#Leman is a fun dad

[kit-williams]

Warhammer 40k and D&D crossover/au

Whose everyone's favorite wolf boy? It's good boy Leman Russ! Just as rambly as the original post but I think I'm getting better at these

Leman Russ was eager to split off after he enjoyed his time roaming with his brothers.

He would certainly be one of the first ones to throw hands with all of his confused "traitor" brothers as the heresy would be raw and fresh

He really embraced the sense of adventure that came about as the brothers travelled together. Initially just to do some recon which turned into to the quest to get Angron's butcher's nails removed... it slowly spiraled for them and suddenly they found themselves fighting a Dragon, a lich, and some godly amalgamation (You know typical player character stuff)

They were considered a warband as in this homebrew a large army was around 100 people so 19 large men wandering around was deadly.

Though many villagers and others versed with adventurers found the group was odd with how they lacked a dedicated healer or even a bard. (They assumed Logar was the cleric)

If the brothers split up because of another argument then it would be along sort of heresy lines but it probably split apart because someone got tired and the fact that they could just relax and not worry... the fact that they could actually fall in love was also a big thing.

Leman would head back north to be with the raiders as their rambunctus nature reminded him of Fenris and of course he would start to conquor a large swath till he would come into conflict with Sanguinius whom had himself wandered north and found his own wife.

Leman's Wife would be named Ylva (which means wolf funny enough) as she was one who trained war wolves/war hounds/animal handler basically

They fought often enough as both are stubborn till Leman found out she was the daughter of a Jarl and before he came around was trying to regain her ancestral lands and Leman basically stole her chance for revenge.

Leman would have loved to remember her passionate and angry rant at him when he pushed her to finally open up but it all went out of his brain when he saw the way her bottom pushed out as she was pouting

It was with Ylva he finally understood what was "ailing" his brothers who all suddenly started showing interest in mortals

Leman was very ill for Ylva

Though it took her awhile to realize that the "high jarl" was very much down bad for her.

But as soon as she started to return the affection he put a pup in her as fast as he could

The son that is important to the au is either named Bjorn or Lukas this is up for debate as I figured Leman would name his first son Bjorn and maybe his youngest Lukas but the son that would be important to the story is defo not the eldest but he might not be the youngest I'm not sure. Subject to change; just mainly he isn't an only child is the big thing. Leman would not be content with just one child.

The only person who can be rough to his kids and wife is him and the man will go feral

He loves his pups no matter how old they get they will always be pups compared to him; he refuses to reveal how old he actually is; cares little for the gender they are his precious pups.

Even if they aren't all warriors he still loves them

~NSFW~

Breeding kink given the amount of children Ylva has given him; much to her dismay she enjoys teasing him too much and ends up on the recieving end of that pent up affection

Primal play; There's something terrifying and thrilling about being chased in the snow by a butt naked man literally howling like some werewolf

Marking; Ylva has a big scar on her shoulder from when Leman bit her

[ms--lobotomy]

Since you tagged me in this poll I feel the need to answer with my thoughts for all of them. You know, for funsies.

40k Guilliman: pretty good option. He’s (somewhat) mentally stable and has talked it out with you beforehand. Though I am curious on where he acquired primarch-grade bondage equipment. Is that why it was planned months in advance? Was he spending all that time just trying out different kinds of ropes and chains that could hold him like some sort of kinky parody of Fenrir from norse mythology?? Also, he deserves sex that has him relax and not possibly shatter his partner’s pelvis, let that man rest. 8/10.

Corrupted Horus: We all enjoy a very evil and very charismatic man from time to time. And the chaos gods which are currently kinda wearing Horus’ body like a condom are one of the options presented in this poll. But before your mind gets carried away with the fantasy of hot mean DILF, we have to think: He’s still a DILF. And so his taste in music will be that of a Dad. So get ready for him to blast Imagine Dragons while sexily taking his shirt off. You plead for him to strip faster, not because you’re horny but because you hope that when he does so he’ll turn the rock & roll cover of Thunder off and fuck you properly. He won’t. 1/10.

Jaghatai: No words other than those of approval. No thoughts other than those of lust. 9/10.

Ferrus Manus pre-heresy: Not sure why you specified pre-heresy but maybe I don’t have enough imagination for a post-heresy lewding scenario, but I digress. So I feel that the sex wouldn’t be the main draw of the situation here, instead it’s more to do with trying to make a guy feel better about a body part that he wants to peel his metal-skin off of. Ferrus is a dude that has simultaneously given all of his children body dysmorphia (that they try to fix by replacing their body parts with tech) while also wanting to get rid of the most technological part of himself. And he won’t even tell people a direct answer about where he got the technological metal hands from anyway. This man is an enigma and the sex is just a backdrop for the true scenario; which is the Ferrus Manus character exploration that’s going on. So to judge purely by the sex itself it’s a solid 5/10.

Daemon Magnus: This dude will not only do all of what you specified. But he’ll also add Gale from bg3 astral plane type sex into the mix. The only limit is your imagination Babey!!! 11/10 (he may have used his psychic powers to mess with the rating).

Leman Russ: What’s not to love about a big scary man in a collar? What’s not to love about a living war machine getting restrained like they’re a simple animal?? Though him eventually breaking out of it would imply that my skills in Husband husbandry are poor, and that might make me kind of sad. 7/10 (would change it to 8/10 if you also put a muzzle on him)

Pre-Heresy Fulgrim: The number one rule of kink fantasy is that nothing will work out as perfectly as you want it to, something will always go differently than it did in your imagination because, fun fact, your partner is not a mind reader (and even if they were it’s not like they can control every action/reaction they do/have). If you fuck him he will be very very very disappointed in you and will act like a bitch about it. 3/10 (the sex stops midway through because you ruined his expectations too many times).

Rogal Dorn: The way im about to sexualise that middle aged man. Oh boy… well first of all I’ll- [REDACTED BY THE INQUISITION. SUMMONS A DAEMON OF SLAANESH IF THE TEXT IS READ OUT LOUD]. 9.5/10.

30k Corvus Corax: Now while he can’t be perceived, I can. In fact I am very perceivable. Unlike Corvus’ furtive emo outfits my fashion sense consists of wearing the most sparkly and shiny accessories all the time and in very large quantities. I dress as though I’m trying to sound like one of santa’s reindeer or a sentient human windchime. And my penchant to talk very loudly knows no bounds. So combining his extreme stealth with my extreme unstealth gives us the average of The Normal Amount Of Noticeability. Which would get us both arrested for indecent exposure. 0/10 because i don’t want to go to jail.

Sanguinius: also a pretty good option. Though I question how a man who had big issues with being deified by the mortal populace would feel about having his more “angelic” features worshipped. But I’m sure I can make it work. 7.5/10.

In conclusion: the vote goes to Magnus, but if he wasn’t there then Dorn would be attaining the title of “babygirl” real fucking fast.

Time to /finally/ answer some asks. This isn't a knock on you by any means, or anyone who's sent asks. I'm just not very good at it lol

Robby G: Listen. L i s t e n. This man is 1. the type to have a schedule for sex (nothing wrong with that if thats what people are into) and 2. the type to take it in the butt. He deserves it in the butt. Yes, he is a space war criminal. But wouldn't it be nice to put it in him?

Horse: I'm sorry, the image of an Imagine Dragons striptease is... enlightening as to the individual Horus is. He's the dad that hosts the barbecue parties. He's the dad that falls asleep watching TV. Hell, he probably wears Hawaiian shirts. (That last one's got me bricked up. Shit)

Jagh: This one got me. He fucking would be into leather, be it on him or his partner. May write a fic about it in the future. Dead serious

Ferrus: Ok, I'll admit it, this one was self-indulgent for me. Yes, Ferrus is an ass in canon. I also want him so bad, and that also entails helping him through some shit. (It's the "I can fix him" instinct.) Also, if his partner isn't ok with 17 inches, that's understandable. (Also also, I specified pre-Heresy because him coming back headless horseman style is kind of a pipe dream of mine)

Mags: Monsters are hot. Next guy

Russ: This one was a bit of a gift for my Russ fucker friend. You know who you are! And if you're a Russ fucker anyways, please be my friend

Fulgrim: This man has been through so many partners and he still doesn't understand kink very well, bless his heart. He's still gotta make sure everything goes the way he thought it would, otherwise what's even the point? Mm. Maybe he can be put with someone who makes him realize that it doesn't need to be that way.. ;v

Doorknob: Go ahead, sexualize the brick wall man. Put him in a maid dress. He'd like his partner to be a little rough, especially during... ahem. Encounters. Remember the Rogal Dorn position? Maybe not all the time, but fuck, this man needs to take it like his life depends on it.

Corax: Not for everyone, I get it. Especially if your clothes are like that. I applaud your fashion sense, you dress how I've always wanted to. But that fic's still rattling around in my mind. Thank you Raven Lady we all say in unison

Sang: You raise a very good point. I don't know how comfortable he'd be with focus on his more non-human qualities. But it can work. I have faith in you, battle brother.

[angronsjewelbeetle]

My favorite primarch is our beloved dog dad Leman Russ. For personality? I'm an absolutely feral raccoon of a person who is either known for my ability to somehow know how to do anything or find someone who can do the thing needed in any situation (so like, resourcefulness??) or being a the most chaotic force of nature known to this world. These are not mutually exclusive qualities and I have a strong memory of accidentally clawing one of my friends over a rotisserie chicken before eviscerating it with my bare hands, while teaching them the basics of piano.

Honestly dude(gn) you sound like so much fun

Obsidian - extremely protective stone, supposedly can help release energy blockages and transform negative energy. It can also be used to make knives!

[heuldoch7b]

All the primarchs are DILFs but they’re different kinds of DILFs. Rogal looks like a single dad with adult children who have mostly moved out, and Fulgrim looks like a single dad who's recently bought the cutest stroller ever for his little kid. It's a spectrum of DILFness, and it was done on purpose

you are correct anon, all 20 18 of them have varying dilf prescences. vulkan? invested and present for his sons. guilliman? stern, a bit hard to be emotional with, but a positive figure to look up to. khan? fun, batshit dad. leman? hes more like a fratty uncle than a dad but still is a dad. lion is like a dad who has like 2 kids already and theyre adults so you have like a strained awkward relationship because he doesnt understand why youre not more self sufficent.

night haunter? well sometimes your dad is actually more your brother and now you have to be the adult. angron? well. i mean. he didnt actually use the weapon he pointed at you this time.

[wolf-tail]

Now i'm imagining the entire Heresy as a child's pretend game that got wayyyy out of hand.

Magnus: I use all my magic spells against you! You lose!

Leman: Nuh uh! I'm stronger, and I break your back over my knee and you die!

Magnus: This isn't fun, I don't wanna play anymore.

or even

Horus: What do you mean I lost!? All four Gods are with me!

Emps: That's right, I beat you, and shatter your soul into a million itty bitty pieces. Because I'm the Emperor of Mankind, and I'm also your dad. It's time for bed young man.

Horus: But I don't wanna!

What if the primarchs all had those little propeller caps

Delightful, adds a childlike whimsy to the war crimes and atrocities.

[relax-and-read-on]

Any headcannons on relationsjips between legions and their Primarchs? Any Astartes crushing(and maybe actually acting?) on said crushes? Or what the Astartes think of the relationships between Primarchs and that they more or less got stepsiblings because of that

Ohhh there is SO MUCH TO SAY. So many astartes.... I'll try to cover a wide range! Not the legions today tho, maybe another time~

Sevatar (my fav astarte <3): Shitlord supreme. Drive Konrad half mad, but also the person he trust the most in the world. Saw his half feral murderous cannibal dad and went "yeah imma hit that" because he has the self preservation of a lemming on crack. He's also very much pro "Yeaaaah boss go get laid!!!". That said... He does have an excessively protective streak, and does not trust anyone with his primarch heart.

