#No it's far from sad if it seemed that way

[runninriot]

Four Stockings make a Pair

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 24

prompt: Stocking | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, feelings realisation

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

   "Wayne, I'm back! Brought a little surprise for you!" Eddie calls out, feeling just a bit guilty when his uncle happily pokes his head into the hallway only to stop dead in his tracks.

   "How was- Oh. Hey, Robbie!"

Wayne hobbles towards them and, despite leaning heavy on one crutch, opens his free arm for the little girl that runs straight at him.

   "Grandpa Wayne! Why didn't you tell us you hurt your foot? We would've visited you a lot sooner, right dad?"

Something about their interaction makes Eddie's chest feel tight, hits him with a hint of jealousy but also makes his heart grow three sizes because it's nice to know that his uncle has people here that care for him when he's not around.

   "Hey, Wayne. Sorry to barge in like that. We, uh, we met Eddie at the community centre and-"

Watching Steve fumble for his words, awkwardly standing in the doorway like he's feeling caught, is almost too much to handle. But as endearing as it is to watch his pretty face turn pink, Eddie has mercy on him.

   "Robbie and I were craving your famous hot chocolate, so I invited them over."

Wayne shoots him a look that feels like a silent agreement to 'talk about this later' before he turns back to the girl with one of those rare smiles he doesn't give out freely.

   "Is that so? Well, we better make some then. Why don't you two get set in the living room while Robbie and I get on with it. You wanna help me, sweety?"

   "Yesss! Can I, dad?"

When Steve agrees, she takes Wayne's free hand and carefully leads him in the direction of the kitchen while telling him all about her afternoon.

   "We saw Santa today! He was so nice. And we took a picture with him and I told him what I want for Christmas!"

When Eddie and Steve enter the living room, Eddie's eyes immediately fall on the Christmas tree Wayne must've put up while he was gone - so much for resting his leg. Next to the tree, over the fire place, he notices four instead of only two stockings hanging from the mantelpiece and it makes him wonder if maybe Wayne was planning on sharing his little secret, had Eddie not already found out about it today.

It's hard to realise what he missed out on while being too focused on his own life. He could've visited sooner, more often - Wayne keeps telling him it's fine but Eddie still feels bad about only making his way back home twice a year.

   "I'm sorry, Eddie,” Steve starts after a moment of awkward silence, “This must be so weird for you."

   "Nah, you're good. I guess I was just surprised Wayne hasn't told me about it."

   "Maybe he thought you wouldn't approve? I told him we haven't exactly been friends back then, because I was kind of a dick," Steve says bashfully and that startles a laugh out of Eddie.

   "What? No, Harrington. You were fine. Your friends, they were assholes but your only fault was that you were too cool to hang out with someone like me."

Now it's Steve's turn to laugh and it's a beautiful sound Eddie wants to hear more of.

   "Oh, shut up. You were waaay cooler than me!"

This goes back and forth for a while, with them bantering and play fighting with each other like friends, like it's never been any different between them. How it could’ve been all those years ago.

   "So, uh, you and Robbie. Why did you move back to Hawkins? I always imagined you'd make it into the big city, somewhere far away from here."

It's an instant mood killer, Eddie can tell by the way Steve's smile falters and his shoulders drop. But it's too late to take it back and he really wants to know.

   "Uh, you know. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out to be what you wanted it to be. Hawkins seemed like a good idea to get away from... everything. Until I realised that I had no one left here."

There's a sadness in Steve's voice that breaks Eddie's heart. He has to fight the urge to pull him into his arms, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

   "Then Wayne kinda... found me. I had just moved back and everything felt wrong. I was ready to just give up but then this stranger came into my life out of nowhere, asked if I needed help and- that's how we ended up becoming fam- friends."

His little slip-up doesn't go unnoticed and it makes Eddie feel all warm inside.

   "Wayne's always had a weak spot for strays,” he jokes, “Took me in when my life was falling apart, too. He's the best. I'm glad he found you."

Eddie reaches out for Steve’s hand, takes it in his. It’s not a hug but he hopes it still offers some comfort.

It should feel strange, to have Steve and his daughter invading in his home, fitting right in where it had always just been Wayne and him. Somehow making it feel... complete.

Making it hard for Eddie not to drown in the flood of emotions resurfacing from where they've been buried for a long time.

He thinks about Robbie's wish and wonders, if there's a universe in which he could be that person.

They let go of their hands when they hear Robbie and Wayne enter.

   "Eddie, look! I made mine with whipped cream. Like yours!"

And, yeah. He's already too deep, he can feel it.

The rest of the day goes by in a haze and when it's time for Steve and Robbie to leave, Eddie isn't ready to let them go.

   "Wanna spend Christmas with us?"

The question is out before he can think it through.

   "If- if that's okay? I don't-" Steve looks at Eddie, seems unsure.

Again, it's Wayne who saves them both.

   "We'd love to have you here."

[strwberri-milk]

Could you please give headcanons on how Sylus and Rafayel would react if MC is used to people putting work before them? Like they grew knowing work comes first so if the guys have work commitments that take a long time or they go a while without talking, MC isn’t bothered or phased. They’re just happy to be talking again, and when unable they just busy themselves. Hope this made sense. Kind if sad comfort vibes, lol.

Sylus is good at focusing but not to the point of ignoring you. He realises something's off when he tries to figure out what the last thing you said to him was and figures it's been a while since then. You're still quietly keeping to yourself, clearly patiently waiting for him to give you attention once again. He clears his throat, this time as a way of signalling that he's finally done. Your head perks up immediately at the sound, making him chuckle a little as he beckons for you to come over to him.

Whenever he finds himself too busy to text you it almost upsets him that you respond without seeming to mind it all too much. He wants you to be mad at him, or at least annoyed that he couldn't find time to get to his phone (which does not happen - his phone was taken away from him for a period of time). You reply as though it hasn't been a week since he last was able to speak to you, prompting him to ask if he's done something.

It takes a while for him to figure out exactly what's happening but when he sorts out that you think his work is more important to him than you he rolls his eyes. There's no way you could ever think that because as far as he's concerned everything he does is for you. He'd quickly have you unlearning that habit, reassuring you that whenever you want him he's there because all he wants is you needing him.

There's no way you could feasibly feel like Rafayel puts work before you. You've witnessed just how annoying he gets when he doesn't want to work, trying your best to help out Thomas by bribing Rafayel with things if he promises to just sit down and actually paint for a few hours.

When he actually does lock in though it will be days until you get something out of him that isn't just a grunt. His phone dies and he doesn't pick up his calls but you're used to it so it doesn't bother you. It takes him until he's actually about to collapse from exhaustion to realise how long it's been since the last time he saw you and he is not very happy about that one. Once his phone is finally returned to the land of the living he spams you with texts and calls, telling you to come over and see him.

You're pretty calm considering he accidentally ignored you for a few days. He was hoping you'd have some stronger emotion besides just brushing him off and reassuring him that it's fine and you really don't actually mind. After a bit of prodding he finally figures out what's happening and tells you that he doesn't care when or how - he wants nothing more than for you to monopolise his attention or at least just hang out with him as he works. He loves you and wants to spend as much time as possible with you.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There's a present under the Christmas tree that wasn't there two hours ago. 

It makes Tommy stand stiff as a poker in the doorway of his own living room, his mind full of possible break-in scenarios. However, the typical signs are missing. No ripped-out drawers, no shattered glass; and what burglar would bring instead of taking something? The somewhat sad little tree, which Tommy didn't actually want to put up in the first place but then did because it's Christmas after all, seems to shine a little brighter thanks to the present. 

Carefully, he approaches the tree under whose green branches the box lies. Its red wrapping, decorated with little Christmas trees, is reflected in the equally red and shiny Christmas baubles. Of course, there’s only one way to how the present got under the tree, only one person who’d be able to do it. Buck still has a key to Tommy's house. He hasn't been in touch since the break-up, and Tommy has missed the perfect time where you presumably ask for the things that the other person still has in their possession. 

The little red box bears Evan’s signature so much, it hurts. It is not particularly carefully packaged, although you can see he's made an effort. Instead of just buying a box, he has wrapped whatever is in the parcel in wrapping paper. It’s wrinkled, the small trees on it are uneven. Tommy can almost see it: Evan sitting at his kitchen table, his tongue between his half-open lips, concentrated in a tangle of adhesive tape. A man with such skillful hands, yet he simply can’t coordinate them. Hands that save lives but fail when cutting paper. Opposites that are downright confusing - and yet so attractive. 

Tommy lets out a sigh that echoes off the walls of his room, as if his own house is mocking him for his self-inflicted loneliness. He holds the small gift in his hands and wonders whether he should really open it. What’s the intention behind it? Why give him a present? The truth is, Evan had gifted him with his mere presence, probably without even knowing it. Getting that back would be a far greater gift than whatever may be in this box. 

The only problem is that he believes he doesn't deserve either. 

Tommy carefully pulls on the adhesive strip, runs a finger beneath the paper and very gently removes it. There is a plain white box underneath. Maybe it was a spontaneous idea to wrap it, but then why go to all the trouble for an undertaking that Evan also knows he hardly has mastered? Tommy's thoughts are on a rollercoaster, a constant up and down, and every steep descent causes tingles in his guts. 

Tommy shakes the box. There’s a soft tinkling sound inside, metal scraping against the cardboard of the box. He turns the box over in his hands, looks at it from all sides, but he is only delaying the inevitable, and he knows it. Opening the lid feels like tearing off a band-aid. Inside is a folded note on a layer of tissue, as green as the little trees on the wrapping paper, but not as green as the branches of  Tommy’s Christmas tree. Green as hope, maybe. 

Tommy,

I still see a future. E. 

Tommy stares at the note, his eyes actually looking right through it, far away; back to a time perhaps when he was less afraid. His fingers carefully feel their way over the tissue in the box. There’s still time to put aside the message, the box, the hope. Maybe he's too much of a coward for that, too. Tommy reaches under the paper, lifts it out of the box and tosses it aside. It gently slides under the tree, almost exactly where the present was. A sign, or not; everything is a sign or it isn’t. 

There’s a key in the box.

That’s not the key to Tommy’s house. Even if it would have been a weird way to return it like this, his deceptive heart feared just that for a moment. But it's also not the key to Evans Loft, because Tommy didn't give it back either. Silly, that they both had clung to this symbols so much. So, it’s neither his key nor Evan’s, and it only takes a quickening heartbeat longer for Tommy to realize. It really is a symbol, this key. One that not only relies on Tommy's curiosity, but also trusts that he will rise to the occasion. 

Suddenly, his phone is in his hands.

This the key to your heart, Evan? 

Bating his breath, he’s waiting for an answer.  

[snowande]

Side quest 2 with isekai Reader that is a healer with a unique way

(male orc x female)

From this story Side quest 1

After done doing your job at the camps, you return to your villages, riding trough the trails with your horse on the way home.

You hear a scream and grunts from the woods, you stop on the trails and put your horse on a leash on to a tree, when you investigate, slowly pushing away the bushes to the voice, and you see, a orc getting jump by a pack of werewolf.

The orc's cries for help are muffled by the sound of his own screams and the werewolves' growls. His arms are wrapped around one of the werewolves, trying to crush it, but there are too many of them. They tear at his flesh, their claws and teeth.

The orc was smaller than a normal orc.

You grab a magic bomb from your bag and throw it at the werewolves. The magic bomb explodes with a blinding flash of light and a deafening roar.

Several werewolves are blinded and howling from the blast. The remaining beasts hesitate for a moment.

The werewolves pack eventually back off and left you with the poor wounded orc, doesn't orcs come in a pack? like the werewolves? you thought to yourself.

But this particular orc seems to be alone, and his injuries are severe. He's bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, and his armor is dented and cracked.

You walk to the injured orc and kneel in front of him "hey, where are your friends?" you softly said to the orc, the orc his eyes sadded. "My pack... left me to die. because I'm the weakest I thought they are my family..." the orc said.

You look at him in pity and feel bad for him, you will not let the poor orc died, bleeding to death, so you ask if the orc can still walk, well you can't pick him up, because he was large than you.

The orc groan in pain as he tries to get up, his movements slow and painful. "I-I can still walk, but not far..." he admits, leaning against a nearby tree for support. "Who are you, human? Why help me?".

"I help you because it's my job as a healer, even if you're an orc, I still help you, not all orcs are bad..." you said as slowly guide him, to a nearby lake, sit him down at the grass and let him lean on a tree.

His breath is uneven and labored. "Humans... you're different... most of them feared us, killed us on sight, But..." he looks at you with dark, thoughtful eyes "You're kind..."

He reaches out with a large, bloody hand and gently touches your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, considering his size and strength. "Thank you human, My name is Arosh, I owe you my life." He looks at you with gratitude.

Arosh watches as you gently remove his armor, his eyes never leaving yours. He seems to be studying you, trying to understand this kind human who saved his life.

