. The cuts looked deep and had to be painful. "Did the man have a steel jaw?" she, half-jokingly, questioned him as she began placing the same ointment on his knuckles.

"Must've," Tommy mumbled, letting out a soft snort at her attempts to make light of the situation.

(Y/N) smiled softly at his response, finishing up what she was doing with his right hand before she checked over his left. She then stepped out from between his legs when she considered herself done, moving over to the kitchen countertop to begin cleaning up. The scrape of the chair off of the hardwood floor told her that Tommy had also stood up.

"Make sure you some ice on your jaw and you should be good in a-" her statement was cut off by the shriek of surprise she let out when she turned around to tind Tommy now standing right behind her. "You scared me, Tommy," she gasped, placing her hand over her chest as she took some calming breaths.

"Wasn't my intention," he responded, although he couldn't help but smile at the reaction he'd gotten from her.

"You frustrate me sometimes," she huffed, shaking her head before she brought a hand up to the side of it, hoping that she could remember what it was she was saying before the surprise happened. "I was saying that if you remember to put ice on your jaw and make sure your cuts stay clean you should be good in a few days...now are you going to follow that? No, most likely not, but it's my hope that you will," she explained her plan of treatment to him, finishing her rambling by glancing up at him. "Why're you looking at me like that?" she asked without thought, commenting on the intense gaze he currently had locked on her.

His blue eyes just about made her shudder under their stare, and she'd be lying if she said that the undivided attention he was giving her was making her heat up.

"What, am I not allowed to look at you?" he asked, his brows raising.

"No, not like that, you aren't," she insisted, holding a hand out between them to emphasize her statement.

"How exactly am I looking at you, (Y/N)?" he asked another question, wanting clarification from her.

"You're looking at me like..." she trailed off, struggling to find the words that she needed to convey her statement, "like you think that l'm...like I'm some..."

"Like you're the only person in the world?" Tommy cut off her stumbling, hoping that his suggestion would finish her sentence. As he spoke he stepped closer to her.

"Yes, exactly!" she agreed with him without putting much thought into what he was saying, "you were looking at me like I was the only person in the world."

"And you don't like it?" he asked, his brow raised inquisitively.

Now (Y/N) could no longer stay solid under the weight of his gaze combined with his close proximity. She only hoped that she was able to keep a good exterior composure...on the inside she was done for.

"No, it's not that I didn't like it, it's just..."

"Just what?" he pried for more information, his eyes flitting down to her lips as he admired how she looked as he stood inches away from her.

"Jesus, you don't ever act like this, Tommy...what's going on?" she deflected with a question, hoping to carry the conversation on without him realizing that she didn't have a concrete answer to his previous question.

"You didn't answer my question, love," he completely ignored her query to remind her she was ignoring his.

"Yeah, and you didn't answer mine," she wasn't falling for his tactic, instead throwing it back in his face.

"You wanna know why I came here tonight? Why I got into that fight?" he asked her, his brows raised.

"Someone spoke to you the wrong way," she reiterated what he'd told her earlier.

"Someone spoke about you the wrong way," he quickly corrected her, telling the truth this time around and adding emphasis on what actually got him upset, "and you know I can't let anyone do that."

(Y/N) took a moment, letting what he said sink in. His intense gaze stayed locked on her, and it certainly wasn't helping her think straight in this situation. After a few beats of silence, she finally let out a sigh. "I don't need defending, Tommy. I've told you that so many times."

"I'll still take a fuckin' punch for you when I need to, love," he told her, his words making her laugh despite the wild mix of emotions she was currently feeling.

"Oh Tommy." she let out another sigh, trying, and failing, to stop the smile that was tugging on her lips. She quickly turned around and attempted to busy herself with continuing cleaning.

Her diversion didn't last long as only seconds later Tommy's hand was taking hold of her arm to spin her back around to face him. Her mouth opened slightly as she looked at him, waiting for whatever he had to say.

He didn't say anything though. Instead, his gaze flitted between her eyes and lips as he moved in slowly. (Y/N) quickly realized what he was doing. She placed her hands on his chest when she felt his breath fan across her face.

"Tommy, your lip," she said, her voice coming out in a whisper, "this'll hurt it."

"I don't give a damn about my lip, (Y/N)," he firmly replied, moving back slightly so that his eyes could match hers. He could no longer resist from bringing his hand up to hold onto her jaw. "I want to kiss you," he told her then, never sounding more sure about anything in his life.

(Y/N)'s mind was buzzing. She never thought she'd be in this position with Tommy; never thought that their relationship would take that turn. But now here they were, close enough to feel each other's breath.

"Then kiss me," she breathed, unable to even smile at him because his lips were on hers the second she finished speaking.

The kiss felt like a whirlwind. It made her dizzy and fuzzy inside. She never thought someone with such a tough exterior could be so gentle, but here was Tommy Shelby, crushing all of her prior conceptions.

Both were out of breath when they pulled away. Tommy had to close his eyes to center himself, still truly surprised that that had just happened. Truthfully, he'd wanted to kiss (Y/N) from the moment he first spoke to her. He never thought he'd actually get the opportunity. When he finally did open his eyes, he saw that (Y/N) had her gaze locked on his face, and the sweetest smile was present on hers.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" he re-asked the question that got them to this point, a grin forming on his face.

"What, am I not allowed to look at you?" (Y/N) teasingly quipped back, essentially allowing their conversation to do a full 360.

"Love you could look at me all you want, so long as I'm allowed to kiss you again," he waged a deal, playfully quirking an eyebrow as he waited to see how she'd respond.

(Y/N)'s smile only grew. "I'll accept your offer so long as this deal goes both ways."

"Oh it most certainly goes both ways," Tommy grinned, his hand finding her jaw again so that he could match their lips together once more.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby @wonderlanddreamer

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

I think of mc being very protective of her friends being a orphan and all. someone says the gaunts are all dark wizards? they are in the hospital wing for two weeks under strange circumstances. someone starts a nasty rumor about why Anne really left hogwarts? The worst tripping hex gets everyone who repeats the rumor. someone insults sebastian, you better pray that mc didn't hear about it she's coming for you

The Things We Do for Family | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

oh I loooooved this concept!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!! :')

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Humor, Protective MC

There are things that Hogwarts students simply know—unchallenged truths, whispered warnings passed down from year to year.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous. Peeves is a menace. The best snacks at Honeydukes sell out by Saturday afternoon. Don’t trust the staircases to take you where you actually want to go. Never accept Garreth Weasley’s offer to ‘test something out’.

And, under no circumstances, should anyone fuck with your friends.

It isn’t official, of course. There’s no school decree, no printed rule in the Hogwarts handbook, it's not carved into the walls. It’s just… understood.

It’s not like you’re some fearsome monster or anything.

You’re a model student, by all accounts. Brilliant. Sharp. Precise. A skilled duelist, a quick thinker, someone who turns in their assignments on time, answers when called on, and doesn’t cause disruptions in class.

You don’t start fights. You don’t pick pointless arguments. You don’t openly break the rules—not in ways that can be proven.

You play the part well.

Because that’s what you had to do.

You grew up alone. No parents. No siblings. No one to step in when things got hard, no one to defend you when the world was cruel. When you were small, scared, and helpless.

So you learned.

You learned that no one was coming to save you. You learned that fairness was a lie, that justice only existed when you carved it out with your own hands. You learned that people could be awful for no reason other than that they could get away with it.

But now? Now, you have a family. Not by blood, but by choice.

And when someone speaks against them? Bad things happen.

The Ominis Incident

It started, as most things did, with a careless remark.

A fifth-year Ravenclaw—smart but not particularly bright—thought it would be amusing to make a joke at Ominis Gaunt’s expense. A cruel one. Something about how the Gaunts were all inbred lunatics, how it was only a matter of time before Ominis ended up just like the rest of his family.

The words reached your ears in the library, drifting from a table not far from where you sat.

"You know I hear they torture Muggles for fun—it’s practically a family tradition. Gaunts don’t have hobbies, just a long history of inbreeding and Crucio."

Laughter followed, a few snickers from their table, hushed but not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to keep you from hearing.

Your quill stilled mid-word, ink pooling in place. Across from you, Ominis sat straight-backed, his expression unreadable, but you saw the way his fingers tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles whitening from the force of it.

He wouldn’t say anything.

Ominis had spent years perfecting the art of indifference. Of carefully controlled expressions, of blank politeness that masked far too much. He never reacted to comments like these.

But just because he wouldn’t didn’t mean you wouldn’t.

You exhaled slowly, carefully. Then, without a sound, you closed your book and stood.

Not a word. Not a glare in their direction. Just a smooth, effortless departure, as if you had suddenly decided the library was boring and somewhere else required your attention.

The Ravenclaws barely noticed.

But they would. They absolutely would. Because Potions class was a very dangerous place. Especially for people who talked too much.

The next day, you walked to Potions without a care in the world.

Sebastian and Ominis flanked you, deep in conversation about some essay Sharp had assigned, with Sebastian whining dramatically about how unfairly long it was, while Ominis countered that perhaps he should have started it earlier than the night before it was due.

You weren’t really listening, because you already knew what was coming.

And sure enough—just as you reached the dungeon corridor—

BOOM.

The floor trembled slightly beneath your feet. A deep, echoing explosion, the unmistakable sound of a cauldron detonating mid-brew, followed almost immediately by the frantic shouting of students.

Gasps. Choking coughs. Someone let out a screech of absolute horror.