Forrix: He's so tired man. Can anyone other than him just? Also give a shit about pert as a person? Please? He won't even complain if he walk in on the two fucking he just want another emotional crutch. He'll send them an edible arrangement.

Kharn: a complicated case actually! He does respect Angron but will also call him on his bullshit. If he wants to fuck with someone?? That's their problem, he'll check to see who's alive in the morning. Not interested in Angron like that, their relationship is very much familial, he got his Gf Lutara and his Bf Argel Tal.

Lucius: No more in love with Fulgrim than any other EC. They probably fucked once or twice but like... That's doesn't even register on his emotional range. Most likely to walk in on his primarch having sex and have them start talking legions affair without blinking an eye.

Fabius Bile: Why is everyone so fucky around him. Why. Kids these days, always so god damn horny!!! Cmon, out of here, yes that mean you too Fulgrim, you might be a primarch but if you contaminate those sample again god help me-

Ahriman: Takes no shit and no prisoner. Does he love Magnus? Yes. Would he also kick his ass if he belive he's right? Also yes. See him as a brother and kind of an equal, would fuck around with him too for fun. He would also mercilessly judge his primarch romantic choice, because Magnus has Trash Taste, between Leman, Perturabo and Lorgar.

Erebus: NO BAD GO AWAY. Absolutly shame poor baby Lorgar for wanting love. Think astartes falling for one another is Gross and Wrong. No one gets to fuck him because I hate him and he deserve blue balls for eternity

Argel Tal: "Bro is gay to kiss your Sworn Battle Brother from another legion on the mouth?" "Nha bro it's not gay if you say no homo before". Him and Kharn have been dating for 5 years and they don't know it yet, those two gay disaster. They are disaster. He would very much like to hook up his dad with Magnus, think it would help him :)

Aeonid Thiel: the only ultramarine to have ever blurted right to Robby's face that he would like to be bend over his desk and serve him on his back. Was politely dismissed. He still keep hope in his heart to be one day get to suck. That. Dick.

Sigismund: Excuse u. That's HIS Dorn. Quite jealous and possesive of his.... Primarch? Best friend? Brother? Boyfriend? Dad? They don't even know themself. Ofc no one is good enough for him. And he will loudly say so. Let's not talk about how he would love to be "punished" by that dick.

[wheredafandomat]

Fear & Desire❤️‍🔥P28❤️‍🔥 “OUT”

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Waking up, Loki turned and saw that y/n was gone. His eyes fell to the painting of her as he let out a content sigh. Loki wasn’t happy, no, happy would be a criminal understatement, Loki felt exuberant, overjoyed, elated. He and y/n had had sex. Exhilarating, electrifying sex. He knew that Y/N must have been made aware of Bucky’s infidelity and decided that instead of wallowing in sadness, she’d finally admit her desire for the god. He let his eyes close again knowing that y/n was alright, perhaps she didn’t like Bucky as much as she made out to.

What Loki wasn’t aware of was that y/n was in her room crying on the floor. What Loki didn’t know was that y/n was on her way to tell Bucky she loved him. What Loki didn’t know was that y/n was far from alright.

He heard footsteps and then heard Steve knocking y/n’s door. He heard her open it and welcome him in. She sounded fine. Allowing his eyes to close again, he was soon awakened by a loud banging on his door.

“Brother, may I come in, I have news?” Thor asked beating down his door.

Sighing, Loki opened it with a simple flick of the wrist and looked at Thor with an unbothered look.

“What is it?” He asked as Thor walked in.

“Have you had someone in here? A girl perhaps?”Thor teased looking at the state of the room and the mess that was Loki’s bed whilst Loki covered himself with some covers that were on the floor.

“What is it that you want?” Loki asked again.

“We have to return to Asgard at once.”

“WHAT?!” Loki shouted leaning forwards to Thor.

“Relax brother, it’s only for a few days” Thor assured grinning at Loki’s reaction “wouldn’t want to keep you from your new leman” Thor remarked glancing at a pair of y/n’s discarded lacy underwear on the floor.

Following Thor’s gaze, Loki quickly slid them away into the corner of the room using his sedir focusing Thor’s attention back onto him.

“Why must we go to Asgard?” Loki asked uninterested.

“The Valkyries have returned from their tour of the realms gathering up the new recruits, as crowned future king, I have to be there to welcome them” Thor explained eyeing the matching bra that was next to Loki’s bed.

“And I have to come because?” Loki asked, quickly picking the bra up and shoving it under his pillow.

“Moral support brother, it’ll be fun” Thor cheered.

“I hate Asgard” Loki seethed.

“You love it”

“I don’t”

“You do, you love it”

Loki sighed in annoyance.

“Fine, now out” he asserted pointing to the door.

“We leave tonight” Thor said heading for the door “I like the painting by the way” Thor commented as he left.

“OUT” Loki yelled.

Getting up, he headed for the shower reluctantly trying to savour the feeling of y/n’s body against his. He stepped in smiling remembering how it felt to kiss y/n, to touch her, to finally fuck her. She was perfect.

Changing into new clothes after making the bed, Loki thought it best to return y/n’s things to her and tell her he was leaving for Asgard. He wasn’t sure how she’d react but he hoped she’d be able to cope for the next few days without him. What Loki didn’t tell her was that being in Asgard would give him the perfect space to finish working on her dads case. He had made a lot of progress but between being at the compound and SHIELD HQ, there wasn’t much time without y/n around for him to just crack on. Asgard would provide that time away from her. Hopefully he’d finally finish.

Stepping to the door, Loki carried y/n’s things in his hands, bending down to pick up the underwear and grinning at the sight of them. He was greeted by Steve who was just leaving. He quickly put y/n’s things behind his back shielding them from Steve’s eyes. They exchanged a saddened knowing smile with one another before Loki looked past him and at y/n who was saying her thankyous and goodbyes.

“Hello” she said facing Loki with a Cheshire smile.

A/N: the recent chapters have all been kinda on top of one another with everyone’s POVs, I hope it wasn’t confusing.

Wheredataglistat 🔥

@andrizzybvbyyyy

@frostay

@geeky-politics-46

@newtomofgods

@purplekitten30

@virtualstrawberrydinosaur

@eyesbluelikethetitanic

@lokiswildheartcantbebroken

[sink-kitty]

rating primarchs on how they would hug

because who wouldn’t want a 12 ft man to scoop u up and give you a nice hug (in no particular order)

i REALLY hope this hasn’t been done already :(

• Horus Lupercal : 11/10 ok tbf i am a SIMP for him. but like… he’d probably squish the shit out of me and id be perfectly ok with it. he’d probably pick me up by the hair like a cat’s scruff too. and i am content with that fate

• Leman Russ : 7/10 oh god. you’d think he’d *probably* legitimately injure me but i think he’d be very kind. would probably be… fairly confused at first. like what do you want. what is this

• Ferrus Manus : 10/10 I LOVE MAKING FUN OF HIM HE WOULD REFUSE TO TOUCH ME but in all seriousness he’d give very strong hugs like a dad

• Fulgrim : 8/10 if he’d actually let me touch him fulgrim would probably not hug back. but if he initiated the hug he’d have my face buried in his hair (which i can only imagine smells like what biting into orange PEEL tastes like.) i started writing this part and ayesha erotica played from my horus playlist

• Vulkan : ?/10 i know like nothing about him (yet i kinda like him) so someone who actually knows how to read can fill me in. i just know he’s nice his hugs would probably just be. fine

• Rogal Dorn : 8/10 LOOK. HEAR ME OUT. HEAR. LISTEN TO ME. he has that dad energy. he wouldn’t give ferrus hugs BUT i think he’d be lovely. like he’d press the bridge of his nose against ur cheek kinda hug. or say smthn all breathy in your ear. this is horny i’m sorry

• Roboute Gulliman : 2/10 he would refuse to hug me. like i respect you. i call you Gulliman the Big Blue Bitch but ily. a hug from him would be too loose he’d drop me and not apologize >:(

• Magnus the Red : 20/10 look if i wanted to give horus/fulgrim a hug i would give magnus everything i have. i wanna bury my face in his hair i love him. he’d be so gentle. and like actually willing to hug me

• Sanguinius : 8.5..?/10 he’d be really sweet and try his hardest but it’d be kinda hard to hug him w his wings. but! there was an attempt. if he could do it properly with his big ass wings it’d be okay but.. i don’t wanna get a mouthful of feathers (in this scenario :)

• Lion El’Jonson : 1/10 id be kinda into him despising me but he would just genuinely not give hugs. i ahte u

• Perturabo : 10/10 biased but if he gave me a hug it would be so genuine and sincere. like he’d have such a kind smile being hugged genuinely by anyone other than his brothers bc nobody rlly cared enough. anyway

• Mortarion : 3/10 id love to smooch but a hug? nah. wont elaborate.

• Lorgar : 4/10 lorgar…. hm would honestly give ok hugs? that’s all i have to say

• Jaghatai Khan : 7/10 would give the roughest hugs and i’m into that. not pop-like-a-grape horus rough but just. rough, yknow another one who’s very dad like!

• Konrad Curze : -1/10 smell like absolute shit and would claw me half to death giving me a hug. now usually? id be so into the clawing to death thing. but KONRAD?? fuck you. i hate him. he’d give the worst hugs.

• Angron : would die/10 look, id love to hug him, but he would genuinely kill me.

• Corvus Corax : 6/10 he’d be shaky and honestly probably would not hold me, but id love if he would. honestly really needs a hug though.

• Alpharius Omegon: 11/10 I LOVE. T H EM. amazing hugs. like sincere and warm and nice !!!! alpharius/omegon my beloved

[luwupercal]

primarchs as john mulaney quotes

lion eljonson: “College was like a four-year game show called ‘Do my friends hate me or do I just need to go to sleep?’” (alternatively: “’You know, Leonard Bernstein was one of the great composers and conductors of the 20th century, but sometimes, he would be gay. And according to a biography I read of him, when he was holding back the gay part, he did some of his best work.’“)

fulgrim: “Comfort is everything. You start doing something and you want it to be perfect right away, but most babies are born ugly and then they shake it out and you get beautiful toddlers” (alternatively: “People having expectations maybe means they’ve enjoyed what I’ve done.”) (alternatively: “’Do you want a salad or fries?’ That’s like asking, ‘Do you want to go for a jog or freebase cocaine?’”) (alt.: “It’s wrong to make fun of people, but it’s so fun sometimes.”) (alt.: “I’m a very lucky person[...], and I’ve shoveled through life rather nicely so far, so I don’t feel like I deserve good treatment.“) (alt.: “When I walk down the street I need everybody, all day long, to like me so much. It’s exhausting.”)

perturabo: “I’ll keep all my emotions right here. And then one day I’ll die.” (alt.: “I was always the squarest person in the cool room, and alternatively, sometimes the weirder person at the mainstream table.”)

jaghatai khan: “I don’t make plans anymore. So I’m not living minute to minute.”

leman russ: “For those of you who don't know what it is, blackout drinking is when your brain goes to sleep, but your body gets all 'Eye of the Tiger' and soldiers on.”

rogal dorn: “And my dad pulled into the drive thru, and we started cheering and then he ordered one black coffee for himself and kept driving.”

konrad curze: “He was the weirdest goddamn person I ever saw in my entire life. He was a man most acquainted with misery.” (alternatively: “Shut up, you’re all gonna die. Street Smarts!”) (alt., Night Lords-wide: “A hundred drunk white children yelling, ‘fuck da police.’”)

