#I was genuinely having a really good time throughout

[hyperions-light]

hey I was planning another post today but instead let’s talk about how much I love that there’s not really a ‘good’ ending to the companion plotlines in Veilguard. It reminds me of Leliana and Alistair’s plotlines in DAO in that what you choose says more about the player/protagonist than anything

I just finished Isana Negat a second time, and I did the other ending and I thought it was just as good. Like, yeah, Harding does deserve to be angry! They did fucking get everything taken away from them! It’s so painful and horrific; yes you can, and should, be mad! But also Harding prioritizing her very real love for and compassion towards other people is not wrong. It’s just different! It’s just Rook’s friend/lover asking them for advice, and Rook giving it! You know, like in real life except with huge magical rock giants

And okay I’m never going to kill Illario because I think it would make Luca really sad and he has enough problems, Whoops I misremembered this, I don’t think you can kill Illario actually. I love that for Luca <3 But yk, I’m probably still not going to imprison him. but I can see it! Because the cycle has to end, right? The violence and infighting of the Crows endlessly attacking each other over power is part of what allowed the Antaam to get a foothold in Antiva, because there was like a double agent or something (if I’m remembering right from Tev Nights). Some kind of ending needs to be made to this endless violence. And I suppose it depends on how retributive Rook is, which is a great question to ask of the player (one that is asked repeatedly throughout the game). It’s not like Illario didn’t do anything, you know! He probably deserves punishment. But Rook, as they always can at various points, can be merciful, can choose absolution. Wow no, I’m glad I was wrong I love it more like this.

And oh boy, I LOVED the ending of Emmrich’s quest, don’t even get me started! Like!! I thought it was going to be ‘well obviously we HAVE to save Manfred’, but how Emmrich talks about accepting his death and his sacrifice convinced me! I was like alright man, this is a real choice! I actually did make him a lich last time (made a lot of sense from a Watcher perspective, imo) and not only was the cutscene sick as hell, but the follow-up was so funny and I got some really sad Spite dialogue which fucking wrecked me. It was great— seriously, his plotline is one of my favorites in the whole game.

And Davrin’s! I’ve already expounded at length about how much I like his quest line and how it ties into the Grey Wardens, but I really think both of his options for the griffons are so workable, because you know the Grey Wardens, especially under Antione and Evka, aren’t going to hurt those little guys again! But also the scenes with Eldrin are so endearing, and Davrin’s hope for a brighter future for them is so sweet and genuine. It’s hard to pick! It’s about Rook's perspective!

Neve's I'll admit I don't vibe with as much just because of the like 'trust the authorities' angle, but i haven't tried saving Minrathous yet and I think it would be sooooo involving as a Shadow Dragon especially. Because that's what they're fighting for, right? That better Minrathous where they CAN be sure that if they send the insane cultist lady to prison she’s going to stay there? But there’s always the practical consideration of people’s lives being at stake NOW, of Neve needing her friends safe NOW. And just killing Aelia ensures she will never be an issue again. So I can see both angles for sure

And Taash ;-; oh, Taash. I haven’t posted about them that much yet because they make me very emotional and it’s hard to organize thoughts like that. But I really love their quest, and their struggle to define themselves. And look, I know people wanted the option to tell them they could be both, but like as a person who has lived a similar experience, it really feels sometimes like the world is making you choose. It can feel like you’re not enough of either thing for anyone. And there are parts of your identity that you will have to make a choice on, and I think it’s trying to speak to that. I did the Rivaini one, and it’s like… well, they’re embracing the culture of Rivain, but it’s not like anyone is ever going to look at them and NOT see a Qunari. You can’t get away from that. What you choose to do in response is a real dilemma and I think that if you engage with the text genuinely you can see what Trick was doing. Also, there is a really great dialogue from Rook that I think gives more context to the discussion; they can say that they have been many things, and it’s important to take what works from each experience and make it part of yourself. So I don’t think Taash’s plot is trying to make them throw away any of themselves, just defining priorities. (Sorry, that got long. Feelings, opinions about that one)

And I don’t think Bellara’s is obvious, either, especially with how they involve the Nadas Dirthalen in her personal plot. This is a thing that is really emotionally and culturally significant to her, but at the same time it is part of what hurt her brother and ultimately took him away from her. She’s really preoccupied with not causing harm by her actions; she spends the whole game worried about it! And even though Rook doesn’t see the dangerous elements of the repository, that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The puzzle quest you can find in Arlathan proves that other people besides Cyrian were taken in by Anaris. And also, there’s the plot thread they briefly touched on in the last game which is that the culture the Dalish have built, that they have RIGHT NOW, is not wrong. But it’s also important to remember history, even if it’s unpleasant or could be dangerous, which is another thing you can discuss with Bellara during the game. So there’s no wrong choice! It’s just about Rook and Bellara and what’s important from their perspectives.