Sebastian and Ominis startled.

Sebastian’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked toward the dungeon doors. “What the hell—”

Ominis twitched beside you, tilting his head, as if straining to listen.

You? Didn’t even blink. You just kept walking, calmly, like nothing was amiss, like you hadn’t been expecting it for the last twenty-four hours.

Sebastian noticed. His gaze sharpened, flicking to you with a knowing squint. “That was—”

He hesitated. Then narrowed his eyes further.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I know that face.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“That’s your I-did-something-but-you’ll-never-prove-it face.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian scoffed and Ominis rolled his eyes, deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Then the dungeon doors burst open.

A thick cloud of green smoke billowed out, sending students stumbling and coughing into the corridor. And in the center of it all, a group of very, very green Ravenclaws.

They clawed at their own skin, staring down at their hands in absolute horror. Their faces were the exact shade of an overripe toadstool, splotchy and uneven, and every time they opened their mouths, their tongues flopped out two inches too long.

Hysteria ensued.

Students gasped, some shrieked, others tried not to laugh. Professor Sharp stormed out after them, looking beyond exhausted, already massaging his temples.

“I told you,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “not to add the peppermint extract.”

“WE DIDN’T!” One Ravenclaw wailed, voice garbled from their too-long tongue. “I—I don’t know what happened! We did everything right!”

Sharp did not look convinced.

Sebastian looked at you, long and slow, a glint of admiration dawning in his eyes.

“Did you—”

“I did nothing.” You walked past him, as if the entire debacle were none of your concern. “I was with you all day, wasn’t I?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Yeah, but—”

“No proof, no crime.” You gave him a cheerful smile before stepping into the classroom.

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I love you.”

It was offhanded, thoughtless, a casual jest, but it sent a sharp, pleasant warmth down your spine.

You didn’t react, though. Just smirked, settling into your seat. Because the message had been sent.

And Ominis Gaunt would never hear a word against his name again.

The Anne Incident

Rumors at Hogwarts were a force of nature.

They swirled through the halls, slipping between whispered conversations and behind cupped hands, growing more twisted with each retelling.

Some were harmless—who was dating who, which professor had it out for which student, the occasional Did you hear Peeves stole all the ink from the Ravenclaws again? But some? Some were cruel.

And this one... this one was about Anne Sallow.

It started at breakfast, when you overheard a group of Slytherin sixth-years in the Great Hall. You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally—but you had a habit of noticing things, of hearing too much when you weren’t meant to.

"Did you hear about Sallow’s sister?"

"Yeah, I heard she went mad."

"Lost it completely. The curse must’ve rotted her brain."

"That’s why she left, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I heard she tried to hex someone in her sleep—"

Your fork warped in your grasp. A slow, controlled bend beneath your fingers, the metal bending in your grip.

Across from you, Sebastian had gone still.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t react. Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But you saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his hand curled into a fist against the table. The way his entire body had gone taut, locked in place by sheer force of will.

He wouldn’t do anything.

Not because he didn’t want to. Not because he wasn’t capable of it—because he was.

Sebastian Sallow could be ruthless. You knew that better than anyone. You’d seen it firsthand, the sharp edges of his temper, the way his rage burned hot and all-consuming, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. You’d seen what happened when he felt cornered, when he thought he was out of options.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. Because you and Ominis had dragged him back from the brink. Because you had looked him in the eye, years ago, when the dust had settled and the worst of it was over, and told him:

"You still have a future. Don’t throw it away."

Against all odds, he had listened. And now, this was his last year at Hogwarts and he was going to be an Auror. He was going to start over. Prove that he wasn’t just some reckless, violent delinquent one step away from Azkaban.

So no—he wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t take the bait. Wouldn't defend Anne, no matter how badly he wanted to. Wouldn’t let himself be dragged down into the same pit he’d barely crawled out of.

Sebastian was playing the long game.

But you? You weren’t.

Your revenge on Anne's behalf started small. Almost imperceptible.

The first Slytherin—the one who had started the conversation in the first place—was walking to class when it happened.

A single misstep.

His foot caught on something—thin air, perhaps—and he staggered forward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to right himself. It didn’t work. His books went flying, parchment scattered across the stone corridor, and a bottle of ink tumbled from his bag, shattering upon impact and staining his robes in an ugly, irreversible mess of black.

A small accident. An unfortunate case of bad luck.

No one thought anything of it—until the second one fell.

In the exact same spot.

And then the third. And the fourth.

By the time lunch rolled around, all four of them had tripped at least half a dozen times each.

It wasn’t just limited to the corridor, either. They stumbled on staircases, barely catching themselves before they could go tumbling down. They walked straight into walls as if the castle itself had turned against them. One even managed to trip over absolutely nothing in the middle of the Great Hall and landed face-first into his own soup.

The snickers started soon after. The sideways glances. The poorly hidden laughter from classmates who found their sudden clumsiness far too entertaining.

It wasn’t enough to be suspicious.

Not yet.

Not until the moving staircase.

The ringleader of the group had spent too much time lingering in the courtyard after lunch, chatting up a group of girls who barely tolerated his presence. He realized too late that he was running behind and bolted toward Charms, racing up the moving staircases with zero grace and even less caution.

And then his foot caught.

There was nothing there. No loose stone or shift in the staircase, nothing at all to explain why he suddenly lost his footing.

But he did.

He stumbled backward, arms flailing wildly, fingers grasping at empty air as the momentum carried him too far—

And he plummeted.

Three flights.

A blur of robes and limbs, a crash of bone against stone, and then a sickening thud as he landed in a groaning, crumpled heap at the bottom.

A hush fell over the corridor.

Then—

Shrieking.

His friends rushed down to him, voices panicked, eyes wide with horrified realization as they took in his bruised, trembling form.

A girl ran to fetch Madam Blainey.

By the time she arrived, he was whimpering, clutching his arm like it might’ve snapped.

Hospital Wing. Immediate bed rest.

No one could explain what happened. No professor could find a cause. Some students claimed the stairs had shifted unexpectedly. Others swore that they saw nothing—no trick step, no loose stones, just an unseen force pulling him down.

It didn’t matter.

The moment he was carried off, you finally allowed yourself to smile.

Not a smirk. Not a grin. Just the smallest, most satisfied twitch of your lips.

Sebastian caught it. Because of course he did. He had been standing beside you the whole time. Silent. Still. Watching from the moment that asshole Slytherin stumbled earlier that morning to the moment he was carted off for medical attention.

And now? Now, he just exhaled, long and slow, shaking his head as his mouth curved into something unreadable.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice low.

You hummed, tilting your head in faux curiosity. “Am I?”

Sebastian turned fully then, facing you. His gaze searched your face, for guilt perhaps. For remorse. For something that might suggest you hadn’t meant for it to happen.

But there was nothing.

No trace of hesitation. No flicker of shame.

You were calm, collected, an completely unapologetic. Because nobody talked about Anne Sallow like that without consequence.

Sebastian blinked. Then, to your absolute delight, he grinned. Wide. Slow. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Yeah. You're very dangerous” he said, almost in awe.

Your stomach twisted. You ignored it. Instead, you just shrugged, voice as casual as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian’s grin deepened.

The Poppy Incident

Poppy Sweeting was one of the best people you knew.

Kind-hearted, patient, and too good for the world, really. She spent more time in the company of magical creatures than she did with most people, and honestly? You couldn't blame her.

Because people could be cruel.

You first heard it one afternoon in the courtyard. A group of girls whispering amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands. You hadn’t been paying much attention—until you heard her name.

"Honestly, she’s weird."

"I know, right? It’s like she’d rather date a bloody Hippogriff than an actual person."

"Wouldn’t be surprised if she actually has."

Laughter, sharp and mocking. Like Poppy Sweeting was a joke. Like she was less than because she chose kindness over cruelty, creatures over people who didn’t deserve her time in the first place.

You turned your head and watched as one girl—a Hufflepuff, ironically—rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exaggerated exasperation.

"Beast-lover," she muttered, nose wrinkled like the word itself was distasteful. "It's unnatural, really. No wonder she doesn't have any friends outside of her precious Mooncalves."

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You had no doubt Poppy had heard it. She was standing just a few paces away near the fountain, hands clenched tight at her sides.

She didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t say anything. She just exhaled, slow and quiet, like she was forcing herself to let it go.

You wouldn’t.

The next morning, that very same Hufflepuff woke up covered in fur.

Not all over, just her face.

A thick, fluffy coat of golden-brown fuzz, soft as a Puffskein, sprouting in wild patches across her forehead, cheeks, and chin.

According to Poppy, the screams started immediately, and the entire girls dormitory had woken up to it.

The girl, who turned out to be a fifth-year, had flown into a hysterical panic, shrieking as she bolted for a mirror, hands frantically scrubbing at her face like she could rub the fur away.

She couldn’t.

It was a very specific hex. One that lasted exactly one week.

Professor Ronen was baffled.

Madam Blainey was thoroughly fascinated.

And Professor Howin, bless her, had cooed over her like she was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. You had a front row seat to the entire thing during Beasts class.

“This is truly fascinating,” she’d said, holding the girl’s chin and turning her face slightly toward the light. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen transfiguration manifest quite like this! And so soft—feels just like a Kneazle’s coat, doesn’t it?”

The best part? It wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t painful. Just… humiliating.

You considered it a job well done.

When Howin had dismissed you for lunch, Poppy pulled you aside. She didn't say anything at first. Just stared.

