#Well at least some got done and muse is going strong

[chiropterx]

No matter how much Man-Bat may like you, he's still very much a wild animal at heart and capable of turning on even his best friend should they stand between him and food or worse, between him and Francine. She is the only person he refuses to harm under any circumstance, making it wise to tread carefully whenever his ex-wife is involved.

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

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“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

[gliphyartfan]

You can ignore this.

What about a reader that got Stockholm Syndrome and feels that they don't deserve the affection they get from the chain so they show love towards the chain by waking before most of the chain early morning and making meals for the chain and fixing clothes they find damaged. Basically reader showing affection to the chain by doing domestic things for them.

Hmmmmmm….i can’t say I’ll do well…

Well...I can say this isn’t @yanderelinkeduniverse’s (y/n) (one of my many eternal muses) so you can choose whoever you want to be the star of this one.

Hopefully I did your request justice!

But anyway: here you go my friend!

.

.

.

.

.

.

The early morning air was cool and damp as (Y/N) carefully stirred from their bedroll, the familiar rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds filling the quiet camp.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, a soft gray hue filtering through the trees.

It was their favorite time of day, a time when everything felt calm, peaceful, and they could focus on showing their affection to the Chain in the only way they felt they could.

Quietly, (Y/N) slipped past the others. This time, it was Twilight and Time who were keeping watch on opposite sides of the camp.

Both acknowledged them with a brief glance, nodding silently as (Y/N) smiled in return.

(Y/N) didn’t notice the way their gazes lingered after they passed, how Twilight’s brow furrowed slightly in concern, or how Time’s lips tightened, his eyes narrowing at their every movement.

They reached the small pile of supplies they’d set aside for breakfast.

It was comforting to have a task, something they could do for the group. But as (Y/N) began preparing the meal, the familiar pang of guilt surfaced. Cooking was Wild’s passion, not theirs.

As they started to chop the vegetables, that guilt gnawed at them again.

‘This is something that brings him joy,’ (Y/N) thought, ‘I’m taking it from him.’ But Wild had always been so kind about it. He’d smile and tell them it was fine, that he didn’t mind.

Yet every time (Y/N) asked for permission to cook, and every time Wild gave it, the knot of guilt in their chest grew tighter.

‘He allows it’, (Y/N) tried to rationalize, stirring the pot with a slow, careful motion. ‘I’m not taking anything from him if he says it’s okay.’ And they needed to help in some way, to contribute. It was the least they could do for the Chain, who did so much for them.

But, as they worked, they failed to notice the subtle shifts around them.

Time’s watchful gaze had turned more focused, tracking every move (Y/N) made as though expecting them to falter.

Twilight’s sharp eyes followed their form, and when he shifted to check on the rest of the camp, his glance lingered a little longer than usual. Neither said anything, but there was something shared between them, an unspoken concern as they watched (Y/N) work.

The quiet was broken when Time approached them, his steps soft but deliberate. “Up early again?” His voice, as always, was gentle. His eyes, soft and affectionate.

(Y/N) looked up, offering him a small, sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Time’s hand came to rest on their shoulder, his touch warm but firm. “You never do. You’re always so careful.” His words were meant as praise, but something in his tone made (Y/N) feel like it wasn’t quite a compliment.

Still, they took it in stride, smiling again as they continued to stir the pot.

“I’m almost done,” they said, hoping to shift the conversation. “Figured I’d finish up before everyone else wakes.”

Time’s hand didn’t leave their shoulder. His grip remained, not forceful, but strong. “You don’t have to do so much for us, you know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a strange mix of affection and something deeper.

There was a shadow of concern in his gaze, though (Y/N) didn’t notice it before it was hidden away swiftly. “We’d still care for you, even if you didn’t.”

(Y/N) smiled up at him, feeling their cheeks warm at his words. “I just… I want to help,” they said, brushing off the unease that briefly surfaced. Time smiled back, his eyes softening.

By the time breakfast was ready, the rest of the Chain began to stir.

Wild was the first to reach the fire, his hair still wild from sleep, and his eyes soft with that familiar warmth he always had when looking at (Y/N).

“Thanks for breakfast,” Wild said, his voice rough from sleep but laced with gratitude. “You didn’t have to do it, though. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” (Y/N) replied quickly, that familiar knot of guilt rising again. “I just… I wanted to help.”

Wild gave them a soft, almost sad smile as he reached out to gently ruffle their hair. “You always do. But don’t feel like you have to take my job, okay?” His voice was kind, but there was an undertone to it, a subtle hint that he was worried about something more than just the cooking.

(Y/N) laughed it off, feeling the guilt twist a little deeper.

‘He’s fine with it. He said so.’ But they couldn’t help the nagging voice at the back of their mind, reminding them that they were taking something precious from him. Something that he loved.

And yet… Wild never complained. None of them did.

As the rest of the group gathered for breakfast, (Y/N) found themselves sitting a little to the side, quietly watching the others eat. They didn’t notice the way the Chain’s eyes flicked back toward them, each of them sharing brief, worried looks when they thought (Y/N) wasn’t looking.

Legend’s sharp gaze lingered a little too long, narrowing slightly, as if calculating something.

Twilight’s lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing in thought as he ate in silence.

(y/n) merely yawned, wondering if they shouldn’t have stood up the night before working in repairing Wild’s cloak. (It hadn’t been a cloak then, more like shreds of cloth.)

They didn’t notice, though, too focused on making sure everything had gone smoothly with breakfast, and too used to the constant presence of their protectors to see anything strange about it.

When the meal was finished, (Y/N) gathered Warriors’ tunic, noticing the small tear that had appeared near the hem.

They set about mending it, their hands moving with practiced ease. It was a small, simple task, but one they took comfort in. It felt good to help in any way they could.

But as they worked, they didn’t notice the way Warriors’ eyes followed them, a look of soft concern on his usually confident expression.

He didn’t say anything, just watched, his fingers twitching slightly as if he wanted to take the tunic from them, perhaps even the needle.

But he didn’t. Instead, he exchanged a glance with Hyrule, whose gaze flickered between (Y/N) and the fire.

“Are you alright?” Hyrule asked after a moment, his voice quiet and gentle. He sat down beside (Y/N), close but not too close, his body angled protectively as if ready to shield them from something.

(Y/N) blinked, surprised by the question. “I’m fine,” they answered quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “Just fixing up some clothes. No big deal.”

Hyrule’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nodded, accepting their words even though his gaze remained fixed on them, watching carefully, as though searching for any sign of strain or exhaustion.

The Chain’s affection surrounded them constantly, soft gazes, gentle touches, and quiet reassurances, but behind it all, there was a deeper worry that (Y/N) never noticed.

They didn’t see the way Time’s brow furrowed when they stayed up late mending clothes or the way Wild watched them a little too closely when they cooked.

They didn’t notice how Twilight hovered nearby, ready to step in at a moment’s notice, or how Legend’s gaze sharpened whenever they worked too hard.

To (Y/N), this was just love. Pure, simple love.

They had long stopped questioning the oddness of the Chain’s protectiveness.

(They didn’t see the possessiveness in their eyes or the way their concern often bordered on something more obsessive.)

They were safe. They were loved. And even if they didn’t feel worthy of all the attention, all the care the Chain gave them, they couldn’t deny the warmth it brought.

(And if there was more to it than that, (Y/N) remained blissfully unaware.)

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 2.8k+

Warning(s): Two gross dudes, sexual verbal harassment (not towards reader), swearing,

A/N: omg chapter 3 is finally here. I apologize for the wait. I thought my semester this time around would be forgiving but NOPE. I had so much to do and read, I could hardly write for fun or draw either. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted. I want to try a new method when writing series. I tried with my kpop writing blog, and its where I write a few chapters at a time then periodically post them. Helps keep the flow and motivation going, but that may have been a one off there.

Series Masterlist

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"O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again... The Star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Light of Stars"

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Edward hasn't been in school for the past few days.

You admittedly felt a little lonely without his presence, though Emmett and Alice have made it their mission to become your new best friends. Jasper tried but he still kept his distance from you, which you didn't mind. Rosalie helped when no other Cullen was around, although she kept a lot of conversations at a minimum, which you also didn't mind.

Alice had told you Edward had gotten a bad cold, so he is staying home. You had offered to bring him your notes the first time so he could copy them down, but Alice told you their father has him basically on lock down until he is deemed healthy. So, after you've done your homework, you've been making copies of your notes to give him when he comes back.

It's the start of a new day and once again, Edward wasn't there. You were at your locker with 15 minutes to spare. You placed the spare folder with Edward's notes on the shelf while your mind went back to that moment you two shared at the welcoming party for your uncle. You felt happy telling him all the stars and constellation you could see, and even happier when he seemed thoroughly interested in your rambles. However, you feel an inkling of guilt when you remember he gave you his jacket. Maybe he got sick from that?

"Dude, I got this weird spot on my dick."

Well, there goes your musings of guilt. You glance to your left and see two guys near you, just chilling against the lockers. You've never met them, though you do remember sharing a class or two with them separately.

"Are you really airing your business out when someone is standing right their?" The shorter one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes gestures to you.

"Relax, Mark. That's the deaf student." The taller one with deep brown eyes and brown hair says with a laugh. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and choose to just focus on the inside of your locker. Maybe you should get more decorations- "Anyways, I have this weird spot on my dick. It almost looks like I have a weird mole there. I'm hoping it's just a new mole and Cindy didn't give me something."

Gross.

"I'd get that shit checked out then. You don't want it to turn into something worse if it is an STD." Mark says with a sigh. "I told you not to sleep with her, Tony. She made my balls itch like crazy. They still fucking itch."

"I think its just a weird mole. You wanna look?" He cackles while his friend fake gags. They both push off the lockers and walk away to who knows where.

You let out a deep sigh and close your locker. At least the ignorance of other allows you to hear some gossip.

"What's with the sigh, Tiny?" Emmett calls out as he and Rosalie approach you. He has very quickly taken to the nickname Tiny for you. You suppose anyone shorter than him would be considered tiny in his eyes. Rosalie simply opened her locker as you and Emmett conversed.

"Oh, just overheard two people talking about something that should have been a private conversation." You respond with a slight shrug.

"Gah, Forks High is full of a bunch of weirdos, huh?" He grins and raises his brows a few times, crossing his arms while leaning on the locker next to you. You silently chuckle and nod, though you wondered if there was an underlying joke there.

"No Edward today?"

"Nope. Carlisle still hasn't cleared him." He sighs with a sympathetic smile. "Between you and me, Tiny, Edward is still shitting his brains out." He signed that last portion to you.

You gave him a scandalized look and playfully slapped his arm with a small chuckle. You were surprised to feel just how hard his muscles were.

"What was that for?" He gripped where you slapped and pretended to be hurt. "It was a private conversation, no one else here except Rosalie knows sign."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You could always count on Emmett to get you to smile.

"C'mon, Rose and I will walk you to first period, like always." He grins and gestures you to follow him. Rose simply came along since she and Em were in the class next to yours. You nod and follow, happy to have good company.

---

It was a passing period and it was just you and Rose at your lockers. You grabbed a new pen and pencil since the last two you had broke and ran out of ink. Rosalie was fluffing up her already perfect, blond hair in the mirror of her locker. She and you didn't converse much, but you still liked her presence. Like the rest of the Cullens, she didn't tiptoe around you or treated you differently. She acknowledged your presence and would answer you if you had questions.

You were about finished in your locker when you heard two familiar voices keep up their gross conversations behind you.

"Dude, Rosalie has the hottest ass." Tony practically jeers, his voice intentionally loud. You glance to the blond next to you and she still keeps fixing her hair, though you can see her brows are a little more furrowed and her lips are more in the shape of a frown.

"Her tits, man, her tits are where it's at." Replies Mark and when you shift just enough to see him in the corner of your eyes, you see him make an obscene gesture.

You hear the slight creek of metal and when you look to Rose, you see her grip is so tight on her locker door that her fingers made indents which made your eyes widen for a moment. She closes her locker and you can see by her side profile she is pissed, and rightfully so.

So, you do what you think would make her laugh at the expense of those two guys.

You tap her arm to get her attention and she looks at you with a glare. You don't let it faze you. If those two are going to be gross about your friend, you'll just air out their business that they so willingly aired out by you this morning.

"You know those two jackasses?" You intentionally look to them as you sign and look back at her. "Well the brown haired one has a spot on his penis that he isn't sure if it's a mole or an STD. And his buddy likely doesn't wash right since he's had prolonged itchy balls."

Rosalie looks almost scandalized until her eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the two dudes and then back to you. She covers her mouth as she laughs when she realizes what you're trying to do.

You were about to sign some more when the two dumbasses approach.

"I know you were talking shit. What the fuck did you sign?" Tony glared, pointing an accusatory finger at you. He gets in your face and you swear you hear Rosalie growl.

You swallow thickly and decide to open your mouth. Your aunt always said you got your stubbornness from your mom.

"I said..." You try not to wince at the pain in your throat, your voice sounding hoarse. "You had a weird spot on your dick and your friend... has itchy balls." They looked at you with wide, horrified looks. "Don't talk about someone's body if you don't want yours talked about either."

"You little shit." Mark hisses and Rose steps closer to your side, an arm just barely in front of yours.