Anyway it was super refreshing to have these kinds of choices! It reminds me of the best character choices in DAI and DAO, especially, and I’m so happy they carried those things forward and improved on them.

[deadpresidents]

I’m curious about the friendship between Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter (and presidential friendships in general,) I’d like to know what that looked like for them. Would they go and do things together or was it just a few phone calls a year?

Their relationship is really interesting because during the 1976 campaign and in the years right afterward, Ford and Carter genuinely did not like each other. It wasn't a normal, opponent vs. opponent rivalry, either. They straight-up disliked one another, and that was extremely unusual for Gerald Ford, who got along with practically everybody he met throughout his life, rarely had bad things to say about other people, and was almost physically incapable of being unkind to others, no matter what side of the political spectrum they belonged to.

What changed was when President Reagan sent all the living former Presidents -- Nixon, Ford, and Carter -- to Cairo in 1981 to attend Anwar Sadat's funeral following Sadat's assassination. The three former Presidents all flew together on one of the planes normally used as Air Force One, and there was some tension at the beginning, but the person who broke the ice, oddly enough, ended up being Richard Nixon. Ford then suggested that the former Presidents should drop all formalities and just refer to one another as Dick, Jerry, and Jimmy. As Ford remembered, "I guess we figured we were gonna be in a plane together forty hours, more or less, and in order to be pleasant, it was a good idea to just wipe the slate clean, which we did." Ford and Carter eventually started bonding, partly over the fact that Ronald Reagan was a major reason why each of them ultimately lost their respective bids for re-election.

At the time, Carter was having trouble building his Presidential Library, and he asked Ford for some advice since Ford had just recently opened his library. When Carter mentioned he was having some issues raising money for the library, Ford offered to come down and appear at fundraisers for him, and asked Carter to return the favor and visit the Ford Library for an event.

As Thomas M. DeFrank writes in his 2007 book, Write It When I'm Gone: Remarkable Off-the-Record Conversations With Gerald R. Ford (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO):

"Carter accepted, triggering a Jimmy-Jerry tag team match extending over several years. These back-scratching appearances didn't convert them into friends, but the relationship was notably friendlier. They began staying in regular contact, talking on the phone, and exchanging birthday greetings. Their contacts were sufficiently public that some of Ford's closest political allies grumbled that he was spending altogether too much time with Carter -- not unlike similar complaints from [George H.W.] Bush 41 partisans today that he hangs around Bill Clinton too much. Ford brushed off the complaints. Beyond their shared practical interests in Presidential Libraries, another unifying bond was at play. Both ex-Presidents had strong reasons not to like Ronald Reagan, which helped cement their ties even though neither one would ever admit it publicly. To one old Ford friend, the calculation was simple: 'Once you did something for his library or museum, you were a friend for life.'"

As they got older, Ford and Carter would sometimes make joint appearances at Presidential Libraries or universities, or events for important causes, and they even wrote a joint op-ed during the Monica Lewinsky scandal urging Congress to censure President Clinton instead of impeaching him. They felt it was a bad precedent (which it has clearly turned out to be) and would be bad for the country. Unlike Ford, Jimmy Carter wasn't very easy-going or personable, so there were times when their friendship would get a little frayed. Ford once told a friend, "Well, you know Jimmy. He can be a real pain in the ass, but we get along."

Eventually, they promised one another that they would deliver the eulogy if the other former President died first. President Ford died first, on December 26, 2006, and Carter attended every event during the several days of ceremonies, from Ford's lying in state at the U.S. Capitol, to the national funeral service at the Washington National Cathedral, and traveled with Ford's family and the former President's remains to Ford's hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. At the church service in Grand Rapids, Carter delivered his eulogy, and also attended the private interment service when Ford was buried as at his Presidential Library. In his eulogy, Carter repeated the gracious first words he had said when delivering his Inaugural Address on the day he took over the White House from Ford in 1977, "For myself and for my nation, I want to thank my predecessor for all he has done to heal our land." It was a remarkable relationship between two former Presidents who, again, genuinely disliked one another for quite some time.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 20)

Hello lovelies, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! It's been a while, and for that, I'm sorry. I've been (and still am) going through a bit of a depressive episode. November's typically a tough month for me for a couple of reasons, but it hit harder than usual this year. Still, I wanted to come back and bring you another installment of Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics, just in case anyone needs a little Sterek to get them by like I have.