sanguinius: “I try to stay optimistic, even though I must admit, things are getting pretty sticky.”

ferrus manus: “I like making fun of myself a lot. I like being made fun of, too. I’ve always enjoyed it. There’s just something really, really funny about someone tearing into me.”  (alternatively: “You can do good work simply staying up all night and eating nothing but junk food, but probably not in the long term.”) (alt.: “The more you do stuff, the better you get at dealing with how you still fail at it a lot of the time.”)

angron: “... then I would black out and I would ruin parties.” (alt.: “I’ve been keeping my ears open, and it seems like everyone, everywhere, is super mad about everything, all the time.”)

roboute guilliman: “You’re like the kid at the sleepover who, after midnight, is like, ‘It’s tomorrow now.’ Get out of here with your technicalities. Just because you’re accurate doesn’t mean you’re interesting.”

mortarion: “I am now gross. I am damp all the time. I am damp now and I will be damp later. [...] I don’t think it’s anything serious, but isn’t it, though?”

magnus the red: “You have an imagination, you have a movie theater in your mind that plays arguments! That you win!”

horus lupercal: “Sometimes people would say, ‘what do you think you’re doing?’ But that just meant ‘stop.’” (alternatively: “I don’t look older, I just look worse.”) (alt.: “It’s never happened before. No one knows what the horse is gonna do next, least of all the horse. He’s never been in a hospital before. He’s just as confused as you are.”)

lorgar: “My vibe is like, hey you could probably pour soup in my lap and I’ll apologize to you.” (alternatively: “I played basketball for five years and I was a benchwarmer all five years.”) 

vulkan: “Something happened here. You hope it was a miracle, but probably not.”

corvus corax: “’You have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair.’”  (alt., Raven Guard-wide: “A hundred drunk white children yelling, ‘fuck da police.’”)

alpharius omegon: “When I'm walking down the street I don't think anybody goes, 'Hey, look at that man!', they're just like, 'Woah, that tall child looks terrible!'.” (alt.: “I am very small and I have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that I am under.”) (alt.: “Here’s how easy it was to get away with bank robbery back in the ’30s — as long as you weren’t still there when the police arrived, you hd a 99% chance of getting away with it.”)

[merakiaes]

Falling - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: No. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This wasn’t a requested piece, I just got this idea when I was watching the pool scene in ‘Bring It On Again’ the other day. It’s shit and it’s messy but it took me the entire day to write so please show it some love and let me know what you think xx NOT PROOFREAD!

Wordcount: 6776

Summary: You distract Oscar from the fight with his father and take his mind off of the fact that he left again, helping him be happy if only for a short moment. 

Freeridge was nothing like the neighborhood you had grown up in, of that much you were sure, and it was tough for you to get used to the big change considering the heavy circumstances under which you had been forced to move.

You had grown up in a really nice neighborhood, surrounded by rich, upper-class snobs pretty much your entire life. You had lived in a big, white villa and attended a fancy private school and never had to worry about anything in your entire life. 

Your parents were both deadbeats, having abandoned you when you were still very young to be raised by your single grandfather, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain about it no matter how much it had scarred you, because you knew that you lived a life that others could only dream of.

But that all changed when your grandfather lost his two-year-long battle against cancer and you were left entirely on your own.

He left everything he owned to your name in his will but you had to take it all and pay off his last hospital bills and funeral and even then, it wasn’t enough to pay off the ridiculously large sums and you were forced to sell his house.

It pained you to do so, with all of the memories you had in the place, but you knew you had to move on from the past and start a new chapter of your life, and you wouldn’t have been able to afford to keep that big of a house, anyway.

So you sold it and started looking for a new place, and Jasmine had wasted no time in jumping to your rescue when you came out short in your search.

She was a longtime friend of yours, the two of you having met online and kept in touch on a daily basis over the course of four years, way before your grandfather got his diagnosis.

You had found her a bit strange to a start. She was a few years younger than you and she over-shared to the point that you knew that she had a birthmark in the shape of a pear in her groin and that she had a heavy blood-flow during her monthlies – mind you, you found this out already during the first week of knowing her.

She wasn’t shy, that much was for sure.

But in the end, it was her strange personality that made you like her, and it was also because of her that you grew out of the shy, held back bubble you had been trapped in since early in your traumatizing childhood.

She was loyal and always there for you, as were you for her. You were pretty much each other’s only real friends, despite the large age gap. You knew that people her own age made fun of her, and she knew that you had a very hard time trusting people, and you adjusted yourselves to properly be able to be there for one another.

So, of course, it was a given that she was there for you when you needed to find a new home, too. 

You had talked to her dad on a few occasions over video chat and he had been the one kind enough to find you a house for sale in Freeridge.

It wasn’t nearly as big as your childhood home had been and it was in a pretty bad shape, with flaky paint and broken plumbing, but you managed to make it feel like home with the help of your grandfather’s furniture, and either way, it was just big enough for just you.

It didn’t take long for you to learn first-hand how tight and supportive the community in a less-fortunate neighborhood really was when Dwayne Turner turned up at your doorstep to offer you a job at his barbeque restaurant without ever having spoken a word to you, only having heard about you and your need for a stable income in order to pay for your studies from Jasmine’s dad.

Neighbors were constantly helping out, doing each other favors and opening their homes to people in need of a roof over their head, and you felt more at home there than you ever had in your old neighborhood.

There, everything was about money. Whether it was about having a more expensive breed of dog, a faster car or bigger jewels, people were always trying to be better than each other. Over there, there was no such thing as celebrating each other’s success, something your grandfather had never stood beside.

You knew he would have liked Freeridge, despite the high criminal activity and dangerous streets. He would have liked the solidarity, selflessness and connection between people.

Jasmine had rounded up all of her friends, including Cesar who you found out was living right across the street, and they had spent the entire day helping you move your things in. 

Cesar and Jamal had been quick to offer to repaint the front wall of the house, and you had left them alone at the house to go pick up some paint.

Oscar had come home from an odd job when you were gone, finding his little brother and all of his friends busying themselves with carrying boxes inside the house on the other side of the street, right across from theirs.

Him and his fellow Santos had made themselves comfortable in the couch in front of the house, watching from a distance as a shiny, red car drove up the street and parked right in front of the house as the driveway was already occupied by another, cheaper car.

The beautiful car had instantly caught Oscar’s interest and it had piqued even higher when he watched you step outside with a can of paint in your hand, his brother coming up and grabbing it from you almost instantly.

That’s how you had first met the infamous Spooky, leader of the Santos. He had wasted no time in getting out of his seat and crossing the street to introduce himself to you, asking questions about your car.

It was a Pontiac LeMans from 1969, painted in a pristine coat of maroon with a glittery hint to it. It was beautiful and in a condition that almost made it look like it had never been touched, not a dent or scratch in sight and tires, rims and interior in perfect condition.

It was the only thing aside from some furniture that you had kept of your grandfather’s, but of course you didn’t tell Oscar that, not wanting to bore him with your sob story.

Your shared interest in cars was the first conversation you ever had with each other.

After interrogating you about your grandpa’s car, he showed you his 1964 Chevrolet Impala SS, briefly introducing you to the Santos still sitting around on the couch, watching you, before Jasmine and Ruby came and stole you back.

After that first day, Jasmine and her friends kept coming over to your house almost every day. You cooked for them and gave them a place to hold the strange meetings they had ever so often and drove them around when they needed to go somewhere and Spooky and Ruby’s abuela weren’t available. 

They had you wrapped around their fingers but you didn’t mind. They were like the younger siblings you never had and you owed it to Jasmine after the way she had been there for you every day for four years.

When Cesar was alienated by his brother and his gang, you offered him a place to stay for as long as it was safe, keeping it a secret from Oscar whenever you happened to bump into him.

He didn’t find out that you had been giving his brother shelter before the shit with the Prophets was cleared and he allowed him back home, but when he did, he thanked you, and you and Cesar remained close after having spent so much time together.

You didn’t hold a particular friendship with the gang leader even though you considered each other mutuals, but that all changed when his dad returned home after being released from prison.

He was offered a job at Dwayne’s restaurant already on his first day back just like you had, making you co-workers.

He was a good cook and he talked fondly about Oscar and Cesar a lot during your days working together. 

You could hear in his voice when he talked about them how much he really loved them, but you also knew he had a lot of internal battles that came in the way of him showing that in the right way.

You liked him despite his mistakes, but you could also understand why Oscar would resent him. He had left him and Cesar to fend for themselves just like your parents had left you and you understood his anger.

Cesar was over the moon to have his dad back in his life but Oscar couldn’t even bear to be in the same house as him when he was home, which originally was what drove him to you.

You had offered him to come inside for a beer one night when seeing him storm out of the house, being able to put two and two together when seeing Ray looking after him in the window, and he had accepted.

You didn’t talk about his dad. In fact, you stayed as far away from the subject of parents as you possibly could as you could see that it wasn’t something he wanted to be reminded off more than necessary.

Instead, you talked about your studies to become a nurse, and he told you about how good he had been doing in high school before he was forced to step up and raise his brother.

At the end of that night, you had learned that he had won the spelling bee two years in a row in seventh and eighth grade, that he liked to cook and swim, and that his favourite kind of donut was the ones with sprinkles on top.

They weren’t the deepest or most significant things to know, but even the dumbest person on earth would have been able to understand that it was a big deal that someone like Spooky was opening up at all, so you took what you could get.

He luckily didn’t ask about your family either, probably because he knew that you would ask him too if he did. But you were glad that he didn’t because no matter how much you loved hanging around Jasmine and the others, Oscar was the first acquaintance you had made that was your own age.

It felt nice to be able to be at the same level as someone and you didn’t want that to be ruined by him finding out that you were a former uptown girl who had been spoiled to bits throughout your entire life while he had been fighting to make ends meet every day of his life since he was probably very young.

You knew rich people weren’t very smiled upon in these parts and you understood why. Most of them were truly horrible.

That first night you had spent together hadn’t been the last by far. Whenever he needed a distraction from the jealousy and anger that came naturally when watching Cesar having so much fun with their dad, he would come right to you.

Some nights you talked, but most of the times you barely said a word to one another, sitting silently side by side in your backyard with a beer each, looking up at the sky.

On this day in particular you were taking the nice weather to your advantage by sitting outside and studying for your upcoming exam about the muscles of the body. 

The sun was blinding, forcing you to wear a pair of really dark sunglasses, but the sun was soon about to set.

Jasmine had been by for lunch a few hours ago when Cesar, Monse, Jamal and Ruby had, once again, excluded her from their shady activities, but unfortunately she had to leave pretty quickly when her internship shift at the police station started, again leaving you in your lonesome.

Your concentration was starting to waver after a good hour and a half in the sun despite the fact that the only sounds that could be heard were the light breeze going through the leaves of the trees and the chirping of birds.

The words in your book seemed to blur together and you soon realized that you wouldn’t be getting any more studying done on this afternoon.

You closed the book after a final minute of trying to regain your concentration and dropped it on the glass table in front of you. Letting out a loud and long sigh, you slid down in your chair and closed your eyes, enjoying the last minutes of sunshine.

Just then, the sound of a door opening rather violently across the street cut through the peaceful air, and your head instantly turned to look at the Diaz residence where Ray was now walking out with a bag in his hand, Oscar marching after him while yelling loudly.

“Everything bad that’s ever happened in my life is because of you! You’re gonna crush him the same way you crushed me!” Oscar yelled out and you instantly connected the dots; the angry and hurt look on Oscar’s face along with the bag Ray was holding.

Ray stopped, looking down at the ground. Oscar kept talking, his voice now too low for you to be able to catch what he was saying, but whatever it was caused Ray to turn back around.