"What's going on here?" Emmetts voice grows louder as he approaches, his usual, carefree smile no longer on his face. He looked scarier than you've ever seen him. Mark and Tony looked at each other before slinking off.

Once they were gone you let out a dry, painful cough. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly grab your water and drink, soothing your throat. You could taste a tiny bit of iron in the back of your throat as you drank.

Rosalie calls your name softly. "Are you okay?"

You nod in response and take another sip of water. You didn't catch the look they gave each other or Rose gesturing for Emmett to speak.

"What happened, Tiny?" He asks in a quiet tone. You close the cap of your bottle and place it back in your bag. Your throat still ached but you knew the pain from using your larynx will linger.

You start to sign to him everything that occurred, from what you overheard in the morning to him approaching. You can see a flash of anger on his face but he goes back to that small smile. Once you explained your words to Rose and why you said them, a huge grin breaks out on his face.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Tiny." He laughs and pats your shoulder a little too firmly.

"Come, I'll walk you to class." Rosalie said with a soft tone. You nod and wave goodbye  to Emmett. You both start heading down the hallway, the blond next to you tense.

When you got to your class a pale hand stopped you. You look to Rose with a questioning look while her gold eyes avoid yours.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." Rosalie says, the tense look she had fades into a small smile, her eyes meeting yours. You see some vulnerability in her usually guarded gaze. She gives your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You didn't have to do that. I'm... admittedly used to that."

"No need to thank me, Rosalie." You smile back at her.

"I do, because not many would step up like that." She softly sighs and her smile grows a bit. You felt her words had more meaning to them, but you decided to not linger on them for now. "I know I've been slightly avoiding you but I have a hard time trusting hu- new people. But, after today, I think I want to open up a bit and be friends."

"I'd like that too." You beam. "Alice has been begging me to do a shopping trip, maybe the three of us can plan a trip soon."

"I'd... I'd like that." She almost looks like she is relieved and less guarded.

"Is your hand okay?"

"What?"

"Well, I saw you grip your locker and you dented it."

"Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I work on cars and my grip is strong. It's nothing." She holds out her hands and you saw just flawless skin. "Well, I will see you soon. Class is starting."

"Talk to you later." You wave and go to class. You sit down at your usual spot and start preparing. You sigh, irritated at the way those two spoke about Rose so loudly. But you also felt happy you and Rose were close now. Her bending the locker was suspicious... there were many things off with the Cullens that you've picked up, however, you don't linger on it. They have their quirks much like you have your own.

---

Edward lounged on the couch reading, back from his trip up to the Denali clan to clear his head. After witnessing that nightmare from you, he needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he felt afterwards but once he took some time to sort out his thoughts, he came back to Forks. None of the others knew what happened. He didn't tell them those details of your life, as none of them were privy to it. He wasn't either but that bridge has been crossed thanks to his ability and curiosity of the galaxy protecting your mind.

He felt guilt initially when he realized he deeply invaded your privacy. Then, despair and immense sadness followed when he recalls back to your nightmare, your past. Edward had seen many horrors in his long life, he even committed some when he'd hunt those men. However when he witnessed what you went through, he couldn't help feel a spark of protectiveness. You were nice. He found you a joy to be around despite it not being long since you transferred. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Edward couldn't help but smile when he thought back to you and him outside the fire station. It was a peaceful moment. He couldn't help but linger on the sight of you in his jacket, pointing out the stars and constellations. It was silent other than your internal thoughts. And when he got to witness your galaxy so at peace? He also felt a sense of tranquility he longs for.

Edward quickly put those thoughts away and resumed his attention his book when he heard his adoptive siblings come in. Alice and Jasper pass without saying to him, which he was slightly thankful for. However, Emmett and Rosalie lingered by him.

"How can I help you both?" Edward sighs, snapping the book closed as he looks at both of them.

Rose crosses her arms. "You need to come back tomorrow."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, Tiny happened." Emmett grinned and gestured to Rosalie. The blond sighed and let the memory replay of you standing up for her so Edward can see what happened today. He furrows his brows, setting his book down. He stands up from the couch and looks between the two.

"My guess is those two will probably retaliate against our friend one way or another." Rosalie says softly. Edward chooses not to point out how she said 'our friend.' "You spend the most time with them, they'll need you to stick around them the most."

Edward nods slowly. He recognizes Mark and Tony, and he knows they each have a class with him and you. He's heard the thoughts that spew from them both like garbage and he knows they aren't above getting back at someone.

"I'll come back tomorrow." He confirms. He wanted one more day to himself, but tomorrow is good as ever to face you again. He knows how you lost your voice and how you ended up living with your uncle and aunt now, but you don't know he knows. And he'll have to keep that in mind.

Although, Edward couldn't help but smile at the sound of your voice in Rosalie's memory. It was rough and hoarse, and it caused you pain, pain he doesn't want you feeling again... but it was nice hearing that voice that matches to the one in your head... when that space of yours is dropped.

---

You make your way to your locker first thing in the morning. You get yourself situated, grabbing the things you need for your classes before lunch. You set aside the folder where you kept your copies of notes for Edward down on the small shelf. You huff softly, throat still feeling sore from using your voice.

A familiar voice calling your name has you spinning around quickly, a smile instantly growing on your face. Edward approaches you with a small smile, looking the same as he did the last time you saw him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You grin, your mind flashing back to what Emmett signed to you in regards to Edward's health. You catch your friend's eyebrow twitch, a flash of annoyance on his face that he quickly recovered.

A Cullen quirk, you muse to yourself.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better now." He replies softly, standing  a little closer to you than usual.

"I have something for you." You see his eyebrow quirk as you turn back to your locker. You pull out the black folder and hand him it. "Notes for the classes we share."

Edward stares down at the folder before chuckling. He looks up at you and gives you brilliant smile, one that makes your heart flutter for just a moment. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Suddenly, you feel hand on your back. Edward was standing much closer to you with an expression akin to a scowl as he stares off a little. He looks to you and smiles softly, though you can still see the tension on his face.

"We should get to the classroom. I'll probably have questions about what I missed." He says in a low voice. You nod, a little confused by his demeanor. You finish up with your locker and let him guide through the hallway, his cold hand still resting on the middle of your back.

You weren't aware of Tony's and Mark's presences until you both were walking by them to your first period classroom. You paid them no mind, keeping your focus ahead of you. Doing this, however, has you missing the deep and threatening glare from Edward towards the both of them.

As you both walked through the hallway, Edward felt that his non-existent blood boiling at the degrading, violent, and nasty thoughts those two were thinking. He knew they both weren't the best that Forks has to offer, their thoughts sometimes louder than others.

That protective urge he felt after witnessing your nightmare? It's working overtime now and he isn't completely sure why.

What Edward does know that he won't let them try anything towards you.

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Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917​, @trawberry-fire​ , @dreamy-caramel​, @urgirlfriendspage @azazel-nyx @stinkii-boii @vanessalovesonedirection @sunnyisntthere @theatrenerd101601 @awesomebooklover17 @esposadomd @whichwitchisthebitch @bofadeezs @gons-dad-is-gon-e @kathsuhki @aoi-targaryen @srh-006 @onlyheretosimp

[soapyghost]

Comrade, I humbly request Graves being a lovesick goober. Just an absolute mess for fem!reader and, if you’re feeling silly, the 141 and Los Vaqueros roasting him mercilessly for it.

Southern Comfort- Graves x F!Reader

A/N: Now this. This I can get behind. This is gonna be in the same AU as Snow- but pre the betrayal! Because I HC graves to be an absolute smoosh southern boi (and he deserves just some adorable lil fluff before the trauma) Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of violence if you squint and then a liiiiiiil bit of nsfw at the very end. nothing insane. just some smoochin

“Ye-fuckin’ ha 3-1 copy that. All Shadows, Oscar” Graves voice over the radio instantly bringing a smile to your face. He was coming home. You knew it was silly to worry every time Graves went on a mission without you but you couldn’t help it. You felt truly useless sitting at base and not out in the field; but he had insisted on you staying back and keeping your ear to the radio signal for el Sinombre.

It was incredibly hard to not tackle Phillip the minute he stepped foot of the plane, and it took every ounce of self control to keep yourself in line. You knew Graves felt the same, it was written all over his face “Shadows! 141! Los Vaqueros! Mission success- drinks on me” Graves whooped and the entire base erupted into cheers and “yup yup”’s.

After what felt like an eternity you two were finally alone. You had an hour to decompress before it was time to meet everyone at the bar outside of base. After a quick shower you and Phillip settled onto the couch in the lounge just enjoying the presence of each other. His strong arms around you, the feeling of home. You had just closed your eyes to soak in the moment when you heard Alejandro yell “Holy shit Hermano! I didn’t know you even knew how to relax. Let alone have a-“

“Shut up Alejandro” you mutter, snuggling deeper into Graves chest. You hear him chuckle as he walks away. You knew you were about to get absolutely grilled at the bar, but that could wait for 15 more minutes of bliss.

You didn’t know when but the rhythm of Phillips heart and breathing lulled you to sleep. He moves slowly to lean down and kiss you on the forhead “My love, we have to go” his southern accent thick, just like it is when he first wakes up. He must have fallen asleep as well, “mmmm 5 more minutes” you murmur as you nuzzle him. “Sugar, we’re already late. They’re gon’ come in here n’ drag us” he whispered, peppering you with kisses. He moved from your forhead down to the tip of your nose, finally landing to give one of his honey sweet kisses. “I could just carry you” he muses. “Absolutely not. We’re already going to get so much shit” you sigh.

The bar was packed to the brim with drunken happy bodies. Missions that were successful without any casualties were far and few between. You and the whole squad decide to do some shots in honor of a mission well done. Of course it’s fireball, which makes your eyes water as it goes down. You sputter and catch your breath as Graves’s calloused hands grab on to your shoulders “ya alright doll?” He asks, leaning down close. Chuckles escape from behind you, but he doesn’t move. His face turns a bright red, maybe from the alcohol or maybe from embarrassment. You force a laugh and nod your head, as you shoot the 141 task force a dirty look.

“I’m surprised you even let her out yer sight Graves” soap laughs, “if she’d get a paper cut your world might fall apart!” Soap and Gaz burst out laughing. Phillip roles his eyes as he lets you go and settled back down on the bar chair.

“Yeah Graves, what would you do if she ever got hurt?” Price asks. He tilts his head as Phillip turns an even brighter shade of red. “Sh-she can handle her own” he stutters out. Which only sends the task force into another round of chuckles. “And what about that snuggle sesh in the common room earlier!” Gaz shouts out. This causes Graves to groan and put his head on the table. “At least he gets some, unlike some people here” you spit back as you take a sip of your drink.

Halfway through your third drink you stand up to excuse yourself to the bathroom and Graves stood up to escort you. The table of 141, Alejandro and Rudy all nearly burst out laughing. You both turn and shoot a look at Price- “what?” Graves growled. The two of them widen their eyes and hold their hands up in mock defeat. You roll your eyes as you turn around head towards the bathroom. As you reach the door you feel a familiar grip on your waist as you’re shoved against the wall. A giggle escapes your throat as you look up in those beautiful blue eyes.

“They want a show? I’ll give ‘em a show” he growls, his lips crashing int yours. You can taste the cheap beer and fireball on his lips. It’s not often that he shows this much affection in public so you’re going to soak it all in. You part your lips for his tongue and whip up one leg onto his back as the whoops from your table grow louder.

You break away first to catch your breath, “You know they’re going to give you shit for this” you whisper, another giggle escaping your throat. “So what? They don’t get to do this” he replies as he grabs your hand and pulls you into the bathroom door and clicks the lock.

[marbleboa]

Hiii sorry but lately I've been hyperfixated on the 7th division and Takeuchi ended up being my fav... And I saw your art of him and I loved it, I wanted to know if you had any headcanons about him ;3

Absolutely delighted to see a Takeuchi guy here, take my hand op. I do indeed have Many Thoughts, a lot of these more character musings than straightforward headcanons but! I hope these rambles interest you!

-I made this post a bit ago talking about how his whole Battle Mode deal changes his body, and further building on that— I imagine the frequent use of this has taken its toll, similar to Shibata: issues with his back, joints, etc. Projecting my TMJ on him as well, though I think all of this does ease somewhat as he uses his powers less and starts taking better care of himself.

-The power of his energy blasts is somewhat dampened by comparatively long charge up times and the way he always announces his attacks to enemies. He’s very particular about making sure all of his battle moves have impressive names—often several-words long.

-He and Mob are on a similar wavelength to me. Something something Ishiguro talking about how hard to read Takeuchi is, the way he skirts on the edge of the rest of the Scars’ circle, the way his powers seemed to be the only part of him valued by others…it’s like a different, lonelier path Mob could’ve gone on. I think he has similar difficulties figuring out what he wants from his future, like we see from Mob at the start of season 3.

-I think he’s close with Tsuchiya. Granted this is an anime only thing, but I really liked the detail where when Tsuchiya tackles Shimazaki off a building she calls out for Takeuchi by name and he immediately moves to help. It feels like a maneuver they’ve done before, like they know each other well enough to know what the other needs in a fight. It makes sense that they’d train together with both their powers being classified as qigong too.