You blinked at her, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

Poppy squinted. Narrowed her eyes slightly. Huffed.

"You did that, didn’t you?"

You blinked again.

Because Poppy—sweet, gentle, pacifist Poppy—did not accuse people of things. Which meant she was completely certain.

You just smiled, giving her your most innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Poppy just sighed, shaking her head. But then—just for a moment—she smiled.

Small. Subtle. Grateful.

Like she knew exactly what you’d done. Like she knew there was no use arguing, no point in telling you not to go to such lengths for her.

And then, without a word, she reached out and squeezed your hand.

The Natsai Incident

You had never liked Callum Thorne.

Seventh-year. Gryffindor. Arrogant. Loud-mouthed. The kind of person who had never been told no in his life and walked through Hogwarts like the world owed him something.

You’d tolerated him for years, mostly because you hadn’t needed to interact with him much. But this? This was different.

You were starting the day with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat had yet to arrive, leaving the class unsupervised and giving Thorne the perfect opportunity to make a scene.

Natty was speaking with Poppy near the front of the room, voice calm as she explained something about the Ministry’s policies on magical creatures in Africa compared to Britain. She wasn’t being loud, wasn’t even arguing, just explaining.

That’s when Thorne scoffed.

“Merlin’s sake, Onai, give it a rest,” he sneered from the back of the room, tossing his quill onto his desk with an exaggerated huff. “Do you ever get tired of standing on that bloody soapbox of yours?”

The room went still.

Natty turned, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable, regarding him with that same poised, unshaken calm that made her such a force to be reckoned with.

“I was simply having a discussion,” she said smoothly. “No one is forcing you to listen, Thorne.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Except you never shut up about it. Always talking about ‘justice’ and ‘change’ like you think you’re going to fix the whole bloody world.” He smirked. “News flash, Onai—no one cares.”

A few of his friends chuckled.

Your fingernails dug into your palm.

Natty didn’t react—not outwardly, anyway. She just exhaled, slow and measured, and turned back to Poppy like his words had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

You? You were already plotting his downfall, and luckily, Callum Thorne was a creature of habit.

He always stayed out after curfew to flirt with whatever unfortunate girl he had chosen that week, and he always went up to the Astronomy Tower afterwards with his friends to play cards and drink whatever contraband alcohol they’d smuggled into the castle.

Which made him the perfect target.

That night, as the seventh-year tidied up the cards, stretching and yawning, likely already thinking about his warm bed waiting for him—

His legs froze in place. Not a Full Body-Bind. No, this was different.

A soft, subtle hex. A slow, creeping sensation, his feet adhering to the stone beneath him, then his calves, then his thighs.

By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

He tried to step forward—failed. Tried to yank himself free—failed.

And then—with agonizing slowness—his entire body began to lift off the ground. No warning. No control.

He drifted upward, weightless, helpless, arms flailing as the stone ceiling came closer and closer—

And then, with a soft thump, he was stuck. Face-down, body pressed flat against the Astronomy Tower ceiling.

His screaming started immediately.

Loud. Panicked. A complete meltdown.

His friends, who had started their walk down the tower came bolting back up the stairs at the sound of his shouting.

“What the—?” one of them started, eyes wide as they gawked at the ceiling.

“Thorne?” another asked, dumbfounded.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back laughter as you hid beneath your disillusionment charm.

“GET ME DOWN!” Thorne bellowed, arms and legs flailing uselessly against the stone. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?”

His friends stared, uselessly waving their wands, muttering counterspells that only resulted in Thorne spinning in slow circles, howling in distress.

When they realized they were utterly helpless, panic completely set in.

“What do we do?” one of them asked, looking between the others with wild eyes. “Should we get a professor?”

Thorne snarled. “NO! DO NOT—”

But it was too late. Because at that very moment, the Astronomy Tower door swung open once again, and a very tired, very unimpressed Professor Shah stepped inside.

There was a long, painful beat of silence.

Shah took in the scene.

The stack of contraband firewhiskey bottles on the table. The panicked seventh-years, wands still drawn, looking entirely too guilty. And Callum Thorne, still face-down, circling against the ceiling, hissing every curse word known to wizardkind.

She sighed, long and slow, as if she had simply had enough of this entire generation of students. Then, with an effortless flick of her wand, she cast a single spell.

And gravity returned. All at once. Thorne plummeted like a sack of bricks.

The landing was spectacular. A glorious, sprawling heap, limbs tangled, robes askew, one shoe missing entirely. His friends didn’t even try to catch him.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—

“Hospital Wing,” Shah said simply, rubbing her temples. “Now.”

Thorne was half-carried, half-dragged down the tower steps, groaning the entire way.

And you?

You slept soundly that night.

By morning, half the school had heard the story.

"Did you hear about Thorne? Got stuck to the Astronomy Tower ceiling last night."

"He was crying by the time they got him down."

"Serves him right—bloke’s a complete asshole."

And you? You sat perfectly composed at breakfast, casually stirring your tea, listening as his friends panicked about who could have done it.

Sebastian, of course, knew.

He sat beside you, arms folded, lips pressed together, shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Finally, he exhaled, tilting his head toward you.

“You are actually unhinged,” he murmured, utterly delighted.

You simply sipped your tea. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Across the hall, Natty smiled.

Soft. Knowing.

The Sebastian Incident

You had been careful.

For years, you had woven your revenge into the shadows, never once leaving a trace of your involvement in the strange misfortunes that befell those who dared to insult your friends. You were precise, patient, undetectable.

But everyone has a breaking point. And yours? Yours was Sebastian Sallow.

It happened in the Great Hall when Scorpius Malfoy decided to idiotically open his big fucking mouth.

You hadn’t been paying attention to him at first. Why would you? People like Malfoy had never mattered to you. He was just another spoiled pureblood, another self-important waste of a surname who thought his words carried weight simply because he could afford to say them.

But then his voice cut through the din, and he said Sebastian’s name.

"No family name worth a damn, no money, no influence. Honestly, I don’t even know why the professors still put up with Sallow. And he’s an orphan, isn’t he?"

One of his friends nodded, grinning like this was some kind of joke. Like Sebastian Sallow’s entire life was nothing more than a punchline.

Malfoy snorted. "So he's got dead parents, a dead uncle, and a crippled sister who’ll probably never set foot in the wizarding world again. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up rotting in the same gutter he came from."

The words landed like a curse.

Sebastian had been mid-conversation with you, fork in hand, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he teased you about something inconsequential—some throwaway joke that would have normally earned him an eye roll and a shove.

But now? Now, he wasn’t moving. Not speaking. Not breathing. Just silent.

Rigid.

Like the weight of those words had turned him into stone.

And something inside you snapped.

It was almost funny, in retrospect, how much effort you had spent perfecting the art of subtlety.

Every step you had taken over the years had been measured, every spell carefully woven into the fabric of coincidence, every act of vengeance so meticulously placed that no one had ever been able to definitively trace it back to you. You had built a flawless reputation, balancing on the razor’s edge between brilliance and menace, justice and mystery.

But now? Now, as you rose from your seat, you weren’t careful at all.

You didn’t move like a shadow, didn’t cloak yourself in misdirection or the comfort of silence. No. This time, you wanted them to see you.

And the moment you stood, the Great Hall stilled.

Students stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped moving altogether. The clatter of plates and goblets faded into a thick, suffocating silence, as if even the walls of Hogwarts itself were holding their breath.

Your voice came out low. Cold.

"Say that one more time, Malfoy."

Scorpius turned lazily, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Like he hadn’t just spat on Sebastian’s entire existence for no other reason than because he could.

And he smirked. Merlin, he smirked. Like you were some insignificant thing, an insect buzzing too close to his ear.

“Oh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Touched a nerve, have I? Which part got to you, I wonder? The fact that Sallow’s got no family? Or the part where I pointed out that he’s got no future either?”

You took a step forward. You could hear Ominis hissing at you to stop, to think about what you were doing before you got yourself deep into shit, gut you couldn't. Not when it came to your friends.

Not when it came to Sebastian.

Especially when he still hadn't moved. Hadn’t reacted. Hadn’t so much as breathed.

Your hand tightened around your wand, the weight of it comforting, grounding, an extension of the fury curling in your chest.

"You should tread carefully, Scorpius," you murmured, your voice smooth, edged with something lethal. "I know you think you're clever—that you can say whatever you like without consequence, just because you were born into the right family."

Your head tilted slightly, gaze sharp, cutting straight through him.

"But you should know something about me by now."

Malfoy’s smirk faltered just slightly. And then, before he could open his mouth again—

You flicked your wand.

Hard. Fast.

Malfoy's goblet exploded.

A concussive blast of magic sent shards flying, the remnants of his beverage splattering across his pristine uniform like spilled blood. A jagged edge of glass sliced across his hand, thin but deep, and he flinched, eyes snapping down to it with genuine shock.

"If you're going to run your mouth about my friends," you said coolly, watching him clutch his bleeding hand, "then you should be prepared to suffer for it."

Your next spell came before he could react. Before anyone could stop you.

A sharp twist of your wrist, and his mouth was gone.

Not silenced. Not muffled. Just… gone. Smooth, unbroken skin where lips should be, like his voice had simply been erased from existence.

The realization hit him immediately.

