#absolutely my favorite little green bastard

[higgsbison]

my new years resolution was to occasionally write fun things for fun

[zepskies]

Imagine: Soldier Boy Getting Jealous...

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || (past Frenchie x F. Reader)

Request: Soldier Boy finding out you had something with Frenchie, years before meeting him.

Word Count: 1K

Tags/Warnings: Jealousy lol (With a hint of spice.~)

Imagine: Ben getting jealous over your past relationship with Frenchie.

He doesn't care.

Because he doesn't care...

When you sit him down in the living room of your apartment and tell him you used to date Frenchie, Ben's reaction is mild at best. To the point where it kind of concerns you.

Ben raises a brow and gives a deep hum.

"Oh, really? That limey bastard?" he remarks. He takes a sip from his tumbler of whiskey. You give him a weary sigh.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that," you reply. You and Frenchie are still friends. Your "entanglement" was years ago, before he even started hooking up with Cherie.

But you still want to be honest with Ben. You two have been dating for a few months now, and it's actually serious. No one's more surprised than you by that fact, but...you're happy. You think he is too.

At your response, however, Ben rolls his eyes and continues drinking. You tilt your head in suspicion.

"So you're chill?" you ask.

"Chill?" he quirks a brow at you. Your lips form a smile.

"You're okay with this," you amend.

Ben shrugs and turns on the TV, trying to navigate the streaming apps. You’d put him on to Game of Thrones. Even three seasons into his binge-watching, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s hooked.

"You're fucking a real man now, sweetheart. No skin off my nose," he says.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, despite a warm blush stinging your cheeks.

But the next time you all go out together to a club in the city, Ben watches you leave his side to say hello to your friends: Annie, Hughie, Frenchie and Kimiko. Frenchie takes your hands and makes a show of looking you up and down.

"Well, well. She shoots to kill tonight, eh?" Frenchie says. When he leans in to kiss your cheek, he whispers, "Ah, black leather. My old favorite."

"Stop," you warn with a smile, hitting his shoulder. He's absolutely shameless. "You're too much."

"And you are just enough," Frenchie returns. He whistles playfully as he raises your hand to twirl you around, showing you off in your little black dress and red-bottom heels.

You laugh, but you bump into Ben when you twirl for the second time. Your laughter cuts off abruptly when you see the flinty look on his face, though he's clinging to stoicism.

Frenchie’s eyes widen as he seems to realize the very real danger he's put himself in. He wisely lets go of your hand, pivots on his heel and goes with Kimiko over to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, you move back to Ben's side and try to placate him by looping your arm through his. He responds by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. His eyes bore into the back of Frenchie's head so hard, you almost expect laser beams to come out of them.

"Come on, let's get a drink," you suggest, patting a hand on Ben's chest. He looks good tonight in a burgundy button-down shirt tucked into his slacks.

Ben wordlessly agrees to your suggestion, but he grabs a stool and drags it close to his own seat. He does help you by the hand onto the stool, but then his arm wraps back around your waist, pulling you in snugly, possessively to his side.

You try not to smile in amusement. It's a caveman's display, but at least you know the root cause this time.

...Okay, maybe you feel the tiniest bit complicit, but really, you think Ben's overreacting.

After he flags down the bartender and orders his bourbon and your martini, you tap against his bearded cheek, earning his green-eyed attention.

"You okay?" you ask knowingly.

"Just fine," he deadpans.

"Oh, well that's convincing," you say with a smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm here with you?"

Ben's gaze hardens. "I don't know. You were pretty happy to let that French whore put his fucking hands all over you—"

"All right. Calm down, Rambo," you say, trying not to laugh as you rub his arm. "Sorry, baby. That's just how we've always cut up. It doesn't mean anything."

Ben scoffs in derision. "Yeah? Fuck if I care."

You frown at that, sparking with annoyance. Somehow, now you actually do feel guilty. You and Frenchie have bounced off each other like Derek and Garcia for so long, you didn't even realize how it might look...or how it might make your boyfriend feel.

Because even with all that ego and injured pride, you have a feeling there's a real sting of hurt under there.

"Hey," you say, squeezing Ben's wrist. His gaze remains stubbornly on the bartender making your drinks.

You decide to take matters more firmly into your hands.

Reaching up for his chin, you guide Ben's face toward yours and press a kiss to his lips. It's slow at first, but it soon gains in passion. His teeth graze your bottom lip, before his tongue demands entrance into your mouth with claiming purpose.

It elicits a hint of a moan from you, your fingers clenching in his hair. Your nails drag against his scalp, almost making him shudder.

Your supple lips eventually pull away from his, nice and slow.

"Your hands are the only hands I care about touching me," you say. Your expression twinkles with mischief as you toy with the zipper on the side of your dress.

"As a matter of fact, I need your help," you add. "This zipper keeps catching on something. I think it's stuck."

Quite possibly because someone got a little handsy in the cab on the way here.

Ben smirks, though he claims your lips in one more slightly rough kiss before he answers.

"Well that is a problem," he says. His eyes roam down your face, taking in your thoroughly kissed lips, and the cleavage peeking out at him from the neckline of your dress.

"Think I can give you a hand," he says, as his actual hand slips down your leg. His fingers brush along the inside of your thigh, tingling across your skin. His half-lidded gaze once again meeting yours. "Better take you out back and fix you up."

You laugh, despite the return of your blush. You cling to his shoulders, while his fingers burn a tantalizing trail upwards.

"Oh, yeah. Save me, Soldier Boy!" you tease.

He snorts in response, but he helps guide you out of your seat.

Moments later, all your friends find at the bar are two forgotten drinks and a couple of empty stools.

AN: Ah, jealous Ben. It's fun to imagine. 😂

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem

@deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees

@xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley

@sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105

@liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @chernayawidow @tmb510

@iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waynes-multiverse

[evilminji]

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[allthingsfangirl101]

All I Want – Glen Powell

I hid behind my camera as the actors went through their scenes. I couldn't ignore the smile that spread across my face as Glen's character ran into the airport.

"Rick?"

I made sure to angle the camera behind Glen, right over his shoulder so we got a clear shot up of Lucy Liu and Taye Diggs.

"Hey," Taye hesitated. "Did I forget something?"

"Yeah," Glen responded, sounding like he was out of breath from running. "That you're a bastard." Glen paused as the extras in the airport mumbled things under their breaths. "I don't wanna be like you. I'm not gonna be. I don't want the promotion. I quit."

"Okay," Taye said with little to no emotion.

"Kirsten? Don't marry him."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the extra walked up next to Glen and laughed, "Do it, honey. Go with the young guy."

"Oh, no," Glen started to stutter. "No, no. I mean, she's a very handsome woman. Just -- Not what's going on here."

"Charlie," Taye said, still with barely any emotion. "You're fired as fuck."

"I literally just quit," Glen shrugged. "Kirsten, I know you don't know me, but I know you, because all Harper does is talk about you. And even when she's complaining about you, she's really complimenting you. I know how hard you work and what a badass you are, and I know you don't put up with any shit. So, don't put up with his. I don't know what you think you're getting out of this, but you deserve better. You are better."

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing as he lifted his hands and laughed. "Gave myself goosebumps."

"He's crazy," Taye recited. "You realize that? Hmm?"

Lucy paused before slowly turning toward Taye. She thought about it before asking, "What's my favorite food?"

"Your favorite -- It's steak tartare."

"It's green curry, you douche-tard!" Glen yelled up at them. "She likes it medium-spicy from Thai Leaf on Broadway."

"What's my favorite place?" Lucy asked.

"Kiki, I ca - -" he stuttered. He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "This is ridiculous. Why are we --? Kirsten. Your name is Kirsten."

"Squam Lake, New Hampshire, you douche-tard." I smiled when Glen did an excited fist bump. "Charlie, I know you're no longer his assistant, but could you please strike "wedding" from his calendar?"

"Absolutely," Glen said proudly.

"Are you being serious?" Taye asked as she dropped her plane ticket and walked away. "No. Kiki's short for Kirsten," he said as he followed her."

I moved the camera to catch Glen's facial expression. He's supposed to stop and think about how he left things with Zoey's character, Harper. As he looked down, Claire yelled, "Cut! Perfect guys. Let's check the lights, switch the camera positions, and go again."

I turned off the camera, took it off my shoulder, and stretched my back. I handed the camera to my assistant and continued stretching out my shoulders.

"You almost made me break."

I looked over my shoulder to see Glen walking over to me with a playful glare on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrugged.

"Your little giggles," he said, pointing at me.

"I never giggled," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I held it in."

"True," he nodded, "but your little smirks and smiles made it incredibly hard to remain serious."

"Well, then that means you need to do better at your job," I smirked. Glen laughed as I walked away. I forced my heart rate to slow back down as he jogged to catch up to me.

"We still on for lunch?" Glen asked as he started walking in sync with me.

"Of course," I shrugged, trying to get the butterflies in my stomach to calm down.

His simple question shouldn't have such a big impact on me. Especially considering the fact that we've been going to lunch almost every day during filming. We started about a month in. I was walking on set with the lunch I just bought when Glen bumped into me, spilling my lunch all over my shirt.

Glen freaked out and immediately took me to the costume trailer. He influenced the ladies to get me a shirt and then offered to buy me a new lunch. We spent the entire lunch break, eating in a small café down the street from the set and talking about anything we could think of.

The next day, I was swapping the batteries in my camera at the start of lunch when Glen walked up to me. I turned around to see him smiling and offering me a sandwich from the same café. Without thinking about it or meaning to, we ended up eating lunch together every day.

Throughout lunch, we talked about the movie's ending. I already have another job lined up, and Glen has a few 'feelers' out.

"I can't believe it's been four months," Glen chuckled as he finished his chips.

"I know," I smiled softly. "It's gone by so fast."

"Are you still working for Netflix?" He asked.

"Yeah," I nodded. "They've got my next project lined up. Some teenage angst romance movie."

Glen laughed when I made a face. "It won't be that bad," he tried to shrug. "I mean, you've spent months filming me flirt with Joan and Zoey."

"That's different," I sighed. "Filming teens just feels. . . wrong."

Glen smiled while reaching over and grabbing my hand. "Keep in mind, they're usually adults playing teenagers. And if any of them give you a problem, just call me."

My heart sank. I've grown accustomed to seeing him, teasing him, eating with him every day. The idea of not seeing him every day killed me.

Little did I know that Glen felt the same.

* * * * *

We had three scenes left. We filmed the big ending first. On the last day of filming, we were focusing on the scenes leading up to the end. My heart was in my throat the entire time I filmed their final scene.

I followed behind Zoey, waiting for her to notice Glen waiting outside the office.

"If I spend too much time on Gilda in the beginning, people will know that she's gonna die. Let her death be a twist. Hold off until after Harry wins his first med. . ."

Zoey stopped midsentence when she noticed Glen outside. Glen turned around and instantly had the perfect expression on his face. Zoey stopped recording herself and opened the door. One of the camera assistants snuck behind her and held the door open for me as I followed her outside.

He came off slightly nervous as she walked up to him and stood across from him. My camera was directly behind Zoey, and all its focus was on Glen. All of my focus was on Glen.

"Hi," Zoey recited.

"Hi," Glen responded.

Zoey looked to the side before turning back to Glen and asking him, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, Kirsten told me to meet her. What are you doing here?"

"Oh my.  . ." Zoey laughed as they acted to figure it out.

"She Cyrano'd us," Glen caught on.

"Yes, she. . ."

"I Googled it," Glen said. "So, I know what it means now."

Zoey sighed as she put the box she was holding and her bags down before turning back to Glen. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I don't work here anymore. I quit working for Rick. Starting over. At 28. Actually, I'm a temp, which is technically lower on the totem pole than an assistant, which is kind of a kick in the nuts. But it's, um, kind of cool. I get to see a bunch of different jobs. Find out what I actually like." Glen paused before adding the monologue I knew would make girls 15-35 swoon over him. "I like you. So, so much. You're not hard to get at all. You're hard to earn. It's so much better."

"You displayed a total lack of character when it mattered."

"I know."

"Charlie," Zoey continued, "you have the romantic and sexual personality of a seventh-grader."

"Seventh?" Glen asked, immediately lifting the mood. "I feel like it'd be at least high school."

"You wear suits to sports games."

"What?" Glen paused, acting like he was confused but slowly caught on. "You're a know-it-all."

"You are unbelievably bad at beer pong."

"You're a sore winner. And you use too many exclamation points."

As they continued to banter, I could feel myself falling harder and harder for this man. And it wasn't because of his character. It was because he was just like this in real life. I should know. We banter all the time.

But our banter doesn't end the way theirs does.

"And yet. . ." Zoey didn't finish.

Glen grabbed her hand and slightly pulled her toward him. He leaned down and kissed her. I watched, my heart breaking as Zoey wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. The assistant gently tapped my elbow, reminding me that I was supposed to lift the camera above them, tilting it up to see New York.

"And cut!" Claire yelled. I looked over to see Glen and Zoey pull apart. Glen looked at me, but I quickly looked away.

I handed the camera to my assistant and grabbed a water bottle at the snack table. I let out a shaky breath as I opened the bottle and drank.

"So," Glen elongated as he walked up to me, "on a scale of 1 to bleehh, how cringy was I in that scene?"

"You were great," I said without turning around. "You're always great."

"Are you okay?" He grabbed my elbow and turned me toward him.

"I'm fine," I shrugged.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking at me in a way that made me melt.

I could tell him that I wasn't fine. I could tell him that I didn't want the movie to end. I could tell him that I was terrified that we'd never see each other again. I could tell him that the thought of not working together made me want the ground to open up and swallow me up.

"Of course," I said, my voice dropping. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he stuttered. "I just feel like the last couple of days, you've been. . . off."

"Off?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I just meant that you've been in your head more than usual."

"I'm fine," I answered quickly. "I always get a little 'in my head' when I'm wrapping up a movie. It's hard to say goodbye to everyone. It's the worst part of working on movies. You get incredibly close to someone and then you never see them again."

We suddenly fell into silence as we stared at each other. I should tell him how much I'm going to miss him. It was on the tip of my tongue, but something stopped me. I'm not sure why I couldn't spit it out.

Glen opened his mouth to say something, but he was called to set. He sent me an apologetic look, and quickly kissed my cheek, before walking away. As he walked away, an answer to my earlier question popped into my head.

I couldn't tell him how much I was going to miss him because of one simple fact; I'm just a camera woman and he's a famous actor.

* * * * *

After filming the last scene, we still had a few scenes to film. Throughout filming, I noticed Glen acting weird. It felt like he was avoiding me. I went over and over our last interaction, trying to figure out if I said something that made him uncomfortable.