Side note: I'm actually thinking of doing a some, like, "feature" posts where I rec a single fic at a time, regardless of whether or not I've already rec'd it through this series, and actually explain what I like about the fics. Give a little endorsement, if you will. As much as I love all of the fics I have recommended throughout this series, I definitely have some go-to staple fics that I re-read with far more frequency than others. I can think of at least 3 off of the top of my head right this second...

Idk. Would any of you be interested in that? I might do it no matter what, just to have something to engage my brain a bit, but I have also been nearly catatonic with brain fog and just a general exhaustion of life, so. We'll see.

Okay, enough of my yappin'!

As ever and always, thank you all so much for all of the love and support you've shown this series. It genuinely warms my heart when I get a notification for this series, and I appreciate you all so much. I hope you've all found some new favorites and/or got to dig back into an old favorite or two along the way. There won't be too many more parts, but I'm going to try to stretch this bitch out to 25 parts because it's a tasty number to my brain.

I hope you're all having a good day, if not a great one! Smoochies and squeezies, lovelies!

List and links to previous parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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The Horror of Our Love by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 1/1 | 4,941)

"I'm not wearing a muzzle," Derek snaps.

"Look, if you wear this then we're golden! There's no way you can bite through this, Deaton said so."

"Oh well, if Deaton says," Derek says snidely. It's a silly argument. Sure, Deaton is shady and enjoys bending the truth on occasion, but unless it's a complex assassination plan he wouldn't lie about this. Something that Stiles knows that Derek is aware of.

"There's really no reason for him to lie," Stiles points out. "What's your real problem with it?"

"It's demeaning," Derek says through gritted teeth.

"What? No! Lots of werewolves have to wear one of these," Stiles says, waving the muzzle around. The leather and clasps jingle.

Derek sneers at him. "Wolves who can't control themselves."

"Pot and kettle, buddy. Wait, wait," Stiles says hurriedly when Derek turns to leave, "let's just... let's try it, okay? Come on, have I steered us wrong before?"

-

In which Derek can't control himself while having sex with Stiles and needs to be muzzled.

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Burial Rituals by aurevell (G | 1/1 | 4,989)

The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

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Devoured by Hedwig221b (E | 1/1 | 5,298)

Breathless, Stiles shifted his gaze up and went red from the knowing smirk on the deific face. The man’s red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, glowing like two fires on the tips of the candles. One of his thick eyebrows was lifted in amusement.

He was the most beautiful being Stiles had ever seen. As was probably expected, considering he was the god of sexual desire.

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Satisfaction Brought It Back by Snare (E | 1/1 | 7,223)

Derek doesn't know how nobody else seems to notice the large, ever-present bulge in Stiles' jeans. He can't help but be curious about it, he just - he just wants.

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Lay Me Out by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 2/2 | 8,967)

"This is weird," Stiles tells him. His hands are still on Derek's chest. "Is this weird? Are you even sentient enough to think things are weird?"

Derek's tail wags back and forth, brushing against his calves and stirring up the fallen leaves. And the licking? It doesn't stop. Derek keeps at it, licking Stiles' cheeks, his forehead, that sensitive spot behind his ears. Stiles tries to twist away, much braver now that he hasn't been mauled, but there's no escape.

"Okay," Stiles croaks out. He pushes at Derek's shoulders, his chest. "Let me up, big guy, come on."

When Derek doesn't move, Stiles arches up, trying to wriggle free, but then he feels something wet and sticky against his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. He cranes his neck down and sees Derek's dick. It's distinctly non-human; red, with a tapered tip. Clear fluid drips from it.

"Oh holy god," he says, horrified and fascinated. "Is that - oh fuck."

-

In which Derek has sex with Stiles while in the Alpha form

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to be with those I like by sheafrotherdon (E | 1/1 | 9,323)

It's Deaton who tells Derek that Stiles is back in town, a broken marriage behind him, his daughter in tow.

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How We Got Here by Areiton (E | 1/1 | 9,718)

Maybe if you fight the creatures of the night together like they did, if you bury enough friends and strangers and enemies, you don’t lose touch.

He thinks that’s why he and Derek are friends--because Derek understands his nightmares, understands the nights when he can’t talk, and the nights he can’t stand the dark.

OR: Against all odds and expectations, Stiles and Derek have become respectable adults ( WHY?) and friends.