-Post-Claw I feel like a few of the Scars go through this phase but Takeuchi especially, he gets in this mindset of like. I must now use my powers against Evil™️ so I can make up for what I’ve done. Because…fighting with powers, black/white ideologies, that’s a lot more familiar to the Scars than writing resumes or apartment-hunting or dealing with other people. Once Claw falls he does this vigilante stuff aimlessly for a while(maybe even runs into Teru again doing the same thing, haha).

-Following from that, I think eventually he gets back in touch with Tsuchiya and stays with her and Mukai for a while as he figures out what he wants to do. (I’m. Not quite sure what that is myself. I’m working on it)

-After Claw, he, Muraki and Sakurai have a book club every other Saturday. Takeuchi enjoys mystery novels.

-There’s more I’d like to research on the particulars re: ethnicities especially so I can improve on how I draw his features, but thus far I’ve been imagining at least part of his ancestry being somewhere from southern India.

-I’ve dabbled with the idea that his name is actually a tsūshōmei, or legal alias, something long-term residents of Japan from other countries can get for various reasons. One thought I had was that Toichiro picked him up in his global search for espers, and he was given another name by Claw to cover up any connection to his family. Or, someone in his family made that change after they started living in Japan, and he was born there under that name. Not sure if I’ll commit to this though, more to look into there too.

-I definitely think he was kidnapped by the organization some way or another— his powers were likely very strong at a young age so they probably got to him under the guise of mentorship. I’d like to think he eventually tries to get back in touch with his family once Claw’s gone.

-Really likes birds. He and Muraki are in close competition for Pigeons of Seasoning City’s Favorite

-He’s ambidextrous!

[a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten]

Ceroba Ketsukane as a Byronic Hero

Just something I wanted to talk about, largely Ceroba and how she could be classified as a Byronic Hero.

For those of you who don't know, a Byronic Hero is a type of anti-hero. Like anti-heroes as a whole, Byronic Heroes as a definition are pretty flexible, but they do have some core things in common:

They're often portrayed as troubled, selfish, and/or withdrawn, but with a heart of gold beneath that rough exterior. They're very steadfast when it comes to their personal beliefs, but those also tend to be the source of a lot of internal turmoil, with it being a big focus on their characters. All of this comes with a heavy dose of Romanticism.

Sound familiar?

Worth noting that the 'hero' part can be pretty loose. A Byronic Hero doesn't need to be the hero, or even someone affiliated with them. It can easily fit a more antagonistic role, which I think is where the Roba fits in.

Now, the website TV Tropes (which I admittedly spend too much time on) has a handy list of common traits that Byronic Heroes have. I'll list them here and describe if they fit our fox girl.

Is usually male (though there may be some rare female examples) and is always considered very attractive physically and in terms of personality, possessing a great deal of magnetism and charisma, using these abilities to achieve social and romantic dominance. One mark against him personality-wise, however, is a struggle with his own personal integrity

Well, the male part obviously doesn't fit. Magnetism and charisma are debatable, but I don't think she fits too well with either, at least compared to someone like Starlo per say. Neither does the social or romantic dominance aspects. I'd say it doesn't fit too much, but we got other traits to go through.

Is very intelligent, perceptive, sophisticated, educated, cunning and adaptable, but also self-centered

Now this is a bit more like it. I think despite being clouded by her own emotions at times, she does have a good sense of logic to her, most notably focusing on the cunning and educated (not by her choice) aspects. And self-centered definitely fits well enough for her.

Is emotionally sensitive, which may translate into being emotionally conflicted, bipolar, or moody.

Again, I think this fits very well. Ceroba as a character is shown to very much be guided by her own emotions, leading to her aloof attitude. I can also see her having hints of confliction, especially with moments of reluctance such as her final boss encounter.

Is intensely self-critical and introspective and may be described as dark and brooding. He dwells on the pains or perceived injustices of his life, often to the point of over-indulgence. May muse philosophically on the circumstances that brought him to this point, including personal failings.

While these injustices may be her own, they absolutely do play a role in her motivations. Personal failing and musing over them is another big part of her character and I can especially see it becoming more prevalent following the True Pacifist ending.

Is cynical, world-weary, and jaded, often due to a mysterious Dark and Troubled Past, which, if uncovered, may reveal a significant loss, or a past misdeed which still haunts him, or, conversely, that he may be suffering from an injury committed against him.

I don't think this one needs any explanation. It's well known that the Kanako incident absolutely haunts her and is her main driving force.

He's extremely passionate, with strong personal beliefs which are usually in conflict with the values of the status quo. He sees his own values and passions as above or better than those of others, manifesting as arrogance or a martyr-like attitude. Sometimes, however, he just sees himself as one who must take the long, hard road to do what must be done

This also fits her. She is definitely driven by her own ideals while usually ignoring that of others. However, while she may be slightly arrogant, I don't think she puts her beliefs as above or better than that of others. She seems to fit more in the 'I'll do what must be done' category imo, but I'm open to other interpretations.

His intense drive and determination (lol) to live out his philosophy without regard to others' philosophies produce conflict, and may result in a tragic end, should he fail, or revolution, should he succeed. Because of this, he is very rebellious, having a distaste for social institutions and norms and is disrespectful of rank and privilege, though he often has said rank and privilege himself. This rebellion often leads to social isolation, rejection, or exile, or to being treated as an outlaw, but he won't compromise, being unavoidably self-destructive.

Intense drive and determination might as well be Ceroba's middle name. She does seem to be fairly rebellious. Not politically, but she does seem to very much clash with aspects of monster society, such as those beating the war drums for an invasion of the Surface. And while she may not be treated as an outlaw, her attitude does give her a sense of being isolated from others, which absolutely would result in being self-destructive for her should she refuse to change her way.

And that's my two cents. Even if you disagree with me completely, I'd very much love to hear on what you guys think.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: idol!minho/idol!felix. introvert minho & extrovert felix. literally grumpy and sunshine troupe. hurt/comfort. angst!! fluff. pining galore. slightly suggestive at some points. minho pov. confession au! minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. the angst is FELT in this one. hurt feelings and misunderstandings abound. minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

word count: 3.5k

summary: although they were complete opposites, minho and felix got along perfectly - fit together like the two halves of a silvery moon. at least, that's what minho had initially thought for years, until felix suddenly starts outright avoiding him.

a/n: this one's on the pure, angsty side of things ya'll. a little bit suggestive, but nothing too spicy. 🫣 I'm srsly abt to kms over this entire thing, I'm literally losing my fucking MIND over how good this shit is??? 😭😫 also, their perf at lola?? yeah, it's gonna take me at LEAST 30 full business days to get over that shit. 😃👍🏼 ANYWAYS .... if ya'll are looking for more minlix content from me, check out the series on ao3 that this oneshot is apart of... it's pretty much nsfw for now, but I plan to write more angsty/fluffy stuff for it in the future as well!! 🤡

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

It was a universally known fact that Lee Minho was a total and complete introvert. 

  A textbook one, to be honest. 

  Hating big crowds, quiet in group settings. You know, the usual traits for an introvert. 

  And everyone around him seemed to know this fact. They all acknowledged it and respected his boundaries. The boys always took into account his needs and his limits and never pushed him to the brink. 

  Even if the teasing could sometimes get a bit out of hand. 

  At least, everyone except Lee Felix knew about Minho's introverted ways. 

  Or perhaps, the younger male realized it but just failed to take into account the way he should treat Minho differently from the rest. 

  So instead of avoiding inviting Minho out to big parties, Felix was always the first to ask him to join. 

  And how could Minho ever possibly say no to him... to that face? 

 With that cute, little pouty mouth and those constellations of freckles and those starry eyes? 

  Usually, Minho almost always gave in to Felix's requests. 

  He was under no obligation to do so, though. They were only bandmates. Only best friends. 

  Nothing else. 

  But sometimes, when he was persuaded to go out on the town with Felix, that small voice in the back of his head would make its appearance. Telling Minho that he should just confess his feelings. That he should just admit to what he was thinking about Felix. 

  Yeah, he only thought about such things sometimes... 

  The dark, twisted musings he often had of the younger, turquoise-blue-haired male definitely didn't bubble up into his head regularly. 

  No, definitely not... 

  Nevertheless, Felix seemed to continually live in ignorant bliss about Minho's introverted ways. Almost like, his life was so bright and full of sunshine, that he couldn't see anything past his extroverted way of thinking. 

  This became apparent by how fucking talkative he was. 

  Especially at the end of the day, when their schedules were done and they had arrived home at the dorm. 

  Felix always seemed to trap Minho when Seungmin and Jeongin were away, either busy getting ready for bed or watching a tv show in their respective bedrooms. 

  Like a spider catching a wee fly in its web, Felix would corner Minho throughout their shared dorm - whether it was in the kitchen, living room, or bathroom. 

  The conversations were always pretty mindless, with him usually rambling off about the day's activities. And almost all of the time, Minho just listened. 

  Never interrupting, never stopping him. 

  Sure, he was really fucking tired from the workday.

  And sure, he kind of wanted to unwind in his own space... get lost in his head, and stay in the silence that he loved so much. 

  But he also kind of loved the conversations. 

 Albeit, they were quite one-sided, although Felix didn't seem to mind one bit. 

 To be honest, he didn't even seem to notice Minho's quietness most of the time. 

  He'd just follow Minho around the house, chatting up a storm, gesturing with his tiny hands elatedly. 

  And the older male would just nod fondly and hum when he deemed it necessary. 

  So just like that, they fell into a routine. 

  A unique rhythm. 

  Where Felix was allowed to prattle on for hours at the end of the way, and Minho got accustomed to de-stressing with the sound of his voice in the background. 

  Just the sound of his deep, rumbly voice after a long day, stretching on and on, seemed to do something intoxicating to Minho's brain. 

  Caused an infection to spread like wildfire. 

  And soon enough, he found it hard to fall asleep late at night if he didn't get a chance to hear how Felix's day had gone. 

  It was relaxing, to hear him chat about everything. It lulled Minho into a dream-like state, softening his harder edges and making his muscles sink into a sleepy pile of limbs. 

  That's how the two of them ended up in the dorm's kitchen late one night, with Minho calmly cooking up a shrimp pasta dish for dinner while Felix sat on a nearby barstool, talking about his day. 

  "Minji said that I should try like, a neon purple colour for our next comeback..." He trailed off, the sound of Minho chopping up an onion overtaking the lull of stillness between them. "What do you think, Hyung? I don't know if I would-"

  Minho stopped chopping then, staring up at him with a faint smile, "Lix, you look amazing in any colour. Don't stress about it, yeah?" And he watched, as the happiness brightened up Felix's entire face in the form of a huge grin. Minho's heart beat wildly against his ribcage just at the sight of it, thumping painfully loud in his ears and drowning out all other sounds.

  "Thanks, Hyung. I can always count on you to give it to me straight..." Then he kept talking, and all the while the older male continued to prepare dinner for them.

  He was used to the routine. 

  He liked the routine the two of them had. 

  Loved the habits they were forming together late into the night. 

  So then, months later, upon the sudden stark change in Felix's demeanor, it was like Minho's entire world shifted on its axis. 

  No longer would the younger boy come home and seek him out immediately. 

  Instead, Minho would oftentimes find him holed up in his room, playing video games on his computer or watching TikToks snuggled up in his bed. 

  No longer did Felix lean against the kitchen counter and tell him all about his feelings on their newest activities while Minho cooked dinner for everyone. 

  Instead, Minho would catch a glimpse of him hunched over at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book as he quickly scarfed up a plain bowl of rice and a fried egg. 

  No longer did the blue-haired man sit next to Minho on the living room couch late into the night, mindlessly commenting on the characters in the drama that they were watching together. 

  Instead, Minho would notice him curled up in the corner of the living room's armchair, laptop on the coffee table as he engrossed himself in the newest American action movie.

  And it really fucking hurt. 

  To fall out of such a routine. 

  To realize how much he relied on it all. 

  How much he relied on Felix.

  To miss it so much, that he could feel his heart squeezing painfully each second Felix spent his nights away from him. 

  Almost like, he was avoiding Minho altogether. 

  Minho would lie awake in bed late at night, just staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. His mind and heart racing in tandem as he tried to recall the moment when things had gone amiss. 

  Did he say something? 

  Did he do something wrong? 

  He knew that Felix was a sensitive soul, which was why he always treated him delicately. 

  He treated him differently than he did the other members. 

  And every night, he could never come up with a solid conclusion as to why things had gone south. 

  When finally, things came to a head. 

  It was after a painfully grueling night in the practice room that Minho came home to a dark, hushed dorm. He was exhausted - both mentally and physically. 

  All he wanted at that moment was to lay his eyes on him - to hear his voice, soothing all of his worries from the day away. Like dark chocolate melting in a warm saucepan. 

  The others were still out, finishing up their schedules for the night. And the dorm felt barren and void of all life. 

  Except, as Minho stepped out of the entryway, he noticed the single overhead light of the stovetop flicked on. There was Felix, perched atop the granite countertop, a white porcelain bowl in his hand. 

  He didn't even notice that the older male was home. He was so focused on eating his cereal that he failed to hear the sound of Minho's gym bag plopping down on the marble floor. 

  Just like that, Minho's weak heart finally came to a standstill. Breaking irrevocably. 

  The shards that he was left with stirred around inside of his chest painfully, seeming to stab his lungs as he slowly approached the kitchen. 

  It hurt to breathe. 

  Hurt to walk. 

  Even still, he managed to push through the agony of it all.  