As you work, he notices the way your fingers brush against his skin, and he shivers slightly. "um... Arosh you see... I'm not like how the other healer 'heal' so bear with me alright?' you said to arosh, arosh look at you confused, when suddenly you lean on his bare stomach and lick his wounds.

His breath catching in his throat. He's seen healers before, usually heal with their hands and healing potions. But this... this is something else entirely. "What are you doing? "

As you continue to tend to his wounds with your tongue, Arosh realizes that you're healing your saliva. He watches in awe as his wounds slowly start to knit back together, his skin mending under your care.

"It seems the deeper wound are not healing throughly..." you said while looking at the confused arosh. Arosh looks down at the deep gashes on his chest, He watches as you furrow your brow, studying them intently.

"Welp, the only healing that is strong is this." You said while dropping your pants. His eyes widen at the sight of your naked lower body, his breath catching in his throat.

His eyes wander over your thighs before meeting your gaze again. "What..." he swallows hard "What are you suggesting?" "well you see Arosh, I can heal someone with any liquid that comes out of my body, the strongest liquid is my essences...." you said while blushing.

Arosh's eyes flicker down to your core, understanding dawning on him. He licks his lips, his own body responding to the implication. Despite his injuries, he can feel a growing heat in his loins. "So, you're saying..."

He swallows hard, his mind racing with the implications. "You're saying that if I... if we... you can heal my deeper wounds?" He looks back up at your face, searching for confirmation.

"You mean, if we have intercourse, your... essence... will heal my wounds?" He says the words carefully, testing them out. He's never heard of such a thing, but then again, he's never met a healer like you before.

"n-not yet! we have to do intercourse if the wounds are not healing if drinking my essence doesn't work!" you said.

Arosh nods slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "So... it's a last resort, then. If drinking your essence doesn't heal my wounds, we'll need to have intercourse instead." He pauses, his heart racing at the thought of such an intimate act.

"Yes unfortunately..., right... okay let's heal you now" you said while told him to lay down so it will be easy to work with. Arosh nods, understanding your request. He carefully lies down on his back.

As you hover your body in front of his, Arosh's eyes widen at the sight of your pussy so close to his face. His breath catches in his throat as he feels your warmth against his face.

Palms flat against your hips to keep you steady as he buries his face between your legs. His long, rough tongue laps at your core, drinking in your essence. He makes loud, hungry noises as he laps at your cunt.

"ah! ngh!" you moan, it feels so different... Arosh tongue is bigger than other people, of course it's because he was an orc. Your moans only encourage him further.

He keeps his arm locked around your hips, keeping you pinned in place as he uses his massive tongue to explore your every fold, his broad nose pressing against your clit.

His thumbs to pull your lower lips apart, giving himself full access to your core. Without warning, he plunges his long, thick tongue deep into your pussy, curling it to reach every inch of your inner walls.

His thumbs keep your lips spread wide, holding you open for his oral assault. He begins to move his tongue in and out, mimicking the motion of fucking.

As he continues his relentless tongue-fucking, he brings one of his large hands up to your clit, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling the sensitive nub. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear. He looks up at you with hungry, crazed eyes.

Growling against your pussy, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh "Going, to make you cum..." His tongue moves faster, deeper, almost brutal in its intensity. The hand pinching your clit moves in time with his tongue thrusts.

"ah! oh! god! I think I'm about to-" you moan while shaking, you never feel felt so much pleasure before. He feels your body tense up, knows you're close to climaxing. he suck your clit, making you squirt.

Catching your essence with his tongue. He moans in pleasure, swallowing every drop. His hands move to your ass, squeezing the flesh as he continues to lap at your pussy, not letting a single drop go to waste.

"d-did it work?" the orc said timidly, you see at his deep wounds it heal a little bit, it means you have to..., his wounds, which are still bleeding but slower now.

"well, I guess we have to do an intercourse then..." you said, He looks up at you, his eyes locked onto yours. He let you crawl into his lap. He slowly lowers his loincloth, revealing his massive, throbbing member.

Position your self on tip of his cock, you lower yourself onto his massive green member, you feel like you're being split in two. He's so large that it hurts, but you know you have to keep going to heal his wounds. He grunts and wraps his thick arms around your waist, pulling you down further.

As you slowly impale yourself on his massive member, then you stop half way, because his dick fill you to the brim, his cock is half inside you, Aros grab your waist and slowly thrusting, letting you get used of his cock.

"Nghh... Haa okay you can move Arosh... " As you give the ok sign, he starts to thrust harder, his massive balls slapping against your ass. Each thrust pushes you further down onto his length, filling you completely.

His muscular body glistens with sweat and blood as he fucks you aggressively, yet careful enough not to hurt you too much.

He keeps thrusting deeper and deeper, you can feel his entire length inside you now, you can feel his huge balls slapping against your backside. He's so deep inside you that it hurts, but it feels good too. He grunts and growls with each thrust.

Without warning, he flips you onto your back His thrusts become more aggressive now, hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

Arosh look down and sees that his deep wounds are healing, and he feel a lot stronger than before? Is it because of your unusual healing?.

He feels invincible now, his wounds are completely healed, and he feels stronger than ever before. He wraps his thick arms around your waist and lifts you up, impaling you on his dick, standing up.

One of his hand tenderly cup your face as he kisses you deeply, while his other hand holding your hip, his thick tongue exploring your mouth while his dick continues to pound into you mercilessly.

His eyes rolling back in his head as he feels his balls tightening, signaling his impending climax. He holds you tighter against him, burying his member as deep as it will go, and unleashes a torrent of thick, hot orc cum deep inside your stretched out pussy.

His cock pulses repeatedly, filling you completely with his thick seed. His powerful arms keep you pinned tight against him as he spills every last drop of his potent cum deep within your core.

His cock remains hard and throbs inside you as he continues to hold you tightly against him, his cum slowly leaking out from your cunt.

Arosh sits down gently, keeping you in his lap, his still hard dick gradually withdraws from your well used hole. He looks down at you tenderly, his rough hands gently stroking your hair "Thank you?." "I-its y/n... Haa" "Thank you y/n..." He pulls you close.

Nuzzling his nose against your neck and inhaling your scent. "You've given me strength and healing. I am in your debt." He kisses your forehead softly, his massive frame trembling with emotion.

Then you drift off to sleep, nestled in the orc's gentle embrace, you feel safe and protected. His warm, musky scent envelops you.

As you sleep, Arosh hold you tight on his hold, Arosh seems doesn't want to let you go. You smell so nice...

He wonder if he can come with you? Even if he came back to his village, would his orc's friends still want him? He can't seems to let you go.

He hope you will bring him!, he will protecting you! And and be a wonderful MATE to you...

Ahh finally done! This one takes a while (´；д；`) - Lumi♡

This picture is from Pinterest Danil Zakablukovskii

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

Tags : @nymphea0 @rainwithoutpain @cinwmoon @sleepydang

[writersrkive]

Light | Aaron Hotchner

summary: since a few days ago, you have been distracted. Something about the holidays and Christmas is triggering to you. Apparently, the team doesn't notice this, but your boss, of course, does. He is troubled, but when you say that you are sick on Christmas Eve, right before dinner, he is ready to go with you and keep you company. He also appears with a small gift that can cheer you up.

genre: angst, hurt, comfort.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!gn!reader

warning: holidays and Christmas being a nostalgic/sad holiday to reader, mention of reader not being from Virginia, family issues (reader), reader is new member of the team, allusion of an age gap (not specific), reader being called "kid" two or three times.

a/n: so... maybe I projected myself a bit into this fic. I hope whoever feels like the main character feels some comfort and understanding here. I'm sorry if there's anything wrong with the writing, I haven't edited yet, but I wanted it posted before Christmas (it's 11pm in my country). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3. Merry Christmas reader, thank you for being here one more year! I'm proud of you.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Christmas isn't what it was a few years ago, but neither was your family. When you decided to move to Virginia, far from home, it was hard for you because despite having a broken family, the feeling of wanting to fix everything for everyone was still there. The holidays, especially Christmas, brought back memories of when everything was fine —or so it seemed—.

The dynamic of the team was like a family, but as the newest member —and one of the youngest— it was hard to feel completely into it. However, you didn't feel as isolated as you did at first. So, they didn't notice how nostalgic and sad your aura was the days before.

Oh, but Aaron, your boss, did.

It started the day that some workmates decorated the office with a mini Christmas tree, lights and bows. Everyone was heading home, except him, as usual. The paper work ended so the stoic man was closing the door of his office when he noticed the way you were standing in front of the tree, almost giving him your back. He could see half of the profile he caught himself admiring often. The lights were reflected in the sad look similar to that of a child hoping to obtain something impossible.

“Why are you still here?” He asked, not scolding, but rather with curiosity.

“Oh, good night Hotch. I was finishing some paperwork.” Your expression showed that you had come out of a trance.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Maybe we can walk to our cars together.”

“Sure.”

He didn't try to make small talk. The feeling of tiredness was in the air, but he also felt that he shouldn't try to break down any kind of personal barrier that you had at that moment. Because despite showing a friendly smile, it was obvious that your mind was somewhere else.

Then, a few days later, you were distracted by something peculiar.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked when he noticed that you weren't listening to his theories. Hotch was talking to a police officer, but he was looking at the way your workmate and you were analyzing the crime scene. “Are you cold?” His teasing smile made you chuckle slightly.

“Yeah. I still haven't gotten used to the weather, sorry.” The lie went unnoticed by your colleague. They were profilers, but you were one too, so it was kind of easy to fake certain things. It wasn't right, but at that time of the year you just wanted to survive. Besides, you couldn't tell them anything, not because you didn't trust them, but because it was too much to handle.

Across the street, Aaron looked in the direction you were looking before Derek spoke to you. It was a park a few blocks away. There was an ice rink, giant decorations, and lots of families gathered around. What could that place have to distract you so much?

There were many other occasions like that. The last time was on Christmas Eve. Months ago, Penelope had decided to buy an instant camera to take photos of the team inside and outside of work, when they had days off.

“Here it is, my beautiful fellas!” The blonde said excitedly. “Your handmade Christmas gift!”

She made all of you sit around the table, so she could put in the center the sparkling red notebook, with silver letters. 'Memories at the BAU' could be read.

“Garcia! It's so beautiful!” Emily said, smiling. Derek hugged his friend in appreciation and JJ got closer to Emily so she could see better.

“Look at that. Always a great time for pasta.” Rossi joked looking at one of the pictures where he could be seen making pasta for dinner after a heavy case.

“Always looking good.” Derek said pointing at a picture of him posing with one of the plushies García had at her office.

“Look at us! But why do you look so sad?” JJ joked looking at a group photo. You could be seen at the back with a forced smile.

“I was a little tired, sorry.” You answered, but the reality was that you had received some messages from your family minutes before that photo was taken.

“Hey, why did you take a photo of me taking a nap?” The confused tone in Spencer's voice made you laugh a little, but Aaron noticed the way your eyes didn't light up.

“Does anyone know where our newest member is?” Derek asked, smiling. He can't help but remember the way Emily, JJ and he teased you before. You started to get late to a few compromises —it happened at work once or twice—, but your boss didn't scold you like he would scold anyone else on the team. “He has a soft spot for someone.” Derek playfully twitched that time, thinking the bags under your eyes weren't caused by anything but work —he was wrong—.

“The kid just sent a message to the group chat.” Rossi announced.

“Sick?” Penelope showed her worry, reading your message.

Aaron felt a weird pinch on the chest. He immediately got even more worried than everyone in Rossi's house, even if his face just tensed a little bit more than usual. In his mind he debated whether to go with you to make sure you were okay, even though it might be intrusive.

Maybe you needed space….

Or maybe there was something else you weren't telling them, just like he noticed before.

“Am… I think I'm a little bit sick too.” He whispered after a while.

“What? We are about to eat dinner.” Emily said a little sad. She was worried about the team's health now that Aaron and you were sick.

“I'll be fine. I'm going to take some food with me in case I get hungry later." His movements were a little fast, as if in a hurry.

“Are you sure you don't need a medic, Aaron?” His old friend said and the boss could sense a little teasing in his tone.

“I'm good, I just need to go right now. I'll see you tomorrow. Everyone, please be safe.” The team could sense sincerity in those words when he gave them one last look, after he took the food, his jacket and his keys, and before stepping out of the house.

“Kid is gonna have some company.” Derek teased and everyone, including Reid, smiled knowing what was going on.

Both of you were surprised when you opened the door. He didn't expect to see you with red puffy eyes and nose, and you didn't expect him there, in front of your house, holding some tuppers with food and something else tangled in his arms.

“Hotch?” Your furrowed eyebrows and tilted head made his chest feel warm. You looked confused and also cute. He felt a little bad to think like that when something was wrong with you.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” That's all he said.