As Oscar kept talking, Ray walked back over to him, stopping right in front of him, and you watched as Oscar’s face suddenly screwed up in pain, tears now evident in his eyes as he spoke. 

Before you knew it, Ray had wrapped his arms around his shoulder, pulling him into an embrace.

Oscar responded by hesitantly wrapping his arms around his dad and just for the slightest moment, your heart jumped with hope that they were resolving things, but then Oscar violently tore himself out of the embrace and shoved him away.

The sight forced you to turn your head away, the guilt of invading their private moment finally catching up with you, along with the hurt you felt for Oscar.

You looked down at the ground for a few seconds, gulping down the tears that were building up in your eyes as the situation hit so close to home for you.

Your pulse was beating in your ears and you carefully turned your head back to look at them, finding that Ray was now once again walking away from the house.

Your eyes met his briefly as he walked past your house, but he quickly averted his gaze out of shame, knowing you had witnessed the entire thing.

As he walked away from the scene, you moved your gaze to Oscar who was still standing in front of his house, finding that he was already looking at you. 

Your eyes connected and you swallowed simultaneously, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his face stern as he was obviously trying to hold back the tears.

You slowly and hesitantly raised your hand in a small wave at him, and when you did, he seemed to break out of the trance he had been in and turned around, furiously storming back inside, the front door slamming shut behind him.

You remained still in your seat for a moment after that, thinking over what you had just witnessed. 

You had been lucky enough to only be abandoned once by your parents, but Oscar had just been abandoned another time, and who knows how many other times before this he had been walked out on.

Your heart bled for him, and you suddenly felt a desperate need to take his pain away, so you stood up from your seat with your book in hand and walked inside.

You dropped the book on the table in the hallway and walked into the kitchen where you picked up the keys to your grandpa’s car – that had been standing in the garage ever since you moved in -  and turned right back around, returning outside and quickly locking up the front door before heading across the road.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Oscar’s door, contemplating whether or not you should actually disturb him right now.

But you knew that the worst thing that could happen was that he would get angry at you and when there was a slight chance that you could distract him for a while, that didn’t seem all too bad.

So before you could change your mind, you raised your hand and knocked three times on the door. The sound of heavy footsteps reached your ears within a second and the door was almost instantly flung open.

Oscar towered over you where he now stood in the doorway, tracks of dried tears visible on his tanned cheeks. He looked at you with a glare, as if he had known it was you before he even opened the door.

"What do you want?" He wasted no time in spitting out, squaring his shoulders that you knew without a doubt in your mind was his way to cover up his vulnerability.

You were at loss at words for a moment. You had expected him to be unwelcoming given the circumstances, but his tone still managed to stun you, as it was always so easy going when you talked otherwise.

But you quickly regained your composure, trying to look as unsympathetic as possible. “Do you want to go on a ride?” You asked, tilting your head slightly and fiddling with the keys in your hands. “I promise I won’t ask questions."

His glare hardened at your words. "I don't need your pity." He said, glowering down at you, but for some reason, you didn’t find him intimidating at all.

"Good.” You agreed, the words coming more easily to you now. “Because you're not getting it." You mustered a smile at him, trying to keep a playful hint to your tone in an attempt to ease the situation.

But his glare didn’t waver even for a second and the next thing you knew, he had taken a step back into the house and started shutting the door in your face.

Before it could close, however, you hurried and stuck your foot in between the door and the doorframe. You could see his furious face through the small crack of the door and held up the keys in your hand, your eyes pleading.

"I'll let you drive my car." 

He stared at you for a good few seconds, before kissing his teeth and opening the door wider again, snatching the keys from your hand and angrily marching past you towards your house, the door slamming shut behind him.

You were forced to run in order to keep up with his long strides, and wordlessly opened the door to the garage once you came back to your house.

Oscar didn’t utter a single word to you as he walked to the driver’s side of the car and got in behind the wheel, leaving you to find your own way to the passenger side. 

Once you were both situated, he stuck the keys into the ignition and turned them.

You watched his face from the side silently, taking in the way his eyes flickered with much more positive emotion for a just a second as he listened to the engine of the car roar alive. 

It was only a brief change of attitude, but it was enough to have you smiling as he backed the car out of the garage; it was the first time it was driven since your first day in Freeridge. 

You sped down the streets of Los Angeles, the roof of the car down and your hair whipping around in the air. 

The dark had now fallen and you hadn’t spoken a word to each other since leaving, but you could feel Oscar slowly starting to relax in his seat beside you.

After an hour of just driving around with no particular destination in mind, you told him to make a right to take you back to Freeridge, and not long after, you found yourself pulling up in front of the neighborhood pool.

As he turned the car off, you wasted no time in opening your door and getting out, slamming it shut behind you.

You turned around to look at him, meeting his wary eyes, and flashed him a grin, nodding your head backward. “Come on.” You urged him, and he narrowed his eyes, letting his gaze flicker from you to the fence behind you.

“It’s closed.” He said, speaking for the first time in over an hour.

You snorted as he stated the obvious. “No shit.”

He gave you a look but didn’t question you any further, following your lead and getting out of the car, making sure to take the keys out of the ignition.

You turned back around and headed right for the fence, gripping at the wires. As he came up behind you, you turned your head to the side and threw him a look over your shoulder. “Hoist me up.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, but his eyes were amused. “You a criminal now?” He questioned and you smirked.

“I’m hanging out with the leader of a gang, what’s a little break-in in comparison to that?”

He hummed, as if to say ‘good point’, and bent down by the knees, clasping his hands and allowing you to put your foot in his grasp. 

He hoisted you up like requested with barely any struggle at all and wasted no time in jumping over the fence himself once you were successfully standing on the other side.

When his feet hit the ground, you were already walking straight for the pool, where lights were lighting up the water and casting a blue shimmer all around the entire area, making it look near magical.

By the time Oscar had caught up to you, you had already removed your shoes and pulled up the legs of your pants, your feet now dangling in the water.

He followed your example, pulling the legs of his grey sweatpants up to his knees and kicking his shoes to the side, dipping his feet into the water as he sat himself down beside you.

You sat in silence for a while, your eyes trained on the small ruffles of the water in front of you and your hands gripping the edge of the pool, your feet swirling around.

Crickets were chirping by then and was the only sound you could hear aside from the sound of the water hitting the walls of the pool.

Turning your head to the side slightly, your eyes fell upon Oscar’s profile. He was staring down into the water just like you had been doing only seconds before, looking to be deep in thought. 

His diamond earrings sparkled in the light of the pool and his Santos cross dangled from around his neck, the black and white plaid he was wearing almost looking green in the blue hue surrounding you.

Your eyes traveled from his face and down to his feet where they were hanging limply off the edge, catching sight of a long, ragged scar going down the side of his knee.

Before you could stop yourself, you had reached your hand out and flicked the scar lightly, instantly making his head turn to you.

“What happened there?” You asked and watched as his eyes flickered away from yours and to the scar in question, his fingers reaching out to touch it.

“Got caught up with some bad people in prison.” He responded, and you hummed, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Have you ever considered leaving this life behind and starting fresh?”

He glanced at you, before turning his head back to the water. “I think about it every day.”

At his confession you tilted your head to the side, a frown settling over your face. “So why don’t you?”

“You’re smart-” He turned to look at you, his eyes now narrowed. “You know it’s not as simple as that. And even if it was, los Santos is my family.”

You knew that the defensive look in his eyes and strained tone of his voice should have been enough of a sign for you to drop the subject, but stupid and curious as you were, you kept pressing it, insisting. 

“It can’t be fun to be running from the law all the time, to handle every moment of your life with hatred and anger. That’s no life.”

“It’s the only life I know.” He defended, staring straight into your eyes, and you shrugged your shoulders, the corners of your lips tugging into a soft, lopsided smile.

“Doesn’t have to be.” You argued. “Letting go of what isn’t right for you won’t be the end of you but rather the beginning. It’s clearing a path for what’s waiting, what’s pulling you, what’s telling you there’s something better out there, even if you don’t know what it is yet.”

“It’s not that simple.” He shook his head, tensing his jaw. “I wish it was, but it’s not.”

“It is what you make it to be, isn’t it?”

His head whipped around to face you in one swift movement, admittedly frightening you slightly. “It’s my turn to ask you something.” He demanded, eyes narrowed with slight annoyance.

You only nodded your head slowly in return, letting out a breath. “Okay.” You agreed.

He raised his head slightly, sending you a questioning glance. "How come you never drive your car?"

You instantly felt the insides of your stomach starting to twist into a knot.

“I drive my car.” You answered quickly, a little too quickly, and you knew he could see right through you and identify the stress that was quickly building up from now being the one in the spotlight.

“I meant the nice one.” He clarified flatly, knowing that you already knew what he was talking about. “Not the heap of twigs you drive my mano and his friends around in every day.”

You tensed your jaw, but didn’t break eye-contact, knowing fully well that you had walked yourself into this position. 

"It was my grandpa's car.” You admitted, swallowing. “It's the last thing I have of him and I don’t trust my clumsy ass not to mess it up."

He scanned your face, trying to figure you out. "You let me drive it." He pointed out and you adverted your eyes back to the water.

"I guess I trust you more than I do myself." You mumbled with a shrug, and he chuckled.

"Bad idea."

You could see him shaking his head in the corner of your eye and the sight of his smile caused your lips to tug.

"Probably." You agreed.

"Were you close?” He asked. “You and your abuelo."

You could feel his stare burning into the side of your face but you didn’t move your eyes from the water, kicking it slowly as you nodded.

"I never spent a day without him.” You told him softly. “He watched over me, made sure I had clothes on my back, food on the table, a roof over my head and a good education. He raised me and made me who I am today.”

Oscar nodded again, his eyes soft and understanding. "He sounds like a good guy.” He said and he seemed to hesitate for a moment, before asking. “No parents?”

That question brought an automatic scoff from your lips. "Barely.” You muttered, turning your head to meet his eyes. “Deadbeats." You shrugged and he nodded.

“I feel you.”

“Do you want to tell me about your dad?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and he tensed. But your stupid mouth just had to keep running. “I’ve only heard his side of the story, and Cesar doesn’t seem to know much about him.”

You expected him to glare, to stand up and leave, but much to your surprise, he smiled at you; a playful smirk. 

“I thought you said you wouldn’t ask questions.”

His voice was teasing, clearly trying to be polite, but it was clear that his true feelings didn’t match the forced smile on his lips. His eyes were sad, a flurry of emotions battling against each other behind them, and he was obviously trying very hard not to lose control of his temper.

So you finally decided not to press it any further, and before you even got the chance, he took the subject into his own hands.

“What about your parents?” He asked. “Chicas are always so quick to complain about their problems, but not you. Why don’t you talk about them?”

Unlike him, you didn’t find it hard to talk about your parents. You had forgiven them a long time ago. Not for them, but for yourself, and ever since you had, you had been able to talk openly about them.

The only reason you hadn’t talked to him about your parents before was because you didn’t want him to see you as some spoiled brat, but now that you knew that he still saw you as an equal, there was no reason for you not to open up.

It was the least you could do after he had actually agreed to come here with you, despite the circumstances.

"Parents or no parents, I was privileged growing up. I know it and I don't deny it.” You shrugged simply. “People have bigger problems than I do so I don't like going around complaining and feeling sorry about myself."

He nodded his head along as you spoke, a wide smile stretching across his full lips when you finished, and for the first time that night, it actually seemed to reach his eyes, dimples becoming visible at the corners of his lips.

"There's something I've never heard before.” He looked at you, amused but impressed.

"Well, there’s a first for everything.” You chuckled, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “We're not all spoiled and oblivious to our privileges. I might not live a life in luxury anymore but I’m still better off than most and I’m grateful, for all that I have."