His hands shot to his face, clawing at his skin, a muffled scream—horrified, panicked—rising in his throat. He lurched backward, knocking into one of his friends, fingers digging at face like he could carve his lips back into place.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

You needed something that would etch itself into the bones of this castle, into the minds of every single person watching in stunned silence. Something that told the whole goddamn school that if they so much as breathed wrong about Sebastian again, you would ruin them.

A simple hex would be too merciful. A standard jinx—something temporary, something easily countered—wouldn’t send the right message.

No, you needed something else. Something only you could undo.

Your wand rose, fingers tightening around the handle.

A familiar thrumming sensation curled through your bones, crackling at your fingertips, humming beneath your skin like a storm about to break. Ancient magic—the power that had followed you since the day you first stepped foot in Hogwarts, the magic that had made you different. You had never used it publicly. Never allowed yourself to tap into it in a room full of hundreds of witnesses.

Until now.

Malfoy’s body lurched.

Not by his own will, but by yours, by the ancient, crackling force curling through your veins.

The entire room gasped as he was wrenched upward, his robes twisting violently around him as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into the sky.

He thrashed, or tried to, but the moment he moved, the spell struck.

A jolt of electricity tore through his body.

Not enough to kill. Not enough to cause permanent harm, but enough to make him scream. Or at least, he would have screamed—if he still had a mouth.

Instead, a choked, garbled sound tore from his throat, half agony, half suffocated panic, his limbs seizing as the current snapped down his spine, through his arms and legs.

And you let them watch, let the entire Great Hall bear witness as he hung there, suspended like some grotesque marionette.

And the moment he tried to move again, tried to scratch at where his mouth should be or flail his limbs, another arc of lightning danced across his body, snapping against his skin like a promise that any attempt to fight this would only make it worse.

And he knew. They all knew. He wasn’t getting down until you allowed it. But your arm didn’t waver, you held your wand high, like an executioner delivering final judgment.

Because this? This was a declaration. A statement. A message carved into the very bones of Hogwarts itself.

You do not speak against Sebastian Sallow.

You wondered if he realized that you would have done this a thousand times over. That you would have burned the entire goddamn world for him if he asked.

But before you could do anything more—before you could decide how far you were willing to take this—

A thunderous voice shattered the moment.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The spell snapped. Malfoy dropped. His body crashed onto the table below, sending plates and goblets scattering, silverware clattering to the stone floor. He lay there, twitching, gasping, pathetically small as the last of the magic flickered out of his limbs.

And then—

"You."

Phineas Nigellus Black’s voice was pure ice.

You turned to face him—not a shred of regret, not a flicker of guilt in your expression.

But the Headmaster was raging. His hands were clenched at his sides, his teeth bared in fury.

The entire room was still. Waiting. Holding its breath.

"My office." His voice was low, lethal, like the words themselves were a curse. "Now."

A sharp inhale from someone at the Ravenclaw table. A hushed whisper from a terrified first-year.

No detention. No points docked. Just a direct order from the highest authority in the school.

But it was worth it, because now they knew. Every single person in this room knew.

And as you turned on your heel, heart still pounding with the remnants of power buzzing in your veins—

You caught Sebastian’s eyes one last time.

Still watching, still frozen in place, yet looking at you like you were the most devastating, impossible, extraordinary thing he had ever seen.

And then? The slightest smirk. The most faint, devastatingly admiring grin.

Like he had never, ever wanted anyone more.

[hederasgarden]

Do you have any darker thoughts about your fav ATJ characters?

Bestie, I have so many thoughts, and I’m totally blaming @otaku-girl-ao3 for this. A few weeks ago, we spent an afternoon on Discord brainstorming what the ATJ characters would be like as dark versions of themselves and how that would manifest in distinct and interesting ways.

Just a quick note—this is quite a departure from the usual content on my blog and the type of things I typically write about. Recently, I’ve been gathering the courage to explore some darker themes in my writing (I blame BookTok for introducing me to a lot of questionable tropes). Please be kind and let me know if you’d like to see more of this kind of writing from me!

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train), and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Dead dove, do not eat. VERY dark, depraved, and horny thoughts direct from me to you. Not all themes are tagged. Read at your own risk.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

Sergei is a meticulous planner, taking his time to observe you and learn your habits. He likely comes across you by chance—perhaps while on the job or visiting his brother. It’s your scent that first grabs his attention, but it’s not what draws him back. It’s the softness and sweetness in your demeanor, the vulnerability you exude, completely unaware of the dangers around you. You’re the easiest prey he’s ever tracked, unaware even of the most basic threats. You’re always buried in a book or your phone, headphones on at full blast. If it weren’t for his quiet intervention, you would have been robbed or worse on your way home at least twice. 

He takes you because he believes you're not meant to be on your own. You need someone to care for you, to protect you from the world that you don’t fully understand. Really, it’s lucky your paths crossed. He’s certain you’ll come to see things his way in time. Until then, he’s turned his home into a beautiful little cage for you to live in, complete with an entire library filled with your favorite books, cozy blankets to keep you warm, and all the ingredients for the meals you love to cook and enjoy. He’s done his research on what you like and he’ll bring you anything you ask for. Afterall, he’s a provider at heart.

There’s no concern of you running away. You've seen the large snow leopard that prowls around outside, and the one time you made a foolish attempt to escape, Sergei was quick to show you that he wouldn't always be so gentle or understanding. As @writercole suggested, once he has you back, he’ll also end up keeping you tethered by the ankle for a while, a lesson that if you try to run, he’ll leash you.

After you recover from that experience Sergei finds you’re a much better pet, settling into your new life and role. You start cooking for him when he's home, and willingly crawl into bed beside him, seeking out his warmth on those cold winter nights. Soon, Sergei knows you’ll be ready for the next step: starting a family of your own.

Friedrich (in a modern AU) strikes me as the type who would quietly manipulate situations to his advantage, working behind the scenes to ensure things unfold just how he wants. He’d spot you working at a cafe or store he frequently visits and, from that moment, start working on a plan to make you his.

Rather than using overt force, he’d rely on subtle pressure and gaslighting, making you doubt yourself and your choices. He’d skillfully set up circumstances to undermine you—ensuring you miss out on a job you desperately need, getting you fired, or putting you in a position where you have no choice but to turn to him. When you're at your lowest, he’ll swoop in as the savior, the one who appears to protect you. His goal is to make you dependent on him alone, carefully ensuring that when the time comes for him to make his move, you're in no position to resist. Consent would be questionable, but he'd remind you every time you hesitated that you said yes, that you asked for his help, and that you invited him in.

I can also see him isolating you from friends and family, slowly pulling you away from the support system you once had. He’d definitely be the type to love-bomb you, showering you with overwhelming attention and affection, using his money and influence to manipulate you further. 

He strikes me as a baby trapper, sabotaging your birth control or tampering with his condoms to ensure you get pregnant. He believes you'd be the perfect wife and mother—you just need his help to realize that. Once he has you, he’d be the most loving and attentive husband, always caring, but beneath that sweetness lies an unshakable belief that he knows what’s best. He’s the one who makes the decisions, subtly guiding everything with quiet confidence until, over time, the balance shifts in his favor and you start looking to him for help with even the easiest things. Despite all of this, Friedrich would likely still view himself as a good person, firmly rejecting any notion that he is abusive or in the wrong.

Tangerine is on the opposite end of the spectrum, much more inclined to use brute force and physical violence to make you understand your place. He has a short temper and struggles with impulse control, especially when you don't follow his demands. There’s no slow build-up with him—he has no time or patience for romance. The moment he sees you on the street, he decides you’re coming home with him, and that’s final. Or maybe Tangerine and Lemon are sent to kill your husband but when Tangerine sees just how sweet you are, completely unaware of who and what your husband really is, he decides to keep you for himself. After all, no one's going to miss you. They’ll assume you died in the house fire with your husband. 

Once he had you he would try and spoil you with a beautiful place to live, fine clothes and decadent food. He’d want you to look and dress a certain way for him. A darker version of him would fit the profile of a classic abuser—lashing out at you in anger, only to later show up with flowers and a hollow apology, turning the blame onto you as if you were the one who provoked it.

“Why do you have to make things so fuckin’ hard, huh?” Tangerine questions, caressing your bruised skin. “I hate when you make me do this to ya luv. You need to listen better.”

He’d definitely be the most terrifying of all the dark versions of the ATJ characters because of his unpredictability. (I do not know why but I have such a strong sense he’d pop you in the mouth/back hand you with those rings on and just….yeah.)

If Ives were to go dark, he’d likely abuse his power and authority in the workplace, targeting someone beneath him—someone who wasn’t military and who he could easily manipulate using his strength and knowledge. Maybe you’re his admin, someone he works closely with, and no one questions the fact that you’re often in his office with the door closed or staying late to finish tasks together. He’d be blunt about his intentions with you, setting clear expectations for how things would unfold. His actions would be predictable—if you were a good girl, you’d be rewarded; if you misbehaved, there would be consequences. Ives would be a steady, unyielding force, confident that, with time, you’d fall into line.

[djarins-cyare]

I thought it would be harder to pick and then I saw "Be-All And Endor pegging bonus scene" and anyway here I am. 😍

Ahaha, I hoped someone would ask about this one from my WIP folder! 🧡💚

This is set several months after the main story ends. My plan was – and still is (eventually) – to write some random scenes from Din and Reader’s future in lieu of a sequel.

Several readers commented they would’ve liked to have read the scene in the final chapter where Reader tells Din to go shower and meet her in their cabin to cross off another item on their “things that’ll happen eventually” list, which suggests some type of ass play for Din, based on an earlier comment in chapter 37 where he indicates he’d be interested in trying it.