“Oh… Am… I'm just a little…”

“Sick? I don't think so. You have been acting weird, and Christmas has something to do with that. I know because apparently it triggers something that makes you… sad.” His voice was soft. It felt like he didn't want to expose you, but he needed to show how much he knew about the situation. “I don't think you actually fool them. At least, not now. Maybe in the beginning, but that wasn't my case.” But you did feel exposed, even a little ashamed. The lack of movement told Hotch that you were uncomfortable. “I'm sorry…”

“It's okay. I guess it's impossible to fool S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner.” You showed a sad smile, it was more like a grin. “Wait, what about Jack?”

“He's with his aunt. They were on a trip I couldn't join because of obvious reasons. I guess we can keep each other company.” Little by little he had begun to show a smile that was contagious to you.

“Sure.”

When he walked in he noticed the lack of decorations on the surroundings. There was just a small tree at the back of a hall. It had a start at the top and had some lights and spheres. That was it.

“I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive, but can I ask what's wrong?” he asked when you started to help him to put the food on two plates.

You sighted thinking about all the things you needed to explain so you could give him an answer. “It's complicated. I don't know if I wanna talk about that.”

“That's okay. Then, can you tell me how you are feeling?”

You smiled, knowing he changed the question so as not to make you feel uncomfortable, while still keeping in mind the fact that he needed to know how you were feeling. “Everything brings memories. I'm supposed to be with my family, but what family?” I asked, sitting next to him in the kitchen. “Sometimes I wish things were like before, like having a time machine and just going there: where everyone was. Now I know how heavy the family issues were, but I was a kid so at least I was living in a lie… a good lie.”

“I know family is complicated. There's people who hurt other people, and that's not right, but there's too much.”

“Exactly…”

“But you have a family here too, now.” He whispered. And the way he looked at you made you feel like you weren't alone, at least not how you have thought.

“That's why I bring Rossi's lasagna with me. He's gonna be sad if you don't get to try it.”

Dinner was good. Of course you loved Rossi's cooking, but you came to the conclusion that it was because of the company of your boss. He helped a lot by distracting you, chatting about Jack, some plans outside of work and various things. After a few hours you couldn't handle your curiosity anymore.

“Hotch, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Apparently, your question took him by surprise, perhaps it was the tone in which you spoke to him, almost tenderly.

“What is that?” You pointed at what he left coiled up on the armrest of one of the sofas in your living room. It looked like a silver wire with transparent stuff on it.

“These are Jack's favorite lights. We bought it a few years ago. He loved them until we bought a set of identical, larger lights. Do you want to see?”

“Yes!” Your childish tone made him smile.

He untangled the lights and plugged them into the nearest socket, quickly his hands and the place where the lights rested shone brightly.

“Wow…” It was almost a whisper, but Aaron enjoyed the answer as if it was a shout of joy. “These are beautiful.”

“I knew you liked the lights.”

“Huh? Oh! You mean the night when you caught me staring at the…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, yeah, I liked lights. I think I've always liked them, but at some point the feeling became sad."

“They are for you.”

“No, but, Jack…”

“Like I said, he has new ones, so, there's no problem. He will love that you have them.”

“Can you help me to…” You hesitated.

“Sure. Let's go, where do you want them?”

A fun playlist invaded your house. While Hotch held a ladder and watched your back to see if you lost your balance, you placed the string of lights in the living room window.

“Can you turn them on?” You asked him gently. The decorated window came to life as did your eyes and Aaron couldn't feel calmer as he admired your excited countenance.

“I'm glad you liked them.”

Suddenly, cries of excitement were heard from neighboring houses and some Christmas songs began to play from the speakers of nearby restaurants even louder.

“Merry Christmas, Hotch.” You said when you came down from the ladder. The man who came to brighten your night didn't think that seeing your expression would fill his chest with warmth.

“Merry Christmas, kid.”

You definitely didn't know or would have imagined that the man who watched your back at work was what you needed to feel better. He brought the light you needed for days.

[corseque]

Hi! I've been following you for ages for your great Solas takes and immaculate taste in sad men. I've been thinking about this because I have a Dragon Age Inquisitor who is an abomination, what do you think Solas would think about abominations/do you recall him ever talking about them? Both Anders/Justice and the more demonic unwilling variety.

Personally I would assume he'd be initially horrified because that might seem like a violation of consent for both parties, but after learning more about them he might grow more curious/respect actual unions a mage might have as an abomination. I am basically just workshopping an OC and hitting a wall and you're the local Solas sage, so... XO

Oh, that's so nice..

Solas is more chill with willing abominations than you might think. And he seems to know all about it already. In Jaws of Hakkon, in the quest called “In Exile” you meet a young mage named Sigrid Gulsdotten who had been willingly possessed by a friendly spirit in order to teach her magic. Which is what the Avvar do culturally to make mages safer.

Sigrid was getting old enough that it was time for her and the spirit to part ways, but she didn’t want to give it up because she didn’t want to lose the spirit as a friend/confidant. Solas has a surprising amount to say in Jaws of Hakkon in general about how the Avvar interact with and relate to spirits, and he talks a lot in this quest too. He is very gentle with her. Let me look up exactly what he says. When you find clues about the mage's failed ritual to part with her spirit, Solas says (a mage in your party always speaks here):

"Residual magic. Someone was casting a spell, and was interrupted. Or stopped."

"If a mage was performing a ritual to part with a spirit, she may have needed to replenish her strength."

Then later, when you talk to her, the conversation goes like this:

Sigrid: "I could not do it! I have no close companions in the hold! No kin! I cannot lose my only friend!"

Inquisitor: "You're friends with this… spirit?"

Sigrid: "It has taught me with patience and kindness since I was a child, frightened of the fire I could suddenly call down."

Solas: "A great comfort. But you are no longer a child."

Sigrid: "Some mages need the help of a god all their lives."

Solas: "Very well. Perhaps, however, ask yourself if it is help you need, or companionship."

Sigrid: "I do not wish to lose the one who loves me."

Here is a playthrough that has this dialogue:

At the end of the quest, if you recruit Sigrid for the Inquisition, Varric, Sera, Vivienne, Iron Bull and Cassandra have strong negative feelings about it, while Cole approves. Solas doesn't seem to approve or disapprove, as far as I can tell. He doesn't say anything, at least. When talking to the Shaman about this Avvar practice, you get this conversation:

Inquisitor: "You let spirits possess your mages on purpose?"

Shaman: "What better teacher than one woven from magic? The spirits in the hold have helped us in this way for hundreds of years. Once a mage masters their powers, their teacher departs, duty ended. Unless the mage is weak."

Inquisitor: "What happens to these "weak" mages?"

Shaman: "Their teachers stay with them and the other gods watch them both, so neither soul turns sick. If one does sicken, or the mage stands in risk of harming the hold… One day, they do not wake in their bed. It is very sad. It is what must be done."

Solas: "It is kinder than what happens in many mage Circles."

So Solas seems to understand the reality that abominations become corrupted more easily, and that it's probably best for abominations to separate willingly.

Solas offers to separate Lucanis and Spite, and says their forceful combination was "a crime against [them] both" so I can only assume that it's the willingness factor that he gets upset by, along with him always being upset at the thought of spirits becoming corrupted.

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Oh scrap pt.2

Soundwave x human reader

Summary: the decepticons start talking about who’s the hottest one, and agree that an alien could break the tie (aka reader) and without a hesitation they say soundwave, not knowing this guy can hear everything lol

Pt.1   Pt.2

———————————————————————

You had forgotten about the whole ordeal. As we mentioned, chaotic things happened all the time.

So you really didn’t think much of it. Not until you started noticing something different.

Now, you are aware of your crush on Soundwave, and usually that’s not a bother since you rarely think of it. Just keeping those emotions on the down low.

However you have realized a difference in your schedule. You’ve been assigned with your crush and his cassettes far more often than normal. 

Not that you mind at all, more opportunities to appreciate your crush. 

And you wouldn’t have been worried, if it weren’t for the change of actions in the bot.

He’s always so calm and steady at his work. But recently you’ve noticed that whenever you’re around he always tenses and soon leaves the room. 

It’s a little sad, I mean, you’re not exactly sure what you did to upset him. And anytime you get near he twitches a bit before giving you his back and leaving. 

Having no human bestie around you went to next thing you had that resembled that on the nemesis.

You entered Knockout quarters, making sure to catch his attention.

“hey, um, I know you’re busy, but can we talk a bit?”

He saw the stress on your face and didn’t deny you your request. After all everyone needs to vent from time to time.

“Well doll maybe he’s acting that way cause he heard your confession the other day.”

Wipping your head towards him with eyes far too open your confused panic showing through your voice. “What the hell are you talking about. I never confessed not even in front of others.”

He vents a bit leaning down closer to you, “so you seriously don’t remember the day you publicly confessed you want Soundwave.”

Your face blooming with warmth you quickly hush him as you remember what he’s referring to, “ugh i had forgotten about that, …do you think someone told him?”

“Oh doll, I doubt he isn’t aware of the situation.” You bury yourself as far as you can in your arms. Worrying for his true feelings towards you.

It’s interesting to him how every time you don’t want him to know something, your own emotions betray you and become so loud it’s impossible to ignore.

Normally he’d be drained from all the baggage your little brain seems to carry. But recently he’s come to realize that he’s become addicted to your love. 

He can feel what you feel for him.

And anytime you were nearby these feelings of your were stronger. At first it didn’t affect him, but the longer he got attached the harder it was to hold back. 

Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with you. <3

———————————————————————

Masterlist 

previous

[zablife]

Shelby Christmas Spectacular

Summary: The Shelby family and their friends gather for a memorable Christmas party.

A/N: Written for @little-diable Chi's 17K celebration. Two lines in bold are borrowed from the Christmas scene in The Godfather. I admit I deviated from the x reader requirement so I hope that's okay. I wanted to find a way to honor all my moots' lovely OCs. (See the end for credits.) Fair warning this might be the worst thing I've ever written, but at least it was made with love 🤍

Warnings: drinking, cursing, mention of a weapon, mention of illness, hint of nsfw

Frances had been right suggesting the enormous Christmas trees in each room of the Shelby home. Something in her caring nature had sensed the change in Mr. Shelby’s spirits leading up to Christmas Eve. Now her preparations were being praised by Tommy’s partner, Lucy, who went room to room admiring the ornately decorated boughs. She did raise a concern over the candles on the tree in the parlor, wondering if it might be best to extinguish them before John's lot began running circles around the tree. However, she thought better of it knowing Tommy’s trusted man, Don would be standing nearby. 

The gentle giant was a comfort to them both this past year and she trusted him implicitly with the protection of their home. Nothing very bad could happen to you with Don by your side, Lucy thought, recalling the days when he’d saved Tommy from himself when she couldn’t.

As she passed through the hall, a servant delivered a telegram on an ornate silver tray. "Who do you know in Hong Kong, ma'am?" the girl asked with awe struck gaze. Lucy plucked the card from the curious maid, squinting at the small type. Having a grand time. My wife and I will return in January." She read the last line once more in a haze of disbelief.

"So he married her?" Tommy rumbled with satisfaction, pleased to hear his cousin was finally settled with the witty and well-connected Mei Chang. Wrapping his arounds Lucy, he gave her waist a gentle squeeze of appreciation he too had someone loyal by his side.

Lost in their own world, they scarcely noticed the click of Polly's high heels against the polished wood. That is until her voice rose sharply behind them. "Married?" she cried.

Lucy attempted to hide the telegram, but Polly captured it between her fingertips at the last moment, reading the lines that exposed her son's secret.

"Thought that's what ya wanted, Pol," Tommy remarked, only to watch the lines of her face crease in despair.

"I wasn't there, Tommy," she noted sadly.

"We'll have a party as soon as they return," Tommy assured her, glancing tentatively at Lucy who was doing her utmost to bite her tongue. She was perhaps the last person one might expect to give a party in Michael's honor, but the placation seemed to soothe Polly so she didn't object.

There was no time to consider the proposal now anyway, Frances brightly announcing the youngest Shelby siblings, twins Sylvie and Sonya, were on the line from London. Any lingering sadness vanished as Polly practically sprinted into Tommy's office to be the first to speak with them.

A tear came to her eye as she listened to their cheerful greeting which sounded very far away. "I'm sorry I couldn't make the last performance of the year," she apologized, thoughts drifting to their graceful form en pointe.

"It's alright, Pol," Sonya assured her softly.

"We've been so busy with rehearsals, we wouldn't have had time for a proper chat anyhow," Sylvie added.

"I'm coming in the new year then and you'll tell me all about playing Odette, hm?" Polly hummed.

"I ...erm...wasn't chosen as Odette," Sylvie revealed, failing to conceal the bitter disappointment in her voice.

Polly's head snapped up at that moment, ready to battle with the ballet master she longed to torment each time he snubbed her nieces in favor of another dancer. "I'll make a call," she promised, fingers subconsciously stroking the flick knife in her pocket. "No, Pol!" the girls replied in unison.

Polly could only chuckle at their solidarity, knowing they'd have her head if she interfered. They hadn't changed a bit from their days running thru the fens as wild reckless wains who abhorred being told what to do.