I stood behind the bar, my camera focused on Zoey. She typed for a little before stopping and slowly smiling.

"I finished," she mumbled. "I finished. The whole article. I finished it! From beginning to end."

I smiled softly as she grabbed chips, stood up, and spun around. She stopped when the waiter walked over with two plates of food.

"I finished it. I finished the whole thing," she repeated. "You, sir, are a hero and scholar, and are about to receive the greatest tip in the history of the service industry."

She turned around and started shuffling through her bag. "Okay. Technically, I don't have my wallet on me. Tomorrow. . ."

"Leave this place and never return," the waiter cut her off.

As the waiter walked away, Zoey smiled. She put her hands to her head and whispered, "I did it."

"And that's a cut for Zoey!" Claire yelled. "Let's switch sets and film Glen's last scene. Y/N, you ready?"

I looked over at her and saw Glen over her shoulder. "Of course," I said, trying to sound normal.

"The battery good?" She asked.

"All good."

"Great!" She said, clapping her hands together. "Let's wrap this up."

I made eye contact with Glen again but quickly looked away. I hated this. I hated this feeling in my stomach. I hated this awkward, confusing tension between us.

After lunch, the set was now ready for one of Glen's last scenes. We had to reschedule due to some issues with Pete's comedy schedule. When I walked onto set, Glen was already in position. We made eye contact again and I instantly broke it.

"Alright," Claire said, "Glen's in position. Y/N's in position."

My face burned when Glen looked at me and smiled. I looked away and focused on the camera.

"Action!"

I filmed him scrolling on his computer for a few seconds before Taye knocked on the door. Glen stood up and I followed him down the makeshift hallway. I stepped behind him as he answered the door.

"Cut!"

I looked over at Claire confused. "Stanley," she sighed to the other camera operator who was behind Taye, his camera focused on Glen. "Your angle is wrong. Can we switch the two of you?"

"Switch?" I stuttered.

"Yeah," Claire shrugged. "You do better with angles. Plus, you and Glen are closer in height so it's not as slanted."

"Oh," I said, clearing my throat. "Sure."

I took my camera off my shoulder and blushed when Glen moved aside. Stanley and I switched positions. I was now behind Taye and focused on Glen.

"Perfect," Claire smiled. "And action."

"Hey," Taye said, slightly awkwardly.

"What do you want?" Glen asked harshly.

"You live here? It's disgusting." Taye scowled. Glen scoffed as he started to close the door. Taye quickly stopped him. "Hold up. Hold up, hold up. I'm sorry. I just. . . I, uhh. . . I need some information on, um, my wife. My ex-wife."

"Like what?"

"Uhh. . ." Taye hesitated as he opened a small notepad and looked through it. "I got some written down here. Uh, assorted favorites, as in, uh, favorite foods, flowers, clothing. . ."

"Are you serious?" Glen scoffed.

"Look," Taye sighed, "I realize I should know this. But you used to do all this stuff for me. I want her back."

Glen hesitated, slowly sighing. "I have an old Kiki file. I'll send it over to you."

Taye let out the breath he was holding. He did a small fist pump as he recited, "Thank you. Thank you."

"Yeah," Glen sighed.

"Thank you," Taye said again. "I really appreciate this."

I stepped aside as Pete walked up.

"Rick," he said loudly, making Taye jump. Pete turned to Glen and asked, "You still work for this guy?"

"Nope," Glen chuckled.

I held my breath as Pete threw his cup of iced coffee on Taye. He walked by him, stopping in the doorway as he said, "It's soy. Nice seeing you, Rick."

Pete did a small salute before leaving. Glen started to follow him.

"Bye, Rick," he said as he slammed the door.

"Perfect! Much better. Thank you, Y/N."

I nodded as I took my camera off my shoulder. My assistant took the camera and noticed my shirt.

"Do you want me to. . ."

"I'm fine, Wes." I cut him off. I looked up to see Glen walking out of the apartment.

"Did Pete get you?" Glen asked, instantly scanning my shirt. "I told him to be careful."

"I'm fine," I brushed off. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked away.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," Claire smiled, "that is a wrap on Set It Up!"

Everyone started to applaud. Without looking at Glen, I turned and started walking off set.

"Y/N!" Kelley, the makeup girl, ran to catch up to me. "You coming to the bar tonight? Apparently, Claire rented it out for the wrap-up party."

Just then, Glen walked by. Of course.

"Oh," I said slowly. "I. . . I don't know. I'm kinda tired."

"Come on, Y/N," she whined. She turned around and smirked. "Oh, Glen!"

"Kelley," I said through my teeth. "Don't. . ."

"What's up?" Glen asked as he walked over to us.

"Y/N's trying to wimp out on us," she said, her whole voice dripping with tattle-tale venom.

"I am not," I said quickly.

"Yes, she is," she corrected. "Anyway, I can't get her to come. But maybe you can. Convince her."

"Kelley," I said through my teeth.

"You're really not coming?" He asked me. He looked over at me, the look of hope in his eyes causing my heart to do several flips.

"I'm not sure," I stuttered.

"Well," he smiled, "I hope you do."

I couldn't help but hold my breath as I waited for him to leave. Once he did, Kelley elbowed me in the ribs.

"Ow!" I gasped.

"Okay," she said, turning toward me and crossing her arms over her chest. "What's with you? You two are usually constantly bantering and teasing each other. This last week, you've been weird. Spill."

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I wish I knew."

* * * * *

After spending hours putting together different outfits, I finally walked into the bar.

"Damn, girl!" Kelley giggled when she saw me. I blushed as she ran over to me and made me spin around. "You. Look. Gorgeous!"

"Thanks," I said pushing her away. Something over my shoulder caught her eye.

"And I'm not the only one who noticed," she said in a sing-songy voice. I looked over my shoulder to see Glen across the room, smiling at me. I sent him a smile before turning away. I grabbed Kelley's hand and led her to the bar.

"If I'm going to get through this," I said under my breath, "I'm gonna need a stiff drink. Very stiff."

About an hour later and after a few drinks, Kelley and I were leaning against the bar.

"I just don't get it," she sighed.

"Get what?"

"You and Glen."

"There's nothing to get," I scoffed. "I'm just me. A nobody who spends her life filming other people instead of doing anything with her life."

"So?" Kelley shrugged.

"So," I elongated. "He's Glen Powell, Hollywood's Heartthrob. Why would he want to be with me? I'm not anyone special."

"Maybe to him," she said slowly, "you're more than just a nobody. Maybe to him, you are special."

"Yeah, right."

"Come on, Y/N," Kelley sighed. "You have been crazy about him since we started filming. Why don't you think he might be crazy about you too?"

"Do I need to spell it out?" I asked bitterly. "I'm a nobody. Glen could do a whole lot better. But, who cares? The movie is over. He'll get another job and so will I. We won't see each other every day. He'll find another girl to make her fall head over heels in love with him while I suffer in my lonely silence."

"You might want to. . ." She said, pointing behind me.

"Glen," I gasped when I turned around and there he was. "What are you. . . How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough," he shrugged with his heart-stopping smile. Kelley gave me a not-so-subtle push toward Glen as she walked away. Her push made me bump into him, causing him to catch me.

"You okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," I said, stepping back. "Look, about what I said. . ."

"It's okay."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's not. I know we. . ."

"I like you." I held my breath as Glen paused. "So, so much."

"You what? You sure you're not just reciting yours and Zoey's final scene."

"I'm not rehearsing anything. I want to be around you every second of every minute of every day," he said, taking a step closer to me. "I want to take you on dates and spend my money on you until I have no more money left to spend on you. I want to hold your hand, hold you, until I lose the ability to feel. I want to kiss you until my lips are numb. I want to be the first thing you think about every morning you wake up and the last thing you think about every night before you go to sleep. I want to love everything you have grown to hate about yourself. But mostly, I just want you, Y/N."

He pulled me into his chest, leaned down, and pressed his lips to mine. My heart felt like it was jumping into my throat as I slowly started to kiss him back. Our lips moved in sync as he pulled me closer. We broke apart when neither one of us could breathe.

"See?" He whispered. "All I want is you."

[thepenguinweeb]

[ ♡ F. F. x reader : dating headcanons ]

[ ♡ A/N: Ahhh okay I know I'm supposed to be working on request but the feminine urge to write for my fav they/them was too STRONG. Just finished rewatching Stone Ocean soo yk. Enjoy some silly headcanons about dating F. F. ]

Dividers by @/rookthorneartistry <3

- SO to start off, F. F. still hasn't really gotten used to human culture

- They say and do things that a normal person wouldn't say, which can be a bitttt of an issue

- You love your girlfriend, you really do, but man do you wish they didn't start a fight every time someone got too close to their drink

- You taught them how to dance. Now it's a habit that whenever it rains, F. F. gleefully drags you out into the courtyard to dance with you

- F. F. loooves gossiping and shit-talking, especially if it concerns Anasui. Even better if you join in

─ "I can't believe him.. like, who does he think he is?! The bastard thinks Jolyne will marry him just.. because? And he's soo bossy.. treats me like I work for him, or something! I'm so over it!"

- Yapper girlfriend for sure. They absolutely love talking to you about anything and everything that crosses their mind and go on unneccesarily long rambles about the most random topics

- In addition though, they also love to hear you talk and ramble. They will sit and listen with the brightest look on their face as you tell them about your interests or favorite things. Definitely asks a lot of questions about them, too. They just genuinely want to learn about the things that make you happy!

- You had to be the one to teach them how to kiss.. that went about as well as you'd imagine

- I feel like they'd be a very jealous type - not because they don't trust you, but because they genuinely can't tell the difference between someone flirting with you or just asking for directions

─ "Ugh, that girl really had the audacity to flirt with my partner? I'll go on and have a little chat--"

─ "Foo, honey, she was just asking where her friend was."

- They like to play games with you and Jolyne a lot. Not catch though, never again

- Ermes tricks them into saying the cheesiest and cringiest pick-up lines ever to 'try it out' on you, then proceeds to die of laughter as you look on in confusion

─ "Hey- Hey Y/N! Are you trash? Because I'd love to take you out!"

─ "...F. F., what the hell."

- You promised them that when the two of you get out of Green Dolphin, you'll take them to a an aquarium. They were overjoyed at having an opportunity to learn more about aquatic creatures like themselves.

[codabound]

Rating Leasebound Characters #4: QT Collective

Finally at my favorite batch of characters! Starting off strong...

Brick Abbott! 10/10. I love this green haired loud little bastard. I know the intention with their character was that they're meant to be obnoxious and pushy, but I honestly love them for it. Need more of this little asshole, they're great.

While Blaire is my beautiful wife, can't forget about my darling husband, Eli Samson! 10/10. The blue hair, the black dress, the make-up, god, he's an absolute slay. Just the sweetest boy.

Up next, we have Kai Franklin! 9.5/10. Once again, another dashing slay in this squad. The only reason I take points off is due to his incredibly weird portrayal of "selective mutism" that Rusty has written him with, in which he actively doesn't talk to cisgender women. Really weird, not even remotely realistic, and once again, seems almost mocking of anxiety and selective mutism which is odd given Rusty is capable of writing a character who has selective mutism without being off about it. Either way, love Kai.

Jasper Runmill, 7.5/10. Not a fan of their hair, it's just not a vibe. I think it’s the bangs and the sideburns. While it can definitely work as a hairstyle, it just doesn't for Jasper. Other than that, I think they're pretty great. Love their fashion, and I honestly wish they would get together with Kai if Rusty didn't write Kai to be in a predatory relationship.

Clancy Robinson. 5/10. Gonna be real, something about Clancy is just really off to me. I'm uncertain if it's just the way that Rusty draws them, or just what exactly it is about them, but they just put me off. It also may be because of Rusty's weird infantilizing portrayal of them, or that little mini comic starring them that mocks asexuality, but I just can't bring myself to like them in their entirety.

And last but not least, Madame President Babygirl. 9.5/10. Rusty made this woman to be a predatory trans woman, and yet she ended up failing miserably at making me hate her. The points off are for the obvious, actively trying to portray her as a predator/r*pist, and with that weird terf addition out of the way, she's just so hilarious in her portrayal that I can't help but love her. I especially love her cursive talk, it's great. Would be a 10/10 if she was written by somebody else.

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part III

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 4,737

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part three of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

Part Two

——————————————————————————————————

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, “Dear friend, what can I do

To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you?

I have within my pantry good store of all that’s nice;

I’m sure you’re very welcome—will you please to take a slice?”

You stare up at the brick building in front of you, a scowl etched onto your face. This is ridiculous. Why the hell are you here? Just because of a measly threat?

You flash back to that day in the kitchen, the cheeriness of Leland’s voice as he talked about how easy it’d be to flat-out murder Betty and hide the body. The memory of it makes you shudder. As upbeat as Leland had been, he had left little doubt that he was capable of doing such a thing. You couldn’t risk it…at least, not yet.

But Betty’s leaving this weekend to go to her parents. So all you have to do is fake it through this single appointment, make Leland believe you’ll be back, figure out why he’s so obsessed with you in the first place, and then you can be out of here. Easy enough, right? 

You’d done so much research on him but turned up nothing. He set up his practice a few years ago, but there’s nothing else on Leland Townsend. No court records, no social media, no newspaper articles. It’s like he didn’t exist until a few years ago, and that bothers you in a way that you’re not quite sure how to articulate. Who the fuck is this guy?

The mental image of him licking his blood off of his finger pops into your brain, and you feel yourself flush before you can banish it. We are not attracted to that, you tell yourself. He’s a psychopath and we’re gonna get the hell outta here the second our stupid appointment is over.

You suck in a deep breath, glance down at your green shirt and blue jeans, and head towards the door. Your breath quickens with each step closer the door, and you despise the trepidation that fills your veins with adrenaline. You have your phone ready to record in your pocket, and you’ve got a bottle of pepper spray easily reachable in your other pocket. You’ve timed yourself to see how quickly you can get to it and spritz it right in the bastard’s face if he lunges for you again.

It occurs to you that you’re willingly putting yourself into what could be a very, very dangerous situation, but what else can you do?

Besides, you can’t deny that you’re intrigued to know why he’s so fixated on you, so desperate to have you as a client. 

The interior of the building is white. Very white, almost blindingly so. It makes you feel exposed, naked. Would a painting on the walls really be so bad?

Then again, you suspect that it’s intentional, meant to evoke that feeling that you’re being watched. You wonder if you should’ve worn something more neutral to lessen that feeling. Maybe next time, you think, then shudder. No, there won’t be a next time. Where had that come from?