As usual, the smut slowed me down when I started drafting it. Honestly, I don’t think I know enough about pegging to adequately describe it, so I put it on the back burner until I could do sufficient research.

That said, when I got your ask, I went back and checked how much I had already written, and I realised I actually have a decent-length scene leading up to the smut… it just fades to black (again) when they’re about to start.

So, Kate, since it’s you and you definitely deserve a reward for all your cheerleading of Be-All (for which I’m forever grateful), I’ve decided to give you not just a snippet but the whole of the 1k+ word scene that I’ve got so far. I’m not posting it on AO3 yet – I’ll do that later once I’ve written the second half of it and converted the AO3 version into a series – so for now, please enjoy this Tumblr exclusive bonus content!

⚠️ Please note the following contains heavy spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read the original story!

Be-All And Endor Bonus Chapter (excerpt): The Solace

Rating: Mature (18+) Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Word count: 1,150 Tags/warnings: References to sex, anal play, pegging (nothing explicit); brief reference to a past attempted SA; the dildo is referred to as a cock; some swearing and explicit language; one (1) Mando’a insult

You find the toy tucked away in the back of your drawer, hidden from prying eyes for weeks. Even though Din knows you acquired it before leaving Glavis, you’d insisted on keeping it a surprise until you could finally try it out.

But things had got in the way.

His painful Darksaber injury, worse than Nantoogen’s concussive blaster bolt on Endor. His discovery of that mythosaur marker in Kolzoc Alley, faded and ominous. His bitter disappointment at reaching the lowest level of the substrata and finding it empty. The thrill of uncovering hastily painted coordinates that revealed his tribe’s new location.

Just like that, your fun and games were on hold.

In the weeks since, everything that’s happened has overwhelmed you both – physically and emotionally – for better and for worse. The covert, the recognition of your union, your shiny new helmet… Din’s exile.

The Armorer’s final words and your defiant retort still ring tragically in your ears almost a day later, as if your helmet has trapped them there:

“You have not yet sworn the Creed; therefore, you are not an apostate. You may stay.”

“But I have sworn riduurok to Din Djarin and the gai bal manda to Grogu; therefore, I am a wife and mother. I am loyal to my clan and could never abandon them for a tribe that exiles one of its own despite his wish to atone. You taught me that loyalty and solidarity are the Way, and I will honour that. So, I thank you for your offer, but nariti lo’shebs’ul.”

You can still feel the sting of tears on your cheeks, still see Din’s dejected body stiffen as you told his alor to shove her offer up her ass. Amid the grief, you sensed a spike of shock – even pride – flicker within him for a fleeting moment.

Now back in hyperspace’s safe and superluminal embrace, you both need the relief of the release you’re about to partake in. But he needs it more.

He still hasn’t really talked. Not properly – not like you know he can. He’s been barely responsive, stiff, twitchy, and every subtle quiver speaks of his deep turmoil. Apostate. It’s an awful label. His inner storm has been yours to share through your connection, but you’ve resisted. You saw his need for solitude on Anantapar, so you’d granted him several hours alone in the cockpit – helmet on.

After several failed check-ins for food and comfort, it was to this suggestion alone that Din had responded. Once you’d assured him that Grogu was asleep in his cubicle, he’d immediately risen from his chair, awaiting instructions. You’d told him to shower and to meet you in the cabin without his helmet, where you’d unveil your purchase from Glavis.

Now, with a determined breath, you face the final hurdle: figuring out how to attach the damn thing.

You’d liked the look of the ‘strapless’ versions, but the vendor had advised that a strap would be best. More stability and a better experience for your husband, she’d insisted. Fewer distractions for you while it’s his turn, she’d winked. Fair point. You’re not sure you could concentrate solely on his pleasure with something nestled inside your pussy, rubbing your G-spot to distraction.

It takes a few minutes of fiddling, but you successfully secure the harness. It’s actually more comfortable than it looks.

You turn back to the drawer and run your fingers along the dildo’s length, marvelling at the silky texture. It cost a kriffing fortune, so it’d better be worth the credits. A snort escapes you at the thought that Nantoogen’s bounty reward paid for this. It’s almost poetic that the man who tried to sexually assault you has now purchased you your very own cock.

Once it’s nestled securely within the harness, you spend several minutes pacing around the cabin, watching it bob along in front of you. Kriff, you’re oscillating between nervous, curious, and aroused. It makes you feel… powerful.

You and Din have an established sexual dynamic, though, and he’s always in control, even when he’s seemingly not. He has also previously rejected the idea of using toys in the bedroom, fully confident that (for you, at least) he can do better with his own dick. But as much as he’s enjoyed taking your fingers in his ass on occasion, he’d eventually agreed that something more substantial would guarantee him a more gratifying time.

Given his general dislike of sex aids, you’d asked the vendor for a realistic dildo to match your skin tone, especially since you know he’s been attracted to men in the past. Hopefully, this will help him feel less like he’s having something plastic shoved up him and more like he’s enjoying someone’s body.

With the trusty Tatooine lube at the ready on the nightstand, you strip off everything but your bra and your new appendage, then perch on the edge of the bed and wait.

You’re so accustomed to every rattle on the Crest by now that even his bare feet can’t hide his ascent up the ladder, and your pulse quickens in readiness. You stand, wanting to present him with the full spectacle upon entry to the cabin.

Din steps through the door as it slides open, but he stops dead the second he catches sight of you. His uncovered gaze plummets straight down to your cock, eyes widening in surprise, brows rising in tandem with a sharp inhale.

He swallows, staring… staring…

You gulp, hoping… hoping…

And then you see it – the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s nothing compared to the wide grin you’re used to seeing on your husband’s face, but you reach out with your mind, trying to decipher that almost-smile. There’s still a heavy soup of grief, but there’s more now, too. Intrigue, anticipation… a hint of excitement. Sexual excitement.

“Do you like it?” you venture, gently steering him toward those positive feelings.

He swallows again and nods, still staring. “It looks… real.” Taking a careful step forward, he comes within touching distance yet still only uses his eyes. “I like how real it looks.”

A rush of relief pulses through you. Those credits were well spent.

With a grin, you comment, “Well, it doesn’t have balls, but I don’t need those to fuck you. My metaphorical ones are big enough.”

Din’s eyes finally rise to meet yours as he steps even closer, the smirk on his lips now more obvious, and you catch another spike of his pride over how you handled your exit from the covert. “I fucking love you,” he declares, pressing a hard, grateful kiss to your lips before pulling back abruptly. “Where do you want me?”

“On your knees, on the bed,” you command, knowing full well that this is an illusion of power he’s giving you. “I wanna see that tight little ass in the air.”

His smirk grows. “Yes, Sir.”

Mando’a translations, in case they aren’t obvious:

riduurok [REE-doo-rok] – marriage agreement

gai bal manda [guy bal MAN-dah] – adoption ceremony (lit. “name and soul”)

nariti lo’shebs’ul [nah-REE-tee loh-SHEBS-ool] – shove it up your ass

Notes:

“Trusty Tatooine lube” is a reference to the scene in the final chapter that I mentioned above – Reader picked some up before they left, which is why she suggested that particular activity as soon as they’d left the planet.

In case anyone’s forgotten, Din tells Reader in chapter 30 (after their shower sex) that whatever sex aids she used before he came along have no place in their relationship, indicating his general dislike of sex toys. I don’t think he’s a prude, but this version of Din has a preconceived notion that he needs to be the best lover he can be without any ‘cheating’. Reader could easily talk him into using toys on her, of course, simply by educating him a little better – just as she’s done regarding other things he’s been somewhat naive about. But here, she decides to respect his prior avoidance and give him an experience that feels as ‘real’ as possible. Perhaps this will help him realise that toys might be fun for her, too!

Reader also refers to having “seen his need for solitude on Anantapar”, which, as a reminder, refers to when he had a teensy bit of an emotional breakdown at the tail end of their honeymoon in chapter 38.

I adapted the lovely insulting Mando’a phrase from a previously existing phrase in Karen Travis’s novel ‘Order 66’ – Kovid lo’shebs’ul narit – which is supposed to mean ‘shove your head up your ass’, but the grammar is a little off. So I put the verb in the correct place and properly conjugated it, then removed the word for ‘head’ (it doesn’t need an object as she’s just said the word “offer”, so it’s clear what she’s talking about).

Holy crap, I’m scared now I’ve put this up. This is the first new Be-All content since July 2023! 😭 Fun timing, though, because I have another two Be-All bonus posts coming out in the next few days as the fic is about to hit a milestone, so stay tuned!

Permanent tag list lovelies:

@bergamote-catsandbooks @chiyo13 @cw80831 @finalgirl-96 @harriedandharassed

@howhighwepose @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @lilac-boo @lucienofthelakes

@pigeonmama @punkygreeny @roughdaysandart @sadisticheskiy @samarys

@syd-djarin @wrathkitty

Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST

➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

[cheshitora]

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛psycho x killer

baji keisuke ver. (1/3 valhalla trio)

on the stand :: baji keisuke x afab!reader

crimes committed :: DARK CONTENT, smut, nsfw, aged up characters, murder, masochism, sadism (i'll tag it just in case), strangling, asphyxiation, mentions of death, mentions of deadly chemicals, minor character death, body rejuvenation, immortal baji, noncon/dubcon (technically. i'll add both in case), spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything. Read at your own discretion. MDNI

che's verdict :: heyyy. i liked the idea. so i had to write for valhalla trio too lol. they were supposed to be short drabbles but i yap too much lol. anyways enjoy

word count :: 1.3k - it was supposed to be a drabble lol

"you got me feelin' like a psycho.."