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Lunches, Knitting and Definitely Not Dating by attackofthezee (noxlunate), noxlunate (T | 1/1 | 10,107)

“So, I uh, managed to get myself pregnant.”

“You what?!”

“Got myself pregnant. Y’know, up the duff, knocked up, a bun in the oven, in a family way, eating for two, with child. I could go on Dad, really, stop me before I exhaust the list of pregnancy euphemisms. There’s still caught an 18 year STD, my eggo is preggo, building a person-“

“Stiles.”

“Hosting a parasite, harboring a fugitive-“

(Just a weird mpreg fic with Derek and Stiles totally kinda dating without realizing it, and Stiles figuring out this whole having a baby thing.)

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(they say) this should feel something like fire by dallisons (E | 1/1 | 11,163)

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

"Turn it off." The pack looked up, stunned into silence by the first words they'd heard from him in weeks.

Stiles stood, trembling - his knees weak. He tried to run and collapsed, his bad leg failing him once again. Derek caught him. "Turn it off," he said, his voice unmistakably a growl.

The water continued leaking from the loose faucet, and all Stiles heard was Erica's blood against the concrete. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of by Lissadiane (NR | 1/1 | 14,953)

It's a cold, snowy night and Stiles is halfway through his shift at the campus coffee shop when a tall, dark and handsome stranger walks in, one who seems unaware that he's being haunted by a wolf.

In which Stiles Stilinski sees the ghosts of animals with unfinished business, and Derek Hale is unaware that his dearly departed sister left a few things unfinished.

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Untouchable by Hedwig221b (E | 1/1 | 17,128)

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts.

See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding.

And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

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Camaro '68 by ZainClaw (E | 1/1 | 17,707)

Derek huffs, arching one eyebrow. "I'm not a fugitive." "You look like a fugitive," Stiles insists, practically beaming. "Maybe you should start wearing cardigans."

In which Stiles is a hitchhiker and Derek a runaway whose paths cross at a gas station in the California desert.

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Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit (T | 1/1 | 18,010)

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

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Do You Wanna Date My Avatar? by Renmackree (T | 9/9 | 18,399)

Scott frowned, grabbing the game case and reading it out loud.

“Become the Hero you've always wanted to be. Battle monsters, witches, dragons, and all the mythical beasts of the World of Fantasy. Play as a Human, Elf, Dwarf and other special races included in the basic game. Stiles this so stupid. Who the hell would want to play as a Werewolf?” Scott threw the game back on the bed and leaned back in the chair.

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We Only Get Better by Ninna_7 (T | 8/8 | 22,741)

Stiles doesn't call him these days. Not since he left Beacon Hills that last time. Not since Stiles left the FBI internship programme in favour of studying Forensic Psychology at NYU. Stiles has texted him a few times in the past, but he never called. Not anymore. Back then, however, whenever Derek received a call from Stiles or called Stiles in return, it was purely for survival's sake. So Derek doesn't know what to expect from this call. If he's being honest, he's scared of it.

x

Or: It's been years since Stiles and Derek last spoke, but a phone call from the human reconnects them. They have the chemistry, the history and the shared trauma. With time and each other, maybe they can have more.

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part-time soulmate, full-time problem by Renmackree (E | 1/1 | 27,111)

Stiles had seen it all in his five years of supernatural shenanigans, but never in his life would he have guessed returning to Derek's old stomping grounds in New York, especially under the guise of Derek's magical Mate.

It was going to be an exciting summer.

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The Light in the Woods series by DiscontentedWinter (5 works | G-M | 36,507)

1. The Lights in the Woods (T | 8/8 | 12,293) To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles. 2. The Gift of the Trees (T | 1/1 | 4,780) Stiles is everything that Derek ever wanted... almost. 3. Moonflower (G | 1/1 | 3,331) Stiles and Derek's son finds his magic. 4. The Path of the Wolf (G | 1/1 | 5,206) Faolán has to find his own path. 5. The Heart of the Wolf (M | 4/4 | 10,897) Etienne Argent is rescued by a strange young man in the woods.

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In Any Version of Reality by alisvolatpropiis (E | 7/7 | 39,853)

Standing next to not-Derek – whoa, holding not-Derek’s hand? – is someone who looks remarkably like Stiles. Is Stiles, a slightly-altered replica, just like this guy both is and isn't Derek.

It’s not like looking into a mirror – one, because looking into a mirror actually makes some kind of sense, and two, because not-Stiles looks older too, mid twenties maybe. And the tips of his short, spiky hair are dark purple, and he’s got a lip ring and he’s shirtless and covered in tattoos and what the holy hell?