He nodded his head again, his eyes turning softer. "I like that about you." He said, shocking you. It wasn’t like him to say something like that at all.

It made your smile widen, and you raised an eyebrow teasingly, your attitude growing playful. "Oh yeah?” You challenged. “What else do you like about me?"

“You got one of those pretty smiles." He said, and while your smirk turned genuine, his smile turned into a smirk as he joined in on the teasing. "And you have a nice ass, too." He drawled, raising his eyebrows and pulling a hand over his goatee as he shamelessly leaned backward and checked your ass out where you sat.

The shameless flirting brought an amused scoff out of your lips, your hand shooting out to slap him on the chest, heat crawling up the back of your neck. "Idiot."

He laughed, using his hands to protect himself. “What?” He asked. “You’re a fine ass hyna, mamas.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, an evil smirk rising to your lips, and before he had the chance to answer or even process what happened next, you delivered a rough push to his shoulder, the unexpected force sending him right into the water.

You let out a high laugh as he disappeared under the surface, shielding your face with your arms as droplets of water went flying into the air.

Oscar quickly came back up to the surface, his face murderous.

“¡Qué mierda!” He swore, furiously wiping the water out of his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” You laughed loudly. “I thought you liked to swim.”

“What’s wrong with you?!” He yelled, glaring as he fought against the weight of his wet clothes, now heavy with water. But you only smirked, kicking some more water at him with your foot.

He let out a guttural growl, wiping his hands over his face, and when his eyes made contact with yours again, you knew you were in trouble.

“No, no-“ You quickly tried to protest, eyes growing wide as you began shuffling backward. But he was faster.

“You asked for it.” He growled, and before you knew it, his wet hand clasped around your ankle and pulled you toward him, your body being submerged in water only a second later. And it was cold.

You flailed your arms in the water and kicked your legs, trying to get to the surface as quickly as possible. Your head soon emerged with a splash and a loud gasp immediately left your lips. “Fuck me, it’s freezing!”

The glare was now long gone from Oscar’s face, his head thrown back with laughter as he swam around you. “You brought it on yourself, mami.” He mused and you smirked, blowing some water off your lip.

“Oh, you’re on.”

You raised your hands and started sending waves of water into his face and he wasted no time in covering himself with his own hands, trying to move out of your line of fire. 

Your laughter mixed in with the sound of splashing water, but your fun was short-lived when he managed to get a grip of your wrists.

All of a sudden, you were pulled into his chest, and your laughter died down when your eyes met his. 

Your hands automatically went to his shoulders in order to hold yourself steady and your chests pressed together.

His face was stern, his hands slowly dropping your wrists and falling back into water, and he was just tall enough to be able to stand on the bottom of the pool. The expression on his face was unreadable, and the look in his eyes was nothing you had seen before.

He blinked, small droplets of water dropping from his long, black eyelashes, matching droplets spread through his dark facial hair.

You weren’t sure when the atmosphere between you turned from playful to… this, but you regretted to admit that it was making your heart feel like it was about to beat out of your chest.

The look in his eyes was so intense, like he was staring straight into your soul, and it was making your head spin. 

His hands suddenly made contact with your waist and you jumped at the sudden and unexpected touch, but you got no time to think or react to it, suddenly feeling a wet pair of lips pressing against yours.

A small sound of surprise rose in your throat but it was muffled into the kiss. 

His hands were gripping at your waist like he hadn’t touched another human in a lifetime and as you came back to your senses, you found yourself responding to his actions with just as much desperations.

Your eyes fell closed and your hands moved up from his shoulders to the back of his neck, your legs wrapping around his hips in the water, pulling him as close as you possible could.

A guttural groan formed in his throat at the feeling of your groin rubbing against his and you moaned into the kiss, tingles spreading through your core and your breath getting heavy as his hands roamed up and down your body.

They moved from your waist to your back, back down to your hips and down to your ass where he held you with a firm grip, pushing your pelvis closer to his which only caused you to hold onto him even harder.

Your head had been spinning before, when you hadn’t been doing anything other than looking into each other’s eyes, but now you were barely even able to form a coherent thought.

Tingles were going through your entire body, your chest heaving against his and your fantasy running. But before things could get too heated, the two of you pulled apart, both breathless and in desperate need of oxygen.

Your eyes met again and your foreheads pressed together, the two of you still holding onto each other like your lives depended on it.

“Holy shit…” You breathed, sucking your swollen lips into your mouth and letting out a breathy chuckle. “That was…”

You raised your eyebrows. You couldn’t even find the right words, still dizzy from the intense moment you had just shared. 

But no words were needed. The tiny smile tugging at his lips told you that he knew exactly what you meant, and that the feeling went both ways.

You watched as his eyes fell shut and listened as a small sigh escaped through his nose. Your hands moved from the back of his neck to his jaw, cradling his face, thumbs caressing the stubble of his cheeks.

“What are you thinking?” You whispered, searching his face.

Another breath left his nose, his lips pulling into a tight line and his grip on your waist tensing. “I’m gonna have to tell Cesar about that pendejo leaving.” He spoke, the strain evident in his voice. “He’s going to blame me. I know it.”

“Hey.” Your eyebrows furrowed together and you raised his head, watching his eyes open and meet yours. “Whatever happens, your brother loves you to pieces. You're the one who raised him and at the end of the day, he'll always remember that. So don’t beat yourself up."

His brown eyes were hard, suspicious. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked.

His question caused your eyebrow to raise. “We just made out in a pool and you’re asking me why I’m being nice to you?” You asked, finding the question amusing. But he wasn’t amused, he was as serious as ever, as if he really didn’t understand it.

“Not just now.” He clarified, raising his head in a nod. “You’ve treated me like a person ever since day one.”

“Isn’t that what you are?” A smile played on your lips and your head tilted to the side. You leaned in closer to his face, rubbing your nose against his playfully. “I’m nice to you because I like you, stupid.”

The small, childish act of affection caused his serious attitude to falter, a smile rising to his face, but it fell just as quickly as it got there, his face turning cold again.

“Are you angry at your parents for walking out on you?”

You were taken back by the sudden change of topic, and unexpected topic at that. Every time you had tried to have a sentimental conversation with him, he had shut right off. And now there you were, with him initiating a conversation himself.

“I used to be.” You answered honestly, a crease forming in between your eyebrows as you scanned the thoughtful look on his face. “Furious, really. But not anymore.”

He looked at you, hesitant, battling his own mind. “What changed?” He asked, and you shrugged.

“It was controlling my life so I let it go.”

Understanding what you were trying to hint at, he scoffed, turning his head to the side. “Easier said than done.”

You smiled sadly and softly pushed at his face, forcing him to look back at you. “I know it is.” You agreed. “But you can do it, if you really set your mind to it.”

His eyes fell shut at the feeling of your fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo on his neck, his breathing slowing down.   

“I used to have potential and shit.” He said, and you listened silently, not stopping your movements. “I was smart, had straight A’s. Planned to go to a good college and culinary school. I gave it all up to raise Cesar because our mom kept leaving and Ray got himself locked up.”

You listened with a heavy heart as he finally opened up to you about his personal life, absentmindedly stroking his jaw and keeping to nimbly move your fingers over the inked skin with your other hand.

“You still have a lot of time to make yourself what you want to be.” You spoke softly, slowly. “It’ll come when the time is right. I believe in you.”

The smile playing on your lips when you said those last words were more genuine than any smile he had ever seen in his life. 

He gave you one last look before burying his face in your neck, holding you close and tensing his jaw as he realized things just got a whole lot more complicated.

Your soft, understanding and non-judgmental personality wasn’t at all what he was used to be at the receiving end of. 

He hadn’t been looking, not even a little, but you had found him and he knew that he was fucked because he was falling. He was falling fast, and he was falling hard.

[moodymisty]

Now the idea of the emperor stealing away his son’s wife for a bit sounds fun, but there’s something I have to mention. You see, the emperor has this thing about wanting someone else to do the dirty work for him. He could have killed the 2nd and 11th primarchs himself, but it’s highly implied that he had leman do it instead, because doing it himself would have made people (who knew about what happened) like/trust him less. He’s egotistical and won’t do a job that shows him in a bad light unless it’s super duper important.

And we’ve also characterised the reader to not be excited about getting dicked down by Big E, she loves her husband and would never dream of going out of her way to sleep with his dad. So she’s either not consenting at all or is doing this out of a sense of duty to the imperium. Which is a situation that, as I previously stated, would put the emperor in a bad light. And would also not feed his ego since the person he’s fucking either looks so sad or is staring off into the distance trying to visualise what she’ll have for dinner later. And both of these situations would be less than ideal for the emperor, who would want his sexual partners to be super into him and constantly praise him about his oiled up sixpack. Or something. So I was wondering how the emperor would even go about sleeping with someone who wouldn’t give him that reaction, and then it dawned on me:

Mind control.

He’s a psyker. And not only is he fully capable of messing with a persons mind and memories, but he’s been canonically described as doing just that!

So imagine him walking by you one day and casually putting his hand on your shoulder, then you wake up days later with no memory of what happened and your pelvis reduced to a fine dust. It’s a mercy, really. In the end he just wants you for your body, so having you not be fully there won’t ruin anything for him (in fact with your nonexistent enthusiasm its could even be called an improvement).

This is especially depressing fun in the lorgar scenario. Because it’s described that lorgar not only looks like his father, but also has nearly the same psychic presence as him. And if you’re in that hazy mind-controlled state where you don’t fully realise what’s going on, I think your brain could easily mistake something you should be horrified by with the comforting memory of your husband. And you talked about how awful it would be if you were reminded of the emperor every time you saw lorgar, but why not consider the opposite? What if in that moment you didn’t struggle or cry out, but instead happily parted your legs and gave the emperor a bright warm smile (that used to only be reserved for lorgar)? It’s not like you can tell the difference anymore, you’re being thrown on a pyre and your mind can only conjure up sunlight. And you’ll only realise what really happened days later, while keeling over from the pain your body is now in.

brb, adding this to the draft. I totally agree with this, and will be stealing this accordingly.

Also this is so sad;; her thinking it's Lorgar when it's actually Emps lsdfjskldf

[journeyedman-blog]

( paul wesley. 28. cismale. he/him. ) ❛ andrew schneider , a scorpio from san francisco, moved into holloway eight years ago. they are a writer that lives in apartment 6f and their neighbors don’t particularly mind them. some say they can be brooding and reserved but others say they’re creative and insightful. anyways, one thing is for sure: you hear love like ghosts by lord huron, it’s andrew blasting it. ( penned by erie, 23, est. )

Hellllllllllllo! I am so thrilled to finally be posting this intro, even if I am a little late to the party. You can call me Erie, and I’m from the EST Timezone! Here are a few fun facts about myself:

- My favorite band is Lord Huron. If you don’t know who they are, I’d strongly suggest looking them up. I can’t even begin to describe how their music makes me feel.

- I’ve been rping for nearly six years. I started here on tumblr, and have always been on tumblr, which I’ve learned is fairly uncommon. A lot of people I’ve met in the rpc started on twitter, facebook, or other platforms. Regardless of where you started though, I’ll love you just the same!

- I’ve played Paul Wesley face claims a lot over the years. He was by far my favorite part of The Vampire Diaries. He’s an amazing actor, and characters I’ve played using his face have always had a certain vibe that I love. It was actually because of my very first Paul Wesley Face Claim that I was introduced to Lord Huron, and now I sort of associate the two things with each other. Andrew is a mix of two of my previous Paul characters, with a few new things added in. That’s a pretty nice segue way to...