  It was only then that Felix looked up and caught sight of him. He offered him a fleeting smile, "Oh- hi, Hyung. I didn't see you there." He said, just as he shoveled in another spoonful of cereal, swinging his legs back and forth in the air nonchalantly. 

  Minho remained silent for one beat, 

  Two beats, 

  Three beats. 

  Destroyed heart clambering in his chest, exhaustion overtaking his entire mind, shoulders slumping in defeat. 

  "Why don't you do it anymore?" 

  The words came out soft and wobbly, barely above a whisper. Minho was speaking like someone else was in the room - like the others were lingering around. 

  But it was just them. 

  With Felix sitting atop the kitchen countertop and Minho but a few steps away, at a standstill, spine completely frozen. 

  "W-What?" Felix asked, dark brows furrowing in confusion. He had no idea what Minho was talking about. 

  Of course, he wouldn't. 

  It's not like they talked about it. 

  Hell- they barely even talked at all. Hadn't in what felt like fucking months. 

  "You barely even give me the time of day anymore," Minho started, voice a little shaky as his hands trembled at his sides. He had to force his fists into balls, to stop them from quivering so badly. "Barely say ten words to me all day." He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to point out the elephant in the fucking room. But it was too obvious to avoid anymore. Too painful to brush under the rug. "What happened, Lix? What happened to all of those nights when we'd talk and have fun together?" 

  "You mean when I'd talk." 

  His words cut through Minho like a knife. The pointed edge of them icy against his flesh, tearing him up in a cruel kind of way. 

  "No, I mean-"

  Felix took in a deep sigh, before placing his bowl of cereal down on the countertop next to him. He sat back a little bit so that he could get a clear view of the crimson-haired man. He leveled the elder with a serious face, brows still furrowed and that pretty pink mouth pressed into a firm line. "I was always the one talking, Minho. You barely said two words most of the time." 

  The use of his name caused the hurt to swish in Minho's stomach, forcing him to feel miserably queasy at that moment. Because Felix never called him that. 

  "I don't know what-" He began, but was cut off by Felix holding a small hand up in the air. 

 His eyes, which were locked with Minho's, said it all. 

  He was already done with the conversation. He had said all that he wanted to. 

  There was just... nothing there anymore. 

  "It's fine, Hyung. Really. You don't have to apologize or anything. I get it." He said, voice dull and lifeless. 

  Where was the Lee Felix that Minho had grown to love? 

  Where was the bright ball of sunshine that he had matured right alongside with? 

  Where was he? 

  Because this Felix- the one with a cool gaze and a deep-set frown, was not his Felix. 

  "You really don't get it, do you?" Minho said, tone faint and wavering. He was nearing Felix then, watching as the younger halted in his place. Spine going rigid, he sat up a little straighter. 

  And then Minho was just before him, placing his arms on either side of Felix's hips, palms pressing into the chilly marbled countertop. Caging the younger man in, and staring down at him with a wildly-beating destroyed heart and a huge lump forming in his throat. 

  Felix turned his head up, catching his gaze with wide eyes. The cotton-candy pink of a flush was already traveling up the milky skin of his neck, pooling into his cheeks and casting a bright red galaxy against his freckles. Already, he was getting flustered from their proximity. 

  "Do you even realize how it is for me?" The words were slipping free from Minho's mouth in the next beat. He felt Felix's warm breath fan against his face from how close they were. "I can't fucking breathe for even a second if you're not around. I can't think, I can't speak, I can't function properly." Just as Felix's mouth was opening to cut in, Minho continued his spiel. "If I don't see you- lay my eyes on this fragile little body or this pretty little face, I fucking fall apart. If I don't hear your voice, I can't sleep all night." 

  Minho was moving after that, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was leaning further into Felix, hand coming up to his face and fingers tracing against the line of his jaw. Gently, he cupped his chin, the pad of his thumb brushing against his puffy pink bottom lip.  

  Their gazes caught just then, and Minho could sense the feelings raging just beneath the surface of Felix. And Minho thought that he also probably looked quite similar in the younger's eyes. 

  "So you can hate me and you can loathe me and you can despise me," Minho began in a breathless whisper, "But don't ever avoid me again. Otherwise, I'll suffocate and die a slow and painful death." 

  He couldn't seem to pull his hand away from the younger's face, even when it grew so hot to the touch, it felt like his palm was about to burn up in a scorch of hot flames. Even when a slight, painful squeak fled from between Felix's lips. 

  Almost like, this hurt him just as much. 

  "I never hated you," he murmured back, tone registering low. The sound of it rumbled out, cascading across the shell of Minho's ears and shooting a violent shiver down the length of his spine. "I could never- not when I fucking love you so much. And I... I was avoiding you because I was scared. Scared of what you thought of me- and my loose mouth."

  Minho kept silent, thumb continuing to press against his lip, soothing Felix as the feelings and thoughts started to spill out of him like a magical elixir trickling out of a stunning glass tincture. 

  "Someone told me about you- about your true personality, and how you're reclusive and stuff. And I- I got scared, that you hated all of our late nights together and you hated how much I talked. And then I noticed how quiet you always were and I thought that maybe it was better if I just stayed away and let you have your space after work. I didn't want to burden you anymore and-"

  "Kitten, you're never a burden to me," Minho cut in, hand finally pulling away from Felix's lips and trailing towards his hair. He pushed some of the shock-blue locks behind his delicate ear, and something tiny and fiery stirred in the pit of his stomach at the mewl that he heard Felix creak out from the nickname alone. "Just because I'm so different from you, doesn't mean I don't enjoy your company. And just because I don't talk all the time, doesn't mean I hate you for talking to me after work." 

  At that, Felix stared up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "Y-You enjoy my company?" His voice trailed off into the distance softly, his eyes fluttering closed at the way Minho's fingers raked across his scalp. 

  Slowly, he pulled at his blue roots, forcing Felix's eyes open again so that Minho could see the look in them as he finally spoke the words he had been stirring over for what felt like a fucking millennium. 

  "I adore it, Lix. I can't live without it, to be honest," he confessed, flashing the younger a meek smile. And at that moment, Felix looked so perfect. So vulnerable and adorable all at the same time. "Fuck- I need to kiss you right now. Can I? Please..." 

  Felix gaped up at him, the overhead kitchen light sparkling in his eyes like a million different constellations all at once. Like he was in complete awe of the situation at hand, and he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that everything was happening to him just then. 

  "Yes- yes, a thousand times yes." He cried desperately in that cute, small voice of his. 

  And then nothing else mattered, as Minho held onto his jaw, tilting Felix's head upwards as he connected their lips. Like they were meant to never separate, they fit each other perfectly. 

  In an instant, Felix was melting into the feel of Minho's mouth wrapped around his. His hands came up around the elder's waist, digging into the fabric of his t-shirt and drawing him ever closer. Minho's tongue dragged across his bottom lip, and soon, teeth were bumping against teeth as they tasted one another. Felix groaned, fingers clutching on tight to Minho as he teased him with his kisses right there in the middle of the kitchen.

  The kiss was ethereal and perfect and everything Minho had always dreamed of. 

  And when they broke apart to catch their breaths, a messy string of saliva connecting them, Felix stared up at him with vast eyes and flushed cheeks, and a faint smile. 

  "Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you are, kitten?" Minho mused off, fingertips ghosting across his smattering of freckles.

  The cerulean-haired male giggled softly, hands bunching up the fabric of Minho's shirt and dragging him closer so that he could wrap his legs around his waist. "Yeah, but you've never done it before." 

  "Well, now I'm saying it," Minho began, lips ghosting over his nose as he kissed it. "Pretty," he continued on his path, kissing either of his rosy cheeks. "Gorgeous," his mouth trailed up to his forehead, brushing the locks of blue there aside. "Stunning." 

  Then he stopped just at Felix's mouth again, hovering, breathing warmth against his lips. 

  "W-Will you c-call me that again?" Felix suddenly blurted out quietly, the words tumbling from him at a rushed pace. The way he stuttered nervously, like a young schoolboy confessing to his crush, did something funny to Minho's heart. Brought the shattered pieces back together, in a jumbled mess. 

  Minho could already feel the smirk spreading across his face, as he pondered over the idea. "Hmm..." He tapped a finger against his chin, to seem like he was mulling it over. When in reality, he'd give the entire world for Felix if he asked for it. He'd lasso the moon down from the night sky and gift it to the younger male if he wanted it badly enough. "Only if you're a good boy for me." His eyes flicked towards Felix's, catching the way the furious bloom of crimson erupted across his face and flooded into the tips of his ears. "You think you can do that for me? Be a good boy for Hyung?" 

  His head of blue hair was already moving up and down, as he nodded furiously. Teeth peeking out in a cheeky grin, he spoke in a fleeting voice. "Yes, I can be really fucking good... but only for you, Min." 

  That automatically made Minho's heart melt, dripping like cool water in his entire chest. The love he held for the younger male coursed through his veins then, lighting up his nervous system and making him see in full colour as he tilted into Felix. 

  Mouth pressing against the pulse point of the column of his neck, Minho shuttered out in a deep whisper. "Such a pretty kitten..." His lips attached to the warm flesh there, teeth sucking faintly and leaving a light violet bruise in the wake of his attention. He continued making his way down Felix's neck, loving the way the younger's fingers automatically carded through his locks, pushing him closer to his skin. "And all mine, too." 

  Felix squirmed against him then, moaning faintly at Minho's words. They were both suggestive and true to what he honestly felt for Felix. 

  And in that moment, other, dark thoughts flashed across the forefront of his mind too. 

  Visions of his sweet angel Felix, wriggling underneath him. 

  Fragile, petite limbs tangled up in bedsheets, 

  Skin flushed that pretty pink shade that always drove Minho so wild. 

  That delicate, small mouth of his, opened up in a filthy way, as the ecstasy fell from his lips in garbled sounds. 

  Minho knew that all of his deepest, darkest fantasies would one day come true. Would one day take place in the future. 

  And all because Felix had dared to talk to him late at night after their schedules. 

Fin.

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[inkwell-and-dagger]

It was a difficult change to adjust to, that much would be true, and, at the very least, Carlisle was glad nobody’s heart had been ripped out yet.

After their escape, fortunately provided by Ruaridh, they had spent days trekking through woods and along the sides of motorways to god-knows-where. Clementine and Christian had parted to go their merry way some few miles behind, for reasons Carlisle couldn't thus far discern. Perhaps they were sick of Ruaridh’s curious hesitance regarding anything that moved.

They couldn't be blamed. All their life, their world had been confined to a cell and winding hallways; the sterile smell of chemicals and needles poking into delicate flesh. The world was new and overstimulating, but all things considered, they were adapting rather well.

After a pitying passerby stopped their car to ask if they were alright, Carlisle was rather startled to be met with such compassion. To the stranger, they'd most likely just be seeing a duo of mutated creatures of unknown origin, hungry and dirty and wandering treacherously close to a long road of swiftly passing cars. They didn't have anywhere to go, and the stranger kindly offered that they take up the spare room in their house, till they found their bearings. And, despite the potential dangers, how could Carlisle refuse?

Which led them to now, after wrangling and squishing themselves in the back of their car. They were cleaned and fed, and now both were sitting on the hard floor of the stranger’s bathroom. Carlisle glided a brush through their thick, damp hair with gentle precision.

“You remind me of Rapunzel,” Carlisle mused, more to himself than anything. He twisted a strand of platinum hair around his finger, idly.

Ruaridh turned around and regarded him with a confused look. “What's that?”

“She is a, um.. princess. A fictional princess. Like in your books, except she isn't in the real world.”

“Oh,” Ruaridh frowned. “That's sad.”

He chuckled, gliding the brush down their hair again. A nice, repetitive motion. “It is. But you're kind of like her.”

“How?”

“Well,” Carlisle sighed. “She has really beautiful hair, like yours except blonde and very long. Long enough to wrap around you like a big, hairy blanket.”

Ruaridh chuckled. “Wow.”

“Mhmm. She, um, likes books, and art. She was stuck in a big tower all her life. Kind of like us, you know? In the lab?”

Ruaridh nodded, but did not reply. The lab was, no doubt, a sore spot to mention; letting go of what Ruaridh had known for their entire life was no small thing. Carlisle continued, “But she got out eventually. Also like us. Because she was strong and brave,” He placed the brush down beside him. “Like you.”

Ruaridh turned to face him, tail settling in their lap. “Is she nice?”

“I think she is,” Carlisle smiled. “Tell you what. She's in a film: basically, a book, but instead of words you get quickly moving pictures that you can watch. I guess. I'll see if we can watch it downstairs with the kind stranger, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Good lad,” Carlisle patted Ruaridh's shoulder, earning a toothy smile in response.

UARAD Taglist: @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox @whumpy-wyrms @vidawhump

(I haven't proofread this once more but I'm so proud of myself for getting it done!!!)

[roleplayfinder]

Hey guys! I'm looking for mxm fandomless rps! (Don't worry I'm not replacing anyone.) I ask that you do be at least 18 and above before you decide to interact with me and any of my plot ideas. Even though one is fluffy, light and SFW, I am over 21 and I don't want to rp with minors!

Plot one is a little dark;‼️TW‼️ if you don't like kidnapping or yandere themes/forced relationships skip ahead!