You’re led down a hallway with glass windows, all of which have blinds hiding their interiors. You stop when you see the brass plaque on the door that says LELAND TOWNSEND. You glower at the name before stepping into the room, your heart racing. Leland isn’t in there; you’re left alone. You glance around. It’s just as white as the rest of the building, save for the grey couch, the grey chairs, and the black desk. Even the carpet is grey and bland. There’s a painting on the wall behind Leland’s desk, an abstract of blue, black, and white with splashes of red that adds to your internal disquiet, though you’d be hard pressed to explain why. In one of the corners of the painting is a strange symbol that you study for a moment before turning back to the rest of the room.

The couch is probably where Leland expects you to sit. Like hell. Then there’s the two chairs that face each other, but which one? They both look the same, so you can’t make a guess as to which one he prefers. 

There’s another option: his desk. It’d be a hell of a power move, wouldn’t it?

You sit in the swivel chair behind his desk and, after a few seconds of consideration, prop up your feet on his desk as well. There’s a closed laptop that you’re tempted to open, but you have no clue when he’s going to appear, and it’s best if you don’t do anything too suspicious. Your palms are sweaty, and you hate how your body is betraying your nerves. You wipe the clammy digits onto your jeans and take in a fortifying breath, counting the beats as you breathe in and out. You will not allow this man to scare you. You are the one who scares, not the other way around. You will not be afraid of Leland; it is Leland who should be afraid of you.

The seconds tick by, then minutes. You don’t allow yourself to think of how long you’ve been waiting—you’ve employed this strategy before. Making people wait to catch them off guard is an old trick, one that has often given you excellent reactions when done to the right people. Instead, you study the space, memorize every detail of it, no matter how pointless it might seem. You make plans for what you’ll do if Leland tries to physically attack you, how you’ll use the sparse furniture to take cover, how you’ll use the lamp to knock him unconscious if you need to. He will not get the best of you.

You also go over the possible ways you can scare him. You have little information, but you’ve made that work before. How many times have you gotten back at Betty’s exes, or Taylor’s, or Marina’s? In college, you were a pro at this, and you’ve only gotten better with practice.

You still jump when the door opens at last, and you mentally chastise yourself for it. Leland walks in, an apologetic look on his face. It falters momentarily when he sees where you’re sitting, and you wonder how he’ll react, but all he does is blinks before striding forward. “(Y/N)!” he greets with a smile. “I’m glad you made it this time!”

You return his smile with one of your own. “Yeah. It’s amazing how well threats work at motivating people to be on time. More people should try that,” you deadpan as you raise your eyebrows at him. 

Leland steps further into the room, the door closing loudly behind him. He eyeballs you in the chair. “That’s my desk,” he comments. 

You flash him a smirk. “I don’t see your name on it,” you reply as you shift so that your legs are pointed at him. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it says what it needs to. You see a flicker of annoyance cross Leland’s face as you fold your hands over your stomach and fix your eyes on him. “Aren’t you gonna sit, Doctor?”

He angles his head at you, considering his options, then he rotates the chair nearest the desk so that he can face you and sits in it. “Whatever works for you,” he mutters, and you feel your smirk widen. He’s not on edge or anything, but you’ve managed to mildly inconvenience him, and you’ll take that as a small win for now. “So…(Y/N)…let’s talk.”

“About what?”

Leland shrugs as he leans back into the couch. “Whatever you want,” he replies.

“Why am I here?”

“Except that.”

You purse your lips at him. “Are you stalking me or something?”

“I just said we’re not talking about that.”

You sit up in the chair in annoyance, moving your feet back to the floor. The chair squeaks with the movement. “Yes, we are,” you insist. “You went through all the trouble of getting me here, so you’re gonna tell me why the hell you care so much.”

Leland scoffs as he looks away from you in derision. “I don’t care about you,” he replies snidely. “I care about what you’ve done, what you’re capable of, but not you.”

“I seem to recall you saying we could do great things together.” You don’t look away from his face. “You were pretty damn adamant on that particular detail.”

His lips come together in a pinched smile as he looks back at you, but he’s not really looking at you as much as he is sneering. “And I maintain that position. But make no mistake, it doesn’t mean I care about you. If you wanna jump off a building or shoot yourself in the head just to spite me, I won’t lose any sleep over it.”

Well, that’s a bit extreme. You hate the guy but that just seems like giving in too easily. You value yourself far too much for that. “Alright. Guess we’re not talking, then, and this is a waste of time.” You don’t rise from the chair, though. If he wants to waste your time, then you’ll waste his by sitting here and saying nothing. This appointment should end at 6, and you’ll get up then. You put your feet back up on the desk, though you’re careful not to knock any of his things over.

Leland allows you to sit in petulant silence for a grand total of one minute and fifteen seconds before he starts again. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Nope,” you reply, popping the ‘p’.

“Why not?”

You don’t deign to answer. He’s goading you, and you’re not gonna fall for it. You look away from him but keep him in your peripheral just in case, your hand lingering near the pocket with the pepper spray.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Talk to me. Tell me about yourself, who you are, what you want in life.” He gives you a toothy grin. “Tell me your desires.”

You hate the way he drags out that word, mainly because it once again reminds you of him licking the blood off of his finger. “I desire to get the fuck away from you,” you snap before your traitorous body can blush at the memory. “I desire to leave this place knowing you’re gonna leave me and my friend alone.”

“Come on, there must be something you want to talk about. Something that’s weighing you down, something that’s pissing you off, something that’s making you feel…something.” Leland makes a little motion with his hands.

“I believe I just told you something that I wanted, something that makes me feel something,” you reply, irritated. “I want you far away from me and Betty.”

“Why?”

“You know why!” Dammit, he’s managing to pull the words out of you. You gotta shut up now before he gets anything else. “

“We could talk about Jordan.”

“Uhm, how about fuck no?”

“Ryan? Matthew?” He leans forward. “Brittany?” He raises an eyebrow at your ex-girlfriend’s name, but you have decided that no matter what names he drops, you’re gonna remain impassive. You’re the one with the power here, not Leland. It may be his space, but you can control how you react to him, and if that’s the only thing you can control, then by God, you’re gonna act nonchalant.

He blinks and purses his lips, clearly annoyed that you’re refusing to respond. Good, you think. Maybe he’ll call it quits early.

This time, the silence lasts a little bit longer. Maybe as long as four minutes—Leland seems like he’s content to let you sit, and you’re content to let him marinate in his annoyance. The next time he speaks, he says, “Maybe we should start on something simpler. Find some common ground. Liiiiiike…what’s your favorite scary movie?”

What is this, Scream? you think with some amusement. You’re tempted to respond, but you know that if you do, he’ll just ask you another question. And another, and another, and then the next thing you’d know, you’d be talking up a storm. 

“I’m personally prone to movies with the occult. They can be a little unrealistic at times, but sometimes, they get their stuff right! I mean, just look at Event Horizon! I hate when they try to make horror movies some sort of commentary on morality, though. Look at Saw, for example. Great moments. And what kinda movies do we have nowadays? A Quiet Place. That new M. Night Shyamalan movie.” He sighs. “We’ve forgotten what it means to really scare people, what it means to keep them up all night.”

Okay, this is weird, because you kind of agree with him. Some of the latest scary movies haven’t been meaningfully scary—they’ve been gory, but gore is pointless when it’s used for shock value. But there have been others in recent years that you enjoyed, and you open your mouth to point those films out, but then you catch him watching you, the light reflecting off of his glasses, and you slam your mouth shut.

Dammit, he almost got me there.

Leland looks like he’s waiting for your response, but you bite your tongue to hold back from everything you want to say, and you’re rewarded with a look of disappointment. You wait just long enough for him to look away from you in exasperation before you finally talk.

“What do you want from me?” you try again. “Why are you trying so hard to get to me? I’m not special.”

“No, you’re right. You’re not special at all,” he agrees lackadaisically, and his words are like a stab in the gut. For a therapist, he has no bedside manner at all. Then again, can you really be surprised by that? “I’m…investigating, I guess. Evaluating.” His face twists into a sneer. “Though I have no clue why they’d choose you when there’s much better candidates out there.”

“Who are ‘they’?” you ask before you can stop yourself, and you grimace because you know Leland wanted you to ask that.

He gives you a strange smile. “You’ve been noticed by some very important people, (Y/N). They’re intrigued by you and no matter how much I’ve tried to tell them otherwise, that you’re just a regular ole human, they insisted on this…” he waves his hand at the office. “And I’m not gonna defy them and risk the consequences just ‘cause some stupid little bitch wants to try and make me miserable.”

“You suck as a therapist, dude,” you reply as you cross your arms. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to refer to clients as bitches.”

“I call it as I see it,” he says with another shrug. His glasses slide down his nose just a hair and you can see the remnants of the cut from your headbutt. The sight makes you smirk without meaning to, and he notices it. “What?”

You shake your head, but the smirk remains steady. “Nothing,” you say. 

Leland gives you a thoughtful look, then reaches up to his nose, his finger lightly tracing the cut. “You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot. This isn’t working.” He stands, and you tense as he takes a step towards you, towards his desk. “Get out of my chair.”

“No.”

He glares down at you. “Get. Out. Of. My. Chair.”

You don’t take your eyes away from him. Your fingers dance over the pepper spray, ready to whip it out and spray him right in those beautiful eyes of his. “Make me.”

He’s closer now, right at the edge of his desk, his knuckles grazing the smooth wooden edge. “Is this really the silly hill you want to die on right now?”

You raise your eyebrows innocently. “Someone’s dying on this hill, and it isn’t gonna be me.”

There’s a flash of amusement on his face before he places his palms flat on the desk and leans down, possibly hoping to convince you to move by invading your personal space. He hasn’t done anything aggressive, but he’s almost close enough that you’re willing to spray him anyways. You just need to egg him on a liiiiiittle bit more. “Do you really think you can take me on?” he asks. The words come out slow, dramatic, a challenge.

You bat your lashes. “Hell yeah,” you reply, and when he inches his face closer, you’re ready. You practiced for a reason, after all, and he needs to learn a lesson about messing with you. You flick the cap off with your hand, suck in a deep breath, and raise the other arm to block your own eyes from any spray-back, and then you hold the trigger down, blasting him with a solid jet of the stuff.

Leland jerks back, but it’s too late—your aim had been pretty true due to his proximity, and his eyes squeeze shut immediately as he lets out a strangled yelp of pain. He gropes at his eyes with one hand while reaching for you with the other, but it’s easy enough to avoid his flailing hand and duck under the desk as he thunks into it. You dive around his legs, giving him a kick in the back of the knee for good measure, which sends him into the table again. The table flips, everything on it sliding off and crashing to the ground, including Leland.

You should make for the door, but you linger, wanting to relish the angry pants coming from him, the rapid floundering as he tries to grab you again. He can’t see you, which only makes it more fun as you tilt or skip away from him. He’s pulled himself back to his feet now, but he can’t still see you at this point. It’s kinda hilarious, in all honesty.

Your throat burns with the taste of the pepper spray, but the Internet had warned you about that, so you’d been wise enough to hold your breath for as long as possible while you got away from Leland. Your reaction is minor compared to his, even if your eyes are stinging and watering as well. At least you can still see. You’re backed against the wall opposite the couch now, the door in easy reach when you’re ready to ditch the scene.

“God! What the hell was that for?!” he yells at you as he spins around in search of you. His face is red and puffy, his eyes are swollen shut and streaming, and his glasses are propped up as he angrily swipes at his face. 

You’d feel a little bad for the guy if he hadn’t, you know, threatened to murder your best friend a week ago. 

Your throat is irritated, even though you’re away from him, and you can’t conceal the cough that’s scratching at your throat. It escapes, and Leland’s head whips towards you. “You little bitch!” he growls, and you actually feel a pinprick of fear at the fury in his voice. “That was extremely fucking uncalled for!”

You shrug, even as you cough again. “Then maybe you should leave me the fuck alone!”

“I can’t!”

You roll your eyes, causing a tear to trickle down your face, but you ignore it. “Can’t or won’t?!”

His mouth is wrenched into a grimace, but he’s facing you, even if he’s not able to look at you. “Alright, so it’s a little bit of both,” he admits, and his honesty is so startling that you snort.

You’re about 90% sure he’s not a threat to you currently, which is the only reason you’re still here. It’s also strange how much the pepper spray doesn’t seem to really bother him. If anything, he seems humored by it. “Well, I don’t give a shit about what your bosses say or whatever. Leave me alone.”

Leland takes a stumbling step towards you. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” you warn, retrieving the pepper spray again. “You can’t see it, but I’ve got more spray and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He freezes. Cocks his head at you. And then he laughs, of all things. “Oh, (Y/N), you’re feisty. That’s fun. I am definitely gonna enjoy breaking you down.” He forces his eyes to open. They’re red and squinty, and there’s still fresh tears dripping down his face. His glasses are off, and he’s cleaning them as best as he can with a microfiber cloth that he produced out of what seems like nowhere. It’s a bit scary to see him still up and moving and so calm. “Starting with your little friend Betty.”

You glare at him. “You stay away from her.”

“Oh, I’m gonna have such a good time with her, too. You know, I think she was kinda into me when we met last week.” Leland’s voice has a mocking tone to it, dangerous and almost…seductive. “She was batting her eyelashes and shoving her breasts in my face every chance she got. No wonder she’s got all those guys coming after her—she’s a hottie ripe for the picking, if you know what I mean.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, but you’re not focused on that right now. It’s hard to be scared when you’re angry. “Don’t fucking touch her,” you hiss.

“I’m gonna seduce her just to piss you off, and then after we’ve had wild sex—‘cause you just know she’s into that kinda stuff—I’m gonna strangle her in her sleep and leave her naked body in the bed for you to discover in the morning.”

You’re seeing red now. How dare he talk about her like that—about sleeping with her and murdering her—how darehe! You lunge at him, forgetting the spray is still in your hands, but he’s ready—he grabs you by the shoulders and slams you up against the wall before you can remember the spray even exists. You cry out as your back and head hit the wall with enough force to make you dizzy. Your hand struggles to get to the nozzle again, and he uses one arm to pin you in place while the other grabs your wrist and twists it until you drop the canister. Then he twists it a little more until you cry out again. “I’m only gonna say this once, (Y/N),” he says, his voice low and menacing. “You’re not in charge here—I am, and you’d better realize it if you want your friend to stay alive.”

“Fuck you,” you spit back at him. You try to shove yourself at him in a poor attempt to knock him off-balance, but he just chuckles.

Your ears are still ringing from the way your head slammed into the wall. You fight the pain, but he’s won and he fucking knows it. “You know, usually this kinda thing is a turn on for me, but right now, it’s just plain irritating.”