“Time travel?" He's sufficiently freaked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears his dad laughing.

“Not exactly,” not-Derek says, and shit, even his voice sounds exactly the same, disconcertingly gentle. He gestures behind him, and Stiles looks over his shoulder, where behind him, scattered across the porch and in the front yard, are more…Dereks and more Stileses.

Fourteen total, including the two at the door, he notes distantly, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of his head from bulging so hard.

Seven other Dereks. Seven other Stileses.

Seven Derek and Stiles pairs.

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The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 9/9 | 57,572)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.”

This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real.

The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent.

Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person.

He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it.

No one knows this case like Stiles does.

-

In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

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The Soul Knows What the Heart Wants by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (M | 9/9 | 163,779)

“Holy—shit,” Stiles breathed, Bacon stopping in what he was doing, still staring at him intently, as if begging him to understand, for someone to finally understand. Stiles felt like he’d been electrocuted and he leapt out of his chair, kneeling in front of Bacon and grabbing at his furry face. “Holy shit! Oh my God, are you—wait, holy—you’re not fucking with me, right?!”

Bacon let out two quick barks, which Stiles chose to interpret as ‘no.’

“Oh my God, are you a real person in there?!” Stiles shouted in the wolf’s face, staring him right in the eye. He was still holding the wolf’s head with both hands, but Bacon dipped his muzzle in confirmation and Stiles officially lost his mind.

“Oh my God!” he shouted again, releasing Bacon to clutch at his own hair. “Oh my God! Dude, for real?! You’re—holy shit! Holy shit!” He didn’t know how to react to this news. He had no fucking idea how to react. This was a person?! But how?! How was this a person?! People didn’t just turn into wolves!

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[writingwhimsey]

Hi! 🤗 Congratulations on 400 followers🎉. I choose suitor as a dad from the fluff prompt list. Can I have Mitsuhide, Arthur and Clavis please?. I hope you have fun with this but no pressure🩷

Thank you darling! I love this one and I hope you do too!

400 Follower Celebration

Fluff headcanon: Suitors as fathers

Suitors: ikesen Mitsuhide, ikevamp Arthur, and ikepri Clavis

Only warning, you may get cavities from how sweet this is.

Mitsuhide

He’d never given much thought to becoming a father. Bringing a little one into this war torn world, adding another person who could be at risk of being pulled into his darkness? It didn’t seem right to put a child through that. And yet once he met you…and then when you told him you were pregnant…he was scared, but oh so happy.

Once your little one arrived, Mitsuhide fell in love instantly. He vowed that he would make the world a safer place for the little one your love had created. He would always protect and cherish your child. As your child grew, he made sure that they never wanted for anything. Never saw the horrors and hardships he, himself, had experienced. 

Though he makes sure your child doesn’t have to experience the same things he had, he still teaches them all the necessary skills they will need to survive…much like he had done with you when you first arrived. He is gentle yet firm while teaching your child all the important skills they’ll need to survive…though he does his best to make sure they never have to actually use these skills.

Arthur

With as much as he had played around, Arthur hadn’t really pictured himself settled down with a family. But then when you came into his life…into his heart he couldn’t help but to want those things. After months of trying, you finally tell him the good news that you’re pregnant, Arthur is over the moon with joy.

He is loving and supportive and doting throughout your pregnancy. He is a major support during the delivery of your child. And as soon as he sees the little one you two made together…he is completely head over heels for this child. He is the most loving and devoted father.

He helps you with the late night feedings, diaper changes, all of it. He doesn’t want to miss a second of fatherhood with this child you two share. As the child grows, he takes to making up bedtime stories to tell them. One of their favorite past times. He is fully involved in your child’s life and loves being a father.

Clavis

From the moment you two marry, Clavis can’t help but to tease you about having a child. Telling you the kingdom of Lecloch needs an heir. Deep down though, he really wants to be a father. Not because of having an heir or such, but because he genuinely wants to have a child with the woman he loves. He wants a family with you. And when that finally happens…he is ready to shout from the rooftops. There may or may not be a week long celebration in his “kingdom” once you announce the news.

During your pregnancy, Clavis is at your beck and call. He is overjoyed when your strange cravings are for his inventive cooking. He happily cooks for you. He dotes on you and loves speaking to your belly. During your labor and delivery, he is by your side the entire time holding your hand…he may make a joke or two trying to lighten the mood of the room, but when you give him that stern look…he knows.