My muse and your muse have been friends since middle school. They did everything together and I mean EVERYTHING. Played the same sports, shared the same friends and even went as far as making sure they had matching classes just to be with each other. They were really close and it has always remained that way. That was until my muse found a pretty lady he liked and she got in the way of our muses relationship with each other. After all these years, your muse has developed a massive crush on my muse and didn't want anyone else to take him away from him and my muse girlfriend had done just that. So, your muse takes it upon himself to kidnap my muse and keep him locked in your muse's home, away from everyone else. Of course, your muse would successfully kidnap my muse and keep him for himself, just not that easily. My muse isn't a small delicate man, but he isn't as tall and strong as your muse would be. My muse would eventually be put into submission my yours though! Once your muse gets mine where he wants him to be, my muse begins to see just how screwed up and love drunk your muse is for him and how he’d do anything to feel that love back, even if it's forced.

Now, plot two is very, very contrasting to plot one. This one may be a long shot as well. 🤷🏽

Our muses are in a nice healthy relationship though your muse has some past trauma (or maybe just bad mental health?) and is looking for a good way to try and cope with all the mental health issues they have. One day, while at a therapy session, your muse's therapist recommends trying age regression as a way to cope. Desperate to find any healthy way to escape the invasive thoughts in their head for a while, they go home to their partner (my muse) and brings up the idea. Willing to try and help your muse fight the battle with their trauma/mental health, my muse agrees to give it a try with yours and the two find that it's quite hard to grasp at first— as they both are still trying to figure everything out— but it's also something with positive results towards your muse. The two are pretty much living day to day life trying to get used to this new coping skills your muse wanted to try!

I am a semi lit writer, 1-3 paragraphs per reply and use discord or telegram to communicate. I am in the EST timezone and literally have nothing to do everything for the next few weeks so I'll be chronically active for a while! I RP on discord and I have just set up a new kik account to RP on as well, if any are interested, pm me here, add my discord (arynburrsir.) or note this post and I'll get you ya! I look forward to chatting with you all!

arynburrsir.

[timotey]

Ficlet: Of Sucky Days

The Sign. Yai/Sand. Missing scene from ep 5. Unbeta’d.

Coming home after a sucky day.

(My first Yai/Sand ficlet, yay!)

***

“Oh, hey, hi. How was work?” That’s all that Sand manages to say before she’s enveloped in her boyfriend’s strong arms.

Yai walks into their flat, kicks the door shut and lets his bag drop to the floor, then he almost falls into his beloved’s arms, and wrapping himself around her, octopus-like, buries his face in her neck and groans.

Sand lifts her eyebrows, blinking rapidly in surprise, then she returns the hug, stroking Yai's back soothingly. “That bad, huh?” she says sympathetically.

“Today is a sucky, sucky day,” Yai whines pitifully and squeezes her tight, almost lifting her off the floor.

Sand laughs a little, simply letting Yai breathe her in, soak her in like sunshine after a cold season. “I’m all ears,” she offers.

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “No, you’re not. Which is good. I know I said I would love you in any and every shape and form but I just might draw the line at you being all ears.” 

Yai pulls away from her and with a twinkle in his eyes, he sweeps her off her feet and carries her to the couch where he proceeds to sprawl lazily with her in his lap.

“Alright, alright,” Sand says, still smiling wide as she settles down comfortably - and wiggles just a little, for good measure. “Not all ears, then, just two. But ready to listen, if you want to talk.”

Yai groans again though this time for different reasons; Sand knows very well what she’s doing, squirming like that, right on top of his little friend. He orders the lively thing to behave, at least for now, and pulls his girlfriend close.

“I can’t really go into details,” Yai says, “but, well, we caught our guy. Which is great. But it also sucks. Because he's a murderer who forced innocent people do unspeakable things but he was also a victim first, before all that. And if the cops had done a better job back then, none of this would’ve happened. So that sucks too. The whole situation sucks, from the beginning to the end.”

Sand hums and she leans against his shoulder, stroking his face and listening.

“And if that wasn’t enough, Phaya had a row with Tharn. He actually hit Tharn, the bastard,” Yai grumbles, voice laced with real irritation and worry.

That makes Sand raise her head and look at Yai in concern. “Phaya hit Tharn?” she asks in dismay.

“Well, it was most likely an accident, I give you that,” Yai allows grudgingly, “at least Tharn insists it was. But I would probably be more inclined to believe that if Phaya hadn’t punched a wall first. That guy has a real temper, let me tell you.”

“Is Tharn okay?” Sand asks, worried. Tharn's always been like a brother-in-law to her, like family, and treated her with nothing but kindness and affection.

“Yeah. Yeah, he and Phaya made up, apparently. Or... whatever. After Tharn got stabbed,” Yai finishes morosely.

Sand freezes, eyes widening. “He what?” she exclaimed.

“Got stabbed. The vest deflected the hit, mostly. But, yeah, he did. Protecting Phaya. Yet again,” Yai mutters, annoyed. “Like I said, today sucks. Big time!”

“So Tharn’s okay?” Sand assures herself. “Where is he now?”

“Yeah, he is, more or less, okay, I mean,” Yai tells her. “And he’s at home. Phaya went with him.”

Sand lifts an eyebrow. “Did he now?” 

“Yeah. He wanted me to pick up some clothes for him at his house, can you believe that guy?” Yai fumes. “First he punches my brother, then he allows him to get stabbed and then he wants me to play a manservant. Dude can waltz around naked for all I care!”

Sand’s lips twitch. “I bet Tharn would appreciate that.”

That stops Yai short. “Huh. Maybe I should have brought him his things, after all,” he muses, frowning a little.

“But Tharn is okay, right?” Sand asks again, just to be sure. Though she knows that if he weren’t Yai wouldn’t just be sitting here, grumbling. She knows how much Yai loves Tharn, with all his big foolish heart and then some. “Both he and Phaya?”

Yai sighs, dropping his head back against the backrest. “Yeah, they are. Just a little banged up, is all. Probably playing doctor right now.” He straightens up again, narrowing his eyes. “Wait.”

Sand laughs, seeing his disturbed expression. Then, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, she runs her hand down his chest, lower and lower - and wiggles in his lap again. “And what about you?” she whispers, leaning closer, her breath hot against his ear. “Up to playing doctor with me?”

Yai draws in a sharp breath, eyes blazing up, when Sand brushes her fingers against his belt buckle. His little friend immediately jumps to attention.

In a split second, Yai is back on his feet with an armful of a laughing girlfriend. “Yeah. We should definitely do that. I think that a thorough check-up is in order.”

And with that he rushes towards their bedroom, Sand’s laughter echoing through their flat, and all worries are forgotten, at least for now.

[queen-scribbles]

Unwise

Haaaappy birthday to the Blueberry Jedi, as I simultaneously embarrass her and write the last piece standing between her/Arcann and the official "begin a relationship" step. >:3 I've mentioned before that she can be surprisingly horny, right?

---

Her heart pounded in her chest, the pulses of emotion she could sense from him making it beat faster, faster. His fingers brushed the juncture of her hip and she twined a leg over his to keep them close, a kiss pressed to the hollow of her throat had his name falling from her lips on a gasp--

She jerked awake, heart actually pounding, heat still twisting in her core, and very much alone. No company, least of all him.

Stars above, where did that come from?! Endrali wondered. She ran both trembling hands through her hair, clenching them around fistfuls at her nape, then immediately let go as if it had burned her.

Not a good idea with that dream still fresh in her mind's eye. Not that he would ever...

Endrali sat up, tenting her knees, and willed all her focus into clearing her thoughts. Slow, deep breaths. In. Out. She was on a planet full of Force users, some almost as strong as she was; the last thing she wanted was for these emotions to linger long enough someone picked up on them. In. Out. Calm your mind.

The meditative quiet that usually came easy was elusive this time.

She'd never had a dream like that before...

Sparring. That's where this came from, sparring yesterday. Tank tops. More single blade practice for her. Arcann was more comfortable with it now, more convinced it was not an unwise course of action. (The fact she'd playfully shoved him halfway across the room with the Force probably helped. As reassurance.) He'd actually smiled helping her back to her feet when they finished. "You are improving."

That's what had done her in, that smile, she mused. That he was comfortable enough, relaxed enough, to drop his guard around her, if not on the base as a whole.

The--imagined, she reminded herself sternly--memory of fingers tracing skin mingled with the feel of his hand around hers as he hauled her up and Endrali bit her lip. This wasn't helping. She shoved the dream down and buried, but it kept poking through, heat shimmering in her thoughts.

That wouldn't do; someone--stars forbid Arcann or Senya--would pick up on it at this rate. She needed to do something off-planet today, and the sooner she could leave the better. Endrali flicked on the lights and pulled up Alliances messages on her datapad as she dressed.

Right at the first, there was an urgent alert, forwarded by Theron at an hour that tempted Endrali to yell at him about his sleep schedule again--a pirate gang ambushed a patrol and got their hands on Odessen security data. They were selling to the highest bidder, from their base on Tatooine.

Good distance for taking a whole day without keeping her away too long. She finished shrugging on the tan and ochre robes and turned her attention to the main conundrum.

Who did she ask to come along and how did she explain it not being Arcann?

She'd dragged him everywhere for months, because they were friends now, because he'd been first choice for watching her back ever since she realized how well they clicked, because she was comfortable with him. It was going to raise eyebrows if she took someone else along for 'no reason'.

(There was, of course, a very good reason--no way she could hide these emotions from the object of them. But she couldn't say that. 'You didn't do anything wrong, Arcann, I just had a really vivid sex dream about you--us--and need some distance to clear my head!' She valued his friendship and trust too much to blow it apart like that.)

So. She couldn't bring Arcann, for obvious reasons. Couldn't bring Senya, for equally obvious reasons. Lana and any other Sith or Jedi were probably also a bad idea; it was proving nigh impossible to banish the curl of lingering heat. Theron or Vette would notice her agitated state and badger her until she spilled details, Koth and Felix were handling something for Admiral Aygo...

Wish Nadia was here. That would be the perfect solution. She wouldn't mind spilling her guts to her best friend, and Nadia's Force sensitivity was such she'd catch the meaning of any emotion Endrali couldn't put into words.

But she wasn't here. She was Force only knew where, hopefully alright. Safe.

Endrali sighed and ran her fingers along the etched hilt of her dualsaber. Although, thinking of Felix and Nadia turned her thoughts to the rest of her old crew....

Qyzen. Qyzen was here, he wasn't Force aware to pick anything up, and he wouldn't prod for her thoughts. And they'd spent plenty of time fighting together, and he'd done several hunts on Tatooine, which gave him familiarity with the terrain.

Qyzen was perfect. Trusted ally, skilled warrior, perfectly happy following the Scorekeeper's Herald without needless personal questions. Now she just had to track him down and get out of here without running into certain people.

Fingers traced the curve of her spine, metal warm from prolonged contact--

Endrali bit the inside of her cheek, shook her head, tried to take a few deep breaths and push the thought away. And the faster she could get off planet the better. Lingering seemed unwise.

---

Qyzen was, thankfully, not hard to find. He and the Warstalkers tended to keep to the military wing. He did, however, seem surprised by her request.

[Something is wrong, that you need me?] he asked, examining her keenly.

Endrali shook her head, tucking hair behind one ear. "I have to get back some data a pirate gang stole, and they're based on Tatooine. You've hunted there several times, I thought your knowledge of the planet would come in handy."

[Whatever the Herald needs] He inclined his head. [I have all that is needed.]

Her brows twitched and she looked him over again. Sure enough, even for a quiet day on Odessen, he was armored and carried his techblade. "Alright, then."

She thought she caught a glimpse of Arcann as they headed for the Cadence, but didn't dare look, lest her tenuous, desperate grip on those thoughts unravel entirely.

The door whooshed closed behind them, the fresh air a welcome change even if she didn't slow to enjoy it. She did smile at the sight of her snow orchids bobbing in a breeze.

Scarred skin under her wandering touch, down jaw, neck, shoulder. Nails digging in to leave her own marks as they pressed close-

Stop. It. Endrali scolded herself, face hot. She wasn't sure what she'd do for all the empty hours between here and Tatooine, but hopefully she'd find something, or she was in trouble.

---

Arcann happened to reach the hanger bay just in time to catch sight of Endrali, fully dressed and geared, heading toward the door to her personal landing pad.

It was early to be starting for somewhere. Even if the purposeful stride of herself and her Trandoshan friend made it seem important. He hadn't even had time to process Endrali was going somewhere without him when a voice spoke next to him.

"Must be dealin' with the pirates." When he flinched and turned, he saw the underworld liaison. She took his glance as curiosity and elaborated. "Dust Vipers hit a patrol, stole security data. They went to ground on Tatooine while they try to auction it off. Commander must be dealing with it." She cocked her head. "Gotta say, surprised she didn't take you, way you two've been joined at the hip the past few months."

As am I. He buried the thought. "She is free to choose whoever she wishes to accompany her."

Visz snorted. "I know that. She'd just been pickin' you a lot. Guess there's somethin' makes Qyzen a better fit this time." She shrugged and kept walking. Arcann stared at the door that had closed behind Endrali and Qyzen.

He instinctively started combing his memory for anything he had done wrong, then caught himself.

Endrali was not Valkorion. On the--rare--occasions someone hurt or displeased her, she talked to them. The cold shoulder as a punishment was not her way, and it was unwise to let himself worry for no reason.