"Alright," Polly conceded, relinquishing the knife's handle. "I'll stay out of it so long as you two keep out of trouble. Do you hear?" Even as she said it she didn't believe they would, especially during their upcoming break when they would likely spend their nights in clubs. "No galavanting with Chi!" she added sharply.

"We won't," they replied in static monotone, tired of the lectures about their friend who had been deemed a bad influence after John and Arthur learned of her penchant for priests and professors.

Wishing them a happy Christmas, Polly passed the phone to Tommy who undoubtedly wanted to be sure they'd extended an invitation to tonight's party to Alfie and his wife Rose. Another chorused reply came down the line in one long exasperated sigh. Apparently it was a great insult to suggest they shouldn't have been trusted with the task.

Tommy rolled his eyes as he selected a cigarette from its case, allowing them to playfully berate their older brother about his lack of faith in them. Wishing them well for tonight's performance, he ended the call, eyes drifting toward the cars arriving in a long line down the front drive.

Of course Ada would be the first to appear, her glamorous new style on display for all to see. He smirked to himself as he took in the sight of her bright red lipstick specially ordered in New York and shipped to Boston by the caseful now that she could afford it. His sister had dressed to impress this evening and he was curios to see who she'd chosen to escort her when he nearly choked at the sight.

Her old friend Irene stepped from the car moments later, arm wrapped snuggly beneath Ada's gloved hand as they ascended the steps of Arrow House. "Are they..." Tommy began.

"Together?" Lucy offered, meeting Tommy at the window. She only shrugged at the question, uncertain of the details, though she quickly made a note to find out.

The car no one seemed to be able to place was the expensive Bentley, a newer model which put Tommy's to shame. As Bonnie and Vano passed, a long, low whistle rose from their mouths in appreciation of such a fine automobile.

"Don't you be lookin'!" Johnny Dogs scolded as he followed in their wake. "M not just gonna be lookin'," Vano whispered as he jabbed Bonnie in the ribs. His eyes roved the emerald green paint and polished chrome accents, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Nodding politely to the driver now exiting the car, he thought of nothing but a carefree joy ride later when no one would know he was missing.

He might have thought the car was impressive, but his jaw dropped at the sight of who exited moments later. A strikingly beautiful woman with tan skin and dark hair adjusted a scandalously low cut gown beneath her fur.

"Who is that?" he asked Bonnie.

"That's Eva Nelson and you best not look at her either, dinlow!" Bonnie advised, averting his gaze as Jack Nelson glowered at them. "He'll take a garrote to your balls for less," he gulped.

Vano only chuckled in reply, the cloak of youth and stupidity providing ample protection against Bonnie's warnings.

"Thought you were here to see Evie?" Bonnie remarked, watching his friend carefully.

"I am," Vano replied, straightening his jacket to impress Mr. Shelby.

As they reached the front door, they were quickly parted by a large slobbering animal barreling toward Tommy. As the enormous mastiff left a shining trail of saliva in puddles along the carpet, his owners followed behind with wide smiles.

"Tommy!" Alfie called out, arms outstretched in cheerful greeting, his cane nearly bashing Bonnie on the head.

"Alfie," Tommy barely acknowledged, preoccupied with the whereabouts of the dog. "And Cyril," he added with a slight start to his voice and a wince upon hearing the crash of something breakable in the next room.

"We couldn't bear to leave him alone for the night. I hope you don't mind," Rose commented with airy nonchalance. "Besides we know how fond you are of him." It was clear by the barely concealed grin of impish delight she knew that to be false. Alfie couldn't help the roar of laughter upon seeing Tommy's reddening face only made worse by the appearance of a distraught Evie.

"Dad, my ducks!" she shrieked, waiving her hands in perplexed gesturing which told him nothing of the flapping and honking created in Cyril's wake.

Momentarily distracted by the half-eaten wheel of cheese in Evie's hand, Rose began to snicker. They were full fledged giggles by the time Polly came rushing in to chide the teen. "For fucks sake, Evie, put that back!"

In a failed attempt to hide the cheese behind her back, she felt Polly tug her arm away to assess the damage. Noting the prominent teethmarks gnawed savagely into the rind, Polly cast a horrified glance at Tommy who was pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an inevitable headache. He would need more than the one permitted drink to get through tonight, he thought.

After Arthur had been found drunk in the stairwell earlier in his Santa costume, he'd promised Lucy to stay sober in order to chaperone. Now the job would have to fall to nurse Charlotte as Tommy urgently motioned for a maid to bring him three fingers of whisky.

Then he called for another at the sight of Finn stumbling from a nearby closet, Santa suit around his ankles and striped underpants on display for all to see. "What the fuck are you doing, eh?" Tommy asked in exasperation, assuming Finn had shirked his duty in favor of more amusing activities. "Pull your trousers up, there are children here," he hissed at his younger brother.

Clutching at the fuzzy red material, Finn retorted, "It's the bloody kids who pulled 'em down. What did Esme put in those cakes?" Just then a chorus of war whoops erupted down the corridor, a sugar fueled search party giving chase. Finn scrambled away as they rounded the corner, continuing to hunt their uncle in manic delight.

Alfie escorted his wife into the drawing room with Rose clutching at her sides, wheezing through tears as she told her husband she'd found a new appreciation for Christmas festivities.

Jack and Eva Nelson were not as amused by the scene before them, Eva making snide comments about everything from their pitiful decorations to the lack of champagne. Jack didn't attempt to correct her, hoping to stay on her good side long enough to fuck on Shelby's desk later. A literal and figurative fuck you to his former business partner.

Blissfully ignorant to the scheme being concocted before him, Tommy leaned into Polly to discuss another pressing matter. "Pol, there are some people here not on the list." He eyed Luca Changretta, wondering when his old enemy had snuck past his guards.

As he approached the uninvited guest, he quickly realized Luca wasn't alone. A petite blonde with a slight baby bump took Luca's hand, her warm smile melting the ice in Tommy's cool stare.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Emily Changretta," the woman announced cheerfully. "You have a lovely home," she complimented her host.

"Thank you," Tommy managed with a tight smile. Turning to Luca he asked through gritted teeth, "And why are you in my home, Mr. Changretta?"

Luca shrugged as he attempted to apologize for the business with Solomons last year, a gesture Emily insisted upon to clear the air before their child was born. He stumbled as he chose his words, the act of humility quite unfamiliar to him. "Anyway...I come baring gifts to show there's no hard feelings on my end," Luca confided, reaching into his jacket pocket.

Misreading the gesture, Tommy pulled his revolver from his side at lightning speed. Seconds later he heard another gun cock beside him, realizing Don had been watching in the shadows.

As the crisis unfolded, Emily shielded her bump with an ear piercing shriek. She watched as Luca raise his hands into the air, a good natured chuckle tumbling from his lips as he assured her, "It's okay, honey. They don't trust nobody." He instructed her to remove a small box from his pocket and she did so with trembling hands. Holding it up for Tommy to see, Luca lightly shook the contents with a taunting smile.

Tommy could only sigh in relief as he holstered his gun and gave Don the signal to stand down. Reflexes sharp with lingering adrenaline, Tommy deftly caught the box as it came sailing through the air at him. As it clicked open an expensive set of gold engraved cufflinks sparkled back at him from the velvet lining and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Just tryin' to help you dress better," Luca said with a wink. Tommy's jaw clenched at the old insult resurfacing. It was clear Luca would never tire of making jokes at his expense.

Apparently that wasn't the only thing he had in mind to annoy Tommy, having brought a Sicilian business associate with him as well. Stefano Spinietta was a loathsome man who wore too much hair pomade and reeked of pungent cologne which lingered in every room he passed through. He also boasted endlessly about his family's importance and a girl back home desperate to become part of it.

As Lucy became the fifth person to hear his speech, she rolled her eyes and whispered to her horse trainer May, "I'd wager a tenner that Nina despises him more than I do." Needing a break from the head splitting boredom of the self important little man, Lucy went in search of better company. She felt a bit guilty leaving Ethel and May to chat with him, but knew they were more than capable of handling the pretentious weasel with their caustic wit.

In no time she found Ada and Irene, the women showering her with compliments on her new velvet green dress. "Please thank your mum for me, Irene. She really outdid herself this time," Lucy requested.

"She's the best dressmaker in Small Heath," Irene agreed.

"I think you both share that honor," Ada reminded her with a proud grin. She never tired of discussing Irene's gift for working with fabrics, even if the woman was too modest to admit her talent.

"Have you seen the dress Arthur bought for Heaven?" Irene asked, changing the subject to something other than herself.

"She looked stunning until Arthur vomited down the front," Charlotte replied, joining the conversation and the party for the first time that evening.

"Charlotte! I'm so sorry Tommy saddled you with Arthur tonight," Lucy apologized. She quickly filled a cup with punch and offered it to their employee turned close personal friend.

Charlotte dismissed the notion with a soft laugh. "It was no trouble. "Minding Arthur is like minding a sleepy kitten," she assured Lucy, clinking their glasses together in a show of solidarity.

"Not like Tommy then?" Lucy joked, everyone now thankfully able to laugh at the times Tommy had cursed and thrown things at the woman tasked with helping him walk again.

"God, Tommy was more like a savage lion!" Charlotte quipped, earning a hearty laugh from Lucy.

"Still is!" Lucy added jovially.

The women had hardly noticed Heaven appear, despite the stark contrast of her flowing white hair in a sea of brunettes. She had fashioned a new outfit out of the clothes she packed for the next day and somehow looked even more stunning than when she arrived.

"Heaven's back!" Ada exclaimed, waving her over to them.

Making her way through the crowd, Heaven appeared anxious and a bit out of place until they realized why. In her right hand, she awkwardly held the wrist of a little boy shivering of cold and clutching a stuffed toy to his chest.

Knowing that Heaven never knew what to do around children, Lucy took the lead. "Who have you got there?" she asked, looking down at the small child with a look of pity. His clothes looked far too thin for the weather and his teeth chattered loudly despite the gramophone playing a spirited jazz tune.

Heaven only shrugged, releasing the boy's hand as Lucy bent down to have a chat with him. "My name's Lucy. What's yours, love?" she asked in a warm, welcoming voice.

"Isaac, ma'am," the polite child replied, shifting his weight as he grew nervous with the attention of so many people.

"And who have you got there?" she asked, pointing to the toy he was squeezing beneath one arm.

"Mr. Giraffe," he sniffed before falling silent once more.

"Hello, Mr. Giraffe, what brings you all this way?" Lucy asked the toy animatedly.

Eyes flicking down to the well loved friend he always carried, Isaac confessed, "He's here to see Mr. Shelby. We need to ask a favor for my mum."

Lucy stared up at Ada and Heaven who only returned quizzical looks. None of them had ever seen the boy before and they certainly didn't know of his ailing mother, bed ridden back in town. However, the toy now looked familiar to Ada who gently asked to see it.

As Isaac held the one eyed friend to her patiently, she gasped at the recollection of Tommy donating it after Florence left home. The child was indeed telling the truth that he knew her brother. She nodded determinedly to Lucy, taking Isaac by the hand to see Tommy.

He was a brave lad, asking Tommy for help without tears and was swiftly rewarded with treats and the company of the other children. He settled in beside them as Emily taught them card games, whispering her best tips for counting cards. By the end of the evening Isaac was driven home with a belly full of cake and a doctor to see to his mum.

Waving goodbye from front steps, Tommy and Lucy stood arm in arm beneath a star filled sky. They sighed in unison, the long day wearing on them both.

"It's been quite a night, hasn't it?" Tommy recollected, too tired to think of the guests still lingering inside or the enormous mess to be cleaned after Cyril chased Evie's ducks through the lower level of the house bringing a couple of Christmas trees crashing down.

"And we've Michael and Mei's wedding breakfast to plan," Lucy pointed out.

Tommy hummed in recognition, no further words spoken between them. Lucy merely offered the comfort of her presence without the need to fill the silence. However, internally she was going over Frances' unofficial count of the mayhem: 12 guests too drunk to drive, 11 frantic maids to serve them, 10 pound missing from the safe, 9 bottles of whisky consumed, 8 stolen hubcaps, 7 smashed vases, 6 traumatized ducks, 5 suspiciously sticky piles of paperwork in Tommy's office, 4 men in need of stitches, 3 carpets needing cleaning, 2 overturned trees with broken ornaments and 1 ruined Santa suit.

She vowed not to think of it all now. Not when she'd yet to have a dance with Tommy. So she gently guided him inside to sway beneath a sprig of mistletoe. Resting her head on her lover's shoulder, she leaned into his strong frame with a contented sigh.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Tommy asked.

"Me? Oh, just you," she admitted with a giggle.

"Was tonight everything you wanted?" he inquired thoughtfully, cheek pressed to the top of her head.

She nodded slowly, grazing her cheek against his shirt front. "Everyone together and no fucking fighting?!" she exclaimed it like the miracle it was.

"We pulled it off," Tommy announced, leaning in for a celebratory kiss.