As your child grows, Clavis is loving and attentive. He makes sure to be present in your family life. He never wants you or the child you share to doubt his love for you. He is determined to be a much better father than the one he had. Once the child is old enough, Clavis is teaching them all of his tricks and having them help with his pranks. When they are seen together the staff go, “And now there are two of them.” Clavis is fun, loving, and doting as a father. He absolutely treasures being a father and considers it the best title he has ever held.

Taglist: @oda-princess @zulablaise @violettduchess @kisara-16

@tele86 @otomewonderland @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260

@queengiuliettafirstlady

[gilbertscurls]

Classroom Competition (pt. 3) ➵ Matt Sturniolo

003. THREE ── together

summary: two rival English teachers, you and Matt, challenge each other to an end-of-year competition to see whose class will come out on top.

The beginning of the new school year arrived faster than you expected. As you walked through the familiar halls of Somerville High, the faint smell of new textbooks and freshly polished floors filled the air. The sounds of students catching up after summer break echoed around you, but your mind was somewhere else.

A whole summer had passed since you and Matt had reached that… truce. And although the rivalry had cooled, your connection with him had only deepened. You’d stayed in touch throughout the break, texting here and there, even grabbing coffee once or twice—under non-bet conditions, of course. But as the school year loomed, the dynamic between you was still uncertain.

You reached your classroom and took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Matt to the side for now. New year, new students, new challenges. Your room was already neatly organized, just the way you liked it, with desks in perfect rows and bulletin boards showcasing colorful posters about literature and writing. You smiled, excited to meet this year’s batch of students, already planning ways to top last year’s success.

Before you could get too far into your thoughts, a knock on the doorframe made you turn. Speak of the devil.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Matt greeted you with a playful grin, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as usual. His presence filled the room, and you couldn’t help the slight uptick of your heart rate.

“Morning, Matt,” you said, setting your bag down on your desk. “Here to check on the competition already?”

Matt chuckled, walking into the room. “Just thought I’d see how you were settling in for the new year. You know, make sure everything’s running smoothly on this side of the English department.”

“Déjà vu,” you remarked with a smirk. “I’m fine. And this year, I’m planning on keeping that coffee-buying streak to myself.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow, that familiar glint in his eyes returning. “We’ll see about that.”

You glanced at him, wondering if you were about to fall back into the same old pattern. But this time, it felt different—lighter, less charged with the need to outdo each other, and more like the friendly teasing you’d grown accustomed to over the summer.

“Actually,” Matt said, interrupting your thoughts, “I was thinking… maybe we should work together this year.”

You blinked in surprise. “Work together? As in… co-teach?”

“Sort of,” he said, leaning against one of your student desks. “I’ve got a few ideas for cross-class projects—something that might get both of our groups working together. Instead of competing against each other, we could try collaborating.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Collaborating? That’s new.”

Matt shrugged, but there was a softness to his usual confidence. “I figured, why not try something different? Besides,” he added with a grin, “I don’t want to keep beating you year after year. Might as well share the glory.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were genuinely intrigued. The idea of working with Matt, combining your teaching styles and approaches, was exciting in a way you hadn’t expected. And maybe—just maybe—it was the next step in whatever was happening between the two of you.

“Okay,” you said slowly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against your desk. “I’m listening. What did you have in mind?”

Matt’s eyes lit up as he began explaining his idea—something about pairing your classes for a joint research project on modern interpretations of classic literature. As he spoke, you realized how well your teaching styles could complement each other. Your structured, methodical approach would balance his more creative, out-of-the-box ideas. It could work. More than that, it could be fun.

“So, what do you think?” Matt asked, finishing his pitch and watching you expectantly.

You paused for a moment, pretending to consider it seriously before flashing him a smile. “I think… this could actually be a good idea. But don’t think for a second that I’m not still going to push my students to outshine yours.”

Matt laughed, his expression softening in that way it did when you caught him off guard. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

There was a beat of silence between you two, and for the first time, it wasn’t filled with the tension of competition or rivalry. Instead, there was something warmer there, something that felt almost like anticipation.

“I guess this means we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other this year,” Matt said, his voice quieter now.

“Looks like it,” you replied, your pulse quickening just a bit.

As Matt pushed off the desk and turned to leave, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you with a smile that was both teasing and sincere. “Let’s make this year interesting.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “It’s a deal.”

And as Matt walked away, you realized that maybe this year would be different in more ways than one. The competition between you and Matt might be shifting, but something else—something unexpected—was definitely beginning.