Andrew! Let me tell you this boy’s story, because I’ve been itching to for days!

- Andrew grew up in San Francisco with his dad, who is a world renowned (Think like, Stephen King level fame and success) but struggling author. His mom left with his younger brother when Andrew was very young. He’s never met his brother, and his Mom flat out refuses to have anything to do with him to this day because...

- The reason his Mom left was that Andrew’s Dad had developed an alcohol problem from his writing struggles, and would regularly abuse her. She got pregnant with Andrew’s brother with another man, who promised to support her and the child if she left. She left Andrew with his Dad because she had grown to hate him, because he served as a reminder that she had once loved the man that had made her life into a living Hell.

- I’d like to be able to say that his wife leaving him, and the responsibility of taking care of his son now being completely on his shoulders served as a wake up call for Andrew’s Dad, but unfortunately it didn’t. His drinking got even worse, and he simply hired people to oversee the care of Andrew, and locked himself away in his study, trying to write the next great novel. In some ways, this was probably something of a mercy, because he certainly wasn’t in any condition to take care of a child, and if he’d attempted it, Andrew probably would have suffered the same kind of abuse that his mother had. As it stands, the abuse he did suffer was very minimal. Once he was old enough to start school, Andrew was sent to Leman Manhattan Preparatory School in New York, boarding there. He lived there for ten months out of the year from the time he was 4 until he was 18, and as a result, grew up to barely know his father.

- Although he resented his father, it was hard for Andrew not to follow in his footsteps and becomes a writer himself. This is partially because the only good memories that Andrew has of his Dad involve him praising pieces of his writing as he grew up. In those moments, Andrew was able to see a glimmer of the man his father once was before alcohol consumed his life. Writing was the only thing that he and his Dad shared. But even without these moments, he still probably would have ended up becoming a writer anyway.

- Having lived in New York for the better part of his entire life, once he graduated High School, he moved there permanently in order to attend Columbia. It was while he was there that he met and fell in love with Alice.

- There’s not a lot I can say about Alice, because in a lot of ways, she’s kind of a mystery. I will say that Andrew was very in love with her. After a year of being together, he proposed marriage and she said yes.

- After his second year at Columbia, he and Alice decided to move out of the residence, and that’s when they moved into Holloway together as a betrothed couple. However, very shortly after moving in, Alice disappeared. Her leaving seemed deliberate, since she took most of her stuff, but she left no note, and no explanation for why, or where she was going. Andrew was heartbroken.

- It wasn’t long after Alice left that Andrew decided to leave. He had started to drink heavily, and spent a lot of his time shut up by himself doing nothing but writing, and he realized he was well on track to becoming exactly like his father was. He knew he needed to leave everything behind, and live as differently as was possible. Without giving it too much thought, he packed a bag and left New York; and he didn’t return for 8 years.

- In his time away, Andrew went on a journey. He traveled across North America, a great deal of it on foot, and camped out in the wilderness. As he traveled, he wrote and sketched in his journals, keeping accounts of the things he saw and experienced. Trekking on foot, from forest to field, from field to mountain, and everything in between, he made stops in towns and cities when he needed to resupply. He lived this way for eight years, on what essentially became a journey of healing and enlightenment. 

-  Although the purpose of the journey wasn’t supposed to be try and find Alice, there was no denying that in the back of his mind, he was always searching for her, hoping to find her. He kept finding reasons to push his journey further and longer, and though he could justify them to himself, deep down he knew it was because of her. In the end, he never did find her, and after breaking down into tears at the realization that no matter how far he went, he probably never would, he decided it was time to finally return home.

- Now Andrew is back. His apartment has been paid for, but vacant for the past eight years, and he’s finally returned to live in it. After eight years on the road, he has hundreds of journals to sort through, which he intends to take the best parts of, revise, and try to get published. Spending so much time away, it’s going to take some time for him to figure out how to live a normal life again.

That’s the story of Andrew so far! I’m not super happy with how I wrote it (Having a mental block today) but it gets the important stuff across! I may try writing out an actual bio eventually, but we’ll see. Anywho! If you’d like to plot anything, please feel free to shoot me a message! 

[the-firebird69]

Did you hear them shortly and 5,000 horsepower it should be easily able to go about a few thousand miles an hour at least and it should be able to keep up and the style and design at those fees it should be able to handle enough to stay in a straight line so we're off to the desert hot flats salt flats sorry is it salt flats and we thought Vegas but he's thinking the salt last but his rethinking it back to Vegas which are the hot flats and I was right and you didn't know to call the hot plants it's a lot of things he's not aware of because he's deceptive to you you always fall for it and he goes around making fun of you because you correct his words but his concepts are way better and they are they make fun of you too cuz you missed the concept for your stupid word hot versus salt and now corky hasn't missed it but he's got it wrong salt is not you in this case but okay. No you don't you don't have my permission it's a man and a woman they deserve their car but I want you to try and copy one cuz I'm tired of hearing from you that you're the balls if you can't copy one of those including the engine then you're fired. Okay well you have to try and will and Bill want to so finally the engine to be curious but he said was to have a pressure release valve on the intake because your motor will blow if they don't have control over the pressure and it's so much pressure and doesn't look like the regular well enough that they probably should do that and they did and they don't blow the motor anymore. Billy I'm like you guys want to work with you you have a class act you came up with the whole car and it's very high-tech and a new motor which is very impressive to them and after your secrets but they want to know what you'd want to work on with them and secrets and stuff okay yeah you're going to say about transformers so the laughing so who's going to come down here the devil color or the Devil himself is an out so if you unless he's out by the time we have the race it would be I think Mephastopheles and it's the first son of the Devil and Lilith off planet.

We accept the race they say of course and we want to see who this fella is or what he is or what he looks like and we see a picture of him and it's been circulated around and he has been seen and he is evil as hell you've seen him crush people as a skinny guy without any trouble but he's not there to crush us he says and he's under my directive if you don't try and harm them and capturing then you'll be fine is there for the race just as we are out there in Las Vegas even though it's not a true gentleman's area it is an area where the race is valid and as a race and then we will vacate the process we appreciate that it's the word and we won't do anything and you guys home and it usually works out even with that massive massive idiotic race with the Hard knock kicker people which was crazy as hell but they are a group and they're not aggressive to each other and it was fun to watch it was amazing to watch amazing so we should probably do that afterwards to cover our tracks have a Harley versus Hard knock race all classes you can pick the day you said Saturday and we agree I'll give you time to prep and test and blow a few stacks laugh yeah Billium and they're going to find you and they want to help out if they can they accept and we will be there. Mac wants to fund you and they accept and what Las Vegas and you guys to get together and come up with a name for the type of race because it is a momentous race there's hasn't been one like this for quite a while it was with the fly cars I think yes no they say with long cars and other odd cars that couldn't do it so it's kind of a romantic because it's in the right format it's the right type of motor and it's right type of car for the race and we are in that LeMans class race these days and your car would make it into it with just a few races like this and this will probably get it in with no questions asked and ours as well cuz this is a new car that he's wanted to race and it's a challenge and if we could of course get Jesus there to sing where the champions and you can say it's you and we'll see it's us but it is my brother and he says no not him then he says what about Brian Gerard he's always considered himself to be a brother and he says we think so but we'll strive to get JC out for it and Max says we will and he's getting loose now like a loose tooth and he shows hasn't show an image and it's gross he laughs he's still a young man be nice if I have something to go down there with like a city I can fly out rent a fitty. But I don't know if I'd stay in Vegas because there's so many gangland shootings but really I added all of the month throughout the whole entire soprano series and watch it all at once it was a bit much we agree for crying out loud.

We accept and we're hoping this guy has a place because I'd like to see you with a house goes because this is intense they're losing the Midwest and it's too an Angel and it's one of him and he's the guy that we've been struggling against and we thought it was Ken we thought it was his dad George or Tommy F maybe no. Tommy F says no and tell me that you have a casino that you can easily put me up in and I can rent a fitty there. Who are you there renting a fitty why the hell are you a jailer. No it's just that we should move you around it causes problems for us not really fix things in the past but okay we will sit here and take it like a man okay Tommy you've had enough so they know you taught me off Tommy f... And yes I raise Mr Chris and I'm pretty good at so I'm going to have to try and figure out how their motor is made and the car too because it's intense and you say that all they did was make it an actual high performance car that you have motorcycle that are in ships and so forth that's true so I'm going to go ahead and work on one and it's not open class it's going to be gas and certain type of gas motor per the requirements of LeMans and really to me now the man sounds like some sort of lounge chair and laid back and slow compared to maybe Indy which sounds like Indiana Jones it's true too LeMans is about the same speed that sounds weird I seen your cars they go flying off the road to go so fast and I don't stay down very well but if they did they might crush the stuff so we're going to make hours out of titanium and they're going to too they say and it's all it's going to be a huge race and we're wondering if other people in virus can make it down there and maybe make it into an event Salazar has a car and says he has a new one now and has Goddess Wife has one too that's new. All of us are going to be there now and I think you're going to have company devel... I appreciate it and I'm getting respect too and I'm getting funding which I need doesn't support really they have facilities they support me with them and their test facilities and they're also supply and repair and storage and protection all that is important you're trying to do something like this and they're going to have their own cars too but they're really interested in the motor and I see how it is I should patent it and sell it is what he says and I might go ahead and do that and hold the patent as well because they're going to find out a scanning and so forth so I think I might do that and also make some conditions because they'll make it for resale this is smart guy and it'll probably work maybe 50% or better or who knows what a percentage is better than nothing and being mad and turning into Infinity the Chuck beef head person that everybody thinks of doing all the time it's a great idea and I can also try and sell the car on the open market and I have offers already and he says it's really easy you can sell the car for enough to build several factories already a lot of people want to have and you can build a fly conversion it's nothing illegal about it because you can copy us and he says well that's great so he's going to have to do that and Sebastian still has his plants

Thor Freya

You said most of it but he got a little tired

Hera Zues

Olympus

[resets-not-endings]

remedial chaos theory

Things are going to go wrong.

That’s the first thing that Dean Forrest tells all her students. Currently, her favorite (not that she is ever going to admit that, even if subjected to torture) little group of kids is sitting in one of the too-big, too-grand classrooms in their unnecessarily fancy school. Cassian Tyler, one of the best teachers in the school, one of the ones who actually teaches, is standing at the front of the room.

Ally Hollister is sitting on the table. Jay Callahan is sitting on the floor. Riley Corvid is the only one sitting in a chair. (They’re the only one who has actual respect for the concept of a school, though Jay at least has the common courtesy to be quiet.)

“Things are going to go wrong,” Mx Tyler says again. Riley nods. “And things are going to happen in wildly different, impossibly confusing ways.”

“But they’re also going to be the same,” Jay says. “We know.”

“Do you?” Mx Tyler asks. “Then, why, exactly, are you here?”

Ally shrugs. Jay looks at the ground.

“Do you know what we’re going to be doing today?” Mx Tyler asks instead. 

“Nope,” Ally says, disinterested and unhelpful as she ever is. Mx Tyler sighs.

“You’re trying to teach us that despite the randomness and impossibility of any given scenario, there is, even with the overwhelming likelihood of it being something new and unknown, a chance of repetition,” Riley says. “Because we got caught in a jam by working under the strict belief that we wouldn’t find ourselves in the same situation again, and then later by maintaining a view of reality in which we would be in a looped scenario, which was the case in neither situation. And you want to keep us from getting killed if that happens again, because Ally’s supposed to save the world.”

Riley Corvin is a quiet, bookish kid, for the most part. They defer to Ally, and sometimes Jay. They teach themself how to work as a medic, how to be important, how to be useful, because if they are useful, they won’t be cast aside. Nobody throws away useful things.