That bastard, you manage to think through the haze of agony. Your face is hot with embarrassment. You want nothing more than to punch him, slap him, bite him, but you’re stuck. “What the fuck do you want?” you snarl.

“Cooperation,” Leland purrs. “I want your cooperation.”

You want him off of you, but he’s bigger and he’s still pinning you in place. “Let me go.”

“Are you gonna try to hit me?”

“No,” you lie.

Leland scoffs. “Make me believe it.”

You gather everything you have, using pain and rage as fuel. “I won’t try to hit you,” you say through gritted teeth.

Leland squints at you, then takes his weight off of you. You don’t give him a moment to react before you’re swinging at him, your fingers curved to scratch his cheeks. All of that agony, all of that fury propels your hand forward, but he must’ve sensed that you were lying because he side-steps your hand and you stumble forward. He spins, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the small of your back. In a frustratingly fluid movement, he shoves you and sticks out a foot at the same time, sending you crashing to the floor. “Fuck!” you exclaim as your forehead smashes into the edge of the couch, winding a fresh wave of pain across your head.

You roll yourself over to fix your eyes on Leland, who’s now towering above you and chortling. “That’s more like it!” he says with a wide grin.

You sit there in a heap on the floor, staring up at him, flabbergasted and scared. Good God, why the hell is he laughing?

Unexpectedly, he extends his hand to you. You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve got a concussion or you’re afraid of what he might do if you reject it, so you reach up and let Leland pull you up. Your forehead is gonna have a bruise later, your ears are still ringing, but he looks just as bad—if not worse, after tumbling into his own desk. His face is still red, though it’s fading fast, and while his eyes are still puffy, they’re focused on you with enough intensity to make you squirm.

“How come you never fought off any of the exes like that, huh?”

“What?” you ask dumbly.

Leland shrugs like you didn’t just try to attack him. “You never attacked any of the guys like this. You used other methods instead. How come?”

“Uhm.” You don’t know what to say. You two just had a scuffle and now he’s chatting amicably, like the fight put him in a better mood? “Because it’s not as fun?” It’s the only answer that comes to mind right now.

“You’re gonna tell me that none of that was fun?” He waggles an eyebrow and you’re even more confused now than you were five seconds ago. “You wanna tell me that you didn’t enjoy any of that? You didn’t like lying to me and then lunging at me? You didn’t like letting that anger, that temper of yours take over?”

You feel your forehead scrunch. It hurts, provoking a grimace from you. “I mean…no?” But that’s not entirely true, is it? You did enjoy it. You liked striking out at him, liked the feeling of submitting to your rage and letting it take hold of your body. It was almost freeing. Usually, you channeled your anger into the psychological attacks, but this physicality was…satisfying in a completely different way.

“Oh, come on, don’t lie to me.” His face is more pink than red, and he doesn’t seem bothered by the residual pepper spray at all anymore. “This is a safe space, after all. You can tell me how it really made you feel.”

“I—,” but you’re hit by a wave of embarrassment and shame. This was not how you worked at all. Everything that had just happened was a direct result of him goading you, nothing more than that. You weren’t a physically violent person. “It’s not my style,” you say instead.

God, your head hurts. 

“Stop worrying about how you’re supposed to feel and start acknowledging how you really feel,” Leland says, and there’s just something about the way he says it that chips at your resolve.

You want to tell him the truth, tell him how much you liked it. How much you wanted to watch him bleed again. How much you wanted to bite his hand until you broke the skin and then lick the blood off of him and—wait, what? Where the fuck did that come from? you wonder. Can concussions alter personalities?

“Tell me, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?”

“I feel like…” the words are slow to come out. You don’t want to admit it even though you do. “I feel like hitting you again,” you say at last. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s the closest you’re willing to say for now.

Leland’s face cracks into an eerie grin. “Good.” He looks behind him, his eyes no longer streaming, then sits down in the chair next to him and motions for you to sit on the couch. Stunned, you do so, unsure of what else you can do. “Let’s talk about that some more.”

“Oh, no, no,” said the little Fly, “kind sir, that cannot be!

I’ve heard what’s in your pantry and I do not wish to see.”

Part Four

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 4

Fic Masterlist

I couldn’t wait until Thursday to post under a prompt for Aelin Week, so be ready for a surprise by then hehe

P.S. this chapter is my baby be nice to it

Edit: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THIS HELLSITE ILY @aelinchocolatelover [plays parabéns da xuxa softly in the background] ❤️💛💕💓❤️

Warnings: light NSFW, language, swords, let me know if I missed something

Word count: 6,1k (Oops!… I did it again)

The only sound Aelin could hear was their heavy breaths and the AC running.

Rowan was draped over the couch by her side, head tilted up and naked as the day he was born. The way his pecs flexed and glistened because of his post-orgasm heavy breathing and sweat was absolutely maddening.

Aelin’s fingertips were about to become calloused from the amount of times she ran them over his rock-hard abs.

It became a routine, pretending she was leaving base like everyone else at the end of the day, then turning around when no one would notice. She didn’t know if Rowan was always waiting for her or if he just enjoyed working until late. Aelin didn’t care. What mattered is that he was always at his office right after her classes were done, and she would always take advantage of it.

Aelin darted a glance at the watch Rowan kept on his wall. It was almost 11 pm.

She should’ve gone home to rest after having classes until nine, but Aelin was attached to this office like a magnet. Or to the man who stayed here. Rowan always had her so lost in his current Aelin often forgot she has a boyfriend waiting for her most days. Dorian didn’t seem to mind, though. With them having an open relationship, he was never lonely.

Around the third time Aelin came to Rowan’s office, there was a drawer with a lock and condoms inside. A short while after, he brought a small, but extra comfy couch, perfect for a post-orgasmic haze.

Aelin didn’t mind having sex on desks and walls for 10 weeks if it was with Rowan, but she liked this additional little touch.

It would be still the best sex she’s ever had, Aelin thought.

She hummed in delight, thinking about the way he tore her apart minutes ago in this couch.

Rowan lazily turned his head, making his gaze fall on her. What’re you thinking? His curious green eyes seemed to ask her.

“We still have time for a round three.”

He chuckled. “Insatiable.”

That single word sent a spark through her spine. Aelin had never been shy in bed, but things with Rowan were different. More intense. Something about him made her absolutely unleashed between these four walls, like wind spreading a wildfire.

They didn’t talk much, though. Too hungry for each other in the beginning and too tired from the day in the end, the only time they’d talk was between rounds.

“You’re not gonna wish me good luck?”

Every recruit needs to do a physical test by the end of their basic training, and Aelin’s would be tomorrow morning.

“You don’t need it.”

She grinned. “Because you trained me so well?”

Rowan did that thing where he tried not to smile, but the left corner of his lip tilted up anyway. “I think that goes without saying.”

“I disagree.” Aelin bit her lip, eyes full of mischief.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “I need more cardio.”

Rowan said nothing, but his eyes sparkled with the challenge. He got up from the couch, then laid on the ground for a second before bending his knees and elbows to raise his shoulders and hips.

In less than 10 seconds, the bastard got into a perfect yoga wheel pose.

“Show off,” Aelin grunted. His grin was so smug she wanted to punch it.

“Hop on.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. “You want me to ride your dick like this?”

“You said you needed cardio.”

The squat work she’d have to do fuck him like this. With nothing around for her to support herself. After fourteen hours of boot camp and two orgasms.

“Absolutely not!” She shrieked.

One look at her face was enough for Rowan to chuckle, the echos of his amusement not stopping while he smoothly landed on the floor.

Aelin’s shoulders relaxed in relief, but something dawned on her. Was Rowan Whitethorn teasing her?

“Not funny.” She crossed her arms. “Get back here. And stop showing off. You’re not even the yoga type!’”

“That’s prejudiced. Why am I not the yoga type?”

She squinted her eyes at him, but the bastard was still grinning. He knew she thought he wasn’t the yoga type because he’s a burly brute.

He shrugged and sat back on the couch by her side. “I go to a class on Sunday mornings. My roommate joins me when he’s not too hangover.”

I could go with you. The words were in the tip of her tongue, but Aelin held back.

She knew her place in a man’s life after fucking for 10 weeks without even being asked on a date. And she was happy with it. Rowan was an incredible fuck buddy, and she had a boyfriend already to take to yoga classes. But like Rowan’s roommate, she didn’t know if Dorian could stay a single Sunday morning without being hangover, either. Or still at a party.

Who liked yoga, anyway?

Trying to erase her own thoughts, Aelin turned to straddle Rowan in one swift motion. She did her best to not let her self-consciousness show. She had been exercising like crazy, but didn’t seem to lose any weight. In fact, she’s been feeling bloated for a while now.

Fuck, Aelin really needed to stop thinking.

Rowan began trailing kissed down her neck, making her softly moan and search with her hips for his hardened bulge.

“I want to fuck you here. No yoga shit.”

Aelin didn’t see it coming, his hand slapping her ass so hard it sent shivers through her body. The hand on her hair slid to her throat, gently squeezing it again when he commanded, “You take what I give you, and you’ll like it. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Aelin whimpered, and then moaned when he slid his cock between her folds to press against her clit.

It was so good it could be a crime, the way Rowan made her feel. How he knew exactly what to say in bed and every trick to make her scream.

Right now, this was exactly what she needed.

˜˜

Aelin kept telling herself that today’s test was a given, and that she could endure worse than this. Dorian kept telling her that it’s okay to be and act nervous before her test.

Truth was, fighting him and insisting she wasn’t edgy was very effective at distracting her from the real thing. Now that her boyfriend was waiting outside while she waited for her second physical test in the Air Force, it felt a lot more real.

It consisted of two parts, some bureaucratic blood tests and tox screens and then being cleared to do the actual test.

Aelin was on a row with the other people from her class, entering the room where it was going to happen, when someone stopped her.

“Wait there. Galathynius, right?” The flat and rough voice came from Captain Salvaterre, the coordinator of her program. He frowned at the clipboard and wrote something down before looking back at her. “You’re not cleared to do the physical test. You’ll get more info via email later.”

Aelin didn’t move. Eyes widened, mind blank. What the fuck just happened?

“Bye, Galathynius,” Salvaterre dismissed her.

“Wait,” Aelin blurted, mind still short-circuiting. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Don’t care either. The doctor didn’t clear you to do the exam, and now you’re holding up the line.”

Her eyebrows squished together. Why would the doctor do that? “Can I at least talk to them?”

“Look, I won’t let you bother the doctor just because you smoked some weed or whatever and got caught.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin hissed.

Salvaterre sighed. “Most people that fail this step do it because of the tox screen. I don’t give a fuck about what you do on your free time, just don’t bother the doctor over this shit. It’s done.”

“What? I don’t do drugs!”

He didn’t look convinced.

“I mean it.” Aelin raised an eyebrow. “I could be dying. I could die right now without knowing what’s wrong.”

Salvaterre rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

She followed his instructions to where to find the doctor, her mind racing all the time. Since it was their mistake, maybe she could reschedule the test. Sure, Aelin had been feeling tired and drained all the time, but it was because of her exhausting training. Apart from that, she knew she was on her prime. This was surely a mistake.

Aelin knocked three times at the door and went inside before the doctor could tell her to come in. If she did it fast enough, maybe there could be time for her to rejoin her class and do the test.

The doctor was a kind-looking older woman. Files, probably everyone’s exams surrounded her, but she looked calm in the middle of that chaos.

“Oh, hello, there!” She grinned. “How can I help you?”

She shook the doctor’s hand and rushed to sit on the chair in front of her. “Hi. My name’s Aelin Galathynius. I didn’t get cleared to do the physical test, so—“

“I’m on it.” She quickly found Aelin’s file and smiled when she opened it.

Aelin frowned. What was she smiling at?

”I couldn’t let you go in there, dear,” the doctor explained, “These tests are ruthless, especially when you’re new. All your exams look great, but it’s too physically straining and risky for any pregnant woman.“ She smiled. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Wait. No. I’m going there. What in—“

Wait a fucking minute

Did she say pregnant?

Aelin cleared her throat. “There must be something wrong. You’re sure this exam isn’t someone else’s?”

The woman handed her the paper, jaw dropped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“Holy shit,” Aelin interrupted, not really caring about anything else right now. Too stunned to remember that she was cursing at her soon-to-be workplace.

Her eyes were frozen on the same few lines.

PATIENT: AELIN ASHRYVER GALATHYNIUS

BETA HCG QUANTITATIVE

TEST VALUE: 91350 mIU/mL

P.S. POSITIVE

What the actual fuck?

Aelin just stared with a slack jaw, eyes glued to the paper.

Dorian had a vasectomy, and she only had unprotected sex once this year. Way more than once actually, but all on the same evening. Does Rowan have a vasectomy? Is he the vasectomy type?

For the first time of her life, Aelin cursed herself for not keeping good track of her period. She just marked the first day she bled on the app and forgot it existed until the next month.

Aelin snatched her phone from the purse, frantically opening the period app.

She felt the ground falling underneath her feet.

There were signs everywhere telling her period was late. Months late. The most neglected app on her phone had been trying to tell her the most important thing of her life for months.

Aelin sighed and held her head in her hands, trying to make sense of something she already knew was true. Her last period had been almost three months ago, a little before her unprotected sex with Rowan, at the very beginning of her training.

She cursed math for never lying.

Getting up, Aelin snapped a picture of the exam and gave it back to the doctor, mumbling a thick “Thanks, good morning.”

She walked that familiar path with no destination in mind. Aelin had nowhere to go now that she wasn’t doing the test. She tried to process this, but wasn’t processing nothing at all.

She was pregnant. Baby. Diapers. Cries. Big, big belly. Milk. Milk and money, actually. Babies required milk as much as they required money.

Money wasn’t an issue. At least Aelin was a doctor.

If she was keeping the baby, Aelin thought, but soon brushed it off. She wanted this. Twenty-seven isn’t too young to be a mom, right?

Fuck, she’s going to be a mom. No, not fuck. Good. This was good news. Scary too.

She also needed to move out. Uncle Orlon and Darrow never wanted kids, raising her and Aedion after Aelin’s parents died was enough on them. She didn’t want her kid to be a burden.

Her and Rowan’s. Way to go, being knocked up by a brute she barely knew.

Rowan did not look like the nurturing dad type, at least not by the way he acted around his students. Aelin cringed. Would he be too hard on her kid?

If he wanted the kid, she couldn’t forget. There was a good chance he won’t want the baby, considering that: (a) he’s a man, (b) their history, or lack thereof.

A hand wrapped around her elbow, making her jerk and go stiff.

It was just Dorian, though. Looking around, it looked like her aimless wandering led her to the room she left him in.