Whatever it was, you were ready.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @wurlibydominicfike

[seilon]

love when this is referred to as the gifted kid website. shockingly my mental disorders made me mentally disordered and school never really vibed with that so. couldn’t be me

[truthsinwhispers]

.

[britneyshakespeare]

me: you can't save me... Night Crawling by Miley Cyrus featuring Billy Idol: yes I can. I'm Night Crawling by Miley Cyrus featuring Billy Idol.

[amerie-wadia]

.

[isaacathom]

im finding that often when i stay up later than usual (like, until 3am instead of 1) my brain goes 'hey wanna think about hornblower again' and like. yes. but also ?? you still havent read commodore, you havent read or watched anything since late feb/early march, and you havent even really read any fanfic in that time bc you ""exhausted"" the specific sort of thing you like to read. what is FUELLING this???

[bejeweledmp3]

.

[solalunar-eclipse]

To everyone in the comments begging for a fic about this: PLEASE go read Heart of Gold with Blood-Red Eyes!!! It’s by this artist and features Shadow in a similar dynamic with Fleetway Super Sonic, and it is fantastic.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[3nderstar]

.

[mostly-imagines]

So This Is Love

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.

You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.

But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.

You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.

“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.

“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.

You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.

He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.

You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing. 

“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply. 

“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears. 

“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”

All he can do is nod.

You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.

“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.

“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.

The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.

But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.

There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe. 

He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead. 

He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”

“No, I do not.” 

But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.

The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.

His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.

“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.

You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”

He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.

“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement. 

“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance. 

You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.  

“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.

In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”

“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.

You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”

Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”

You turn your head towards him, “No?”

He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that. 

“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.

You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.    

“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.

He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.

You laugh, “Really?”

He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”

“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.

“In my shirt.” He confirms.

You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now. 

“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”

You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”

He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.

You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.

You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.

He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.

“I just—my friend—” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.

“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support. 

“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.

He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”

He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place. 

“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance. 

He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”

You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!” 

But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it. 

He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.   

Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.

Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.   

Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.

This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor. 

You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.

It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him. 

You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.

“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.

You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”

He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”

You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”

He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.  

You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”

“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.

You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.    

Jason didn’t get it at first.

Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.

Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.

Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.

It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.

You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.

You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.

You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.

His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.

“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.

He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.

“What was that?”

You look at him, “He dropped his books.”

“Yeah, I saw. But why—”

His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”

You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.

A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.

He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.

“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.

Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”

The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.

He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.

He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.

It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.

“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.

He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.

He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.

He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.

Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?

Do you?

There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”

The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.

You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Doting

Tags: jjk men as dads, tooth-rotting fluff, comfort drabbles

Synopsis: How the JJK men treat you while pregnant (spoiler warning- they dote on you.)

An: This is my formal apology for writing Nanami angst on the “Baby’s first words” post 😔 it will never happen again (can we stop with the death threats now?)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

Oh, your loving husband is all over you while you’re pregnant. He genuinely has such a cute fascination with all the changes your body is going through. He seriously thinks you’re so strong for carrying his heir.

He loves rubbing your bump. In fact, he will always be touching it in some form or fashion while you two are together. When he’s away on missions, he has you send him pictures and updates on your pregnancy as if anything major has changed in a couple of days.

You best believe he is ready to indulge you on your every craving, no matter how strange. It’s three a.m and you’re crying because you need that specific brand of chicken wings and a can of whip cream? He’s heading to the store immediately to fetch whatever you tell him to.

He genuinely worries about being a good dad. Many nights he lays his head on your bump and talks to you about how teaching didn’t come naturally to him. He wasn’t born knowing how to meet people where they’re at. He use to expect people to be able to meet him on his level. He worries that he may inadvertently put a lot of pressure on his kid, and that’s the last thing he wants due to how he was raised. He just wants his kid to be a kid.

He’s the best, most loving and compassionate dad to your baby, more than you could ever hope for. Even if teaching didn’t come to him naturally, being a father did.

SUGURU

He’s such a “sit down and let me do it for you” while you’re pregnant. He cooks, cleans, works, and tends to you completely throughout your pregnancy.

Suguru gets hyper fixated on your health during pregnancy. He only feeds you the yummiest and healthiest foods while you’re pregnant. He encourages for you to sit on the yoga ball and do (very) light exercises. He just wants the best for you and his baby.

Whenever I said he tends to you, I genuinely mean he tends to you. He’ll gently brush your hair at night time, rub your back when your belly is becoming heavy to carry around, serve your breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, carries around emesis bags and breath mints for if you get morning sickness while you two are out.