Cassian Tyler and Dean Forrest are trying to convince Riley that they’re not kept around, and even if they are, it’s not because they’re a useful tool. But it’s hard. Because Riley came to them as Ally’s friend. Because they let Riley stay because Ally said so. Because they’re not magical. They’re just human.

But it doesn’t matter, because Riley is definitely useful. They’re smart.

But they make dumb mistakes. They all make dumb mistakes. 

And so the three kids (because really, they’re just kids) are sitting in the too-large classroom, talking about chaos theory with Mx Tyler.

“Well said, Riley,” Mx Tyler praises. Riley ducks their head down, scribbles something in their notebook, and doesn’t say anything else. “You’re here for an assignment, actually. We’re going to put you in various situations and see how you handle them.”

i. 

There are seven crows sitting on the table at the front of the room. None of them are fans of crows after everything that happened with Death.

“Have fun,” Dean Forrest says, then leaves the room, Mx Tyler right on her heels. 

It is followed by the distinctive sound of the lock clicking shut.

the adults are not prepared for the bout of screaming that comes.

they are similarly not prepared for a quiet knock on the door and riley calmly saying, “all the crows are outside, what do you want us to do now?”

they open the door to reveal riley and jay sitting patiently at a table, talking quietly as they write, and ally, leaning over the windowsill, her entire upper body hanging out into the space created by the open window. all the crows are perched peacefully in the bare boughs of the tree outside, snow dotting the ground.

ally turns and smiles. “are we done?” she asks. dean forrest nods and steps aside for the children to file out of the room.

ii. 

“We have a student here who can manipulate time,” Mx Tyler says. “On a small scale. He’s volunteered to help with the first part of these tests. We’re going to roll a die, and turn one of you a different age.”

“That’s small scale?” Ally asks incredulously, suddenly paying far more attention. Mx Tyler shrugs. 

Manipulating age happens more than it should, in their world. The kids need to be prepared.

“This is Kyle Leman,” Mx Tyler says, introducing the teenager as they beckon him into the room. Kyle waves.

Mx Tyler pulls out a normal die, a white cube with black dots, probably taken from some board game years ago.

“Pick a number, each of you,” they instruct.

“Two,” Ally says, automatically.

“Six,” Jay says.

“Okay, then Riley that leaves you with four. Here’s how this is going to go. If it rolls a one or a two, that’s Ally. Three or four is Riley. Five or six, that’s Jay. Odd number means you get aged back, even number means you get aged up,” Mx Tyler explains. “You figure things out until Thursday at noon. Then, we move onto the next scenario.”

It’s currently Monday afternoon. That’s a long time.

They all nod. Kyle stands next to Mx Tyler as they roll the die, right on the table at the front of the class, where everyone could see if they wanted to. It rolls for a minute before it settles.

One dot, right in the center.

“That’s going to be you, Ally,” Tyler says. “Come on up here.”

Ally slides off the desk and paces up the aisle. Riley gets a sour look on their face, like they know what is coming and are far from excited about it.

Kyle touches two fingers to Ally’s forehead. 

Nothing happens.

Kyle and Mx Tyler leave. They don’t lock the door, this time.

“Wassup?” Ally asks, all childish innocence, like she doesn’t know that something is wrong, something is weird.

Riley blinks. Jay mumbles something into his fingers. 

Ally is seven. She sticks her tongue out at Riley, who is out of their chair and going to grab her in less than a second.

“Don’t touch me,” Ally wails in protest. “Le’go! Put me down!” she protests loudly.

Riley sighs, gathers the younger girl into their arms, and leans against the table. Jay simply stares. Riley puts Ally on the table.

“Do you know who I am?” they ask.

“Riley,” Ally says, pouting. 

“And him?” they ask, gesturing over to Jay, who smiles and waves. Ally shakes her head. “That’s Jay,” Riley tells the young girl. “He’s a friend.”

They don’t need to say more than that. Ally sticks out her tongue again, missing teeth and sun-soft freckles.

“How bad can this really be?” Jay asks, late that night, after they struggled through the mess that was the dining hall and finally wrangled Ally into a bed, where she promptly passed out. Riley gives him an unimpressed look.

“Bad,” they say simply. “She was a handful as a kid, and I doubt she’ll be better this time around.”

They look over at Ally, curled up in bed, under a blanket, looking sweet and fragile and childish. It’s not fair.

Day two turns out to be worse than anyone could have expected.

Ally wakes up, then kicks Riley’s arm until they wake up, having fallen asleep in an armchair. Jay is in the top bunk. (He has his own room. He chose not to use it. Instead, he stole Riley’s bed. The faculty has given up on separating the three of them by gender like they normally do.)

“What, Als?” Riley asks, trying to rub the sleep from their eyes.

“Where are we?” Ally asks.

“School,” Riley says. “We talked about this yesterday.”

Ally nods. “Where’s Dad?”

Riley’s heart skips a beat, and their chest seizes. Fuck. Jay is still waking up in the top bunk, exhausted and unhelpful, but it doesn’t matter. Jay would only ask more questions, inadvertently make it worse.

They don’t have an answer for Ally. The girl doesn’t stop.

“Ri,” she whines. “Ri, where’s Dad?”

“He’s not here,” Riley says carefully. They can’t lie to Ally.

“Where is he?” Ally asks. God, this kid is persistent.

“He’s dead,” Riley says finally, tiredly, after a minute of hesitation.

Ally’s face falls, her brightness crumpling and lip trembling. Riley gathers the young girl into their arms. It isn’t enough.

(They should have lied, but they couldn’t, not to Ally.)

Jay decides that now is a good time to finally be awake enough to contribute. “What’s wrong?” he mouths down to Riley, who gives him a halfhearted glare and shakes their head.

Ally doesn’t talk for two hours. It’s almost worse than her screaming and running around, causing terror. Then, something snaps. The room does not fare well.

Riley locks Ally in a janitor’s closet with them. Jay, on the other side of the door, almost laughs as he leans against it heavily. Riley sags against the wall, lets Ally scream and cry and hit them and break things.

Ally seems to forget everything when she falls asleep. She wakes up on Wednesday, and nearly screams loud enough to rouse the entire Academy trying to wake her friends up. Riley has a class. Ally is excused from classes due to personal reasons, not that she ever went to classes in the first place. But Riley has class.

So they leave Ally with Jay, and promise to be back in two hours. Ally is eating cereal when they leave. Jay is reading. Nothing that bad could possibly happen in two hours.

They are very wrong, and almost regret even going to class. Jay is somehow locked in the bathroom, and Ally is running down the halls, barefoot, in clothes that are far too big for her.

Riley catches her just outside their room, and hauls her back in. They release Jay from the bathroom. He is soaking wet, his hair and clothes frozen, and he looks miserably. Riley takes pity on him, wraps him in a blanket, and sends him back to his own dorm room.

He gets a break for all of three hours. Riley spends their dinner in the dining hall hunched over their notebook, trying to write the three page report that was deemed necessary for each of these scenarios. Jay is trying to simultaneously eat, hold Ally in place, get Ally to eat, and offer help to Riley.

By the end of dinner, his hair is frozen again, and he is drinking his sixth mug of tea while holding onto Ally’s sleeve so she doesn’t run off. Ally falls asleep at the table. Riley passes their notebook to Jay to hold, picks up the girl, and carries her back to their room. 

Ally sleeps until almost noon the next day. Riley spends most of that time typing up and editing their report with Jay hovering over their shoulder.

When noon comes, the three of them are waiting in the grand classroom, and Kyle presses a finger to Ally’s forehead again, and leaves.

Ally looks at Riley, nearly bursts into tears, and buries her head in her arms. Jay rubs her back. 

“Well done, guys,” Mx Tyler says. “I’ll read over this and return your grade tonight,” they add, holding up the report.

They get their grade while at dinner. When they get back to Ally’s room, Riley’s neatly typed report is in the folder pinned to the door, where the teachers put papers for the kids.

On the last page, there is a handwritten paragraph.

Grade: A

Comments: You did well, despite the less than favorable circumstances. I do have to say that I was not expecting Mr Callahan to have so many issues regarding his attire and ice, but you handled everything well. Riley, I think you drew on your past knowledge well. Jay, you adapted to do what was needed. Ally, you seem like a terror of a kid, and I’m glad I wasn’t the one in charge of you. I’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon for your next class.

Jay laughs. Ally hits him. Riley and Jay retreat to Jay’s room. They need a quiet night. 

iii. 

[thegloober]

John Oates' Tuned Porsche 356 Won't Be His Next Maneater

Oates won’t be able to hide from private eyes while behind the wheel of this little beast.

Emory Motorsports specializes in tuning the classic Porsche 356, and rockstar John Oates of 1980s iconic band Hall & Oates now owns one of the company’s special machines. Oates asked the firm for the perfect 356, and Emory delivered.

Oates’ new car started life as a 1960 356B Cabriolet. Emory fitted a removable hardtop that gave the car an interesting flat-top silhouette, rather than the vehicle’s usual graceful silhouette for the coupe’s rear deck. The donor machine had a damaged front end, so the build team incorporated the smoother shape of the 356A at the nose and windshield frame. The 356A’s smaller bumpers also added a sleeker look.

The Porsche 356 is a classic:

Inside, there is a pair of low-back, vintage-style sport seats with cognac-colored leather. The rollbar is removable.

Power comes from Emory’s custom Outlaw-4 engine. The 2.4-liter air-cooled flat-four powerplant uses the design of Porsche’s far more modern Type 964 flat six as its basis. Twin spark plugs per cylinder, computer-controlled ignition, and custom headers make the most out of the mill’s displacement to produce 200 horsepower (149 kilowatts). A five-speed manual gearbox from an early 911 sends the output to the rear wheels.

Oates’ 356 should be quite a canyon carver, too. It uses the independent rear suspension setup from an early 911 with the addition of modern Koni adjustable shocks. Emory’s proprietary four-wheel disc brakes should bring this 1,850-pound (839-kilogram) sports car to a very rapid halt.

Oates debuted his 356 at the Porsche Experience Center in Atlanta at an event in late October. He won’t be able to drive it there much longer this year before chilly weather takes the fun out of driving a convertible.

Source: Emory Motorsports

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EMORY MOTORSPORTS DESIGNS INCREDIBLE CUSTOM

1960 356 “EMORY SPECIAL” PORSCHE

FOR MUSIC ICON JOHN OATES

Legendary Hall & Oates Guitarist Unveils His Car Alongside Celebrated Porsche Outlaw Builder Rod Emory During Porsche Cars’ 70th Anniversary Party

NORTH HOLLYWOOD, CA — Having sold some 40 million records worldwide, Hall & Oates are considered the world’s best-selling music duo in history. The record-breaking band was famously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2014, but what many fans don’t know is celebrated guitarist/vocalist/composer John Oates is also a long-time Porsche fan.

The consummate collaborator, Oates contacted Emory Motorsports Founder Rod Emory about creating a truly one-of-a-kind classic Porsche. As a longtime Porsche enthusiast and collector, Oates wanted the perfect Porsche 356. Working closely with Emory, Oates made it clear he wanted to preserve the elegant styling of the 356 but imbue the car with more-modern performance and other custom touches. Rod found the ideal donor car, a 1960 356B Cabriolet, and went to work alongside Oates on the build.

Long known by enthusiasts for creating the Porsche Outlaw movement with his custom 356s, Rod Emory also offers his clients more-subtle Emory Special builds. Growing up in a family of auto customizers and designers, Rod Emory created John Oates’ Emory Special using many of the same customizing techniques – and many of the same actual tools – that his grandfather Neil pioneered dating back to 1948 when he founded Valley Custom in Burbank, California. Known as one of the seminal minds in the golden age of hot-rodding, Neil built a reputation for stately, understated coachwork that Rod employs to this day at Emory Motorsports.