“That was quick,” her boyfriend said. “How was it?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“We need to talk,” Aelin blurted.

She pulled a confused-looking Dorian to his car until they were seated with the doors closed. She showed him the picture of the exam and waited for his answer. And waited. And waited until she was wriggling in her seat, trying to get a better look at his dumbfounded face.

“Wow,” he breathed, and turned to face her. “What are we doing about this?”

We.

That word alone almost broke her heart.

“You know it’s not yours, Dor.”

“It’s Hot Lieutenant’s?”

Aelin nodded.

He had a small, sad smile on his face. “But we’re a team, remember?”

She swallowed, chest constricting. God, this was hard. Aelin already knew what she had to do, but it didn’t make it any easy.

“We are, but this isn’t a quick fix. It’d mean no quiet time, no free time, vomit all over your expensive furniture…”

Dorian took a deep breath. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

Aelin nodded, clamping her lips together. “You don’t want to change your entire lifestyle for a kid that isn’t even yours, Dor.”

He didn’t answer. Just nodded, resigned. They knew they weren’t the one for each other, but that didn’t mean they wanted to break up now. The situation required, though. Aelin’s relationship with Dorian was based on fun and friendship, and throwing a baby in the mix wasn’t a good fit. Besides, he didn’t want a kid. He has a vasectomy for a reason.

Dorian cradled her face with both hands, looking her deep into her eyes. “I might not be your baby daddy, but I’m going to be the best damn uncle this kid will ever have, okay? I promise.” He brushed off a few rogue tears from her face. ”I love you, Aelin. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

Her hands wrapped around his torso, not caring that she was dampening his designer shirt with tears. “I love you, Your Magnanimous Holiness.” She felt his chest faintly shake with what would’ve been a full laugh any other time. “You’re still my best friend.”

Dorian kissed the crown of her head. “I better be. You’ll always be my best friend, Ace.”

They stayed a long time like this, Aelin taking deep breaths while he hugged her and played with her hair. It was nice, even with the bittersweet mood that lingered.

˜˜

Aelin woke up at her actual house this Saturday morning, which was odd. She usually spent weekends at Dorian’s, and even if they decided to stay friends after the breakup, she needed time alone to think.

She was pregnant.

Her first trimester flew by, and she had missed every single sign of it. Sure, she was feeling tired and had some cramps, but these were a few of the things she was shrugging off and assuming it meant something else. But Aelin knew better now.

She had so much to figure out it was making her dizzy, so her only goal this weekend was to not freak out completely.

One thing at a time, like her old therapist taught her.

On Monday, she’d make an appointment at the OBGYN and tell Rowan. Just find him on base during lunch or after work and rip the band-aid off, no expectations.

Aelin was giving her damn best to calm her heartbeat and not think about what would happen after that.

The smell of barbecue dragged Aelin out of her room, and hopefully it’d be a good distraction from all this.

Everyone was chatting in the backyard. She didn’t know when Aedion got here, but he was sitting with Uncle Orlon and Philippa, the housekeeper, while Darrow manned the grill.

Her heart squeezed to see her family like this. She wondered how much it’d change, after Little One was here.

“There she is!” Aedion beamed. “I thought I’d only see you at dinnertime, Ace.”

“Overslept.” She shrugged, feeling her stomach getting queasy just to think of the reason she stayed in bed more than usual.

“Is Dorian coming today?” Philippa asked. “I made that berry pie he likes.”

Aelin swallowed. It’d be easier to get this over with, so she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and announced, “Dorian and I broke up.”

The uncomfortable silence and everyone looking at each other without knowing what to say didn’t last long.

“Oh, thank God.” Uncle Orlon’s shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief. Aelin gaped, mind blank for a second. When he read her expression, he continued, “What? I like the kid, but he’s too unserious for you, Fireheart.”

She sagged back in her chair. Aelin wanted to argue, but her uncle was right. She always knew Dorian wasn’t the one, even if she enjoyed their relationship.

“What did he do?” Aedion snarled, arms crossed while he carefully studied his cousin.

“He didn’t do anything.” Aelin took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to drop. “We broke up because I’m pregnant.”

The only sound was her cousin squeezing his beer can with his hand until it was completely crushed, its contents spilling onto the table.

“He did what?” Aedion hissed through his teeth, and it was only then that she noticed everyone was intently looking at her, their faces somewhere between concern and something murderous.

Oh, fuck. Aelin really had a way of putting her foot in her mouth sometimes, didn’t she?

“It’s not his!” She blurted before anyone started overreacting. “Dorian’s not the father.”

“Oh, honey.” Philippa’s eyes were soft, understanding. “Did you cheat on him?”

“No. Hmm.” Aelin scratched the back of her head, feeling her whole face flush. God, this wasn’t a conversation she’d like to have in a room full of old people. “We weren’t exclusive. We could see other people while dating each other.”

Aedion didn’t seem impressed, but Orlon’s eyes were bulging out. Darrow was carefully silent.

“Is it a new kink?” Philipps wrinkled her nose. “Being cheated on.”

“It’s not like that!” Aelin groaned while holding her face with both hands.

“Honey…” Orlon took her hand, brows furrowed with concern while he struggled to say whatever he was thinking. “Do you at least know who the father is?”

“Of course I do!” She blurted, cheeks flaming as she dropped his hand. Aelin wasn’t easily embarrassed, but discussing her sex life with her great-uncle was not on her bucket list.

Everyone was silent, waiting for her to drop this piece of information.

“I haven’t told him yet. I’m not sure you know him, but promise you won’t say anything?”

Everyone nodded. She took a deep breath.

“It’s Lieutenant Whitethorn.”

“WHITETHORN?” Darrow screeched. “ROWAN WHITETHORN?”

Aelin froze. They did know him, after all.

Darrow ran inside the house and Orlon went after him, always the peacemaker. All things considered, she was thankful they didn’t have any guns, even though they could for being in the military.

“At least he’s hot,” Aedion acknowledged around a bite of garlic bread after a small stretch of silence.

Aelin groaned. “You know him too?”

“We did basic training together, and I think he went to Darrow’s section right after. Cool dude.”

“You’re not mad?” She eyed him warily.

“I’m happy for you, Ace. I will go for his head depending on what he says to you, though.” Aelin snorted. That sounded like her cousin. He continued, “But I need a cute niece or nephew to impress the ladies.”

“You are not using my kid to pick up women.”

“Not any women.” He leaned back, a lazy grin on his face. “MILFs.”

Aelin was about to say something about how disgusting her cousin was when a loud noise interrupted them.

Through the window, she could see Darrow holding a sword the military required them to have for some special ceremonies. Orlon was holding his own by the door, probably telling his husband to not threaten Rowan with it.

Considering that Rowan most likely also had a sword and definitely lived somewhere in this same village, she wouldn’t put past Darrow to find him and actually start a sword fight.

Aelin got up from her chair, ready to stop this nonsense. That’s the problem with her family, it’s full of overprotective men. They even have the medieval weapons, for Mala’s sake.

˜˜

Aelin clicked on the side button of her phone just once, to stop ringing.

“Do you want to take it? I can come back in a few,” The waitress asked.

“No need. I’ll have two of today’s specials, a diet coke and a non-alcoholic beer, please.” Aelin forced a smile.

On the table, her phone still showed a picture of Rowan and their daughter together, their smiles so big it was almost blinding. On the bottom of the screen, the choice to still take the call or refuse it altogether.

When it went off and he didn’t call again, Aelin let out a long breath.

Her relationship with Rowan got a lot more pacific after his trip to the hospital. It lasted less than two days.

Something eased inside Aelin’s chest when her cousin stomped inside the restaurant while looking for her. Aedion had many skills, but he had never been exactly a graceful person, Aelin mused with a small smile when he accidentally bumped his hip against one table.

They were on their lunch break, and while meeting at the restaurant nearby was nice, doing it for the third time this week was not in Aelin’s plans. At least not when she could eat for free at the Air Force’s mess hall.

But she would never deny lunch to her hurting cousin. Besides, Elide texted her saying they were serving fish today, and it wasn’t good. The food at the mess hall was a box full of surprises. It could be anywhere between unbelievably good and absolute shit.

“I see you’re still avoiding Kyllian,” she prompted.

Aedion didn’t answer, and he was saved by the waitress coming with their drinks. He and his now ex-boyfriend had been on a rough patch these last few months, and Kyllian being called upon to relocate to Mistward was their last straw. Apparently, Aelin would be helping her cousin avoid his ex at base until he moved.

“Seriously, Ace? This tastes like shit.” Aedion grimaced at his non-alcoholic beer.

“I’m not letting you get back at work drunk. And it’s on me today.” Aelin eyed her cousin warily. “Only because you look terrible.”

That damn ringtone started playing again. Her phone was on the table, so both Ashryver cousins stared at the picture of Rowan and Maisie. She pressed the side button again.

“You’re not gonna answer that?” Aedion asked.

Aelin squared her shoulders. “I’m already answering that, by silently telling him to give me space and respect my boundaries.”

“It could be important.”

“It’s really not.”

Aedion rolled his eyes and swiftly snatched her phone from the table. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

He hummed and nodded for a few seconds, then turned to Aelin. “Rowan wants to know what you packed for Maisie’s lunch today. He called in the morning to remind you she had a tummy ache yesterday, but you didn’t answer.”

Aelin ground her teeth together. Like she wouldn’t remember her own daughter was sick. What kind of mom did he think she was?

“Tell him to fuck off,” Aelin spit out.

Aedion sighed. “She told you to fuck off, man.”

Her cousin hummed again, then his eyes lit up and he perked up. “That’s so cool! Wait a second.”

He asked Aelin, “Did you read his texts about soccer classes?”

She gripped her diet coke with a little too much force, trying not to snap at her cousin. Aedion winced before Aelin even opened her mouth, reading her too well.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now, man.” A pause. “Speaking about soccer, do you wanna watch the game on Sunday?” Aedion frowned and leaned back on the chair. “Come on, man, you have to. You know I’m on a post-breakup slump.”

Whatever Rowan told him made Aedion gape. He turned to Aelin. “You didn’t tell him Kyllian and I broke up?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not friends with Rowan, Aed. We only talk about Maisie.”

Aedion sighed, said goodbye and promised to text him about Sunday’s game.

After he gave her the phone back, her cousin said, “I don’t know what happens between you and Rowan that makes your relationship so bad.”

Aelin ground her teeth together, refusing to answer.

He wouldn’t have it, though. “He’s a good man. An even better dad. Your family loves him. For someone who got pregnant out of a hookup, you did pretty great, Ace.”

“Can we change the subject?”

He drew in a long breath and let it go. Anyone close to her knew The Rowan Conversation was absolutely fruitless.

“I vote for soccer.”

Oh, great. He stopped talking about her least favorite subject of all time, introducing this week’s least favorite subject.

“Thank God you’re not her parent, then.”

”Ouch.” Aedion held a hand against his chest in mock-offense. “I’ll be a great dad.”

She snorted. “You’ll be a pain in your kids’ ass.”

“Take it back!” He exclaimed, gaping.

“Don’t you dare forget how you scared away every boyfriend I had in high school!”

“I was saving your sorry ass from those assholes, that is.”

This time, Aelin gave him a full laugh. She was kind of a dipshit magnet during her teenage years, her cousin wasn’t completely wrong about that.

He continued, “I think Rowan is the only guy you dated that I actually like.” Well, that was a way to sober up the nice mood she just got in. Aelin glared at her cousin. Knowing what she was about to say, Aedion rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you two never dated. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” A pause. “I promise I’ll drop this, but I’m curious. Is there anything wrong with soccer practice, or you’re just picking a fight?”

“I don’t pick fights for no reason.”

Aedion raised an eyebrow. She frowned at him.

She did not. All of her fights with Rowan were absolutely unavoidable.

Aelin shrugged. “Soccer’s lame.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not crazy about it, but you like soccer.”

Aelin wanted to punch that know-it-all expression out of his face.

He didn’t move, waiting for her answer.

She squinted her eyes at him.

He looked absolutely unimpressed, keeping eye contact until he won that battle of wills.

“Fine,” Aelin grumbled as she roller her eyes and sagged in her seat.

“And?”

“I’m too cool to be a soccer mom.”

Aedion barked a laugh, head tilted up before he looked her in the eye again. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m really not. Have you seen those soccer mom tiktoks?” This wasn’t nearly as funny as her cousin thought.

“You’re okay with putting your body through excruciating pain and cleaning explosive diarrhea, but you draw the line at becoming a soccer mom?”

“Yes.”

He guffawed again, now drawing the attention of the people from the surrounding tables. Aelin just sat there, trying not to smile at her cousin’s dramatic reaction and waiting for him to come back.

Her grin widened when the waitress came with their lunch before she got hangry. Aedion could be absolutely insufferable sometimes, but he deserved good company.

Aelin cleared her throat. “Did you buy a new washing machine?”

His broke down this week, and Philippa kept complaining about Aedion’s lack of laundry skills over and over after the one time he washed his clothes at Orlon’s, two days ago.

“Nope, I’m trying to fix it again tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like when you ‘fixed’ your ceiling fan and now it only works with the lights on?”

He stuffed his mouth with food and refused to answer.

Aelin continued, “You need to stop finding random things in your house to fix and find another boyfriend. Or girlfriend, whatever. You’re pathetic when you’re single.”

“YoU’rE pATHeThIc wHeN yOu’RE sinGLe,” Aedion mimicked with a high-pitched voice.

She rolled her eyes and set an alarm for when her lunchtime would need to end. It might be an Ashryver thing, but it was really easy to lose track of time when she had so many things to bicker about with her cousin.

˜˜

The floor was so shiny Aelin could barely believe most of the people inside this building were kids.

It better be, she thought when she remembered the price tag that came with it. Maisie better go straight to college after finishing preschool, because it was really hard to believe Aelin and Rowan were paying that much for their kid to learn letters and count to 20.

She took a deep breath. Aelin would pay as much as she could if it meant her daughter wouldn’t be yelled at. This was better than the Air Force school, even if was a much longer drive from home.

After last week’s incident, Uncle Orlon told them to file a formal complaint and let him deal with the rest. By the look on his face, Lieutenant Valg would not go unpunished, and this was enough. Aelin couldn’t do anything more without facing consequences because of her rank, so now she wanted to focus on the present. Which now meant Maisie’s teacher, that she was about to meet.

She heard hurried footsteps on one side of the hall and thanked Mala it was Rowan.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not too late, am I?”

Her eyes zeroed on what he was wearing, though.

“Seriously? You didn’t even change out of the uniform?”

“I don’t have a whole team of co-workers ready to cover for me,” Rowan sneered.