The tender moment was soon interrupted by Arthur's rough voice and the sound of mud caked boots sliding on hardwood. Still half drunk, Arthur staggered into the room. Pushing his hair from his forehead, he grumbled, "Fookin' kids!"

"Who, Arthur?" Lucy snapped.

"Isaiah and Vano are fightin' in the garden, Tom," Johnny Dogs finished the thought as he poked his head around the door frame. "Somethin' about Evie," he shrugged.

"Fuckin' hell," Tommy huffed, striding out to confront his daughter's suitors.

"Daddy, wait!" Evie cried out as she heard him stomping down the hall toward the back door. She grabbed hold of his coat tails, attempting to halt her father and his infamous temper.

"It was nice while it lasted," Lucy commented, holding up the hem of her gown to rush after them.

------------------

"It's rubbish isn't it?" Cillain asked, peering over the script he'd been reading aloud for the past twenty minutes.

A snort of laughter erupted from across the sofa, Clara's hand clapping over her mouth to stifle her giggles. "I didn't want to say anything..." she began before Cillian cut her off with a hearty laugh of his own.

"You didn't have to," he noted, tossing the pages aside as he pulled his wife into his arms. Cocooning her in his warm embrace they sat for some time silently considering the confidential pages of the Peaky holiday special.

"Stephen's taking the piss surely," Clara said as she thumbed through the pages of new characters and scenarios never once mentioned in the show. "It reads like..." she attempted to find the least offensive term to describe the disjointed work.

"A screwball comedy," Cillian offered.

"I was going to say fever dream," she confessed, looking up at her husband's striking blue eyes to determine how serious he was about the project.

"I know what you're thinking," he smirked, taking her chin in his hands. "But we'll hire Brummie to polish it for us and it'll be grand."

Clara gave him a worried look, "Isn't she the one who likes to bring out Tommy's dark side? I'm not sure I want to live with you whilst you channel him!"

"What about the American?" he asked with a deep sigh.

"K? I do enjoy the sentimental moments she creates," she remarked wistfully. "But I don't know why you're disregarding the other projects you've been sent. The romantic comedy about the tattoo artist with purple hair or the drama with the Kurdish Italian academic?"

However, he hadn't quite been listening, another thought suddenly stealing his attention. “You know, if we did this holiday thing, Marianne would be perfect for Lucy,” he mused, thinking of the enormous success of his friend's recent play and her rave reviews.

"You're actually entertaining the idea?" Clara asked hesitantly.

"Well I don't have to decide tonight. Let's forget about it for now, yeah?" he suggested, eyes growing heavy. "I want to enjoy the peace and quiet while we have the house to ourselves."

"A silent night," Clara agreed with a nod, leaning in for a deep kiss that would surely distract them both.

-----------------

Credits:

Brummie (as herself) @brummiereader

Charlotte (Tommy's nurse) @toms-cherry-trees

Chi (as herself) @little-diable

Clara Murphy (Cillian's wife) @cillmequick

Don (Tommy's employee and lover) @the-makingsofgreatness

Emily (Luca's wife) @darklydeliciousdesires

Ethel (May's gf) @shelbydelrey

Eva (Jack's wife) @evita-shelby

Evie (Tommy's adopted daughter) @novashelby

Heaven (Arthur's wife) @call-sign-shark

Isaac (boy from Small Heath) @garrison-girl-08

Jiyan-a.k.a "the Kurdish Italian academic" (Cillian's love interest in Shadow of the Sea) @lunarubra

K (as herself) @runnning-outof-time

Lucy (Tommy's partner) @mischievouslittlecreature

Marianne (Cillian's theater protege) @look-at-the-soul

Mei (Michael's wife) @vivianleighwishesshewasme

Mr. Giraffe (Florence Shelby's stuffed toy) @teenwolf-theoriginals

Quinn-a.k.a "the purple haired tattoo artist" (Tommy's love interest in Misadventures) @moral-terpitude

Rose (Alfie's wife) @justrainandcoffee

Stefano (Sicilian bastard) @peakyswritings

Sylvie & Sonya (Tommy's twin sisters) @pacifymebby

Vano (a gypsy boy travelling with the Golds) @wonderlanddreamer

------------

Tag List:

@alanadetigy 

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@red-riding-wood

@elenavampire21

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@copinghex

@margaret-morriss-secrethideout

@hecatemoon87

@ryecosse

@dandelionprints

@cillianmurphyfanatic

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@mrsarnasdelicious

@justlulu

@rangerelik

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@babaohhhriley

@literishdegree99

@padfootdaredmetoo

@smailaway

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

@allie131313

@xiluvfictional-men

@mrs-bellingham

@duckybird101

@writers-hes

@neonpurplestars89-blog

[rdng1230]

Sorry op, you awoke the writing demon and it must be satiated.

—-

Sal groans into his whiskey, silently asking god why he sent him such an idiotic best friend with it seems, an equally stupid ex boyfriend.

"You asked him to move in with you? Buckley I thought he said you were smart."

Buck can't help the sad smile that invades his face. "He really said that??"

Sal ignores him, tapping on the bar like he's Columbo laying out a case. "So tell me if I got something wrong here. He kisses you, you go on a date, you pull the no homo routine, ask him for coffee, invite him to your sister's wedding, fucking insane by the way, you spend the next what, 5 or so months happy as clams not asking any deeper questions at all and you think you can just jump into cohabitating with a smile and a Stonewall Spiel?"

Sal straightens up and turns to face Buckley full on. "No foolin, is there an actual goddamn gas leak in your apartment?"

Buck stares back at him sheepishly, either shame or booze flooding his cheeks red. "I may have skipped a few steps."

"Boy you skipped so many steps you took an elevator."

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. "Tommy always made your pep talks sound like, you know, actual pep talks."

Sal takes another sip of his drink and signals for another. "Here's the thing I think you've failed to grasp about ole Tommy Boy. There is nothing more baffling to him than a compliment."

The younger man's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

And this time Sal actually looks sad. Really sad. "I've been his friend for longer than either of us care to remember. I have seen the best and worst of him and I love him more than anyone apart from my girls. I haven't always been good at showing it, but he is my family."

Sal stares at Buck with a strange mixture of vulnerability and laying down a challenge. One Buck desperately hopes he can meet.

"The only thing I would change about Tommy Kinard is that he would believe me when I tell him that. Would believe anyone when they tell him things like that."

Buck reaches out without thinking to grab Sal's shoulder, and surprisingly the old grump doesn't recoil. Buck can't really say Sal and him are friends. In fact they may be far too similar to ever be friends. But Sal wants nothing but the best for Tommy, and for that, they're on the same team.

"The truth is kid, Tommy has a knack for picking roads he knows are dead ends. He was ready to ride the thing with you till the fucking wheels fell off, but he never expects anyone to stick around. There's nothing scarier to him than potential. To him that's the same thing as loss. And believe me, he's lost enough."

Buck stares at the foggy bar mirror. If he wasn't on his second whiskey, Sal would have made an excellent Roman Centurion. Stalwart and intimidating against anyone who would wish harm to the things he cares about. It's probably what makes him such a good Captain.

"How do I make him believe that he's not gonna lose me? How do I convince him that I want to stay."

Sal gives him a sympathetic glance. "I don't know if he'll ever believe it fully. But the best advice I can offer? Stay anyway. Love him anyway. But you gotta love the real him this time, and believe me he will fight you every step of the way on that."

Buck nods sincerely, his whole body singing at the idea of even seeing Tommy, much less being with him. "I'd fight forever if it means getting him back."

Sal grimaces and juts his chin toward the door. "Get the hell out of here and go get your man Buckley, Unless you wanna gimme a toothache on top of this hangover."

Buck grins, tossing a wad of cash on the counter and gunning it for the exit.

Sal goes up to Buck in a badge and ladder bar and asks him what the FUCK did he do to Tommy

And Buck is taken aback and looks so confused as he replies that Tommy's the one who broke up with him?

And Sal juat goes cool, that doesn't answer my fucking question. What the fuck did you do to him?

[fanfictionlibrary01]

Fanfics being stolen and uploaded on (audiobook) site "WordStream"

I wish there were no reason for an announcement like this right before Christmas… /sad /angry

What is happening?

Fanfics of people on AO3 (works from other sites could not be confirmed as of now) have been uploaded to the site https://word-stream.com.

What do we know?

The site has no legal notice - we can not see who runs or owns the site, who is behind this, etc.. All fanfics also have a ai-generated "book cover", which adds to the iffy vibes outside the fanfic stealing. Fanfics that were found there all match their originals on AO3 with title and author, mostly by tags, and by writing. The summary is often changed, but the works are definitely stolen. Example: Stolen WordStream Version That work on AO3

We checked more works and can confirm that this is not a single case but affects more works, but this is the only SFW work example we could find atm.

Assumptions after some research and digging we did:

To listen to the audiobook versions, you must create an account on that site, which leads to an info that this site has an app. Through that, the developer and potential person behind this could be someone named "Ofek Weitzman", who in term seems to be associated to a "Speechify Inc." (according to google results: Corporation Wiki Article, Speechify App Site, speechify.com).

Speechify does text to speech via an AI voice generator. It would fit the iffy ai cover vibes.

What we recommend to do:

It stands to assume that locking your works on AO3 is the only way of preventing this. So far, we've not found works that were locked on that site, so locking your works on AO3 can protect the from being (more easily) swiped by any bot etc.. Since the site has no legal notice, looking into ways to report that (it's it's illegal for a site not to have one in Germany for example) is likely an option.

Follow up on this and get the latest updated in the Fanfic Communities Network (FCN) Discord Server!

If you have more information regarding this - e.g. if works from other sites are affected too - please reach out to us in the FCN!!

Edit 1 (1h after initial post):

Apparently, a user called @cliffweitzman claims to own this site and to offer users to send an e-mail so this user can take your works down from the site. They answered in this post by @ekingston with this:

A comment to that from our side: This is no excuse. It should not need to be said and explained that theft of intellectual property is not acceptable. We request @cliffweitzman, if they truly run that site, to immediately take down all works that have been stolen - fanfic or potential others - and that were uploaded without the author's consent, as well as to take full responsibility for their unacceptable behaviour.

Edit 2 (2h after the initial post):

The site is currently showing an error... Let's see.

Edit 3 (14h after initial post):

The site is back up, and seems to have taken down fanfics. After searching for the ones we found having been stolen from AO3, we couldn't find any - but that could be coincidence. According to this reblog, the stolen fanfics could only be hidden from the site and if you don't have an account on WordStream. Things are still very unclear, a statement or acknowledgement of this theft of intellectual property by @cliffweitzman is still pending.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 12/24/2024

pair of portentous tuesdayposts: this one is christmas eve and the next one is new year's eve

trying something new with the reading section, where i list off a bunch of books i bounced off and briefly explain why. let me know if this is interesting, or if it's more interesting when i finish a book i sort of enjoyed and really dissect what didn't work for me like with that annoying evil wizard book a couple weeks ago.

listening

the true champ of the past few weeks has been friends at the table's (an actual play podcast about critical worldbuilding, smart characterization, and fun interaction between good friends) horror/weird west season Sangfielle, and i know i have listened to about sixty hours of it bc i have played about sixty hours of stardew valley. i am currently on ep 49, one before the last finale episode, and it feels like it is wrapping up in a very rushed and weird way? maybe i will feel differently after listening to the six coda episodes wrapping up everyones' characters?

the song of the week is fleet foxes’ white winter hymnal, which is morbidly festive without being strictly christmas-y and is not salting the open emotional wound within my chest that is The Holiday Season. album released 2008. christ im old

-

reading

the concept of this gag award is EXTREMELY funny to me. i wish the EFF sent them a little physical trophy. perhaps a challenge coin.

bounced off a lot of stuff. the six larger books and the far top right are all from my absolute favorite thrift store with the worst vibes, who regularly has a 8/$1 media sale bc they actually want to be more of a kitchen goods and home decor thrift store and don't really want to constantly be overflowing with records no one buys. yet here they are.

i really do need to find a good indie used bookstore around here that will take books and give me back slightly more in store credit than in cash. bc i would like to fill some missing chunks of trilogies/fill out the star wars shelves a little more. but every time i have gone to half price books i have had an unpleasant time.

lumberjanes/bravest warrior/adventure time were not making me feel nostalgic and in fact made me quite sad instead (more in a memento mori way than in subject matter) so they're going to a friend's kid

glad i looked up Heartthrob (despite the really good premise of woman haunted by her heart donor) on my library's comic app bc the third one seems to mostly take place in a mental hospital which is really never a vibe i want

GRIFTER has art i don't love and a bland storyline about an ex-marine who is the saddest boy in the world and can also detect literal space aliens living among us. no thank you

tangle's game has a close-call near-sexual assault in the first chapter. no thank you! cool dystopic social credit score premise but no thanks!

gil's all fright diner is about the king of vampires and the duke of werewolves but they're hicks. the narrator hates that they're dumb hicks. did not jive with the authorial voice on this one

i bought Two Tickets to Tangiers in high school bc it looked cool and have only cracked it open now, almost fifteen years later. fifteen year old kay did not yet have the context clues from the cover that it would be a very racist travelogue

i need to stop trying agatha christie. i am never going to like agatha christie

-

watching

somehow i have seen the first tinker bell fairies movie three times this week bc that's all my bestie's toddlers want to watch. a really stupidly stacked cast??? how did all these people have free time in 2008???