Don’t think you can try to fool Keisuke - you can’t. He may have passively allowed you to continue your little murder spree on him but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll let you have your way every time, if at all.

Your raven haired lover is keenly aware of any and all planned attacks and strategies you’ve thought you cleverly hid from him. Well, you were wrong. Because he didn’t fall for the old “open the door and get an ax to the face” trick. He certainly wasn't allowing himself to trip and fall back on a clearly visible gasoline puddle for you to set aflame. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to discern the bitter smell of almonds in his waffles, finding the powdered sugar sprinkled delicately on top to be laced with cyanide. Nice try, but he wasn’t eating those.

Instead, he invited your next door neighbor to come over and eat the nicely made breakfast. Your neighbor who had gotten too close to comfort with you, always stealing glances your way and making inappropriate comments about your physique and attire when he presumed Keisuke would be out of earshot.

Boy, was he wrong and it nearly brought tears of joy to Keisuke’s eyes as he watched the sleazy man choke from the burning chemical in his throat, his face contorting in agony as he face planted into the plate of breakfast in front of him. Another one bites the dust.

You would sigh a breath of exhaustion, coming to terms that your futile attempts at your husband’s life were child’s play and Keisuke found it almost adorable when your moxy began to diminish. You even resorted to just sprinting towards him with a large, steel kitchen knife, aiming for his covered heart when he easily gripped your wrist the second you were in close range.

“Really? You can do better than that,” he smirked, swiping the cleaver from your grip with a low chuckle.

Poor girl, he thought but he knew your tricks and you found it increasingly difficult to fool your honey eyed husband. It was almost funny how hard you tried to end his life, though he knew it would be nearly impossible - he was an immortal, after all. There was no actual chance of you sending him back to the underworld with which he assumedly originated from, until today.

On this night, with mere luck to your advantage, just as you were heading off to bed, you clasped a string of thick, wooly rope in your palms, silently trudging towards your husband’s backside as he sat facing away from, leaning against the backrest of your couch with a beer in hand.

And before he could react to your sudden presence behind him, you quickly wrapped the thick rope around his neck, bracing your foot against the couch as you pulled back with all your might, your raven haired husband thrashing about, desperately fingering the rope trapped against the skin of his neck.

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead and chest - your husband was strong and holding him back with your own strength was proving to be a difficult task until you noticed the change in his color, his olive skin turning red from asphyxiation. Suddenly, the red shifted to a blue hue, a telltale sign of his life slipping from his body and then - he went limp.

You stared at him in horror, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you made out the sight of your dead lover: bloodshot eyes, head leaned over the backrest of the couch, mouth agape, fingers still hooked under the rope, unbreathing, lifeless.

You stood there in utter shock, unwilling to take a step towards the man you called your husband. You knew it wouldn’t have been possible for him to actually kick the bucket but for a split second as his heart stopped, you feared the worst. Your hands reached out towards him before he unexpectedly inhaled a large gasp of air, jolting you out of your stupor, a shrill shriek escaping your lungs as Keisuke breathed heavily, tossing the length of rope aside as he rubbed his now bruised neck with his hands.

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest, feeling like you were on the verge of a heart attack as Keisuke shifted his attention towards you, knitting his brows in what seemingly looked like a mix of anger and admiration, perhaps even arousal. 

“Fuck, you actually did it,” he rasped out. This was the first time, and maybe even the only time, you’ve successfully murdered your husband, but now he was ready to take vengeance on you.

Now, Keisuke would never hurt you intentionally. Well, he would but only if it was meant to bring you pleasure and right now, he couldn’t think of a better way to praise and reprimand you than to lay you across his lap, hiking up the thin cotton of your small night dress, revealing your panty clad ass to his hungry eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he brought his rough, calloused hand down against your backside with a loud, thundering clap, making you squeal out in pain.

One slap. Two slaps. Three. Four. Five.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take, your eyes brimming with tears as your legs shook from the stinging pain on your plush ass, underwear soaked from your growing arousal.

“Tappin’ out already? I haven’t even gotten to ten yet,” he laughed, hooking his fingers under the elastic band of your panties, shimmying them down your hips, your cunt glistening with arousal.

“Dirty slut.” He spread your legs further apart, tracing the tip of his finger against your weeping slit, a small whimper seeping from your lips before he rammed two digits into your tight cunt, eliciting a loud, drawn out moan from your throat. 

Without any warning, Keisuke pistoned his fingers in and out of your fluttering walls, all the while his other hand continued to deliver blow after blow to your tender skin. You writhed on his lap, mewls and whimpers tumbling off your lips in place of actual words, your vision becoming blurry with a wall of tears.

God, you were so pretty when you cried, beautiful and he loved every spill of salty droplets that stained your reddened cheeks. It took every ounce of him not to pin you to the couch and plunge his hardening cock past your slick folds. But he needed to punish you first. He wanted to see how far he could push you until you were a crying, shivering mess. You weren’t about to kill him and get away so easily without facing the consequences and for Keisuke, he wasn’t about to not break a sweat teaching you a lesson.

His dick twitched in his pants as he saw more tears flooding your eyes, a sadistic grin tugging at the corners of his lips as the pace of his hand quickened, the sound of squelching filling the once quiet space that had been disturbed when you cleverly caught your raven haired husband by surprise.

He was past ten slaps but he wanted to see how much more you could take. He felt your walls tighten around his digits, a warning sign that you were close, just on the precipice of releasing until he pulled his fingers out, your tight hole clenching around nothing as you whined, desperate for him to fill you back up again. He grabbed a fistful of your hair with his spanking hand, pulling your head back as licked your sweet honey off his fingers.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I don’t think you deserve to cum.”

You whined again, his hand gripping your hair harder, almost painful as he nibbled your earlobe. It was going to be a long night of punishment but a subtle smile etched across your face as he smacked your ass again, knowing the punishment was all too worth it.

Perhaps you should try to kill him again tomorrow. If you’re successful, you might just get punished again.

©ABOVE WORK BELONGS TO CHESHITORA. PLAGARISM AND STEALING WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR ORIGINAL CREATORS

[27dragons]

Hiii I‘ve been loving seeing you more on my dash lately, been following you and reading your fics for like six years now and truly no one else’s works have filled my bookmarks as much as yours (and Tisfans of course).

One of yours was the very first winteriron fic I ever read and it had me fall in love instantly, haven’t found anything else like them since. I love that you found your writing muse again, and I know it’s been a long time and a lot of the fandom has fizzled out. But I just wanted to pop in an ask if maybe one day you could see yourself writing MCU again?

In any case, it’s been a lot of lovely years with your writing and you’ll make (and are making) a lot of other new people incredibly happy with your amazing skill and talent for words, worldbuilding and characterisation <3

Hey there! I'm so delighted that you've enjoyed my fics so much!!! It really means a lot to me.

The tldr is that yes, there's at least a slim chance that I might write winteriron/MCU again one day. There is a whole stack of partially-written WIPs still in my writing folder that I can't bring myself to archive and retire.

I'll admit that my enthusiasm for MCU faded a lot when they killed Tony off. And then a massive surge in my depression (thanks in part to COVID and then tisfan's death and then my mom's) all but extinguished my ability to write. I had a creative burst for about 3 months in 2023 with Sandman and the Dreamling ship that resulted in about a dozen fics, but the one fic that I managed to write in 2024 (which was winteriron!) felt like pulling teeth to finish.

But I'm still reading some winteriron fics (and the occasional stony), so it's not entirely dead to me. (For that matter, I did quite a few winteriron/MCU ficlets with my Countdowns here on tumblr in both '23 and '24 - check my "countdown to 2024" and "countdown to 2025" tags if you missed those.)

It's just that winteriron is closely tied to tisfan for me (even before we were writing together, she was always my beta reader), and it's hard to think about it without her. (Also, I've written SO MUCH winteriron, it's hard to come up with any scenarios that I haven't already done, lol)

The Arcane/Jayvik bug has bitten hard, and it's such a relief to know that I can still write, but I'm still waiting to see if this will fizzle out again after a few months like the Dreamling stuff did.

If I do keep writing, there's a pretty decent chance that I will eventually come back to winteriron, at least occasionally. If nothing else, I'd love to one day finish the fic that tisfan and I were working on when she had her stroke.

But I expect it will take a while. If you asked because you're considering unfollowing/unsubscribing so your inbox and dash aren't cluttered with notifications for a fandom you have no interest in, then I promise I won't be offended if you want to do that and just set yourself a reminder to check back in a year to see what happened. I've made that decision myself a few times, and I know it comes with a sliver of heartbreak and guilt. But I understand that not everyone will want to follow me everywhere that I go, and that in no way diminishes my appreciation for the love you've given my fics in the past, whether you just clicked kudos or left a comment on every chapter.

Thank you again for this very kind note. I'm so happy to have given you something you've enjoyed so much.

❤️💛

[coffins-and-marbles]

Sub!Wilson Fanfic Masterlist

My favourite Sub!Wilson fanfics in no particular order with summary and comments from me! Heed the tags in each fic! All Hilson except a few Hudson fics which are labelled accordingly! (Some crossover from my Hurt!Wilson Fanfic Masterlist, once again some comments are vague because I read the fic a while ago!)