Yes, he did. He swapped schedules with Fenrys all the time.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “It’s not like your job is hard.”

“Excuse me?” He snarled.

“And you don’t even do it well! There’s so many ways to torture a eighteen-year-old, and you choose push-ups? Seriously?”

They heard a loud throat clearing and whipped towards the sound. It was a brunette holding a binder, wearing a long dress and sneakers.

“You’re Maisie’s parents, right?” She shook both of their hands. “I’m Borte Arcas, her teacher.”

It was like Aelin’s whole face was lighting on fire. Of all the ways this introduction could’ve gone, being caught mid-fight was not one she hoped for.

They didn’t get the chance to properly meet the teacher the day they enrolled Maisie here, this Monday, because her daughter was only supposed to get to know the school. But when Mais saw her cousin through the class’ window, she walked in without asking and decided she was staying. Just like that. Later that day, the teacher sent an email introducing herself, leaving her phone number if they needed anything, and inviting both of them to meet on Friday, after she got to know Maisie a little better.

And there they were, sitting side by side in a large office while Ms. Arcas turned the AC on in front of them.

“Do you need anything?” She asked. “Water, coffee, cappuccino…”

“A cappuccino would be great.” Aelin gave her a small smile.

The teacher turned to Rowan. “You?”

“Just water, thanks.”

After everything was settled, Ms. Arcas spent some time getting to know them before discussing Maisie. She was getting more comfortable with the class each day, loved story time, took part in group games. It was good for the ego, hearing the teacher talk about her daughter this way. Not that Aelin didn’t know already that her daughter is awesome, but her chest was bursting with pride right now.

Mais was only a little behind on reading compared to her classmates, but Ms. Arcas said this isn’t a big concern yet because every kid has their own timing.

She closed the binder with Maisie’s info. “There’s only two more things I wanted to discuss...” she bit her lip. “This week, during one activity, Maisie said that her favorite drink is wine.”

“What?” Aelin blurted, feeling her cheeks redden and Rowan’s shocked gaze on her. “It’s not! It’s…” one deep, long breath followed by a nervous smile. She was going to kill her daughter.

“Sometimes Maisie sees me drinking wine. Not every day, and not too much, really. Just a glass.” She grimaced. “Maybe two. Anyway.”

Aelin scratched the back of her head, wondering if she was digging a hole for herself. She didn’t care about what people thought of her wine habits, but wanted to make a good impression on Maisie’s teacher.

She continued, “Sometimes she asks to drink too, it ends with huge meltdown, so one day I gave her grape juice and told her it’s wine. She loves it. We sip together.”

Rowan’s head whipped towards her, eyes wide. “You lie to her?”

“You give her fruit and tell it’s dessert,” Aelin argued.

The teacher cleared her throat again. Loudly.

“Sorry,” they mumbled under their breaths.

Ms. Arcas looked at her watch. “I just need her to not influence other kids to drink ‘wine’. The last thing I wanted to talk about before we wrap this up…” she took some sheets of paper from the binder and spread them on the desk between them.

“Maisie seems pretty fond of drawing.”

“Especially on my walls,” Rowan said between a small smile. 

The teacher nodded. “Have you tried to analyze them?”

Aelin frowned. “We do that thing where we comment on them so she feels seen.”

“That’s really good.” Ms. Arcas nodded, brows furrowed. “But some drawing of her really brought to my attention—”

“Is this her riding a dog?” Aelin took one sheet of paper from the table to examine it closer.

Rowan scooted closer, frowning. “I think it’s a unicorn. Look at the horn.”

Aelin sighed affectionately, heart warming just to see her daughter’s drawing. “She does have an artist’s soul, doesn’t she?”

Rowan smiled. “She’s a little Picasso.”

Ms. Arcas watched their interruption with a polite smile before continuing, “You know, kids draw about what they see, so sometimes the drawings tell us a lot about what’s going on inside their heads. So I brought these she made this week…” the teacher reorganized the drawings, placing most of them back in a pile and putting another few in evidence.

“These are…” Aelin tilted her head. The sticky figures looked a bit scary in them, but she couldn’t quite place what was wrong with them.

“Every time Maisie draws you two together, you seem angry. This one, for example,” Ms. Arcas explained while showing them, “You both have your mouths open, hands up. And do you see how big you two look? You’re taking most of the page, while Maisie herself looks very tiny here in the corner.” 

Aelin felt like time stopped, her entire world freezing and narrowing down to that drawing.

It couldn’t be.

Maisie knew that she and Rowan weren’t friends, but she wouldn’t have picked up that much, right?

“As you can see, this hostile environment is a recurrent theme. I talked about it with Maisie, though is not uncommon to see kids drawing such things,“ the teacher went on, “But I think this might be a reason to that delay in her reading skills we talked about.”

“You told us it’s normal,” Aelin insisted, defeated yet defensive.

“It is for some kids, but it also could be related,” she softly explained.

“So, you mean…” Rowan looked down, furrowing. He rubbed his likely sweaty hands against the front of his pants before looking back at the teacher. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

She gave him a weak smile before confirming, “I’m just letting you know that Maisie is aware of your hostility towards each other, and it may be affecting her performance at school.”

TAG LIST

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[truculentanomaly]

My favorite DC/Batman villains, and my favorite adaptations of them!

(Because I saw another post like this and love ranting about my little guys ❤️)

1. Edward Nygma/Nashton/ The Riddler

Yeah.... there's no competition for this one, unfortunately! Everyone in my life has to hear me rant about him on the daily. Maybe some day, this stupid green bastard will let me go, but that day is not today.

Reasons: Where do I start!!!! He's such a fun and interesting character, despite how many adaptations he has he stays so consistently fun and also insanely irritating and absolutely fabulous. I love how his OCD is portrayed, as well as his relationship with Batman and his different motives for what he does.

Despite how many versions of him there are, there's only one that I definitively hate and even then it's just a personal pet peeve of how he's written. My favorite little guy, love watching him get beat up on the daily. Absolutely pathetic.

2. Harvey Dent/Two-Face

This spot was hard to fill, and it's a tie between him and number 3 to be honest!!

Reasons: Other than that absolutely amazing design?

In my opinion, he's the perfect villain for Batman. Tragic best friend who fights against him without knowing that it's him, and his own internal conflict is so interesting. Harvey and Harv are two characters that need better representation, and I love when other alters (such as The Judge) are written in as well! He's gotten really bad writing unfortunately, but I still adore him!

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

OC Question Game

Thanks for the tag @illarian-rambling! Finally beginning to move through some of the tags! Hoping some of these will ease me back into writing my wips.

I tag: @aether-wasteland-s @the-void-writes @vacantgodling @chayscribbles @dumbthunder @kk7-rbs (Only if you want. Open tag too)

Your questions:

Mornings or Nights?

An animal you think you could beat in a fight?

What's in your pockets?

What's your favorite season?

Green: "I'll take the cold over sweatin' through everything I own. So winter I guess."

Peace: "Spring or summer. Less depressing outside and I get to see Green in a hottest state of undress. Aka shirt unbuttoned and literally anywhere else."

Hollis: "Spring lover, truly. Too bad the pollen and smog hate me." (Has seasonal allergies the air quality makes the effects worse)

Donnie: "Uhh is all of them an option?"

Digits: "Summer! All my favorite sports are playing. It almost makes the dying outside part okay. I'm always dying at my construction job anyway."

Unpopular opinion?

Green: "Kids are fuckin' awesome little shits. And if they "suck" which is only possible in super 'pecific situations. It's usually their ma's fault. Maybe their da's fault too."

Peace: "'Everyone always blames the rich here. Like the real problem ain't the power being rich got them."

Hollis: "Most of the cyber-prosthethics are an absolute shit show. The market is full of shit knock offs and overpriced garbage."

Donnie: "Don't have to support your jobs mission to work the job."

Digits: "People hate dumb poor people but love dumb richies. I don't get it."

When was the last time you screamed at someone?

Green: "Why the fuck would I keep up with somethin' like that?" (Lol recently. Very recently. Probably a couple days before.)

Peace: "I don't know. I don't like to lose my temper like that. Maybe a month ago?"

Hollis: "Do you mean in general? I haven't screamed in a minute. Know I've made a couple scream though."

Donnie: "Internally, always. Green makes me wanna scream all the time. Bastard's lucky I'm mute."

Digits: "When'd I finally get off the site? Yeah then."

[bydragonfireandblood]

Honestly, best part about watching HotD was that it gave me a free blocklist to weed out any jonsas (because ridiculous number of the green stans seem to be jonsas!) I might've missed the first time around with GoT. But what's absolutely baffling is how many claim to be feminists. I'll go to their blog to block them and their bio will be something like "She/her, feminist" and it's just like... what kind of mental acrobatics do you have to be doing to believe that??

Let's see, shall we? Just off the top of my head, jonsas (and fairly often Sansa's more... "special" stans) like to

Put down Dany and Arya for not being "feminine enough" (i.e. their ideal femininity, which ig means women can't be anything else). As if expecting women to conform to a standard of what's "feminine enough" isn't part of the problem :/

Constantly claim Sansa can't be held accountable for her mistakes because she's a child, but then regularly claim another child is unforgivable for her mistakes and should die for it

Imply (and sometimes even say) that Dany shouldn't be breaking the wheel. You mean the patriarchy? You, an alleged feminist, don't think the patriarchal system ASoIaF has is awful and dumb??

Suggest that Jon is actually going to politically manipulate Dany by pretending to love her but really he's doing it for Sansa. That is... disgusting on more levels than I could count, but I'll simplify it to "wanting to see an ending where a woman is manipulated sexually and then murdered by her male lover when she's no longer useful is gross and you should feel gross" because apparently they can't read at more than a 2nd grade level

Ignore the fact that this already-misogynistic plotline would be, in their dreams, so the man can get together with their favorite woman instead. Because putting down a woman like a dog in favor of another woman isn't bad, apparently

Absolutely hate the fact that Dany is a subversion of the prophecied hero trope because she's the "Princess who was promised". This would be a wonderful twist on the trope instead of the sexist "but actually it was the man all along!" one, which has been done to death already

Crack jokes about Dany being infertile and how that would "make Sansa a better wife for Jon, bc she can give him an heir". Ah yes, implying it's a woman's duty and purpose to have kids and that anyone who can't is broken. Wonderful example of feminist rhetoric, you guys

And this very much extends to the green stans too! Little wonder so many stansas seem to love Alicent, since they're both "women who have to suffer through the patriarchy". Let's see what our precious, definitely-feminist Alicent has done, shall we?

The big one: actively trying to prevent a woman from rising to the Throne so she can be replaced by her son, a man

The son, I should add, being utterly unfit to rule and she knows it (unless she's absolutely fucking stupid, there's no way she could not know Aegon would be a bad king). I mean, he assaulted serving staff, disappears to the slums to watch his bastards fight to the death, and when he was supposed to be king he fled. Rulership material indeed :/ But Alicent seems to think a penis makes him suited to rule despite all that

Straight-up admits that Viserys was less suited to rule than Rhaenys on account of temperament... but then in the next breath ask Rhaenys to help her uphold the male succession that fucked her over, in favor of a man even less suitable for kingship than Viserys was

And on the note of the serving girl... silencing rape victims is not feminist. At all. I recognize HotD's societal standards are different, but idk, they sure like to apply modern standards like war crimes to Dany and Rhaenyra so I think I'll do the same here

Resents Rhaenyra for finding happiness in her own relationships. Look, what happened to her was awful and I felt bad for her, but once she turned around and started putting other women down for not suffering like she did, instead of trying to see the system that caused her suffering ended... that's where she went wrong. (Also I feel like reminding everyone Laenor was gay. Did greens want Nyra to maritally rape her husband?? How dare a woman have an enjoyable sex life)

Book Alicent legitimately hoped that "mayhaps the whore will die in childbirth" because that's absolutely a feminist girlboss thing to say

Look, I have no problem with people liking or even defending either character for some of their actions. Even I'd admit the Greens are fun to watch despite being in the wrong, and that Sansa's bullying means her arc has potential for character growth towards realizing her ideal femininity is wrong. But when their stans start attacking other women for not accepting and conforming to the system? That's why I usually see urls/lots of posts about these characters as a red flag

If you're one of these people and I somehow haven't already blocked you? Please go outside and work on the internalized misogyny a bit before you claim to be feminist

[intosnarkness]

98. “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.” Kanej

(1 2 or make up your own) (ask) Warning: This very quickly got out of my control and now it's this. It gets a little pg-13 near the end and involves jealous, possessive behavior from Kaz. Also I started writing something else for this about Kaz & Inej breaking up and her being the jealous one but that's going into drafts for now and you get this and you like it.

Inej has so many skills that Kaz appreciates - she's brilliant, she's stealthy, and she's dangerous. But just like men look at him and see the limp and write him off, too many people look at Inej and see her beauty and assume that she's just a pretty face.

It's not Kaz's favorite thing about humanity. It's actually one of the things that makes him want to slaughter whole legions. How dare anyone underestimate his Wraith? How dare they treat her like a commodity?

But there are some nights, some jobs, where the shortsightedness of weak men works in his favor. Jobs where her looks are an asset he needs to exploit. Which is how Kaz Brekker finds himself walking into a charity ball in a top hat and tails, with his beautiful thief of secrets on his arm.

The irony of it is that they're invited guests. Since the auction, since Kaz chased his only significant competition out of town and took over the Barrel, he's been courted by various merchers and their ilk. Some want his favor, some want his friendship. All of them want something.

Kaz makes a great game of what events and activities he goes to. Councilman Radmakker's niece's 3rd birthday? Absolutely. Wylan's croquet and canape soiree for the midsummer? Not a chance. He remains a blight and a question to these high-minded assholes, which is how he likes it.

The event tonight is some kind of silent auction on top of an excuse for people to show of how much they spent on clothing. He doesn't care what the cause is, probably something along the lines of securing jobs for indigent toddlers so they can grow warm in Ghezen's chokehold. It doesn't matter.

What matters is that the ball and auction is at the Museum of Commerce. And the Museum of Commerce has an extensive gem collection that Kaz has every intention of making his extensive gem collection.

If anyone paid actual attention, they would have figured out that there was a pattern to Kaz's sporadic attendance at events. He went to the ones with the best targets. There was nothing he wanted from the Van Eck mansion that he couldn't get by walking in and asking Jesper to hand it to him. There was everything to be gained from Radmakker holding a child's party at the forsaken exchange where Kaz could slip into the records room and learn a few things about who had been buying indentures. But these society shitheads were altogether far too myopic to notice something like the Barrel boss they all prayed wouldn't come to an event disappearing for a few minutes. They were too secure to worry about the thief in their midst, and too arrogant to think he would abuse their hospitality. He would, and he does.