Driven by curiosity than anything, Arcann reached out through the Force for a sense of her-

-and ran into an impenetrable wall that made his brow furrow. Endrali was never so closed with her emotions. Protecting deeper thoughts, yes, but she'd never barricaded even the surface so tightly, not in all the months since he'd joined the Alliance. And even before.

The dull roar of her ship's engine came through the door, and Arcann waited for it to fade before heading that direction. He'd wanted to meditate(--with her, but that part was not meant to be now--)and she clearly wouldn't need the space.

---

However difficult it was to clear her mind during the journey, Tatooine's heat alone was enough to distract her once they arrived.

[Herald, where is our quarry?] Qyzen asked.

"Oh, um..." Endrali fumbled to pull out the datapad with information. She'd been in such a state she hadn't really focused on anything beyond 'stolen data', 'Tatooine', and that it was urgent enough to get her off Odessen quickly. She could sense Qyzen's concern as he watched her.

[To be unprepared, is unusual.] he said. [Everything is alright?]

"I'm fine," Endrali promised. "Just didn't want to waste time before leaving, this sounded urgent."

Both statements were true, even if the connection wasn't, per se.

Qyzen seemed to accept it, though she wasn't sure if his not pointing out the hours she could've read it en route was decorum or not recognizing the opportunity.

"The Dust Vipers are based in the Dune Sea," Endrali said, finally locating the info in Hylo's report.

[I follow you,] Qyzen said. [Are prepared?]

"Mmhm." She better be, heading into the Dune Sea. It would swallow the unprepared whole, and she didn't want that. So they were prepared, and she would stay focused on the task at hand. They didn't have much on the Dust Vipers and she didn't want to make assumptions of their capabilities.

Hope they're enough of a challenge to satisfy Qyzen and distract me, Endrali thought as the speeder headed out from Anchorhead.

---

She got her wish. While not as tough as Commander Tassar's forces, or fanatical as the Sith on Ord Mantell, the Dust Vipers were no pushovers--through sheer numbers if nothing else.

They must run some recruitment drives, she mused dryly before considering maybe they'd simply pulled all their forces to protect the base, knowing the Alliance would respond. Many of them hadn't been expecting her, personally, to handle it, if their panicked oaths and the ripple of shock in the Force were anything to go by.

It's their bad luck I needed the distraction. Endrali ripped a chunk of rock out of a precipice and hurled it at one set of hasty barricades. It knocked them aside and flattened the pirates using them for cover. Qyzen swept through the new opening to reach more pirates further up the slope.

The catwalks up to this point had been bad enough, doubling back repeatedly to climb the rock face in a zigzag that gave the Vipers a decided advantage. But more rock walls blocked in the climbing path, funneling them in one direction--toward a healthy scattering of pirates, beasts and barricades.

However, Endrali and Qyzen had quickly fallen back in sync, fighting together. (Even if it was a little odd fighting with someone not Force-aware after so long with Arcann--)

None of that, she scolded herself, flinging a pair of pirates into the canyon wall and spinning to cut down another behind her. Not a good idea to undermine the distraction.

They gained the summit and Endrali paused to catch her breath.

[Is all broodlings so far,] Qyzen commented, looking back at the bodies left in their wake. [Barely worth points.]

Endrali chuckled. "They do add up, though. And I'm sure we'll find someone worthy to fight soon; no way they'll let us just waltz inside the walls of their base." She fell silent, nudging the carcass of a sand tusker with her boot.

[What thoughts, Herald?]

"These are known for their hostility," she said half under her breath, "they should be attacking everything, not just us."

Qyzen nodded thoughtfully. [Agreed. Is odd.]

"Maybe if we can figure out what they're doing, we can wreck it, and then the beasts will go after the pirates, too."

[Whatever small prey uses, is unwise to stand against Scorekeeper's Herald,] he said, scanning over the bodies of men and beasts who had paid for doing so.

Endrali smiled and gave a rueful snort. "Am I still Her Herald? I did get captured, wouldn't that...?"

Qyzen paused, the scaly ridges that crested his head twitching, but the clouded eye turned toward her gave nothing away. She knew he still struggled to reconcile that she, the Scorekeeper's Herald, had suffered the highest disgrace--live capture. His reply was measured when it came. [Once, small hunter said to me, not to dwell on points lost, but on reclaiming. Now I say same to you, Herald. Not to worry for lost points--you earn many more. And defeat one who captured you, make him serve.]

She shook her head and chuckled. They'd had this terminology debate before. "He doesn't serve, Qyzen; Arcann's an ally now. A friend."

One she was trying very hard not to think about right now, so they really should change the subject.

[Is sign of strength, boldness, to trust one so long an enemy,] Qyzen said. [Let him enter your den, guard your back.]

"He's earned it," Endrali said softly, tracing channels through the sandy dirt with her boot.

[Have seen is so,] Qyzen nodded. [So I trust Herald's instincts.]

A deep, breathless kiss, her name mumbled low, started creeping back into her thoughts. Endrali shook them off and pushed to her feet. "Right now my instincts are saying to press on before they regroup." It wasn't like resting in the suns heat helped that much.

Qyzen nodded, taking his weapon in hand. [I follow.]

They found the compound gates nearby, guarded by a Kaleesh warrior and flanking pair of scyk. He summoned more beasts to his aid when those were killed, making Endrali think he might have that control method they needed to wreck. When a whole gang of wraids followed the scyk and sandtuskers, she was pretty convinced of it.

The one big change fighting with Qyzen rather than Arcann was Qyzen's penchant for attacking the biggest visible threat, meaning she handled the lesser ones. Her lightsaber hummed and crackled and the air smelt of burned flesh by the time she'd finished off the wraids. She barely had time to assist Qyzen's fight with a few strikes when the Kaleesh's cry of 'To me, to me!' had the earth erupting and a massive sandworm flung itself at Qyzen.

It slammed him into a boulder, he snarled and clawed at it in retaliation. Endrali took over fighting the Kaleesh, deflecting blaster bolts, flinging rocks, until she finished him off.

Qyzen gave a triumphant cry a moment later and when Endrali turned he was yanking his techblade free of the beast's head.

It was in rifling the beastmaster's pockets and pouches she found the small hexagonal transponder. Near as she could tell, this was how he'd controlled the creatures. Figuring Oggurobb would want to have a look at it, she tucked it in a belt pouch and turned her attention to the gates.

They were huge and sturdy. Impregnable, some would say. Endrali reached out with the Force, hefted a boulder thrice the size of her and Qyzen combined, and hurled it at the gates.

Durasteel shrieked and voices clamored beyond as the gates bent, snapped, and caved inwards. The debris and her boulder flattened a few of those closest. It was a good thing they got a moment's respite; throwing something that large so hard took an effort. Endrali swayed, paused for a couple heartbeats to recover before following Qyzen's charge.

She'd just deflected a small barrage of blaster bolts back at the pirates who fired them, the hum of her daulsaber's whirl in her ears, when the sense of danger tugged at the Force. Endrali lunged to the side immediately, tucking herself behind a shipping crate as something small hit where she'd been standing and erupted in flame.

"Guess Jai wasn't as tough as he thought!" a voice rang out. "I'll have to take a crack at ya!"

Endrali reached with the Force to sense where the woman speaking was. Grated ramp to an outbuilding all the way across the workyard. Too far to do anything direct. She still levitated a boulder and threw it in the general direction of the new threat as she curled around the crate to run for Qyzen.

There was the bark of blasters firing in unison, a shower of stone fragments that stung the backs of her arms, and the rapid spitfire of blaster bolts dancing behind her footsteps. Endrali pivoted as she reached Qyzen, spinning her dualsaber to deflect the attack.

"Hey, boys, we got the Commander's attention herself!" the pirate hollered, jumping down from her vantage point. She vanished as she hit the ground, reappearing on an overseer's platform in the middle of the yard, so close Endrali could see her grin as she fired again.

Short range teleport. That was enough of a problem with Force users, where you knew there'd be a short break between shifts so they could regain expended energy. She had no idea what limitation a technological version may or may not have.

[I will take broodlings,] Qyzen said, gaze on the cluster of men who had spilled from the building. [And you the mighty one.] He was moving even before Endrali's nod of confirmation.

She drew on the Force to rush the pirate's position, crossing sand and metal alike in a blink.

The pirate had good reflexes; she dodged the swipe at her chest. Her blasters each spat a shot as she spat a curse--Endrali blocked one, but the other grazed her arm--and she slammed a hand to her belt, vanishing from sight.

Endrali deflected a wild shot from the last of the group Qyzen was fighting and reached with the Force, sensing where the pirate would be even as she reappeared. The pirate flung something and Endrali jumped the railing to avoid it, the chill of flash-cryo at her back as she hit the ground and rolled.

The pirate's new position gave her a clear line of sight on Qyzen, and she grinned as she spun her blasters before lining up a shot. From the glow of the barrels, Endrali didn't need the Force to sense danger. Too far to reach him in time...

"Qyzen!" she hollered in warning, but he didn't seem to hear her. In a last-ditch effort to protect her friend, she threw her dualsaber at the pirate, guiding it with the Force as best she could.

(If it worked for Arcann, it should work for her, even if hers had an extra blade to worry about when catching it.)

One of the whirling blades cut deep into the pirate's back and her shot went wide. Qyzen spun as the large energy bolts slammed the sand next to him.

Endrali caught the returning dualsaber above her head as she ran to close in on the pirate. Qyzen got there first, swinging his techblade in a backhand strike at her gut.

Still reeling from Endrali's thrown saber, the pirate was too slow to fully dodge. Her cry, however, was more dismay than pain as she backpedaled into the bunker behind her.

He broke her tech. Endrali called on the Force for speed, not wanting to waste this chance. They had the door covered, but stars only knew if there were any sort of passages out of the bunker.

A salvo of blaster fire greeted her as she sped past Qyzen and she felt the heat of one she didn't deflect whiz by the side of her neck. Qyzen grunted behind her as another bolt found its mark.

Trusting in the Force, Endrali flung out her hand, throwing a couple of footlockers in the direction of the shots, following in a rush to cut down the pirate before she could fire again. Her blade cut deep into the woman's unarmored chest, and she let out a choked-off groan of surprise as she fell. Something dropped from her hand-

[Herald!] Qyzen's finger closed around her arm, yanking her away just as the detonator went off. She instinctively threw up her free arm, and the wash of heat made the skin tight.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile, breathing hard as she turned to Qyzen.

[Was owed.] he replied, still on guard until sure the threat was past.

Endrali winced at the blaster burn that cut through the brow ridge of his good eye. "Sorry I was a bit slow."

Qyzen shook his head. [Is mark of fine hunt, strong prey, even if points are yours.]

"Couldn't have done it without you," she said, shaking her head. "They're your points, too."

He'd traveled with her long enough to know protesting the unconventional sentiment was pointless. [I thank you, Herald.]

Endrali nodded a distracted acknowledgement even as she crouched to free the damaged teleportation tech from the pirate's belt. I'm gonna be Oggurobb's favorite person in the whole galaxy at this rate... "Now to figure where we go next," she muttered. Probably up. There were some other buildings scattered around, but since none of them showed guards or signs of being ready to spew forth more pirates, she wasn't inclined to drag this out by doing a door to door search.

So they headed up the sloping cliffside path, until they found a large warehouse with guards posted outside the loading bay doors. They were easily dealt with.

The walker waiting inside clearly intended to be a little more of a challenge.

"Wondered when you'd poke your head in, Commander!" a voice boomed from the walker. "I am Bel Nerodia, chief of the Vipers and soon to be destroyer of the Alliance!" He fired off a rocket salvo as he finished his boast, and Endrali and Qyzen ducked in opposite directions for cover behind shipping crates.

Endrali peeked around her to take in the scene. Not enough space or incline to use the same method she had for the Zakuulan walker on Rakata Prime. ('Course, there she'd also had a fellow Force user to help disarm it before her stunt.)

She ripped the end off a shipping crate and threw it at the walker cabin. It staggered but didn't go down. Not big enough, then. Time to try something a little crazy. Probably unwise. But those plans tended to work the best.

Endrali stepped into view of the walker, yanking with the Force to throw it off-balance. As Nerodia struggled to get it stable again, she darted in close, dodging the massive feet until she could get a good strike at one of the legs. She sheared halfway through on her first hit, then finished the job on the backswing.

"Hey! No! You can't-!" Nerodia's bellowing protests were cut off as the walker crashed to the ground. Between the impact and debris she'd thrown at it, the hatch looked jammed.

That should hold him while I get the data, Endrali decided. Theron and Lana--mostly Lana--would have questions for the man; she'd rather take him alive. She used the Force to crush the hatch release a little farther. Just to be safe. She and Qyzen headed upstairs, dispatching a few more guards and droids as they went.

The computers weren't heavily encrypted. The data stolen and list of prospective buyers were both easy to find. Lana and Aygo would appreciate knowing who was willing to pay--obscenely--for Odessen security data. Endrali downloaded and wiped the data, then jammed her lightsaber in the console for good measure.

"Time to go," she told Qyzen.

Nerodia was still hollering and banging on the walker's jammed hatch when they made it downstairs. "Hey! Hey! You can't leave me in here! HEY!!"

"Didn't intend to," Endrali called back, voice raised so he could here her. "Might want to scoot back!" She waited a few heartbeats for him to comply, then ignited her lightsaber and sliced open the hatch.