-

playing

finished the community center in summer 2 of stardew valley (wildly popular and very intense farming sim) and would have finished it in winter 1 if not for the FUCKING pufferfish. i hate fishing minigames and i especially hate the fishing minigame in stardew so i am excited to leave it the fuck alone for a while.

my cauliflower got stupid mchugelarge?? i do not know why they did that. also a meteor fell on my farm and gave me a bunch of really valuable ore, just like real life meteors.

i do kind of regret picking the beach farm bc so much of my day is spent watering, but i am trying to lean harder into animal products and being more of a fun silly flower farm instead of the intense agriculture i find myself doing. i have the greenhouse, i have a small patch of sprinklerable land, i will simply make sure to buy some of every seed each season and if i really need something i will toss it in the greenhouse.

-

making

people are being very gracious about their mediocre colored pencil portraits. most of my gift budget this year was two flat rate boxes to my siblings. silly little pet portraits are very cost effective if you already have art supplies, nice paper, gumption, and very cheap small frames.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXIX)

The difference between Abuse and Power

Read part one // Master-post // Continued from here

Sorry it took so long!!! But I made this chapter extra long to make up for it guys!!! I hope you enjoy💛

Merry Christmas and Happy New year!!! I hope you all have a great time and mind yourselves. Thank you all for your words of encouragement during the rough time and making me smile and laugh while I was stuck in the dreaded prison of writer's block, but we are back babyyyyyy.... enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Kit heard Ambrose walking behind him. He tried his best to ignore him, but it didn’t really work because Ambrose’s stupid socked feet padded close behind as Kit walked the length of the first floor, away from Nathan and Jude. Away from the stairs Jude threw him down. Away from the abomination of healing and power that Nathan possessed.

“Kit,” Ambrose said eventually. Kit continued walking. He went through the next door on his left which opened up into a nice cozy looking library or study, or something, and walked over to the soft, navy plush couch in the far corner. He dropped into it, deflating like a balloon or a marionette with its strings cut. That’s all he was really, wasn’t it? A puppet.

Black eyes appeared in front of him, pleading, dark brows falling over them like a pitiful, sad puppy. “Kit, listen to me, everything I said and did before… I—”

“Don’t want to hear it?” Kit suggested, his shoulders bunched up around his ears. He felt his eyes water as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to stop it from quivering like a child. He raised his blue, bloodshot eyes to meet Ambrose’s stupid fucking demonic black ones.

“I don’t—” Kit said, scoffed, shrugged and ran his hands through his hair until his fingers tightened on the strands and started tugging on them just to show the kind of storm that was roaring in his mind outwardly. Not that Ambrose had to see a physical representation of his desperation. His blue eyes burned and red flashed across them like the glint of moonlight off a blade. Ambrose shrunk away from his crouch. His eyes widened slightly. “I don’t want to fucking hear it! Any of it. Your apologies, your guilt, your fucking excuses!”

Ambrose sat back onto his heels, even his stupid chocolate curls bounced perfectly, and Kit scoffed exasperated, ran a hand down his face, and wiped furiously at his tears with his thumb and index finger.

“I don’t give a fuck if you feel some kind of fucked up bond to me or whatever, Oskar!” Ambrose flinched. Good, Kit thought bitterly. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to fucking affect this bastard somehow. “I don’t care if you feel bad now, because trust me, we both know you didn’t give two shits when you thought I was just some random hero to terrorise!”

“Kit—” Kit lurched forward, getting his face close to Ambrose’s, his nose curled up in disgust.

“What happened to puppet, huh? What happened to a dog that only exists to obey? I would rather you looked at me like… like I was some fucking plaything for you to break and discard, instead of whatever fucking way you’re looking at me now. You’re—” Kit sucked in a breath, struggling not to hyperventilate. “You’re fucking sick, Rosey. You disgust me. And now I’m on house arrest from your crazy ex-boyfriend, who you seem to hate, but let’s face it, Rosey…”

Kit said. He licked his lips as if he had to prepare them for what he was about to say as he leaned in ever so slightly closer, lowering his voice to a whisper as he got close to Ambrose’s curls covered ear. “What kind of sane person would love you anyways?”

The door to the room swung open. Kit slunk back from Ambrose, his eyes dead and lifeless, expecting to be hurt for daring to insult Nathan’s precious toy but he didn’t care. It was worth it to see Ambrose flinch… to see him crestfallen for once.

But then why didn’t it feel good?

Why did he feel worse than before?!

Why has he become this cruel, hard thing? Was he always this way? Did Ambrose just hold up a mirror and reveal that to—

A flash of hands. Kit didn’t flinch, but his gaze snapped up to cold, furious silver eyes and eyes as cool as a lump of coal. “No,” Ambrose said, his voice soft.

“But—”

“No.” Kit’s eyes flickered back to Ambrose because that wasn’t sad, pathetic guilt-ridden Oskar speaking, that was Omen; commanding, controlled, even. A smirk slid its way onto Ambrose’s face, his black eyes turned even darker, glinting like light off a shard of onyx or jet, filled with humour and sardonic knowing and cruelty. A shiver ran down Kit’s spine as Ambrose used his leverage on Nathan’s hand to raise himself to his feet.

He didn’t break eye contact with Kit as he stood to his full height, which Kit only remembered was a good head taller than him, and then there were two sadistic giants looming over him. Kit fought the urge to shrink back and swallow. He wasn’t going to show them he was afraid. What would they do? Kill him? That would give him his first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks. Months?

“Oskar…” Omen tightened his fingers around Nathan’s wrist and brought his hand to his lips. Nathan stilled as Ambrose wrapped a second hand around Nathan’s long fingers, curling them as he lifted and pressed a kiss to Nathan’s knuckles.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, darling,” Ambrose said, his voice roiling like smooth velvet. Black eyes slunk towards Kit’s. “Especially not with the likes of washed-up heroes before their prime.”

Nathan stepped closer to Ambrose, his back to Kit. “I could kill him for you. Make you a scarf out of his entrails.”

Omen chuckled. Kit’s blood ran cold at the sound. He forgot how silently terrifying Omen could be; how terrifying Ambrose could be.

“You’re sweet,” is all Ambrose replied. He leaned up on his toes to kiss Nathan. Soft, sweet, short, before he pulled away. “But no. He’s used up already. I thought he would be fun to play with, but you can see as well as I can…”

Kit swallowed audibly, his fingers tightened into fists on his thighs as he looked away from the statue staring him down, making him feel two inches tall. “He’s got nothing inside worth taking anymore. He’s given up. He’s not worth the effort.”

Kit stared furiously at the bookshelf to his left, eyes skimming colourful titles trying to ignore the stabbing pain of betrayal in his chest. Isn’t that what he wanted? For Ambrose to stop pretending? Isn’t that why he poked and prodded him until—

“Kit,” Kit’s eyes widened as he felt Omen’s ability ghost through his mind like brain freeze. He shot up off the couch, and grabbed Ambrose’s arm, tightened, pleading.

“Rosey, don’t, pl—”

Ambrose grabbed Kit’s cheeks in one hand and squeezed tightly until Kit’s lips were forced to form a small ring. Kit’s hand shot up and grabbed Ambrose’s wrist, about to beg and plead again. Weren’t they past this? Was this all his fault? Was Ambrose really—

“I think you need a nice, long nap, Kit, don’t you?”

“No!” Kit protested.

“Mmmm, your eyes are feeling so heavy though, aren’t they? And your limbs are exhausted, and you need a really good rest to recover and fight again when you wake don’t you?”

Kit let out a small whine in the back of his throat… because yes, he was feeling tired, and a blissful sleep sounded so fucking good right now. At least then he could turn off the blaring voice in his head screaming danger, danger, danger at him.

“What danger, Kit?” Ambrose asked, his voice so soft and so, so far… away, as if it was a distant melody floating through the air in the other side of the house. Kit swayed on his feet and fell into Ambrose’s open arms. What danger was right, what was he thinking about? His thoughts were liquifying quickly in his mind and sliding slowly away from consciousness. “There we go,” Ambrose cooed, putting his fingers through Kit’s hair. “That’s it, just relax. You want to sleep, don’t you, Kit?”

“Yeah,” Kit mumbled. He went boneless against the villain as Ambrose sat the two of them on the couch again. Ambrose sat down where Kit was before and dragged Kit down with him who was too tired to resist. Kit curled up on the couch as Ambrose gently put Kit’s head on his lap which was as comfortable as a luxurious pillow. Maybe shutting his eyes for a few minutes would be okay, wouldn’t it? He needed his strength after all and… he yawned as Ambrose brushed a hand through his wild, uncut hair.

“That’s right, just a few minutes sleep, and you’ll feel amazing when you wake up.” Ambrose said. Kit didn’t really hear him, but he hummed in reply as his eyes shuttered closed, blissfully unaware of the scorching silver eyes glaring down at him.

***

Ambrose continued to stroke Kit’s hair as the hero’s breath evened out. Ambrose felt his weight droop heavier against him, drifting deeper into sleep in a matter of moments. He could feel Nate’s eyes on him, but he didn’t bother to look up at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the boy’s sleeping head and soft breaths. It was easier to ignore the questions in Nathan’s head and eyes and just focus on the sleeping Hero on him.

God, if only Kit would stay this way forever.

Not that Ambrose would want that, but it would be easier. Why did he have to fight him on everything? Even things that were good for him! It was… exhausting. If this is what having children felt like, Ambrose was almost certain he didn’t want any of the vile things… especially not if Kit remained in his life after all this was over.

He was enough of a handful as it was.

“Why Oskar?” Nate asked, his voice suddenly, terribly vulnerable.

Ambrose didn’t look at him. “I don’t know, Nate. I guess… I told you already. I took too much from him already.”

“That’s a cop out. We both know it.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Think what you want.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Ambrose knew it the moment it left his lips in a tired, defeated sigh. He could feel Nathan’s demeanour shift from confused to defensive in a second, his stance tensing, the air changing around them, becoming thick in Ambrose’s throat.

“Well, if you won’t give me any straight answers, how about I wake him, and ask—” Ambrose’s head snapped up, black eyes catching silver in their void stare.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Nathan scoffed and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re impossible when you’re protective. This is like the Catherine situation all over again.”

Ambrose stiffened. “Don’t talk about her.”

Nathan smirked. He crossed his long arms over his torso, silver eyes gleaming. “It’s true,” he said with a shrug of a shoulder. An attempt to be casual that was anything but. “You always liked to collect strays, Oskar, it’s like a passion project of yours.”

Nathan’s eyes went to Kit in Ambrose’s lap, his fingers wound through the boy’s hair. “Though,” he continued, his voice dipping as his eyes caught Ambrose’s again. “This one you and your father have to share.”

Ambrose’s nostrils flared. “You’re just being cruel for the sake of it now, Nate.”

“So, what if I am?”

“Well, what about you, then?”

Nathan blinked.

“You and all your posturing and grandstanding, how you can absorb so many people’s abilities— mine, Jude’s, my father’s, Kit’s…” Ambrose listed, shrewdness possessing his weighted gaze as he tilted his head at his ex. “How you pretend it doesn’t bother you to hold all that power inside and maintain it there.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

It was Ambrose’s turn to scoff. The edge of his lips quipped up. “You say that, but I saw how weak you were after healing his wounds. You went pale after, dearest. If you think I wouldn’t notice that then you don’t know me at all.”

Nathan stared down his nose at Ambrose and the sleeping Hero. His eyes softened. “No… maybe I don’t anymore.”

Ambrose swallowed as Nate unfolded his arms. He walked a step closer and leaned down. Ambrose barely suppressed the flinch, but it didn’t matter because Nate could feel Ambrose’s stiffness when he pressed a kiss to his forehead. He smiled against the skin and pulled back.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, one hand still lingering on Ambrose’s cheek. He froze midway, and his touch turned bruising as he tilted Ambrose’s head to the side and forced him to look into his swirling, silver eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, darling. You know how much I hate bruises on your pretty face.”

Ambrose stared as Nathan released him, watching as his psychotic ex walked away, grabbed the door and slammed it shut on the way out. Ambrose couldn’t suppress the flinch that time as he stared down at Kit. He didn’t stir. Still sound asleep. Unaware of Ambrose’s tremors of fear at Nathan’s farewell threat.

Oh, he knew how much Nathan hated bruises on his face alright… he knew all too well just how cruel he could truly be.

***

Six years ago…

Oskar and Max stumbled out of the University pub and down the streets back to their apartment in Old Town. God, what a night. What a glorious night, and how long had it been since Oskar could just let loose with Max like that? Get absolutely hammered. He laughed as he threw an arm around Max’s shoulder.

“I love you, Max.”