It had been chance that brought Inej to port for this job - if she hadn't made it Kaz would have had to come alone, which is always annoying. If he shows up without an escort, it's open season for every empty-headed Council offspring to try and use their genitals to secure an alliance with the Bastard of the Barrel. It's an onslaught for any eligible, wealthy bachelor. Some nights he and Wylan flip a coin for which one of them gets Jesper on their arm to act as a buffer.

But tonight Inej is with him and Kaz isn't going to complain about the way the blue-green silks she's wearing frame her body, how the long column of her skirt wraps around her slim waist.

She does look beautiful. But more than that, she looks gorgeously, perfectly Suli, and it is going to drive everyone in the room insane. These sheltered money men want nothing more than something new to look at, to touch, to own. A woman like Inej is going to steal every heart in the room with these weak-minded twits.

The plan tonight is to split up. For Inej to distract as best she can with flirting and banter. For her to commandeer the spotlight and let Kaz slip into the shadows where he belongs.

But like every plan Kaz starts out with, it almost immediately goes pear-shaped.

Because when Inej walks across the room, her hips swaying like the ocean lapping at the shore, Kaz feels a stab of anger.

Not at her. Never at her. No, the rage that roils Kaz's stomach is brought on by the eyes in the room that all snap to her. Which is what he wanted. He can see a few rich assholes who are practically salivating. He wonders how many of them would have paid money to abuse her when she was a slave. He wonders how many of them he could kill before the first one hit the ground.

Inej makes it to the bar, where she doesn't have to wait more than a minute before she accepts a drink from a smarmy man in a puce waistcoat. She giggles at him, her fingertips ghosting over his sleeve. Kaz hopes she's picking his pocket, but he also wants to die at the idea that she's giving her laughter to anyone but him. He's greedy for her happiness, he always had been. That she would keep it from him--

He has a job to do. He has things that aren't his yet. He has to get moving before the window closes.

Kaz stays, and he watches.

He watches as she accepts more drinks, but somehow no one notices her refusal to drink them, putting them down and never looking at them again.

He watches as a small army of men and women surround her and she holds court, her sweet voice and lilting accent carrying across the room with no words attached by the time they sink into his mind.

He watches as the band strikes up, and a tall, blond man who looks like he should be advertising underwear asks Inej to dance, and she allows him to lead her onto the floor.

The feeling - and it's not anger, not rage, it's something else and he can't name it - bubbles, hot and fast, in every inch of his being. He thinks he could set something on fire just by touching it.

And then, on her third turn around the room, her third partner, Inej locks eyes with him.

He knows her thoughts as soon as her gaze meets his. The plan doesn't have him standing here at this point, so something must be wrong. She needs to hit a contingency, but which one? And why isn't he communicating anything to her, giving any sign.

He shakes his head once, just enough for her to see it. And when the song ends, when she and her partner return to a state where they aren't touching, Inej gives a sweet curtsy and says something to the sweet-faced woman she'd been dancing with.

Kaz doesn't listen to the excuse. He just leaves.

He's a few blocks down the street when he feels her behind him, a light tread and a change in the air.

"Kaz?" Inej breathes. His shoulders go up defensively as he feels the air change again, suddenly afraid she'll touch his back, but she doesn't. She just appears in front of him, blocking his path.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice sounding thin. Scared.

Kaz shakes his head again, but he swallows his pride - because that's the price of being with someone like Inej. Sometimes to keep something wonderful, you have to give up a part of you that doesn't matter. Tonight that's the pride that makes him not want to tell her everything about how awful it was to see her walking in the sun where she belongs.

He ducks into the alley to their left, pulling her with him by her elbow.

When they're out of the public street, obscured by shadows, Kaz takes a moment to close his eyes, His teeth drawing blood from his lower lip.

"The mission was a no-go," he says. "No jewels. The guards-- they were--"

He doesn't have a lie to tell her. Kaz cannot remember the last time he needed a lie and couldn't conjure one.

"What is going on with you?" she asks, and her voice is still holding an edge of fright, but now there's an undercurrent of annoyance, of anger. She's owed an answer, but Kaz doesn't know what to tell her.

"I--" he can't. He doesn't know how to say it. He doesn't know what the feeling was, or why he had it. He just knows he did. "I can't take you on jobs like this anymore," he says, and he straightens up, beginning to move toward the mouth of the alley, to get home and forget about this stupid night. Her hand catches his before he can move more than a step.

"You were jealous," she says, softly.

The word rings out in the quiet night. Jealous.

Kaz has always been jealous- of his brother for getting to do things when Kaz was too young to come too. Of the rich mercher boys and girls in their warm beds. Of the dead. Of the rich. He's always had hunger.

He's just never felt it for a person, before. Never felt something akin to possessive over another human. It's weird. It's a little gross. He doesn't like it, and decides not to engage.

"Seeing you with other people was--" he sighs and rubs at his eyes with his free hand. "Not my favorite."

Inej drops his hand, but he doesn't move. She takes a step towards him.

"You didn't like it?" she asks, and her voice isn't scared anymore. It's dark, and it makes Kaz shiver. "Seeing me with other people? Taking drinks from them and letting them touch me?"

Kaz doesn't growl. He doesn't. But he wants to. "Fuck all of them," he says, moving forward to close the distance between them. He doesn't grab her - he will never grab her - but they're close enough that he can feel the heat of her. "I don't like to share."

Inej's smile is almost predatory as she reaches forward. She hesitates before her hand touches his cheek, and he nods slightly to let her know it's okay.

Her hand on his face is electric. It's euphoric. Their skin touching is a drug and it compels him to speak the truth.

"I can’t watch you with someone else," Kaz says. "It tears me apart. I can't think about you with anyone but me. I'm jealous and greedy and needy and poor. I would beg in rags for the scraps of you."

Her face contorts for a moment, like she's trying to understand what he's saying. He doesn't want to say more. There are three little words, always at the back of his mind, but he can't give them to her. Not in a dark alley after a failed heist.

"Saints," Inej breathes, and she drops her hand from his face to lace their fingers together. "So take me home," she says. "And show me how to put you back together, you covetous thing."

He does.

And if the morning sun rises on them, curled together in the attic of the slat, his arm thrown over her shoulders and his nose buried in her satin hair, well. No one else needs to know about that.

[krysmcscience]

Get ready for Amogus Spam!!!

Characters belong to @crinklytinfoil - I just came up with the designs and outfits~ All appearance details are taken directly from either the fics themselves (which, as always, approach with caution and MIND THE TAGS) or the comments sections of said fics, though I have also relentlessly poked Crinkle IRL for additional details, such as each character's name and individual fashion sense...or lack thereof (Finnegan) XD

(If you want to read the fics, keep in mind that you will need to be signed in to an Ao3 account first! And again - MIND THE TAGS! Shit gets dark FAST.)

The Skeld bois! The fucked up crew that started it all~ Only like five actual decent human beings on this crew, and all but one of them fukken DIED, lmao. (Congrats on surviving, Devon, you used to be Kind Of An Asshole but you got better. XD) Clark is such an Obvious Dad - it's why he had to die first, he was the only thing keeping shit together, True Facts, sorry you had to find out this way. <:/ Adam is so Fishing, I bet he fantasizes about having a trout boyfriend girlfriend in his spare time. :) Brown is Babby (stabby-babby), but we all knew that already. And then there's wannabe High Class Fuckboi Purple and his emo "boyfriend", yaaaay, can't wait to find out how Purple dies or anything like that, noooo... All that aside, White's outfit makes me want to die inside, why would anyone want to mix hippie and ouji lolita aesthetics??? White, please, no, even your fashion sense is torturous! D:>

(Full-size here, in case tumblr fucks it up)

Corpatch babbies! Everyone on this crew is certified Babby. (Yes, even you, Skylar. Sorry I had to separate you from Pink in the final image, it was too wide and I hated it, please I'm sorry, put the wrench away-) Love that I got to mostly copy-pasta Devon, made my life so much easier after the artistic nightmare that was Stacy's outfit. Fun Fact: That dress is one of over a hundred jellyfish-themed lolita dresses I've designed! This one has a box jellyfish on it, along with other pretty deadly sea creatures, and is called 'Killer Cuties'~ Wilhelm gets to have some matchies with his platonic girlfriend as a treat, also (Fun Fact: he absolutely wears those novelty glasses to Serious Events). Skye's outfit upsets me personally but it's not as bad as fucking Finnegan's so they get a pass. Pink is, of course, The Best One, and let it be known that the little leaf pin is a reference to Bay~

(Full-size here, in case tumblr fucks it up)

Doncaster folks! Such a long image...I blame Vance. Because I always blame things on Vance for some reason. It's just fun, okay? And also I'm bitter about how long it took to draw his damn Bobblehead mech. Him and Aurora both took what felt like a million years to finish, so now Vance has given me additional Drawing Wires trauma, and Aurora somehow seems Too Expensive for me to afford looking at her. Obviously the best part of all of this was everyone's favorite polycule of Brown, Green, and Red (I dare you to suggest they are not Precious), but I also enjoyed trying to come up with an outfit for Umber that screamed 'I think I'm the main character'. XD (If anyone can guess what's supposed to be on Black's shirt, meanwhile, they get a Gold Star!)

(Full-size here, in case tumblr fucks it up)

And, as a bonus, a goofy scribble comic of the Doncaster AU, which I threw at Crinkle after initially requesting (read: attempting to commission) a What If Scenario where Brown never got brought along with White to the Corpatch, and so never met Pink, thus ensuring Brown remained Terrified of impostors. Because my brain wouldn't stop going hog wild over the concept for some reason. 8|

Finally, a WIP of the Parmenides bastards- uh, I mean, Totally Normal Crew of Fine Individuals who are Not At All Terrible. (Apologies to Danni, Marek, and Ashley for getting mixed up in all this, y'all deserved better.) Bet no one was expecting Johnny to be a certified Gamer Catboi, huh? But I bet everyone was expecting Kyle to look like a Born Republican, and possibly Mitch McConnell's estranged half-brother - cuz that's just how the guy is. So Delightful. Also I was totally not salty about having to look at Purple's stupid smug face again while modifying the copypasta of it, No Sir, why would that ever be the case? He's just so great and not the most hateable character ever or anything. (eyerolling intensifies) In other news, Kage's head is way too small and it's driving me crazy but I'll have to fix it later for the finished full-body chibi+bust piece and I'm D Y I N G. Anyway, no icon spoilers for this one - the fic itself is meant to make the readers wonder who the impostors are, so I'm not going to reveal anything on that front.

(Full-size here, in case tumblr fucks it up)

THAT IS ALL

[strangedreamings]

HOTD S2E4 (spoilers abound)

Halfway point of S2. No turning back now, folks.

God, I love the tapestry sequence. Threads of fate soaked in blood.

Daemon's dreaming, again? I'd say it's nice to see Young Rhaenyra again but her presence means our boy is losing it. Mental illness gallops in this family, so I shouldn't be surprised. I love that the crown is too big on her, it's a great detail.

Oookay, Daemon cutting her head off is NOT what I expected but yeah, just another sign of him losing the coin toss. Her disembodied head chastising him is ... an interesting touch.

Why are his hands bloody if he was only dreaming?

It's sad that instead of the four Muppet Tullys, we just hear of one and see another. Somebody with this show has no sense of humor and it ain't GRRM. C'mon, give me Grover, Elmo, Kermit, and Oscar, not just Oscar. Let the fans have some fun in an episode that is going to be nothing but pain.

Daemon, your sense of humor is not endearing you to anyone at all.

I just checked, GRRM hasn't said exactly how the Muppet Tullys are related to Catelyn Stark and her siblings, but that's not surprising -- there are huge gaps in most of the Great Houses' family trees.

Dismissing Oscar like that definitely isn't going to make him want to fight for you, Daemon. Of course, Daemon wouldn't know diplomacy if it bit him on the ass. Who in the fuck thought this trip to Harrenhal would be a good idea? Oh yeah, it was him. :P

I get a little giddy when House Blackwood is mentioned. What can I say, my favorite ASOIAF character is Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, the bastard son of a Blackwood mother and a Targaryen father, and the great-grandson of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Ooo, does Rhaenys suspect that Alyn is her husband's bastard? (She's right, of course.) But touching his face like that, very creepy.

She does know! Corlys' past has come back to haunt their marriage.

"draw us back from the abyss." Too bad it won't happen. But at least Rhaenys knows the war is going to be very bad for everyone. She's not blinded by glory, duty, or anything else.

The dragon statuette Alicent's holding looks like it was carved out of Styrofoam, like it doesn't weigh a thing. Yeah, it doesn't sound like stone when it falls and breaks either. Where did the budget for this show go?

An abortifacient? And Alicent's pretending it's NOT for her? I'm sure the Grand Maester saw right through that. At least this is sparing Westeros from an Alicent-Criston baby. Can you imagine the utter nightmare such a kid would be?

Your doubts are nice to see but they're far too late, Alicent.

This Team Black Small Council is full of old men with no brains whatsoever. They do have plenty of misogyny, though. *eyeroll* Feed them all to your dragon, Baela.

I don't remember what Ser Alfred's surname is so I can't look him up but I really fucking hate him. I'm glad Corlys was able to shut him up (temporarily). I want a woman (any woman) to best him then kill him, is that too much to ask?

So, for two episodes running, we've seen the immediate aftermath of battles but not the battles themselves. It's a cost-saving measure by HBO, I'm sure, but they can't keep this up narratively -- it'll get boring after a while. I had to look up this one, it's the sack of Duskendale.

"Whore of Dragonstone," huh? Well, Criston, you're the Whore of King's Landing. :P

His white cloak is filthy. No honor in that man whatsoever and his cloak absolutely shows that.

Gwayne's face is bloody. I'm surprised he actually fought. He seems to be the type to hang back and let other people do the fighting for him.

"You are not fit for the white cloak." Tell him! He never was.

"Yours will come in kind." Too bad the Butcher's Ball (probably) isn't until next season, I can't wait to see it.

Ooo, Criston is avoiding Harrenhal! He's showing brains for fucking once. (It won't last.)

Green Small Council and they're talking about Rook's Rest. The ticking of the clock is getting louder and louder. Also, Aemond really does like to pout pensively, doesn't he? I'd hate him for it but fuck, he's too pretty (fucking nuts but yes, too pretty).

Things are getting tense between the brothers and the rest of the council is uncomfortably caught in the middle. Squirm, fellas. You deserve it. Oh, and where's Alicent? Knowing this show, she's probably hemorrhaging somewhere from the abortifacient.