Qyzen reached in and dragged him out, scolding, [Struggle not wise, after Herald showed mercy.]

"Some mercy," Nerodia scoffed, still struggling. "Better you just kill me."

"Not how I operate," Endrali said cheerfully. "And by the way, if you make a walker to fight Jedi, should invest in cortosis plating. Makes it harder for us to do" --she gestured to the walker--"that."

They secured Nerodia's hands with binder cuffs, and Qyzen shepherded him along as they headed for the door. A warning sense rang through the Force, and Endrali used it to shove Qyzen and Nerodia to the side as a volley of mortars pounded where they'd been standing.

"Crush 'em to dust GeeNine!" Nerodia whooped before Qyzen stunned him with a thump from the hilt of his techblade.

Their opponent was indeed a very large battledroid, clanking and creaking as it struggled across the sand.

Well, we can use that, Endrali mused, zipping in to slash at a cluster of exposed wiring. The droid was so large; clumsy and slow, it was easy to stay at a range to avoid both its heavy limbs and the artillery mounted on its back. It did get in a hefty smack that sent her tumbling and spitting sand with ears ringing before Qyzen jammed his techblade into its center and ripped out enough vital components to render it inoperable.

"That wasn't so bad," Endrali said, despite the bruise forming on her shoulder and the reek of singed hair from a rocket volley that cut it a little close. And it wasn't; the mining droid she and Arcann dismantled on Ord Mantell had been worse. "Let's go home, huh?"

[Is wise plan] Qyzen nodded.

Nerodia was just beginning to revive his struggles when they returned to him, and for ease of traveling Endrali stunned him again with the Force. Better than listening to him yell and posture the whole flight back to Odessen.

Qyzen slung the insensate pirate leader over his shoulder and they headed to the ship.

Fingers tracing the lower edge of her ribcage, hers dancing lightly along his collarbone, hearts pounding in unison as-

"So how do you account points for droids?" she asked hastily as they walked. "Are they the same as organic prey, or is there a difference because they're programmed...?"

---

The trip back to Odessen was uneventful. she and Qyzen took turns watching the prisoner and the controls, and there were no incidents of note.

Endrali was proven correct on their return--Lana was thrilled to have a prisoner for interrogation, Aygo was thrilled to have data on the pirates' ambush tactics, and Oggurobb was thrilled to have new tech to examine.

She herself was just thrilled to be home so she could wash off the lingering sweat and sand, get some proper sleep rather than a catnap in the pilot seat--

She walked into something and her mental checklist came to an abrupt halt even as she did. Her reflexive "Oh, sorry-" when she realized it was a someone strangled off when it registered who.

Arcann.

The galaxy did have a sense of humor.

His smile reached his eyes(and made her lips curve upward as well) as his hand brushed her arm in an instinctive move to steady her if needed. "It's alright. I did not realize you had returned."

"Just got back," she confirmed, trying to ignore the gooseflesh prickling her arm, the curl of warmth in her stomach--and, above all, the previously banished images starting to swirl in her thoughts.

Tangled-together fingers, breathless-mumbled names, hips rolling--

Stop it, he's right there, she scolded herself, frantically pushing the thoughts away and hoping Arcann hadn't picked any of it up. From the fact he wasn't going red and avoiding eye contact, it seemed nothing got through.

"I, um, had some deliveries," she explained, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Captured the leader; Lana's very happy I got this one alive for her to question, and they had some tech Oggurobb's dissecting."

"I'm glad you had such success," Arcann said. "Considering your rushed departure, it seemed rather urgent."

She nodded. "Wouldn't've been smart to wait. And I'm also glad that if I had to go to Tatooine, at least it was successful. It's good Qyzen knows the terrain so well, that was a big help navigating the Dune Sea." A sheepish chuckle. "Though it was... odd not having you to back me up," she admitted, and cocked her head at the near-imperceptible twinge to his sense.

He exhaled in a hum that might've almost been a laugh. "It was odd not going."

"We'll, ah, we'll both have to look forward to next time, then," Endrali said playfully, and bit her lip at the sincerity radiating from him as he nodded.

"We shall," he said, studying her face.

"That'll have to wait, right now I need a nap," she laughed. "Well, shower then nap. We hit a couple duststorms and I feel like I'm still wearing half of Tatooine."

One corner of Arcann's mouth curved back and he reached--as if he couldn't help it--to lightly brush something off her cheek. His breath hitched ever so slightly as his touch passed over her scar.

Hopefully it covered hers doing the same.

Endrali had to clear her throat before she could joke, "That dusty, am I?"

Arcann's answering chuckle was stilted as he let his hand fall. "Perhaps it's just as well I did not accompany you."

She watched the fingers of his left hand curl and wrinkled her nose. "Mm, true." Sand and cybernetics weren't a fun mix, no matter how many precautions you took. "Hopefully the next malcontents will use a more hospitable planet. And hopefully you found things to do with me gone?"

He nodded. "I did. Sana-Rae needed help in the Force Enclave, I meditated and worked on a... personal project. My time was occupied." He swallowed as if holding back from saying more and she didn't dare reach for the sense of it.

"Good." Endrali fought back a yawn. Probably wise to make her exit before exhaustion and her pounding heart made her say something stupid. "I'm gonna go take that nap. But I'll see you around?"

Arcann nodded. "Of course."

"Good." She skittered for the elevator, heart still pounding and warmth of dream-memory filling her mind. So much for this being a distraction. She could leave things buried for now, but it was unwise to let such a development... fester.

Scared as she was of damaging their friendship, she was going to need to talk to him soon.

Stars help her.

[siriannatan]

No talking back - Pirates SMP - ScottSausage

Entirely based on my assumptions based on some fanart I saw on Tumblr. Let me know what I got wrong :D

Most of the blame goes to @foxxology, though it's only fair I make it clear :}

Scott knew he should leave the planning for the day. Enjoy a rare day they docked somewhere no one would recognise him as anything but a pirate. But he could not bring himself to leave his planning and scheming half done. So he slowly sipped his whiskey. Sun slowly setting outside the windows of the captain's quarters. The ship slowly swaying. As far as he knew he was the only person on board.

Well.. not quite as it turns out, with a steady, familiar knock on his door. One that has Scott's head hurting a bit more than it already was. "Come in," he said, instead of sending the annoyance away. Not like it would work anyway. And who knows, Sausage just might, for once, have something useful to say. If he wasn't useful and pretty to look at Scott would have thrown him out to the sharks ages ago.

"Working late even when we're docked?" or he didn't have anything useful to say.

"Just get to it, I'm almost done with this," Scott glared at Sausage. As annoying as he was he was very handsome. Tan, long, chocolate brown, curly hair. It was a real shame Sausage insisted on hiding it under his ridiculous hat.

"Always so cold, dear captain," Sausage chuckled and set a plate of fresh fruits on the single, free from papers spot on Scott's desk - table more like with how big it was. "I guessed you locked yourself in here and being a good subordinate decided to bring you a snack. At least you die on us," he chuckled.

Scott just hummed, ignoring the fruit, more focused on how close Sausage leaned to him. With a smirk, the captain finished his drink and pulled his favourite annoyance into a kiss. At first, Sausage froze but he eventually realised what was going on and tried to get himself into Scott's lap but his captain had a different idea.

"How about I get my dessert first?" he grinned, breaking it briefly to stand up. He didn't give Sausage a chance to reply, locking him into another hungry kiss and pulling at his clothes, with Sausage quickly catching up and responding with as much hunger and ferocity and hunger. Scott hummed into the kiss. Happy that all was going according to his plan as he slowly led Sausage to his bed, losing their clothes piece by piece.

Sausage could not move at all once Scott was done with him. Every inch of him hurt pleasantly. His wrists were decorated with deep, red gashes from Scott tying him to the bed when he refused to listen to his orders—speaking of, his captain was already mostly dressed up, by his desk but looking at the mess he left in his bed. Chewing an apple and looking unfairly attractive as he did so. "Where do you have all this stamina from?" Sausage asked, groaning as he made the mistake of trying to move.

Scott just chuckled at his suffering. "I think I found a way to keep that mouth of yours shut," he mused, with a lazy, satisfied smirk. "You make a really good dessert."

Blushing was all the poor pirate could do. How was Scott so well put together after riding Sausage's soul out? Truth be told Sausage was still trying to figure out how he did end up under Scott. His captain looked like a strong wind could break him in half even if he was unfairly handsome. Possibly why a big part of the crew was at all on their ship. "You're... I'll need a moment before I can move..." Sausage admitted and earned himself a dangerous, low chuckle.

"Sure thing, cupcake," Scott mused, already standing up. Shirt sliding off his shoulders. "But you're still talking. I think you need a proper reminder of who is in charge," he mused as he slowly returned to the bed. Sausage could only chuckle nervously. Maybe he should have stayed quiet... or maybe it was worth it?

[perotovar]

Fellow scout Erin!

🌪️ queuenado in a trailer park time! 🫡

What Pedro boy haven't you created for, are you intimidated by, or feel like your HC is so niche or different that you can't find the muse to create for him? (Bonus points for an explanation!)

OOOOH this is an amazing question, io!!!

alright, so it might be a little weird but i actually have a really hard time making gifs for din. i'm not sure why but it might be because i'm not really a star wars girlie (gn)

don't get me wrong, i fucking love din as a character and the first two seasons are super up my alley in terms of mood/themes/etc (s3 who?) but idk it's just hard to create stuff for a character that's sort of already got everything. i don't think i could contribute anything new that hasn't already been done before y'know?

i can write him in the biwy universe paired with dieter because he's like. (at least how i read him, anyway) a soft spoken but strong-willed and relatively easy-going (but also anxious) guy that pairs well with dieter's sort of... chaotic nature, for lack of a better term. he's the rock to dieter's tornado, in a way. really steady, unmoving.

but like, for gifs and stuff it's just... idk it's harder for some reason. i'd like to try and do a "din djarin in every episode" like i did for both javi p and joel, but it might have to wait until the summer

thank you SO much, io, i loved this question omg

[folightening]

Muses

Hetalia - Spamano - Humans, Artist and Muse AU Romano was searching for a muse. He found one in Antonio, and so much more. Secret santa gift for@someone-you-do-not-know Ao3 Kinda long, so most of it's under the cut.

It had been months since he'd last made any reasonable progress. Months. And in that time, Veneziano had succeeded in not only finishing projects but gaining popularity. Grandfather's legacy giving him a boost there was the only thing that kept Romano's jealousy relatively low.

It had still been months since he'd last made progress. Finishing any of his projects was out of the question. He just didn't have the inspiration he needed.

Which led him into the countryside. If he couldn't find anything in the city, why not look in the country. Gilbert could protect him well enough and he'd hopefully find the inspiration he needed.

"I've got an idea," Gilbert's loud voice suddenly broke the relative silence.

"A good idea this time?"

Gilbert was trying, but so far none of his ideas or suggestions had worked.

"Follow me," Gilbert laughed.

With no other choice Romano followed him to someone's property. The old home stood single story, the dull white walls and dark tiled roof a striking contrast to the surrounding green. It had clearly belonged to someone with money at some time in history, with the open gateway and cobbled path leading up to the building. There were more than enough plants around: trees casting plenty of shade over the stone and the lawn, a variety of bushes and flowers, and Romano could see a garden of some size past the corner of the house.

"Who lives here?"

"Antonio."

As if that name meant anything to Romano. Gilbert dismounted his horse and helped Romano down as well.

"Go take a look around, I'll go talk to him."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Perfectly."

Gilbert left him standing there and Romano sighed. Typical of Gilbert to run off on him and leave him alone on some stranger's property. What if this Antonio was outside? He didn't even know how Gilbert knew the man. What was he supposed to say?

The old building would make a lovely painting but that wasn't inspiring. The flowering trees were beautiful but again not inspiring. Maybe farther on the land but Romano didn't want to trespass no matter how convinced Gilbert was that it would be fine.

Romano sighed and pulled his sketchbook from his pack. He might as well try getting something down. Even if Gilbert only brought him here so he could see a friend, at least Romano could say he tried.

Some time had passed and all he had to show for it were half finished sketches of the bushes and trees when Gilbert finally returned.

"Antonio knows we're here now come on."

Romano followed Gilbert through the yard, past the substantial garden, and through some trees. There was obviously something specific he had wanted to show him. Romano hoped this time it was worth it.

Beyond the small cluster of citrus trees was a cliff. Romano stared out across the view.

"This might work."

"Get to it then." Gilbert clapped him on the back. "Want me to go get something bigger for you to work on?"

"Hurry."

Romano focused on the view in front of him and started sketching the landscape.

"That's Romano?"

An unfamiliar voice Romano assumed belonged to Antonio interrupted his focus and he turned.

Walking over with Gilbert was exactly what Romano had been searching for. Romano stared at him: the sun-kissed skin, the unkempt dark hair, the strong frame under clothes designed more for comfort than anything else.

"Be my muse," Romano blurted out before he could think to stop himself.

"What?"

"You're perfect. Let me paint you."

Antonio's startled expression quickly melted into a sheepish smile.

"Oh. I."

Gilbert laughed and pat Romano's shoulder.

"You got good taste. Take him up on it, Antonio."

"But I've never had my portrait done."