“That’s really gay,” Max replied, and the pair burst into snorting laughter. Oskar craned his neck down and pressed a wet kiss to Max’s hair as they walked towards Fagan’s lot. They didn’t notice the group of four guys approaching them until one of them shoulder checked Max.

“Woah!” Max said and Oskar turned, about to tell the dicks to watch it when one of them muttered something that chilled him to the core and froze him in place.

“Fucking fags.”

Max grabbed at Oskar’s arm, sensing the shift in his posture. “Oskar come on. They’re small minded—”

“Excuse me,” Oskar hissed. The men stopped and turned. Oskar shrugged Max’s hand off.

“Oskar, just leave it.” Max said.

“No, I won’t just leave it. What did these pricks mutter but not have any fucking balls to say to our faces, huh?”

Oskar went towards the tallest, broadest guy and shoved him back. “Huh? What the fuck did you say?”

“Oskar!”

“You better back off, lamppost and listen to your boyfriend or you’re gonna get hurt.” The tall— well, tallest of the group — broad man stank of beer and had a truly hideous beard. Both of which Oskar personally took offence to.

Oskar straightened to his full height, a good head and shoulders taller than this piece of shit and grinned sadistically down at him.

“You tell him Mitch.” One of the others said.

“Yeah,” another chimed in, “run back to your boyfriend, faggot.”

Oskar’s head snapped to the offender. He was the shortest of the group, blond – obviously he was fucking blond – with tiny pubic hairs tweezed onto his chin in the mock shadow of stubble. He was stick thin and looked like a fucking weasel with a sharp pointed nose and tiny squinting eyes.

“Number one,” Oskar said, holding a bony finger up. “Ew. I wouldn’t date this man if he was the last man on earth,” Oskar said.

Max blinked behind him. “Uh, ouch?!”

Oskar glanced back over his shoulder. “Hush. You know I love you.”

“Fucking queers, I swear to—”

Oskar turned back to glare at the men again. “Two, it’s fucking homophobic to use the words faggot and queer in a derogatory manner towards my friend and I, and I think you should fucking apologise. Right now.”

“Or what?” Mitch challenged stepping forward.

Oskar’s eyes darkened. “Or else. You only get one chance to do the decent thing.” He said, holding his index finger up, his dark eyes searched Mitch’s face, trying to convey how serious he was. “One.”

“Show this fucking princess what real men do.”

Oskar sighed, his head dipped, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I did warn you.”

Mitch went to throw a punch and Oskar stepped back. He caught Mitch’s arm and punched him in the face before shoving him back and kicking him away. Oskar brushed away the curls that fell into his eyes before throwing his arms up in defence of his face from another of the dick’s punches.

“For,” Max began, punctuating his sentence with punches, “fuck’s” punch and the guy went down, “sake, Oskar.”

Oskar grinned. “They’re little bitches, Max, what do—”

Oskar’s head whipped to the side suddenly. He didn’t see his attacker come upon him until he was already hit, fire raging in his cheekbone and someone was cursing as a fist drew back. Another blow came from below, knuckles cracking against his jaw. Oskar stumbled back. His head turned skyward as his bottom teeth snapped against his top and ricocheted through his skull.

He didn’t see the third blow come for his solar plexus. The fist landed and Oskar shot forward as he wheezed a startled sound. A hand caught his cheek and slammed a palm against his nose. Oskar cried out as blood gushed down his face, gasping as he stumbled back again, the world dizzy with tears as his eyes watered reflexively.

Then.

Heat in front of him.

Oranges and yellows licked against the air, standing between Oskar and the homophobes. Warm blood turned cold as it poured from Oskar’s nose and trickled down through his fingers and onto his clothes.

“Yeah, who’s the little bitch now?”

Max scoffed. “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Should’ve known you were freaks too,” one of them said. Oskar’s eyes narrowed, tears spilling over his eyelids as he straightened. He could feel his eyes go the same red as his blood and he put a hand on Max’s shoulder, stepping past him.

“Oskar,” Max said. Caution coloured his voice as Oskar stepped around the human fire ball. “Don’t.”

“Fuck it, why not?”

“Oskar! You can’t—”

“Mitch,” Oskar said. The words sounded as sweet as a melody. Irresistible, and why would you want to resist? He knew the moment it hit Mitch’s ears because he paused as the honeyed words swam into his ears. “Kiss the best looking of your friends.”

Mitch obeyed without question.

He chose the second strongest of the four, grabbed his cheeks and slammed his lips against them. The other two, including the little weasel looked a little annoyed more than angered by the fact that Mitch didn’t find them attractive.

Oskar tilted his head to the side and grinned horribly at them. “Aww, feeling left out, uglies? It’s okay. The two of you kiss too.”

“Itch… off…” the good-looking one said, trying to shove Mitch off of him.

“Oskar! Stop it!”

“Why should I?” Oskar demanded, his little finger twitching as rage consumed him. “Maybe I should make them fuck each other in the street like dogs. Maybe then they’ll learn some fucking manners.”

Heat singed the edges of Oskar’s ear, burning away the stray baby curls. Oskar gasped, jumping to the left and cupping his ear with his hand. He looked over his shoulder to see Max glaring up at him.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

“What the fuck yourself! Tell them to stop! Tell them to forget!”

Oskar straightened. His pride getting the better of him. “Why should I?”

“You know right well why Mr Law major! You know how unethical this is?! I’m serious. Tell them to stop right now, or else.”

Oskar kept Max’s burning stare for a moment longer before the rage dissipated like smoke in the darkness. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Fine,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he turned back to the group of dickheads.

He walked over to the group and told them, “okay loverboys. Enough.”

The group pulled away from each other disgusted. The good looking one, the one that had gotten the punches in on Oskar’s face wiped furiously at his mouth. “What the fuck, Mitchell? Why did you do that? What about Diane?”

Mitch stared at his hands, his face a putrid shade of red. “I- I… I don’t know why I did it… I-” He looked up then at Oskar who stood smugly, hands in his tailored trouser pockets, reeking of expensive cologne and tangible satisfaction. All a farce, a fake, a falsehood, the Oskar that Oskar created after his departure from his legacy role as a hero. “You…” Mitch said, raising a shaking hand. “It was you! You told me… and I- I couldn’t…”

Oskar tilted his head to the side, his smirk widening, exposing his teeth in a wolfish grin. “Couldn’t resist? Maybe you just really fancied him.”

A sharp slap to Oskar’s arm and he yelped as Max stepped up beside him, smog rising from his ears and Oskar felt his blood run cold. “Ow!”

“Tell them to forget. Now.”

“Forget?” The weasel one asked, looking just as terror struck as Mitch and the others. “Make us forget?!”

“You’re a monster!” The other one said.

Oskar bent low and said: “boo.”

The weasel actually flinched. Oskar would have laughed if Max wasn’t about to roast him over the grills of hell, so Oskar clapped his hands together. “Okay, idiots, listen up. You will forget you ever met me or Max tonight. You will forget our faces. You will forget you called us faggots. And…” Oskar glanced at Max sideways and grinned. “Whenever you think of calling someone queer or gay, or faggots, you will remember kissing your friends today. And you will also donate your life savings to a charity for LG–”

Oskar flinched when he felt a lick of heat against his face. “Okay. Not your life savings, but you will donate a small donation fee to any LGBT charity in the city and be general allies to the queer community from now on, capiche?”

The four men nodded dumbly. Oskar straightened with a clap. “Good. Wonderful. Later losers.”

Oskar walked off down Fagan’s lot whistling a happy tune. “Happy with yourself, are you?” Max asked behind him.

Oskar laughed. “Yup. Pretty damn satisfied.”

“That was fucked up, Oskar.” Oskar paused, his smile dimming. Max walked around to his front. “You know that was wrong.”

Oskar let out a huff of breath. “They were fucked up, Max! I’m sick of walking around like I don’t have this power! Something I can use to–”

“To ruin people’s lives?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Oskar said, waving away Max’s dramatics.

“No!” Max protested, gathering Oskar’s attention. “I’m not! Did you hear that guy? Mitch had a wife, or a girlfriend, what if he had kids?”

“Poor kids.” Oskar replied coldly.

Max grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him back against the wall. Oskar’s black eyes widened with surprise at Max’s force. “Don’t you see how fucked up that could be? Telling him to donate his life savings to a charity? What about his wife? His bills? His kids?”

“Maybe being a shitty person means you deserve to have your life fall apart!”

“Is that why yours did?” Max demanded, eyes ablaze. Oskar stiffened under Max’s knuckles. Max may as well have slapped him for the reaction his words caused. Max’s grip loosened. “Oskar…” he said softly.

“No,” Oskar replied. He ran a hand through his hair that had fallen over his eyes, casting them in shadow. God, he really needed a haircut. “No, you’re right. I… I was reckless and I was irresponsible and… you’re right. I’m sorry.”

A silence fell between them. After a minute, Max let go of Oskar’s shirt and let him stand up properly. A grin cracked Max’s handsome face then. “But… it was satisfying to see how horrified they were after kissing each other.”

Oskar grinned and let out a little laugh. “Right?” And just like that they were back to normal and walking down to their apartment block, laughing up the stairs and into the dingy apartment, Max struggling to open the door, having to kick it once, twice, three times, but it stayed stubbornly closed.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Max cursed, and shouldered the door open. The door slammed in and Max stumbled and nearly hit the floor if it wasn’t for Oskar grabbing his arm at the last second, laughing as Max cursed.

“Fucking door!”

“About time you got home.”

The two boys straightened at the voice. Oskar helped to steady Max before he went looking for his boyfriend in the apartment. “Nate? What’re you doing here?” Oskar asked with a big smile on his face. When Nate turned his expression immediately darkened and he was in front of Oskar in a second, hands cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up.

“What the fuck happened to your face?”

Oskar waved him away and went into give Nate a kiss, he missed him he realised. It had only been a few days since they had seen each other, but still. Oskar was drunk and his boyfriend was here, and he was happy.

Nate’s strong hands stopped Oskar from kissing him and Oskar let out a small whine. “What’re you–”

“What. The fuck. Happened to your face?” Nathan asked again and Oskar shrunk under the tightness in his tone. His fingers dug uncomfortably into Oskar’s cheeks and Oskar grabbed Nathan’s wrists and tried to pull them off, but he didn’t budge.

“Nate… Nate,” Oskar said, gasping, eyes pained and pleading. “Nathan, you’re hurting me!”

“What happened to your face?”

“Get off me, Nathan!”

Max appeared between the two and Nathan released Oskar. Oskar took a heavy step back; betrayal pinched his features tight on his face. Oskar shrunk under Nathan’s glare, horribly aware that he had done something wrong and now Nathan was mad, and he hated when Nate got mad.

“Just some douchebags, Nate,” Max said, cutting through the thick tension in the room. “It’s fine. We gave as good as we got.”

“Whoever laid a hand on you…” Nathan said, his voice small, but holding back the ferocity of a storm on the sea. His eyes bright with a cold fury. “Whoever dare hurt you…” he said, his expression softening as he stepped forward and cupped Oskar’s face in his hand again. Oskar flinched when Nathan put his hands on him and wanted to curl up at the look of hurt that passed across his boyfriend’s face. “Your poor face…”

“I’ll live,” Oskar whispered and stepped out of Nathan’s hold.

Max looked between the two. He threw his hands up. “Yeah. I’m also fine, Nate, thanks for asking.”

“Oh shush,” Nathan purred, waving Max away. “You’re like a cockroach, you’ll never die.”

“You could still show some concern. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Oskar excused him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom, his hands shaking violently as he slammed the door shut and locked it. He put his back against the door and gasped when he saw himself in the mirror above the sink. Fuck… fuck… fuck…

Fuck, tears welled up in his black eyes and Oskar felt sick suddenly. A warm feeling climbed his stomach, and he lurched towards the toilet and threw up into the bowl. Not a second later a knock at the door and Oskar froze.

“Osk? Babe, you okay?” Oskar had to tighten his fingers on the toilet to stop his hands from shaking.

It’s fine, he told himself. It’s just a crash from the adrenaline of the fight. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Oskar?” A rattle of the doorknob and Oskar flinched hard again.

Yeah… the fight, totally what he was afraid of…

The next day when Oskar was walking back to the University, he passed a bloody crime scene that made his skin prickle and crawl, and his blood run cold. “Do we have an ID of the bodies?”

“Good thing we had their IDs, or they’d all be John Doe’s.” One of the investigators said. “I don’t know what did this, but it looks too violent for an animal, too… vicious. Calculated.”

Oskar stopped walking. “Mitchell… Dawkins…” One of the lead detectives said and Oskar turned back, and half ran home and up the stairs to his apartment. He had to throw up again as he stumbled into his apartment, sick to his stomach as nausea climbed thick up his oesophagus. All he could think of was Nathan’s hands on his face, the fury in his eyes… the… oh god… no… there… Nathan couldn’t have done something like that… but somewhere, somewhere deep down, Oskar knew he was lying to himself and that thought made him hurl more than the crime.