Sub!Wilson:

just wrap me up like a present by itooaminthisepisode (silasthylacine) : House ties Wilson up with Christmas lights. Y'know, to get into the festive spirit and all. As you do. It goes better than expected. (Super fun and not very sexual! itooaminthisepisode features HEAVILY in this list because amazing)

sick little feelings in my sick little brain by itooaminthisepisode (silasthylacine) : House makes Wilson piss in his mouth. That's it, that's the fic. (So I didn't think I had a piss kink...read this)

wiped away my thoughts and cares by itooaminthisepisode (silasthylacine) : Wilson sometimes struggles with incontinence. House decides to help in a rather... unorthodox way. (I wish this was canon so hard I could've seen this one screen)

something sweet and safe by itooaminthisepisode (silasthylacine) : After Wilson flirts with a nurse at work, House decides to put him in his place. (LOVED.)

the sweater song (i’ve come undone) by  blairhouse : wilson wears an ugly sweater. house finds out he has a thing for pretty boys in ugly sweaters. (I loved this! loved the aftercare so much it's so important to me!)

House Training by nobecausecheese : House and Wilson play a game. (Obsessed with Puppy!Wilson forever, thoroughly enjoyed his humiliation)

can you catch me when i'm falling down? by  itooaminthisepisode (silasthylacine) : Wilson's been having a bad day. Luckily, House knows just what to do to make him feel better. (Very good!)

Wilson's Painful Ride by BilliAshli : After not getting laid for a few months, Wilson decides to have some alone time before House wakes up. It doesn't take long for House to wake up and nearly catch Wilson in the act. Unable to take out his vibrator, Wilson has to keep it inside him for the entire morning at work. House eventually catches on and decides his friend needs to be taught a lesson. (Fantastic!!!)

don't have to guess the color of (my) underwear b  s4dlik3_mrme : Wilson lost a bet. House bought a toy. (Very in character that it was all a bet!)

Dysfunction by silly_billies : The morning had been dragging along at a terribly slow pace, with Wilson filing off mundane paperwork, and House fighting off a vile ennui. During this, House had somehow weaselled his way into Wilson’s office. (No sex, not even really Dom/Sub but the undertones are there and I love it)

Some Miscellaneous Kinky Wilson Fanfic:

o·ver·eat: The action of eating more food than your body needs by  the_odd_writer : House's recent cooking classes help him with his pain- as much as a non-drug solution could. He turned it into an obsession and Wilson became the guinea pig, the taste tester, and the sole consumer of most of his dishes. This situation catches up to him in more ways than one. It's always House's fault. (Chubby Wilson 4ever)

fallen 'neath my tender hand by fallen 'neath my tender hand : Wilson does something unforgivable. (So freaky and nasty I'm here for it)

break my skin and drain me by break my skin and drain me : House indulges in one of his darker fantasies. (House is doing the kinky bits but Wilson is hurting and yay)

Just horny hilson fanfic I like:

Better Than a Hooker by BilliAshli : House's hookers are too busy to help him out, so he goes to his best friend's office and asks for help. Wilson is stressed out from work and desperately needs to get off, so his friend offers a helping hand in exchange for sucking him off. (Office sex, my beloved, not kinky but I like it okay)

on my way to believing by Chychyd : Wilson knows what this says about him— that the only piece of furniture that he could pick out himself was something House alone would use. He knows it says that the only thing inside him that matters is the man sitting on that bench. (I loved this episode, this should've been the actual ending!)

Tease by BirdStreet : House decides to spend the day getting Wilson all worked up. Pretty much pure smut. (Good read)

everybody knows that i'm a good boy, officer  by romanticisingheroin : House buys a police and prisoner Halloween costume for him and Wilson to wear to Cuddy's annual Halloween parties. His mind wanders after seeing that the costume came with handcuffs included. (Really fun! Should've been in the show)

love is the coal by Chychyd : Wilson is struggling, House would do anything in the world to help him, and Cuddy is a wonderful boss. House and Wilson take a much needed vacation and spend the entire thing on top of each other. (I love everything about this!)

Hudson:

took me over like a fever by Chychyd : House and Cuddy invite Wilson to a threesome and Cuddy finally gets to peg House! (Cut the summary because it was quite long, very good read!)

through the long night by bleakmidwinter : Cuddy decides they'll all get it out of their system if they have sex, but it seems Wilson and House had a lot more going on in their system than she anticipated. It isn't a bad thing. (Love their dynamics so much there doesn't even need to be Dom/Sub)

[rareomens]

Oh hey, no. Don't do that. Please.

This is a bit of a read but I've spent a long time thinking and editing, and I'm saying this all gently but seriously.

I imagine the above was NOT intentionally said to prick anyone's emotions, but this kind of comment on Rare Omens prompts is like saying it about any of them. It reminds me that so many of these pairs are only tolerated at best by the majority of folks in the fandom. (Every one of these prompts has people who don't like or even actively hate them. Take a look at the prompt list in our pinned post, and marvel at that statement but know it to be true.)

This prompt month event has a "don't like? ignore it and move on" policy. Trust me from experience with my own rare ships: we hear the disgust or hate enough, we know others aren't into it.

If you don't like something, that's okay! If you want to talk about not liking it, that's also okay. BUT PLEASE don't reply to people who are clearly having their fun in a post. It's not necessary and it only makes people feel badly to see it directly in the notifs. It only digs away at feeling welcome to whatever we get from enjoying a pair (or OT3, or polycule, etc). And that can lead to feeling unwelcome in the wider fandom the rest of the time... which is absolutely devastating to feel.

You can post separately and start a conversation to find people who feel similarly if you feel strongly and want to have those conversations—though hating on rare pairs/characters is common and such posts are probably not necessary. Anyone doing so: please DO NOT TAG a ship in your tags when hating on it. Bc the people most likely searching that tag? They DO like it, and don't need to wade through a bunch of negative comments to find fellow fans.

I started Rare Omens bc it was hard to find transformative works for ships I liked (be it as a couple or ANY OTHER way you can pair characters up—as a reminder: it doesn't have to be NSFW; it doesn't have to be SFW either of course). I wanted to find other people who enjoyed what I enjoyed. And to help people experiment with making stories and art they otherwise might never have thought about. And it has gone really well! I've seen NSFW ships, and friend ships, and respected enemies, hated enemies, and AUs of all shapes. Participants over the years have mentioned that they never would've thought to try writing certain characters in stories or draw them off on adventures. THAT, I love. We know there's ever anyone out there excited for their faves and waiting for it.

I also want to say...

I saw this reply earlier today but I was out at a showing of Macbeth where I made the acquaintance of a bunch of Good Omens fans (ranging in age from 20s to 60s at a guess). One of them even cosplays Metatron, and their Crowley and Aziraphale showed pics. It was real fun to see them include a rarer character in their cosplay group. I didn't have a chance to reply to this until now, and I'm glad I waited. I'm thinking about that cosplayer too: it can be disheartening to see "your" rare character excluded from the fun of transformative works.

Right. All this to say:

Please be kind to your fellow fans, even when they're playing with the dolls in ways you would never.

We don't have to force ourselves to like anything or interact with it (in fact: don't interact, talk privately to your friends who understand), but we gotta let people have their sandbox too. Because if we're excluding our weirdest and wildest takes, the most gloriously crackfic pairings possible, then we're not safe for anyone. We're not transforming anything.

Ship and let ship.

Thank you.

[UPDATE] Docdust and I have chatted. They've adjusted their comment. They are friends with the others and meant it in a positive way. So new addendum 😅: inside jokes outside our groups can be seen by others who might not know our history or what we're doing with RP.

I'm glad no one was really hating on a pair. And I'm equally glad to have Rare Omens' stance on it all written out here. Thank you all for continuing to be supportive of each other!

It’s Rare Omens 2025 Day 4

Aziraphale and Metatron!

Are the Guardian and the Voice lovers, enemies, siblings, friends, work colleagues? Share your prompt fills of the Guardian and the Voice and tag us.

You can also post to the **AO3 collection** Rare_Omens, which we'll check regularly throughout the prompt month.

[krowtesque]

art summary ’24! drew a lot of people staring very intensely at the viewer this year apparently

[brandwhorestarscream]

Reincarnation AU

Poor Mom of Triplets Rodimus so Exhausted. Luckly the Lost Lighters have heard the phrase "It takes a vilage to raise a child." Suprisingly Whirl is up there in compatition for most beloved uncle with Drift. Seriously who knew the Psychocopter was really good with bitties.

It's probably a good thing since Roddy wasn't the only one to fall to the Reincarnation shenanigans. He was merely the first. When Drift, Ratchet and Megatron all fall pregnant the call back to Cybetrton reveals Optimus, Starscream, and Prowl are all greatly gravid.

[Meanwhile somewhere off stage Tarn is feeling Things™️. He kept his array pure for Lord Megatron The Cause. And somehow he is experiencing the mechpreg.]