The flustered expression was beautiful too. Romano wanted to spend hours studying Antonio's face. To see how he looked under different lighting, all his different expressions.

"It won't be anything professional. No one else even has to see it. Please."

Romano ignored Gilbert's snickering as Antonio finally nodded.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to raid your kitchen," Gilbert said. "Have fun."

"Just stay right there," Romano instructed Antonio as Gilbert left.

Romano turned to an empty page and started sketching. He wouldn't be able to capture every detail in just a sketch, but it would have to do for now.

"Gilbert said you are an artist in search of inspiration."

"Pretty much." A few more lines here for that hair. "I haven't gotten anywhere with it yet."

There was silence between them until Romano finished the picture and showed it to Antonio.

"Wow," Antonio exclaimed. "Do I really look like that?"

"You ever look in a mirror?"

Antonio laughed and Romano stared. He had to stay here for a while and keep drawing this man.

"Do you have room for me to stay here for a while?"

"You want to keep drawing me that much?"

"I do."

Now that he had finally found his muse he couldn't just walk away.

Antonio's laughter quieted.

"It would be nice to have someone around the house again. Okay Mr. Artist, I have a guest room you can use."

Perfect. Now he didn't have to wander aimlessly with Gilbert anymore, or return home to his family's loving judgements. And most importantly he got to spend more time with his muse.

"If I ever make you uncomfortable, tell me to knock it off," Romano said.

"Come on, I'll show you your room."

With how often he stared at and drew Antonio, Romano wanted to do something. Helping Antonio with his garden seemed to Romano a fine trade off with Antonio refusing to accept any money. As it turned out, Romano enjoyed gardening.

Unfortunately, helping Antonio outside meant distraction.

Distraction Antonio was more than happy to provide as he got more and more comfortable with being Romano's muse.

"Look Romano." "How's this Romano?" "Draw this Romano!"

And Romano listened to every demand. He didn't tire of staring at Antonio, loved recording the nature of Antonio in his artwork. Every stupid pose and goofy expression brought him farther and farther from his worries about his family's expectations. Every piece of Antonio - lovingly rendered to captured the man in his entirety - had him following Antonio into a life he had never considered having before. One carefree, without expectations or worries of the judgements of others. The more he followed his muse the less he cared about the life he'd been trying to fit himself into before.

Nonsense lyrics sang to a tune Romano wasn't sure existed before that moment interrupted his thoughts. Antonio was singing? He did have his guitar, and only an idiot would say he didn't play well, but Romano had never heard him sing before… Probably for good reason, if that was his choice of lyrics.

Antonio stopped in front of him, laughed, and Romano blinked himself out of his bewilderment.

"What the fuck kind of lyrics were those?"

Antonio smiled wider.

"Sing with me."

"How about I show you how it's done and you try not to ruin any more songs."

Antonio laughed again as Romano prepared. It had been a while. A long while. He had never sang for Antonio before. But dammit he had to show his idiot how it was done. If Antonio could burst into song, so could Romano.

And when he did, it wasn't quite the burst he had in mind. It started awkward while he regained his vocal footing before rising into the proper singing he prided himself on.

It felt good to sing again.

Antonio's awed adoration felt sublime.

"Why didn't you focus on singing?"

"I don't need other people telling me what to do with my voice." Unless you have any requests. "And it's too much work to make a career of it."

"With that voice you could be famous in no time."

Then I wouldn't have met you.

"I am glad for it though," Antonio added.

"Why?"

Antonio's eyes widened and the flustered expression was just as lovely as the first time Romano had seen it. Flustering Antonio was fun, and so easy - all Romano had to do was talk, especially if he leaned into his accent. Sometimes he wondered just how much Antonio liked hearing him.

"I should check to make sure everything is prepared for tonight."

Right, Antonio was hosting a party. Romano didn't do well with parties but maybe Antonio would let him stay on the side and politely ignore everyone.

"I'll finish up here," Romano said.

All of the expected guests arrived early. Emma and her fiancée Erzsébet's recent engagement made them the unofficial stars of the party. It was really just an excuse for everyone to get together. Romano was content to watch the party. He didn't dance, and didn't know most of the guests.

But for once it wasn't Antonio he was focusing on. Erzsébet had offered him a job earlier: to paint a portrait of herself and Emma. So he was watching the two of them, filling his page with sketches of the couple to get a feel for them before accepting her offer.

"You must be the artist Antonio told me about in his letters."

"Yeah, I am. Who…"

Romano stared at the man who could only be Antonio's twin.

"You must be João."

"Complained about me has he?"

"That he misses you."

João looked taken aback for a moment before lightly laughing.

"So how long have you been with Antonio?"

"A year."

João hummed and Romano took the time to look him over. His resemblance to Antonio was striking, they were identical twins after all, but there were also some things that were so different Romano couldn't believe people confused the two. But more important than the twins' similarities and differences, João knew things about Antonio that Romano didn't. He knew the side of the picture that Romano couldn't paint.

"Tell me about Antonio."

Romano didn't like the mischievous smile.

"You've been with Toninho for a year and need me to tell you about him? It would break his heart to hear that."

"You…" Romano sighed. He had heard about João, this was expected.

"He is talking to me again, and I have to thank you for that. So, and don't tell him I told you but - He thinks you're cute and adores your voice."

That explained earlier. It clarified so many moments that still had left Romano confused. But that wasn't what Romano had been wanting to hear.

"I know I only see part of him. You're his brother, surely you can tell me more."

"I can tell you all my brother's dark secrets later. Right now you don't want to miss Antonio's spotlight stealing." João pointed at Antonio. "He prides himself on his dancing."

Every dip and curve of Antonio's body had held Romano captive for so long, he had long ago committed every part of Antonio to memory. That didn't stop him from becoming utterly entranced by the sway of Antonio's hips and the fluid motion of his dance. Romano had seen him dance before; but this was different from silly dances in the kitchen or garden.

"He should."

This was the part of Antonio he could never hope to capture on any canvas: the pure passion with which he did everything. The passion for life itself shined bright, infecting Romano in ways nothing else could or ever had. Antonio had not only inspired him to complete art again but to find the simple beauties all around him. The man had changed the way Romano viewed the world, for the better, and Romano-

He loved him for it.

Suddenly everything was too much. Antonio's smile, the way he looked at him and Romano knew the man was checking to see if he still had his attention. As if Romano could focus on anyone else right now. As if anyone could have Romano's attention the way Antonio did. Romano tore his gaze from Antonio's perfect form and hurried away from the suffocating atmosphere that had descended over him.

Away from other people he took a deep breath. So he had fallen in love with Antonio. Of course he had, who wouldn't? Everything about the man had had him enthralled from the day they'd met. It was only a matter of time, and the past year had given them plenty of that.

"Romano? You hurried away so suddenly, are you okay?"

Romano looked at Antonio's concern.

"You were supposed to be inspiration- a way to improve my art."

Antonio's brows came together in confusion.

"Instead, you- You made me a better person, Antonio. I see everything differently and it's all your fault."

"What?"

"You have so much passion and love. For everything. I'm the artist, and I couldn't see the world until I met you."

Those irritating tears starting building and Romano swiped them away. Why did he have to tear up every time he got emotional? He was trying to confess.

"I don't understand-"

"Shut up so I can confess. You're gorgeous, and the best muse I've ever had, and so fucking wonderful I want to keep spending my life with you."

Antonio stared at him and for a moment Romano basked in the fact that he had rendered Antonio speechless.

Then Antonio blinded Romano with the force of his smile and knocked him to the ground with his eager embrace, but the pain quickly faded when Antonio's lips were on his. He felt how Romano had imagined he would; was so perfectly Antonio that Romano couldn't get enough.

"Aren't we supposed to date before you propose?" Antonio chuckled.

"That wasn't a proposal dummy."

"Well my answer's yes."

[daffelreign]

Macbeth commentary. Because I’m bored. And judgmental. (Pt. 4)

(Act IV: ) (We’re off to see the witches, the wonderful witches of OZ--- I mean Scotland)

Act IV (scene 1:)

All I can say about the first part of the scene is that it continually got more and more concerning as the list of ingredients went on. How exactly did they get a Jew’s liver and the finger of a strangled baby??? And why do they just randomly have it?? I feel like questioning the witches is just not a battle I’m ever going to win.

Anyways, Macbeth arrives to question the witches and boy was that the wrong call. They start showing him different aberrations that tell him contradicting things, going as far as to say ‘You’ll die when the forest gets up to kill you’ and now I’m left questioning if they’re just gaslighting him, or if the forest is about to start walking in Act 5. They also mention something we already know, of course--- Macduff will be a problem. But how Macbeth responds was not something I was prepared for at all.

We knew from the beginning that Macbeth was a ruthless warrior when it came to the battle field. Then, after killing Duncan, we realized he has that capability off of the battlefield--- but at least he felt some guilt for it. Now he’s just killing people on a whim, assuming that will fix his problem. Because killing tons of people for some self-perceived notion of an ultimate downfall has always ended well for kings.

Now, I don’t really like the fact that I understand Macbeth’s reasoning. Is there any sympathy towards him? Absolutely not. Do I think he’s making the right choice? Not even close. But, his reasoning does make sense to be. Going after Macduff’s family is a good option for what he wants to achieve, and it’s a very understandable call after what he’s already done these past few acts. I just don’t like it at all, and I know, for certain, that this will not end well. Authors who make understandable, but dislikeable villains have my utmost respect and hate.

At this point, it’s purely insanity doing the talking for Macbeth. He has spiraled past the point of return and there is no stopping him until he’s six feet under. So while it would be neat for the antagonist to show up and kill Macbeth in a grand, dramatic scene, I think it would be a whole lot more interesting if Macbeth was the one that killed himself. I’m sure there'll be a point where he just can’t take it anymore--- one could even argue that he’s already hit that point in his paranoia--- but the real kicker will be how strong his perseverance is, even after the madness takes over. Just something I’m musing about.

FInal thoughts? No change to the murder board--- actually, maybe I should add Macduff’s family, but they’re not exactly main characters. I’m still wondering at what point Lady Macbeth will get fed up with her husband's homicidal tendencies, but I think that point is coming shortly. And, finally, another chapter without mention of Fleance. I don’t think the boy’s coming back. I might have overstated when I said he would be our antagonist. I think he’s alive simply because he needs to be so that Banquo’s part of the prophecy can come true--- so plot convenience for prophecy fulfilling reasons.

Act IV (scene 2:)

I despise how quickly I got attached to Lady Macduff, only for her to die immediately after. I love her personality right off the bat, and I 100% agree with her hatred for her husband. People keep saying he’s an honorable, noble man--- one who you might think was at least a little intelligent. But no, let’s leave my wife and kids at home while I go commit treason. I’m sure that’ll end well.

I adore baby Macduff--- the little boy--- more than I can describe. I love the conversation he has with his mother, and the childish logic shining through. It’s always fun to see an exchange between a child, who thinks they have a good grasp of a situation, and an adult who humors their logic despite it being incorrect. Probably one of my favorite scenes in the whole play, if I’m being honest. It’s a shame they got murdered right after.

Act IV (scene 3:)

Not gonna lie, I was lost for the first half of scene 3. I understood what Macduff and Malcom were saying to each other, but I didn’t really understand why Malcom was being so insistent that he was the worst guy ever?? And then he suddenly turned the tables?? I thought he was gaslighting Macduff just for the heck of it, I did not catch that it was a test to make sure Macduff wasn’t there to kill him (thank you class discussions).

Aside from the initial confusion, my favorite line in the entire scene (possibly the entire play) is “Fit to govern? No, not to live.” which basically means ‘you aren’t fit to govern? No, you aren’t fit to be alive.’ The amount of exasperation in that statement alone is amazing, and the entire speech after it shows just how fed up Macduff has become. And honestly, if I was trying to convince the crowned heir to help for the greater good of an entire kingdom, and he kept trying to gaslight me into thinking he was the worst man in the world, I would get fed up, too.

Ross shows up again just in time to drop the bomb that Macduff’s family was slaughtered. That’s fun. The ‘be a man’ speech returns, this time from Malcolm. I’m starting to think that’s the theme behind the whole play--- being a man, and how that means different things to different people. Needless to say, Macduff is having a bad day.

After going through all 5 stages of grief in less than two minutes, Macduff decides that revenge is the best (and only) option. I would say he’s set up to be our antagonist, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself again. At this point, everyone is Macbeth’s antagonist--- even mother nature. Those horses didn’t eat each other for nothing. That aside, Macduff mentioned something interesting--- he can’t inflict the same pain he feels on Macbeth because Macbeth doesn’t have children. But Macduff’s children weren’t the only thing killed--- his wife was killed as well. And you know what Macbeth has? A wife.

The murder board isn’t going to change, but my predictions behind it will. I think Lady Macbeth will die, but I’m not so sure it will be by Macbeth’s hands anymore. I think it’s far more likely that she’s killed by either Macduff or Malcom during the war, and I’m rooting for Macduff.

Still no Fleance… uh… I don’t think he’s coming back. Unless they decide to drag a child into war, that is. (Wait, how are Banquo's children going to be kings if Malcom is taking over??? Oh, Malcolm is so going back on the murder board) (I think he’ll be killed at war and Fleance will end up as his successor.)

Duncan, Banquo, Lady Macbeth, Malcom (the boy who lived, come to die), Macbeth