***

Ambrose stared down at the sleeping Hero in his lap, his bony fingers gently running through his matted hair, combing out the knots of dirt and blood. “Don’t worry, Kit,” Ambrose whispered. “I won’t let him do that to you. I promise. We’ll get out of here. Together. I promise. Just give me time.”

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list [lmk if you wanna be added/removed}: @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[bokutosbabe]

actually I was just passing by and scrolling on tumblr (using the school computer cuz I dont wanna go to class yet and because it has wifi) and I wanted to try and take my chance in your recnt post which I just saw and it made me pretty interested in who you would pair me up with

I have "take a chance with me" by Niki as my top song (of course) and Seventeen as my top artist for this years spotify wrapped, very interested to find out who you would pair me with, thank you again!!

if take a chance with me by niki was your top song and seventeen was your top artist, i'd pair you with...

isagi yoichi

જ⁀♡⊹｡° say what we we want, say what we feel

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist -

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends, friends to lovers, awkward isagi, unrequited love for a second, mention of picking soccer and reader

♡ synopsis — you've always loved isagi yoichi, but when he finally tells you how he feels, your friendship could crumble.

You and Isagi always shared a quiet understanding. While the world saw him as a rising star, someone who was destined for greatness, you were the person who saw his true self—the quiet boy who feared failure and the overwhelming pressure to be the best.

It had always been like that, even when you were younger. He’d train, head down and focused, always trying to get better, and you’d be the one who kept him grounded, reminding him of the simpler things in life—the fun of just playing without the weight of expectations.

But those days felt so far away now. You’d grown up, he’d grown into a national hero, and the distance between you both seemed unbridgeable. Still, you couldn’t help the way your heart beat faster every time you saw him. Even now, after all this time, that same rush of emotions stirred inside you.

It was a rare thing, this moment—a simple, quiet day. Isagi had invited you over to his apartment after a long day, the kind where he'd just played a big match with his team, and you, as always, attended from the sidelines, cheering him on. Now, you sat on the couch, the warm glow of string lights and Christmas decorations creating a peaceful atmosphere as you both relaxed. You didn’t know why he insisted on movie nights like this. Maybe it was the closest thing to normal he had.

You hadn’t seen him in a while. With the constant traveling and the endless responsibilities that came with his career, you knew it wasn’t easy for him to keep in touch with everyone, but somehow, he always made time for you. There was something so familiar about him, but also, he felt like a stranger at times.

"Hey," Isagi's voice breaks through the silence. He's looking at you, his gaze soft but intense, like he’s deciding something, something important.

"Yeah?" You glance over at him, heart skipping a beat.

He shifts uncomfortably, one leg crossed over the other, eyes tracing the floor before meeting yours again. "I don’t know when things changed. When... you became more than just a friend. But I realized I’ve been putting this off for too long."

You blink, your heart hammering. "What are you talking about?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, betraying the sudden nervousness settling in your chest.

"I’ve never been good at expressing myself," he chuckles softly, the sound both familiar and a little sad. "I thought maybe I could just ignore it, or maybe it would go away, but... I don’t think it will." He looks at you, eyes full of something you can’t quite place, but it’s vulnerable. Raw.

You swallow, trying to make sense of what he's saying. It feels like he's been talking around this moment for years, and now, it’s finally come to the surface. "Isagi..."

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see that faint trace of doubt in him—the same doubt you used to reassure him about back in the day. "I don’t want to regret this. I don’t want to look back and think that maybe I could have... I don’t know... tried something with you. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to mess things up, but now..." He exhales shakily. "I can’t pretend like I don’t want you in my life, in my future. I want to try, but I... I’m scared. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings."

His words hang in the air, and your heart feels like it’s been pulled in two directions. Part of you wants to reach out to him, to tell him that you’ve felt the same way for so long, that all of this time spent apart hasn’t dulled your feelings for him. But the other part—the part that’s always been afraid of taking that leap—wants to stay safe in the distance, to preserve what you have, even if it means holding back.

"You’re scared?" you finally manage to say, laughing softly. "You’re the one who’s been scoring goals in front of thousands of people, and you’re scared of this?"

Isagi chuckles nervously, his eyes bright with a mixture of relief and frustration. "Yeah, well... this is different. You’ve always been someone who just... made sense to me, you know? But now it feels like everything’s spinning so fast, and I’m not sure how to make it stop."

You let out a slow breath, your heart racing as you finally let yourself speak the words that have been trapped in your chest for so long. "I feel the same way, Yoichi."

His eyes widen, as if hearing it out loud for the first time is what makes it real. "So... does that mean you’d...?"

"I don’t want to pick," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to choose between soccer and the future we could have, or... whatever we are now."

Isagi’s expression softens as he inches closer, the tension between you both now palpable. His hand brushes against yours, fingers lightly grazing your skin. "I don’t want to pick either, but I have to try. So, let's just... try."

You can see it now, the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s finally letting himself be vulnerable with you. And in that moment, you realize that even though the future may be uncertain, you’re both standing at the edge together, finally ready to leap.

With a shaky breath, you reach for him, your fingers curling into his hand, offering him the chance you both deserve.

soft isagi they will never make me change you

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[nomoreusername]

A Perfect Pair

Pairing:Minho x female reader

Summary:Even though all he wants is you, Minho realizes how much trust rumors can hold.

“You two have so much in common.”

It was a phrase you heard far too often. It was one you rolled your eyes at every time too. You and Minho? Seriously?

His arms crossed over his chest, a flash of jealousy shining in them before just vanishing, being replaced with a deep sadness. Because he already knew what came next.

“It’s not like that,”You insisted, staring at the ground to hide your smile.

A/K was your perfect match. You both worked the same job, seemed to like most of the same things, had the same beliefs, the same humor, the same everything. You two were like puzzle pieces that were made to be.

Minho wanted to scream. He wanted to point out that it puzzle pieces are the same shape they have no chance of fitting. He wouldn't to tell everyone it wasn't fair.

He didn't. He sat there, staring down at his drink. Needing it, he chugged the rest of it down, a sour expression on his face.

“Oh come on. You’d be so cute together. Right, Minho?”

Minho was sure the universe wanted him dead. While he knew the reason was that he was closest, it seemed like taunting. Surely it was a cruel, cruel joke.

“Yeah. They’d go alright together,”He shrugged. Your face flushed as you met A/K’s. He was biting his lip to hold back his smile too, both your eyes gaining this glint that twisted his stomach in knots.

Thomas and Newt exchanged a worried glance before looking at Minho. His face was neutral, no sign of his heart breaking in his chest.

“You two will be together one day for sure. The perfect boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m heading to bed,”You siged, rolling your eyes and standing up, brushing off your pants.

“Oh come on. It's early,”Fry complained.

“Yeah. And I already want away from you shanks,”You said simply, walking off.

Minho stood, calmly making his way to his hammock. He glared at the ground as though it spit on him. Something it was so hard not to do the more he heard those words.

Thomas and Newt also left without a word, their concern only growing. Jogging over, they caught up with him not too far away.

“Minho, wait a second,”Thomas called, placing a hand on his chest as he caught up. Minho resisted the urge to shout at them to leave them alone as he sharply asked what they needed, clearly just wanting to get to the point.

“It's just we've been thinking, and it doesn't have to make sense, right?”

“What are you talking about?”He asked, sure they were the ones speaking gibberish.

“Y/N smiles when someone teases her, but that doesn't mean it's true. People smile all the time when they're embarrassed,”Newt pointed out.

A hint of skeptical shown, his interest clearly peaked.

“They're not together. So what if it's that?”Thomas continued.

A trickle is disappoint when through him, along with fear.

“What if that doesn't mean anything?”He whispered.

“What if it means everything? What if you confess and she feels it too?”Newt pushed.

“You really think she could?”

“Only one way to find out. Right?”

Minho didn't say a word as he left the other direction this time. At each step he found a nervous grin crossing his lips as he thought about the possibilities. You could feel the same. You two could be something. You two could be great together.

You two could be the perfect match.

Almost running now, he found himself in front of your hut. Too eager at the thought of his dreams coming true, he didn't think as he swung the door open, ready to proclaim his love.

He was met with a sight that made him sick to his stomach. One that he would never recover from.

You were in A/K’s lap as he sat on your bed, both your lips pressed firmly together. His hands were around your waist, traveling under your shirt, as you kissed with an undeniable passion. You had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close.

Of course you and A/K were cute together. Of course you fit so well.

You already are.

You both pulled apart, your faces flushing in embarrassment as he stood there, paling under the moonlight.

“Please don't tell anyone?”

“I’m-I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked as he shut the door. Refusing to let his tears spill, he did his best to swallow the lump in his throat as he wished to just disappear.

He’s so stupid. He’s such an idiot for ever thinking he had a chance.

He never wanted to see you again. The chances of breaking were too likely.

Yet he would see you and A/K tomorrow, whether he liked it or not.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

As a person who was genuinely made uncomfortable when I discovered Viv does all this crap like 🍇-romantification, I appreciate this blog so far.

For months I've been trying not to interact with hazbin because of viv's actions, which genuinely makes me sad cause I really liked the show (not including episode 4).

I understand darker skin not suiting your style (like mine) or having trouble with different proportions of characters due to where they're from or something (like me) but the fact that she made all the bad guys that way really doesn't scream "I have trouble drawing ____!"

⚠️YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED TO REPLY OR READ FULLY⚠️

Hi! Totally get this all dw, I just got out of the hospital however so if I explain weird please forgive me 😬 also dont take all of this as me giving specifically you a lecture, this is just me letting my thoughts flow out to whoever is reading 🤝

Also theres leaks in this! If you people don’t want leaks be sure to not read past “read more”!!

Its been brought to my attention that the information in the next paragraph is not true and Vivzie did not design or draw these characters! So she apparently just actually can’t draw them at all

Viv has absolutely no problem drawing POC! I mean just look at the human designs for the succubi in Helluva boss

These designs are wonderful and very diverse! But out of these characters, the ones that are important are Verosika and Vortex and even then these characters are side characters. And on top of that, technically they’re only really coded as POC since these aren’t their true bodily forms, but hey thats a topic for another time. Let’s just ignore that for now and say they 100% are POC, they’re still side characters. She can draw POC wonderfully, she just has issues… making them important.

For characters like Alastor (who was only made POC to get away with demonising a closed religion) we don’t see him as his human form. I mean to be fair why would we- but also why did he turn white when he died?? Why did his entire hair texture change. This is a problem for Vivzie where she doesn’t want to commit to representation or feels she doesn’t need to. Vivzie could’ve made Alastor’s design look more like his leaked human design or couldve just altered his colours a bit, but she didn’t do this because she feels so connected to her original high school OC design that she cant bring herself to change him. Like look at this.

Yeah it’s got a different style, but this is the same guy; he’s just weirdly marketable now. It’s incredibly easy to tell that Vivzie didn’t want to change him if she didn’t 100% have to. Lets take a look at Alastor’s old human design.

This guy definitely looks like he could be Alastor! He’s got the same sort of hair but shorter in the back and a little more combed, but looking at this you can still tell it’s Alastor. However this guy doesn’t exactly seem mixed, right? That’s because he isn’t! Back way way in ye olden days when Alastor went from race ambiguous to white, he just kind of looked like that! And there’s no problem with him being white! Good for him on doing that! I guess!? But when you look his design now, things start to come off as a bit odd.

This is where you non-leakers go read somethin else

This is an entirely different person now. Not just race wise, but personality, the way he presents himself in the arts pose, and just overall the actual look of the character. He looks conniving yes, but he doesn’t look like Alastor. This is not a face matchup.

Now, you definitely can have your ugly little red thing design and still use that human one! You just have to not be too chicken to actually change your character so it makes sense. Let me demonstrate.

Shocking how easily this design can fit the human one while still maintaining the original aesthetic of the base design isn’t it! This Alastor looks like the provided new human design. If you don’t want the character to change, don’t change them physically. And if you do, follow through on it and don’t be a wimp. I don’t see whats so hard to grasp about that to this lady. If you want to keep that same ugly fucking bob then just keep him white. She literally only changed his race so she can use it as an excuse to appropriate vodou. Vivzie can draw POC, she just doesn’t want to when it comes to actually having to change a character. Anyway, good day!

[bietrofastimoff23]

Gwaynston soulmates au, where are they… not soulmates. the universe didn't choose them for each other. none of them blindly dissolves into the other, their characters do not fit perfectly, like a folded puzzle, they do not have a special connection in which they understand each other without words, their experiences are different and their worldviews are not identical. but despite a lot of squabbles and misunderstandings at the beginning, they continue to stick together, they make efforts to make it work. This is not like a linear journey where there is a clear exposition-beginning-culmination-end. It is a winding path with many potholes on the road. but the love that fills their hearts, the realization that they are someone's priority, the sense that they are not alone in this world and the desire to share every moment with this person and no one else, makes all the hard work they do worthwhile. because the universe didn't choose them for each other, but they did.