He's having such a hard time lmao. Even tho the crew adores the bitties and are always happy to help out their captain, they're still very young and can't really be away from their carrier for too long. Offers to babysit last perhaps a megacycle, tops, before the bitties get squirmy and cranky and their tiny sparks begin reaching for their maternal bond, and Rodimus has to hurry back to them

Funny enough, he actually gets the most rest when he's not by himself: though he trusts Drift and Ratchet completely with the triplets, and go an extent Ultra Magnus as well, Roddy struggles to actually relax when he's alone in his habsuite or office and his kiddos are elsewhere. It's like a reflex he can't control: whenever his sparklings are out of sight it's like a switch just flips in his mind. His thoughts swirl around them, always insistently pulled away from whatever he's supposed to be doing. Wondering if they're alright, if they're hungry, or if Pinky is getting anxious without him like he tends to, or if Maroon was still trying to choke himself by sucking on his own fingers. What if they miss him, what if they're too much for their sitters to handle, what if they think he's abandoned them, what if they trip and fall and hurt themselves and he's not there to make sure they're ok?! What if something terrible happens, like what if they fall down the stairs and break their cranial casing? What if there's another psychotic sociopath hiding aboard somewhere that takes his sparklings hostage when he's not there to protect them?! What if they get attacked by space pirates?! What if they DIE?! Of they die it'll he all his fault and he's the worst mom ever and-

On and on it goes. Whenever the exhausted carrier tries to nap by himself, his thoughts just spiral and throw him headfirst into a fit of anxiety. Rodimus has some of the worst imposter syndrome we've ever seen, and i think that would carry over to how he sees himself as a parent: he has no idea what he's doing and he loves these sparklings more than life itself; the only thing he wants, more than anything, is to do right by them. To give them the life they deserve, to be the mother they deserve. He's scared to death about raising them, honestly, so afraid to make a mistake and ruin their lives. He'd never forgive himself if he let them be hurt or, worse, if he hurt them. Having them out of sight exacerbates his anxieties, because he can't possibly know exactly what they're getting up to.

And because of all that, exhausted mama Rodimus gets his best sleep either on his berth with the three ragamuffins puppy piled on top of him, or in common areas when someone else can keep the kiddos occupied and he can keep an eye on them. Knowing they're safe and right in front of him but also knowing that he's not the only pair of adult hands available, the combination let's his body finally relax and he is out. Either helm down on the table or crashing onto the nearest shoulder, Rodimus drops into such a deep recharge so fast the first few times it happened the crew worried he had actually fainted. And when I say out I mean out, face completely limp in exhaustion, mouth open, and snoring. Everyone in the vicinity is happy to let him recharge, Primus knows he needs it. Drift makes sure to get him a blanket, and it's not long before the triplets are lured in by the warm softness and their mother's form, getting all comfy in the little blankie nest at his side 🤭

Sorry, that Rodimus part went on waaay longer than I expected it to, I just love him sm ok 🥺

BUT HOO BOY THE NEXT ONE

Ratchet and Drift and Megatron all at roughly the same time? Damn. I feel like idw Megatron would be quietly horrified because, in his (probably correct honestly I love him but I shouldnt lie) opinion, he is not fit to be a carrier. Ratchet is crabby with Drift when he finds out, grumbling about outdated contraceptives and overly affectionate conjunx, until he's able to actually do a paternity test at Rodimus's prompting. His babies don't have a sire, so maybe...?

Ratchet is surprised and suspicious when the same turns up for him. Once is a random occurrence, twice is a coincidence, thrice makes a pattern. For the three of them to all turn up carrying at roughly the same time was already very unlikely, but for two out of the four pregnancies onboard to be asexually conceived... the chances of that happening randomly is astronomically small. He pulls Drift in for the same test, and wouldn't you know it? No sire. Same story with Megatron. When they get in contact with Cybertron, he finds they're all thankfully on the same page. Starscream had pegged it as incredibly statistically unlikely, though he hadn't had paternity tests performed to determine the lack of a sire. It's almost surreal, once said tests are done, hearing that every single one of them is expecting what is, essentially, a naturally occurring little clone of themselves.

Final closing thoughts because I've rambled enough: I'm still incredibly amused by the idea Tarn in labor, high as a kite from the epidural, tell Nickel, "Nooo don't touch my seal, that's for Lord Megatron" 😂 poor Tarn man, saved himself for all these years, only to get slapped with virgin mary syndrome and BOOM, magic baby. He gets all the pains of childbirth without even experiencing the act of conceiving the baby in the first place. Press F

[batfossil-fr]

I’ve been really thinking of reopening my art shop soon… I’ve been taking some practice doodles (hence all the posting lately) while I shake off my rust and I’m finding things I enjoy working on again. I miss trying my hand at more dragons/OCs and colors. my shop’s so broken rn lmao but that’s a problem for a later date it’s just nice getting back into art

[actual-changeling]

if you do not follow/haven't seen my recent posts, i really recommend you read this one and this one before continuing, just to make it hit the right way.

also reminder that i have an ao3 right here (and it's not all pain, promise!)

sorry in advance :)

-

the more time passes, the easier it is for joel to talk about sarah. it still hurts, always will, an old bullet buried in his heart surrounded by scar tissue, but except for a few memories, words don't make him bleed anymore. tommy tentatively starts bringing her up once he notices that joel no longer flinches when he mentions her name, and it feels good to breathe life into their shared experiences, his brother the only one who comes close to understanding his pain but also the joy that colored their years.

ellie asks, too, just as hesitantly as tommy at first, but soon her curiosity takes over and not a day passes by without a question in-between sentences about his past. joel answers all of them, stories spilling from his lips and spinning themselves into a sarah-shaped web that he can share with her.

"she played soccer, right? when did she win her first competition?"

there's a few sports teams in jackson, and of course the soccer one caught her eye, making joel dread all the twisted ankles and bruised shins he was going to have to tend to. getting grass stains out of sarah's uniforms had always been a task and a half, and eventually they both stopped caring about it and just watched them pile up, turning white fabric a greenish-brown.

joel opens his mouth, the coffee cup in his hand hovering above the kitchen table, and then he stills, every muscle in his body turning to ice.

ellie's joel? is drowned out by the ringing in his hears, knuckles turning white and gripping the porcelain so tightly he can feel it crack in his palm, and he must have stopped breathing because his vision is growing fuzzy, black dots scurrying in his periphery.

joel lets the cup fall more than he sets it down, stomach turning, bile rising in his throat, because ellie asked him a question about sarah, his sarah, and he doesn't remember the answer.

it can't be, right? just a small gap in his memory, nothing big, it'll come back to him in an hour and he'll tell ellie about it later. but the panic squeezing his chest is real, terror slithering up his neck and curling around his ear whispering what else did you forget?

more than ever before, he tries to think back to all of it, from the first time he held her in his arms to the moment he buried her, and something odd happens to him when he finds that so much of it is. blurry. frayed at the edges, burned holes and white blotches obscuring important and unimportant details alike, memory an old role of film decomposing in the back of his mind.

the color of her baby blanket (blue, it had to be blue, he can't see), the first movie he watched with her, her favorite book in primary school, the way he did her hair on the first day of kindergarten, the friendship bracelets they made together, the posters on her wall, the dress she wore to her first dance (purple right? right?), memories surfacing as his panic cracks him open like an earthquake, and joel tries to cling to them, nails scratching at the parts that should be there but aren't until he tastes blood, desperation growing and growing because he is forgetting her.

"joel you're scaring the fuck out of me right now what's wrong?"

ellie's voice is distant, and he hates worrying her, hates the almost hysteric edge beneath it when she repeats herself, hands squeezing his shoulders, softly, first, then harder when he doesn't respond. all of the years that he didn't even know she existed, memories she has that he never will, all the firsts and buts and what ifs and failures that define a childhood, their innocent light fractured into vivid fantasies by the stained glass window of life. he has had all that and more with sarah, clung to it in the after to remind himself that she is real, that he is still a father even with his daughter buried by a nameless river.

it is all he has left of her, the childhood she never got to outgrow, and it's fading in a mind that has mourned her for longer than she got exist.

not for the first time, joel wishes he hadn't flinched, his brain worthless if it allowed sarah to fade away. without ellie bound to his heart, he would have tempted fate again for that alone.

-

"who hurt you" too many people to count and luckily tumblr lets me make it everyones problem

[marypsue]

I freely admit that this post is more propaganda to try to get people to consider using a book journal than me actually believing that People In General keep book journals, but consider: keeping a book journal.

[stillgeekingout]

#it's very strange #because i often feel like the culmination of those characters arcs #like if the point is they're ace great but like... #the option of lesbianism just *never* occurs #which--and again not to discredit any ace people or ace readings of her work--is such a common lesbian experience! #like myself and a bunch of other lesbians i know had that journey #of going 'hmm i don't like men... guess I'm asexual! (do not ask me about women i will combust)' #like lady bird... whatever #little women... alright i suppose if you wanted to make a comentary on how lma was forced to add the heterosexual romance at the end #and not suggest anything about a real person and also not deviate from the source material #but barbie was insane #the coding was next level #like c'mon birkenstocks??? #and i argue that barbies acceptance of genitalia could be read as an acceptance of sexuality or the very least exploring it #so why isn't she a dyke??? (other than mattel probably giving a hard no on that)

I don’t know, the thing that really bothers me about Greta Gerwig’s films is that there is just this gaping hole where gay women should be. Like, when you’re making these movies about the trap of heterosexual marriage, breaking free of that, and the only concrete answer is to be a single woman over and over and over again, it feels like an intentional absence. You can watch the movie with a queer lens, but it is egregious that you may only consider homosexuality in her movies in this way. It ought to be in them. There is no reason for it not to be there. Women don’t fuck women in Greta Gerwig’s feminist liberations. Often, they don’t have sex at all.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jmail wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.