Is this the first time we've seen any of Alicent's kids speak High Valyrian? But it looks like Aemond is fluent and Aegon II is decidedly not. Now I want fanfics of Aemond being firstborn and Aegon being the youngest, just to see if he would've been a better king. Looks like Aegon II realizes his baby brother does have strengths of his own.

No hemorrhaging but it looks like Alicent is making her own medieval heating pad. Larys isn't stupid, Alicent. It's in his nature to notice EVERYTHING, including the bottle you left out in the open. Aemond really didn't get his brains from his mother, did he?

"covered himself in glory" There's a phrase I never thought I'd hear in this franchise.

Larys knows about Alicole, lovely.

Back to Harrenhal. Daemon is following Aemond but I can only assume he's dreaming again, there's no way Aemond got there that quickly. Plus, we haven't seen Aemond's face yet. Besides, this is way too soon for the Battle Above The Gods Eye. I knew it -- "Aemond" has Daemon's face. Yeah, Freud would've had a field day with this dream.

Alys again. My apologies to the actress but I really fucking hate her voice. Nails on a chalkboard. (It's not her accent, that's fine, it's her voice itself.)

Daemon, a woman you suspect of being a witch gives you something to drink and you fucking do it? You have no self-preservation instincts left, do you?

Ser Willem's cute but I'm pretty sure the show's writers made him up -- Benjicot Blackwood didn't have a regent and I can't find any mention of his father having a younger brother. Well, at least he'll be nice to watch while he lasts (which I'm sure won't be long).

Hi, Laena! Back from the dead to haunt Daemon's conscience, I see.

As much as I like the Blackwoods, they really need to let their feud with the Brackens die out. (They won't, of course.)

"I removed them, I didn't burn them." For some reason, I really like the way TGC delivered that line. Whatever you're doing after HOTD, Tom, I intend to see it.

Aegon, you're merely a figurehead now. Unfortunately for you (but fortunately for the realm), you don't have the brains to be anything more.

Wow, Alicent really doesn't think highly of him, does she? I don't know if that's for the best but it makes me feel sorry for Aegon, just a little. If his parents actually gave a damn about him while he was growing up, he wouldn't have turned out the way he did.

Is that Rook's Rest? Title cards would've helped so much. If a castle wasn't in GoT, I can't be expected to recognize it, okay?

"They will not expect it because it is fucking madness." I hate Gwayne but he's right and I can't help liking that line.

"Are you afraid, Ser?"

"Worse. I'm rational."

Yep, I like that line too. Why is Gwayne getting all the good lines? It's making me like him a little and I don't want to.

Jace, your attitude is unhelpful. Show a little more respect to your mother and monarch, especially around other people. I'm not for corporal punishment normally but if I were Rhaenyra, I'd slap you.

Ugh, Rhaenyra's little trip has cost her what little respect she had from her small council.

Jace is a little too eager to use the nukes, isn't he? Kid, you'll never be a good king if you're this trigger happy. Rhaenyra wants to go, Jace wants to go. She undermines him in front of everyone. Good! Serves him right.

Rhaenys offers to go. Yeah, we knew this was coming.

Sorry but Jace is a brat. He's not ready to rule. He's not even ready to be the heir. He's too much of a hothead.

Ugh, the ASOIAF talk. Making this prophecy part of House Targaryen's legacy was a dumb idea.

Sunfyre nudging Aegon in the shoulder like he's a horse is just too cute. This'll be the last cute moment of the series, I'm sure.

Vhagar looks like she just wants to take a nap. Too bad Aemond didn't let her.

Aemond commands Vhagar in Valyrian, Aegon commands Sunfyre in English (sorry, Common Tongue). That says a lot about both of them.

Cole didn't want Aegon on the battlefield but he's not losing a chance to spin this to their advantage. Soldiers always fight harder when their leader is fighting with them.

Meleys vs Sunfyre. Poor Sunfyre is getting torn apart. (What can I say, the animals are innocent in this war.) He's bleeding out.

Vhagar really shouldn't be able to fly with that many holes in her wings.

Oh shit, is Aemond TRYING to kill his brother or is Aegon just in the way?

Poor Sunfyre's screeching sounds a lot like a bird (or a pterodactyl).

Rhaenys, you could've retreated and lived to fight another day.

Fuck this family, the Targaryen stubborn streak will get them all killed.

A seatbelt?! Do you really think that's going to save you against another fucking DRAGON?!

Holy fuck, the size difference between Meleys and Vhagar is ridiculous.

Cole got knocked off his horse while he was trying to get to Aegon. Too bad it didn't kill him.

I could've done without that jump scare, Ryan. :P

Not exactly how Rhaenys died in the book but honestly, I think I like this version better. She looked resigned to her fate as she was falling.

I think Cole might have a punctured lung. Or maybe that was just the sound of him trying to breathe on a battlefield full of smoke. I'm pretty sure he's got a concussion, but then he doesn't have much of a brain to injure. :P

Cole, you're on foot and you passed a horse just standing there. If you're not up for riding, at least bring the damn horse with you.

Aemond looking like he's about to do some more kinslaying, lovely.

A dying Sunfyre and an unmoving Aegon, lovely.

Aemond really has the devil's own luck. Too bad it runs out (next season).

Hey, writers, you spared Ser Harrold Westerling from his book fate, when are you actually going to use him again?

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 100

Chapter 100: “Arrival”

One of the few things season two did right was keeping Simon alive. They made his eyes so pretty with that shade of green and he’s just one of those characters that you instantly fall in love with how sweet of an older brother he is to Phil.

Eugene I remember, Charlie’s name doesn’t ring a bell but I’ve definitely seen that face of his before, but I have no memory of a child called Milosz at all??

Sigh.. soon my queen will return, if only for a short while. unfortunately.

I think one of the things I hate most about this chapter is how quick it got us to like Simon, even going as far to compare him to Don, then BAM! Literally being shipped off next panel! 

The chapter continues to pull at my heartstrings once it makes the parallel of Phil being in a similar situation as Ray when he knew the house’s secret, only difference being that Phil is a couple years younger than Ray when he first found out about the farm, which that makes the pain hurt even more!

Quick, no one tell Phil that Emma passed out in the forest due to her injured ear and a fever or that she was brutally stabbed by an insane demon. The little guy would surely have a heart attack if he knew.

There’s no way in hell a four year old child should be subjected to such depressing thoughts and emotions! At least it all makes the ch175/176 reunion with Emma worth it but aaahh, Phil is too precious to deserve any of this pain in the first place!

“They ask you how you are, and you just have to say that you're fine, when you're not really fine.” (Damn Isabella, she raised a handful of wonderful actors.)

And the absolute worst part of this chapter is when this finger-tapping bastard comes along, spreading fear into our hearts and Phil’s. What really sucks is that we still dunno exactly what Andrew asked of him and what Phil ended up telling him. All we find out in ch111 is that the conversation mentioned Emma but not much else.

Thankfully the chapter lightens up a bit when we turn our attention back to the Cuvitidala search group. Once again loving the detail of Emma adjusting her hearing to aid her missing ear like she did in ch43 & 67.

I love Zack and how he’s so easily impressed and/or scared by how these children are able to function so efficiently. Of course I’m very proud Don & Gilda managed to follow Ray’s crazy request as well.

And if we’re gonna talk about stuff that’s praise-worthy, then I gotta mention how Emma killed three wild demons at once! I haven’t a clue on how she managed to fire off three arrows simultaneously and have each head in a separate direction to hit the necessary weak spots so perfectly, but who cares! Lovely archery skills regardless!

I really wish we were able to see more of the journey to Cuvitidala though. Apparently it takes them 52 days to get there yet we only get a couple panels. It might not have been as exciting as them finally arriving at the destination itself, but after all the intense action we saw in GP, I’d be down for some chill adventuring. Hell, I just wish to see Violet and Zack interact with our GF kids more and continue to be astonished by how smart they all are. Also wanna see how Zack handled being surrounded by these kids for months since he’s quite literally the only adult on this trip.

Favorite panel/moment:

Violet and Zack being terrified of the GF kid’s capabilities yet again. And Ray looks far too pretty in that second panel. It’s not fair. Could you imagine if he had bright colored eyes in the anime? Oh my.. I’d die. and yes I’d hope for a real light purple, of course.

[unusual-raccoon]

The JaceLuke POW AU that no one asked for is eating my brain~

The gist is, in an A/B/O setting, The Greens win the war and Rhaenyra's son are kept as prisoners.

The king in his infinite cruelty (and rumored impotency as a result of his severe wounds sustained during the dance) chooses to play some games with his nephews.

Warning: Non-Con, Induced Rut, Implied Sexual Assault

***

Mother had once said Rhaenyra’s sons wouldn’t be his playthings forever - how wrong she was.

Aemond’s witch had provided the necessary herbs, a rotten swill that his brother’s whore assured would have the desired effect.

“You’re certain it’ll work?” Aegon asked as he examined the small corked flask and its murky contents. It was rather unassuming, but he supposed most poisons were.

“My lady is not mistaken, brother.” Aemond said stiffly, seemingly affronted, it was nearly laughable. His self-serious younger brother swayed by the cunny of a bastard witch.

The king, however, would find humor elsewhere. In the black cells. With his nephews.

“Will it be painful?” Aegon asks delightedly.

“So she says.”

“If it isn’t - I’ll have her killed.”

Aemond’s expression tightened, lone violet eye turned icy. Aegon smiled.

He hands the vial off to the guards, utterly beside himself, leaning upon the weight of a cane sculpted from dark walnut and inlaid with blood-red rubies.

Aegon watches as Jacaerys fights rather valiantly, even while manacled, to no avail, the boy had hardly been provided enough of late to sustain an Omega, let alone satisfy the unrivaled appetite of an Alpha.

“…appetite,” Aegon snorted to himself.

“What was that, your Grace?” A guard called.

“Nothing, proceed,” Aegon motioned with his right hand.

The flask was emptied down his nephew’s gullet. It had taken covering both his nose and mouth, and even then Jacaerys seemed content to suffocate before he swallowed what he’d been fed. The king felt a pang of something akin to hunger gnaw in his stomach as his eldest nephew thrashed, shoulders spasming before he relented upon reflex alone.

He’s dropped unceremoniously to the cold stone floor of his cell band Aegon waits a few tedious moments, fingers drumming on the padded carmine velvet of his cane’s grip, before his nephew erupts into a coughing fit whilst swallowing much needed oxygen. Spittle frothed at his cracked lips and his dark eyes watered profusely.

“W-what have you given me?” Jacaerys rasps from the floor, breath visible in a miserable little cloud. What was left of his black and red garb is in tatters, his meticulously groomed dark hair curls wildly in the absence of shears to keep it short.

“-uncle!” The bastard snarled from the floor of his prison, venom drips from his hoarse voice.

"Ser...?" Aegon motions to one of his kingsguard flippantly.

"Waters, your grace, Marston Waters," The knight responds. The irony of an esteemed knight being yet another bastard certainly isn't lost on the king.

"Ser Marston, it appears my prisoner has forgotten the proper way to address his king - educate him."

"Us-" The boy's mouth is bloodied before he can finish speaking.

But Aegon hears the word in its entirety - usurper.

He watches for some time, hands folded upon the ruby inlaid handle of his cane, as his guards thrash his bound nephew. A smile ticks upon the unblemished side of his face.

Inevitably he grows bored, his cane a staccato click as he departs the black cells.

His favorite whores are waiting in his chambers and they giggle and coo and play for his delight, but he finds little excitement in it; twisted hips aching.

He dismisses them quickly.

The guard posted outside of his door seems surprised when the king emerges, crown upon his head.

"Shall I fetch Septon Eustace, your grace?" The knight asks.

But Aegon merely shook his head, now was not the time for seeking absolution.

He hobbled, a heavy goblet brimming with a sweet Arbor red in hand, his ruined left set upon his cane as he shuffled down to the black cells.

As he approached one cell in particular, he smiled at the metallic tang of blood in the air.

He discovered his nephew, dark hair wildly askew, ruefully handsome face colored with bruises and swollen with welts.

"Uncle-" The boy greets, smiling through bloody teeth, the personification of his whore of a mother's own spite.

Aegon drinks deeply from his goblet, grateful for the tinge of numbness that accompanies the alcohol.

"Has it hit you yet?" He drawls, a slithering smile set upon the unburnt side of his pouty mouth.

"Your poison?" Jacaerys asks baldly.

"Your rut," The king counters, half-smile stretching painfully wide. The boy's smile dims, but his eyes, his eyes are rebellious as ever.

"Surprised?" Aegon coos, "If I wanted you dead, Jacaerys, you would have joined your whore-mother in Sunfyre's gullet. No, no, no - I want you to be as you once were, subservient, loyal..."

"I want you broken."

Jacaerys' square jaw tenses.

"Can you feel it in your balls? Does your knot ache more than your mangled face, nephew?"

"The witch says if I don't give you a nice warm hole before your symptoms develop, you'll go entirely mad."

Jacaerys' throat shifts warily, though his expression betrays little.

"Be sure to inform the guards when you're due, hm?"

A day and a night passes with no word. And Aegon is preparing to give the order for the bastard witch's damned head before he ventures down into the black cells once more.

There he discovers his nephew, face still swollen from the beating he'd taken - shivering.

His chains rattle frequently, dust dances each time he stubbornly pulls on them.

Sweat soaks through the tatters of his clothing.

When the king ventures the peer through the iron bars of the bastard's cell, his nephew lunges forward with bared teeth, curls of steam drift up off the sweat-slicked site of his neck.

He leans back, weight supported by his cane, fear bolts down his hunched spine.

The smile that spreads over his face is a poisonous one, as Jacaerys slinks into the corner of his cell, body awkwardly knelt to accommodate the stalwart strain of a bloated erection.

Aegon is equal parts envy and malice as he peers down at his nephew.

The rattle of chains grows louder even as Aegon hobbles down the corridor. He can hear his nephew growling, lost in a false-rut.

By the time he emerges from the black cells he is beset by a wretched ache in both legs, his grip upon his cane is white-knuckled.

"Shall I fetch the maester, your grace?" a guard asks.

The king merely shakes his head, manic smile wider.

"No, no, do not bother," He hisses between his teeth, the maester would only prescribe more milk of the poppy, and Aegon intended to be entirely cognizant of the torment he would inflict upon his sister's bastard brood.

"Bring Lucerys Velaryon to me."

The knight before him, a bland beta with deep-set eyes, swallowed thickly.

"At once, your grace."

Aegon supposed it was time he reunite his nephews.

***

A/N: this is based on an entirely fucked up dream I had recently - way more graphic than how this turned out, but I just needed to get some of this out of my head.