This man is the king of enforcing your boundaries to people when they don’t listen. That really annoying family member that insists on being there for the birth even though you’ve already explained to them that you want this to be an experience for just you and Geto? Yeah, he’s made it very clear to them that they will not be at the birth if they want to be in your kid’s life.

He is absolutely not afraid to hurt feelings if it means his wife and future child are safe and cared for. He really don’t give a fuck who anyone else is. You and his child are first priority.

TOJI

Toji is definitely the type to express his love and devotion for you in other ways than the most conventional methods.

He is so incredibly gentle while you’re pregnant. He doesn’t rile you up as much or play fight with you anymore. He constantly reminds himself that you’re carrying another life inside you and that you have enough on your plate.

This man… whew does he love seeing you pregnant. Toji’s the type of man to feel so feral when he looks at you heavily pregnant with his kid.

He adores your body. He’ll rub lotion all over you and oils to help your skin accommodate to the stretch of carrying a kid. He massages your body and absolutely worships it while he’s rubbing the lotion and oil on you.

Your breasts are sore? He’ll gently massage them until they feel better. Your back hurts? He’d be the type to lift your bump up and take the weight off you for as long as you ask him to so you can feel relaxed for a few minutes.

And look this is probably TMI but like, if you got a clogged milk duct due to breastfeeding, Toji would unfortunately be the type of man to fix that issue with his mouth. i’m sorry but he would.

Final thing is, you better believe that he doesn’t allow anyone to get too close to you. He is so unbelievably protective over you while you’re pregnant. If he could, he’d lock you up at home to prevent anyone from getting close to you.

SUKUNA

On the outside, he acts very nonchalant and unbothered by your pregnancy. On the inside, he is constantly plagued by the thought that your body may not be able to carry his heir. The thought of losing you or his child haunts him.

He will secretly observe and take notes on your body and how it is changing. If he catches you expressing any sort of short windedness, he will immediately send you off to bed rest. Though, you’re usually able to convince him to take you off of it by the next day.

The only servant he trusts to tend to you is Uraume. No one else in his court is allowed to be anywhere near you unless he gives specific instructions. Still, he hates leaving you in the care of Uraume. He trusts them, but he wants to be the one to take care of you.

He loves holding your body close to him at night. All four arms are wrapped around you and holding you closely. Since he doesn’t need much sleep, he will stay awake rubbing on your tummy all night long. One time, he felt the baby moving in your stomach while you were asleep. He was so intrigued that he woke you up and told you to “make them do it again”.

Now, he will randomly approach you at any given time while you’re heavily pregnant and hold his hand out so he can feel his baby moving around inside of you. It soothes his worry.

During birth, Sukuna was a complete mess. The amount of blood lost during birth fucking terrified him. He was panicking and yelling at anyone to do something to save you, even while everyone was assuring him that you’re okay and this was natural.

After 9 long excruciating months of extreme worry and constant fear, he finally feels peace when he’s cradling a newborn in his arm and a sleeping wife in the other arm. All of his hard work to protect you paid off he thinks.

NANAMI

Oh, to be pregnant by the king of domestic love himself.

Nanami is the type of man to immediately start working on a nursery for you as soon as you reveal to him that you’re pregnant. He immediately changes the guest bedroom into a nursery that you design for your little baby.

He reads up on all the parenting books and articles. He’s constantly compiling things to either do or to not do during pregnancy and even while raising a kid.

Like Geto, he tends to your every need. He is a total house husband all while working 40 hours a week. When he’s at work, he is constantly calling and texting you to make sure that you’re okay and taking care of yourself, but let’s be fr he literally did everything for you before he even left for work (meal prepped for you, set out your clothes for you, put out all your self care items in case you want to bathe).

When you express concerns of your body getting bigger to him, he does everything in his power to show you that he loves and respects your body for creating life. He literally cherishes and worships your body for hours if you let him.

Like Toji, Nanami is protective over you. He constantly has an arm around you if you two are in public, and he watches everyone who dares to get close to you like a hawk. If he gets a bad vibe about anyone, he’s immediately stepping in front of you and taking over the conversation.

Nanami is the best partner to have during birth. His reading of articles during your pregnancy really paid off. He is supportive without being overbearing. He listens to your needs and tends to you without question. Constant praise and encouragement while you’re giving birth. The moment he gets to snuggle with you and the baby is the moment he realizes that he cultivated the life of his dreams. He has the family he always wanted.