Oates’ 1960 356 Emory Special is no exception. The overall design further enhances the original 356 body with seamless, subtle alterations. Working together, Oates and Emory succeeded in restoring and designing one of the most beautiful 356 cars to ever grace the road. Bespoke cars like the Oates 1960 Emory Special are built to order by Emory Motorsports, beginning with damaged donor cars that Rod secures from all over the country. During the build, body modifications are done to change the 356’s profile while still retaining its iconic design language and proportions.

“When people hear custom, their minds tend to go to the outrageous, but our work is all about restraint,” explains Emory Motorsports Founder Rod Emory. “John’s 356 is perfect example. The body began life as a 1960 356B Cabriolet, which had a removable hard top. We replaced the car’s damaged nose with 356A-style bodywork, but leaned it back for a sleeker appearance. We also modified the windshield frame the same way. The removable hard top was tailored to create a more streamlined roof profile, and we integrated body-hugging 356A-style bumpers. Everything is presented in the same way a new 356 would be rolling off the line. The key difference is the subtle changes Emory Motorsports makes to the original design.”

Emory Motorsports surrounds vintage sheetmetal with later Porsche-performance DNA for Emory Special and Emory Outlaw builds. John Oates’ 1960 356 is a prime example. Power is supplied by the new Emory-Rothsport “Outlaw-4” engine. Emory collaborated with Porsche GT racing team crew chief Jeff Gamroth of Rothsport Racing to create an all-new air-cooled four-cylinder engine block, based on the dry-sump Porsche 3.6L Type 964 engine – but also incorporating the best features of three generations of the 911 powerplant. Custom cam housings, camshafts, and crankshafts are designed to work with OE Porsche engine components.

The Outlaw-4 engine makes use of the 3.6L twin-plug and dry-sump design features for the sake of performance. However, the new engine takes advantage of MSD computer-controlled ignition, augmented by a custom distributor and full-flow oiling with remote filter and cooler. John Oates’ engine is the 2.4L Outlaw-4 configuration with custom headers leading to a 911 sport muffler. It is fed by a through-hood fuel filler atop a custom 18-gallon GT Fuel Safe cell. The Outlaw-4 engine is mated to an early Porsche 911 901l aluminum-case 5-speed transmission.

Chassis modernizing was also part of the plan from the outset. Emory adapted early Porsche 911 independent rear suspension with custom-narrowed trailing arms. Adjustable Koni shocks control the ride, and Emory added front and rear swaybars to control body roll during aggressive cornering. Handling is also improved with a proprietary Emory four-wheel disc-brake system, which stops the 205/55ZR16 Pirelli P Zero Rosso tires on custom 15×6 billet alloy wheels. The wheels were powdercoated black and have mirror-polished hubs.

John Oates worked directly with Rod Emory to map out the interior cabin. Hydes cognac leather is showcased throughout. The Speedster-style seats received basketweave inserts and 2-point competition harnesses. German square-weave carpet in is augmented by traditional rubber floormats.

Other interior features include the mid-1960s Porsche 904-style triple gauge, accented by a Derrington steering wheel, an Emory Outlaw shift knob, black control knobs and escutcheons, and the radio-delete option. A removable rollbar was added in case Oates decides to track his 356.

Final exterior details really set this car apart. To complement the removable rollbar, Emory created interchangeable hard and soft tops. The re-profiled OE hardtop is pictured; the car also has a custom soft top for summer cruising.

Finished in Graphite Grey Metallic RM paint, Oates’ 1960 356 Emory Special has a few additional bespoke body modifications. These include a hood-handle delete, body-hugging bumpers, body-mounted driving lights, and a signature Emory reverse-louvered deck lid. The 200-horsepower car weighs 1,850 pounds.

John Oates debuted his Emory Special 356 in late October at an intimate party and private concert at the Porsche Experience Center in Atlanta as part of the marque’s 70th Anniversary celebration. For more information on Emory Motorsports, please call 971.241.7017 or visit EmoryMotorsports.com.

About Emory Motorsports

Founded in 1996 by Amy and Rod Emory, Emory Motorsports initially provided turn-key prep, repairs, and logistics for vintage racers. When Rod Emory began doing custom street builds, the company evolved into one of the world’s leading resources for Porsche 356 customization and restoration.

Rod Emory’s automotive roots date to 1948, when his grandfather Neil Emory founded Valley Custom Shop. An innovator in body chopping and channeling, Neil Emory created the bodywork for the infamous land-speed record-holding SoCal Streamliner. Rod’s dad, Gary, created the first Baja Bug while working as parts manager at Chick Iverson Porsche in the 1960s. He later founded (Porsche) Parts Obsolete and became the go-to source for hard-to-find replacement parts.

Rod applied his grandfather’s sheetmetal skills and dad’s Porsche obsession and design sensibility to the 356 models. Porsche purists labeled the Emorys’ cars “outlaws” when they dared attempt to enter shows in the 1990s with subtly modified 356s that combined OE parts from different eras. The Emorys happily became champions of what is now known as the “Porsche Outlaw” customizing movement.

Emory Motorsports has created some of the most stunning early Porsches ever built. The company also did a meticulous Pebble Beach Concours-recognized restoration of the most historically significant werks Porsche ever, a 356 SL Gmund that took a class victory at the 1951 24 Hours of LeMans – Porsche’s first international race win.

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Source: https://bloghyped.com/john-oates039-tuned-porsche-356-won039t-be-his-next-maneater/

[relax-and-read-on]

Primarch bio baby headcanon: loyalist edition!!!

(for the anon that was so patient <3)

I have baby brainrot, I just love kids so much, and this is devolving in it's own lil au I supose lmao. Big E definitely made the babys in test tub and sprang them in his kids, because he's an idiot with no self control.

Lion: His first reaction, upon being handled a baby, is to ask if he really has to keep it. Then to ask if any of his sibling want an extra child. When he realise he TRULY is stuck with his kid, he goes back to Caliban, set up an entire team with tutors and nannies, and just... Leave them there. He come by semi often, but he's never an actual father to that child. He never had any parent, and in his opinion, he turned fine. He don't see why he has to work for it when he provide a safe environment for the child... Wich does fuck the kid up quite a bit. They also grow into a cold, distant person, and don't see why they should have any attachment to their father. Surprisingly, those two sociopathe work together in a pretty great way when the child turn into an adult, you just could never guess that they are technically a family.

Leman: He get a baby girl. And it's Daddy's lil princess. She's so spoiled, and loved, and quite overprotected. He often joke that he will have to kill any potential bf she has. But with time... Things become strained. She love her dad! She really, really do!!! But. He doesn't want her to grow up!!! The galaxy is a scary place, and he is so sure that he know what's best for her. She can't go on the battlefield, what if she got *hurt*?!? Wich is very awkward, as she is his wild daughter, riding like a valkyrie and wanting freedom. She's also a hothead, and would scream at her poor confused father about how much he dosn't respect her. They still makeup after every argument, usually by having a fun daughter/Father hunting adventure together.

Vulkan: He love his baby. But the thing is... He loves his sons too, and every humans to some extend. He is always so, so busy. He drag his child with him!!! As much as he can!!! But it's so insanely hard to get one on one time with them. The kid understand, really, they have the patience of a saint. They get that their dad has protect everyone. Become a very compassionate, if slightly sad child. Eventually as an adult, they do express their issues, how they wished that their father had been around more... But they forgive poor Vulkan. It hurt more when he's not there, because when he is, he's the best. He came from a large family, and always loved taking care of kids. Hia child is probably bff with Perturabo's and Angron's ones, making a sweet trio.

Corvus: She is a bit unsure on how to raise them at first as a baby... And unintentionally, she mimic a lot of behavior the her twin, Konrad, is also doing: Raising them collectively with the legion, letting them be a part of the family, focus on their culture, giving all the food... The baby might become a bit weird, as they talk like they are reciting poetry at all time, but they are one of the most well adjusted ones. The one thing that is very surprising is how much Corvus nieces, nephews and niblings just... Seem to adore her and constantly show up. It is partly because she bakes so much, and partly because she is the only "aunt" of the family, a nice feminine presence in this sea of testosterone. She gracefully accept this role.

Ferrus: his kid (who got big boy energy) consider himself to be the "eldest" sibling of their family, and love making fun of Fulgrim's child. The do play fight a lot, but it's never serious. As himself.... He is. So chill. He got the detachment of Ferrus, with the personal insight of Fulgrim. He treat problem like just another part of life. Super into things like philosophie and psychology, he's probably one of those that enjoy spending time with Grandpa Big E the most. When asked about his interest, he simply said that he's perfect mix of his two parents: He like knowing how things work, and he like people. As such: learning how people works. Very tall and handsome, look a lot like Ferrus, if he smiled more. Ferrus is very close to his kid, and love listening to him happily infodump on his various special interest.

Sanguinius: Oh that child. Is perfect. Born as the prettiest baby, who never made a fuss, who was always smiling. They are the smartest and prettiest and the most talented kid in the galaxy. And Sanguinius, the fool, keep saying to them ever. Single. Day. He's so!!! Proud of them!!! Of how perfect and gifted they are!!!! But then one day, the kid is a teen.... And they tried to do a thing. And failed. And were just unable to do it. And it made them break down. Living in the shadow of Horus and Sanguinius, of being the person that people just expect everything off, is so damn hard. The pressure was too much, and Sanguinius then also had a meltdown realising his expectations fucked up his baby. Hapily, his child as a wonderful twin in the person of Horus' brat, who will do EVERYTHING for his sibling, to make them comfortable and ok with themself again.

Roboute: first, I can only imagine Roboute having a baby boy, don't ask me why. And listen... He love his son. So much. But he got McFreaking CURSED with the worst hellraiser of the gang. I'm talking "sneak aboard spaceship at 6" level of ridiculous. It give him grey hair. At the same time... He wouldn't change anything about his child for all the gold in the world. He actually sat down his child when he was 5 and told him, with all the seriousness he could manage, that he could become and do anything he ever wanted, Roboute would love him anyway. And he intent on keeping up those words. Meanwhile, the kid is like, a rogue trader in the making, and probably has warrants to his name in a few systheme... But he still adore his dad. They tease each other a lot, Rob calling his son a rascal, and said kid calling his dad a boring old man. They have the same smile and deadpan humour.

Jaghatai: Jaghatai... Is not very sure how he's supposed to handle a baby, in very praticals way. How do you change them??? Is horse milk appropriate??? Why are they so small!!! He does make mistake, and is too stubborn to ask for help. He's lucky that a few of his sons came from large family, and still remember how to do all those things. He's not very attached at first at the little crying machine... But the older they get, the more loving he become. The first time he put them on a lil child sized bike??? Oh god. He may have cried a bit. And things only get better from there. When they turn into a teenager, they have a wonderfully communicative and close relationship. Sure, the kid has some HEAVY wanderlust, and a lot of people think Jaghatai should be a bit more strict with him... But he trust them. They are a good kid, and if they ever need help, he will be there for them.

Rogal: Listen. There might be a few manual on how you are suposed to raise kids... But at some point, you have to be adaptable. Rogal is not. He created a "perfect" schedule on how to raise his kid, and the fact that it's hard to respect is just frustrating. Clearly he is doing something wrong, but he can't figure out what!!! It can't be that hard can't it??? Normal humans do it all the time!! The kid grow up to be a neurotic mess, and is never able to properly express their emotions toward their father. By a stroke of luck (and maybe some of Guilliman pushing), rogal's child is bff with Roboute's son, and he get SOME exemple of what communication is like.