#also I just want to point out that I only commissioned this FOUR days ago

[debbiechanclub]

Eeeeee I received my finished commission of Nellie and Finlay and I'm 🥹🥹

[tiredfox64]

Part three of Go for the Kill? But its based ok the ending where reason is with all three of the brothers? She soon gets knocked up and the threee fight over whose it is? >:3

The Soil was Tilled Enough

Prior notes: I knew somebody would ask for this. Had a That’s so Raven moment when I was writing that last part.

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: You’re gonna have a stroke with my reasoning.

You are faced with a light pink stick in your hands. You were growing tired and sick just days before which worried the brothers a lot. The last thing they want is for their vicious woman to grow horribly ill. Oh but this is no illness. This is the miracle of life.

Yeah this is a strange situation. Truly a spectacle that has some people, or more like someone, disappointed. Liu Kang ain’t too happy that his paid assassin would be out of commission for at least a year. What he also doesn’t like is hearing that the brothers are fighting over who is the father. The yelling is really getting annoying.

“It can’t possibly be your child! I slept with her first!” Bi-Han yelled directly in Tomas’ face.

“We all slept with her first! You are just jealous that the baby is possibly mine!” Tomas yelled right back.

The only one staying calm was Kuai Liang. He stayed right next to you, rubbing your belly as you contemplated the same thing. Who is the father?

Alright, so you put too much faith into Plan B. Guess it wasn’t made to handle loads upon loads of baby-making liquid from men who probably never allowed themselves to feel relief in quite a while. Plus the fact that they love you a lot made the chances of you getting pregnant much higher. I think they were aiming for that goal but I’m not a mind reader.

“What are we gonna do? Are we ready enough to handle having a baby and raising it?” You questioned, concerned about way too many things.

“Of course can handle it. The baby will be in safe hands. Even if the baby is not mine I promise to take care of them as if they were my own.” Kuai Liang made that promise to you.

Kuai Liang really loves you and just wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to worry too much especially now that’s you are pregnant. His commitment to you made you feel a little better, knowing he won’t be mad about whose baby it is. The other two…yeah that’s gonna take some time.

At this point Bi-Han had Tomas in a headlock which made Tomas start punching Bi-Han’s arms in defense. Kuai Liang ran in to split the two apart.

“Enough of this! This fighting won’t solve anything.” He yelled at them both.

“I do not understand why you are not threatened by the fact that Tomas might have impregnated her. What good will that baby do coming from a man like him?” Bi-Han was being harsh again which made Tomas punch him.

“It does not matter. She is pregnant and she wants to keep it. We must support her no matter what.”

Kuai Liang was right and all the brothers had to agree with his statement. Though Bi-Han was still being as stubborn as ever. If he just keeps the mindset that it’s his baby in there he will be fine.

“Well, do you know how far along you are?” Tomas asked.

“Considering the last time we did it was a couple of weeks ago and I’m getting sick, it might be four to six weeks.”

Oof, if it’s six it can only get worse when it comes to the symptoms. Get ready to start taking bathroom breaks and getting sick from smells.

“It will still be a few weeks before we can get a paternity test done.” You added on.

“We should do that. Settle this debate early on whose child this is.” Bi-Han was on board with doing a paternity test even though he didn’t know you can test that while still pregnant. It’s that old mindset don’t worry.

“I want to the know the gender first. I wanna see if we are having a baby boy or a baby girl.” Tomas gushed at the idea.

“No you don’t, Tomas! We will not wait to find out the gender first.”

“Yes we will, brother. It will teach you to have some patience. It will also test if you still love her enough to take care of her while she is going through this.”

Kuai Liang was shutting Bi-Han down at every opportunity. How dare his little brother accuse him of not loving you. Fine, he’ll wait. They’ll all wait. And as that goes on they will start preparing things for you like a nursery. They gonna spoil the hell out of you.

A woman who is pregnant is a strong woman indeed. They will make sure to take good care of you. They will do their parts as the possible fathers.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Finally! Week thirteen! You can expect your results to be one hundred percent accurate when it comes to the gender. Now here’s the interesting part—

“WHAT!” You, Tomas, Bi-Han, and Kuai Liang all yelled at the doctor in shock.

…I didn’t get to finish. Let me speak up. Damn…

As I was saying the interesting part was that as time went on you noticed your belly was getting quite big. It was a little too early but you didn’t think it was anything much. This was your first time being pregnant so you thought it was normal.

Not necessarily.

“T-twins? We are having twins? And they are all ours?” Tomas was questioning the doctor on how accurate it was.

The ultrasounds did show two little babies. Two little nuggets growing inside you. And they are both boys, congratudolences!

“It’s called Heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s incredibly rare but it can happen. Especially to someone with three partners.” That doctor was throwing shade at you. She was just jealous.

“So one of those boys is definitely mine,” Tomas was all smiles, “But what about the other one?”

Yeah, what about the other one? Still got the other two. They are blood related so this might be harder.

If it’s Kuai Liang’s this might not end well for him since Bi-Han was staring him down with a death glare. Luckily the doctor had something to say about that.

“That’s the thing, we can’t tell. Because they are related there is some difficulties. So as far as any of you know, they are both the father of that other little boy.”

Kuai Liang is content with that. He is just happy to start a family and have a child with you. Bi-Han…ah he gives up. There is no point in being upset about this. There is nothing anyone can do. He’ll be happy to have a son of his own that he can train and possibly be the next grandmaster to the Lin Kuei.

All the brothers are happy to be fathers to a wonderful set of twins, dizygotic twins to be exact. Tomas is already imagining having the twins play together and teaching them to take care of one another. Kuai Liang is imagining caring for them both and teaching them to be good brother. Bi-Han already preparing in his mind a plan to train his son. That’s his responsibility.

The tension between the brothers dissipated. There was no reason to fight and stress you out even more. Looks like they better get more things ready for the babies. The nursery has to be big enough to accommodate two of them.

You have a good support system going on here. I hope you are happy with your multiple lovers and your set of twins.

…

Oh don’t tell me, you want to know who the father actually is. Alright so the clinic didn’t actually have the advanced technology to figure out who the father was when it came to Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. They were only certain on Tomas.

The true father is…I don’t know. What? Did you think I knew all? No! Even I don’t know. And do you even wanna know? Just let be happy that they are happy. Now get some rest, mama. You have a long journey ahead of you and it’s called motherhood.

After notes: Why do I keep doing twins? I’m scaring myself. Here’s a fact about me I have a high chance of having twins if I were to get pregnant. Yeah, I know, crazy. Please tell me I haven’t manifested this for myself my period still hasn’t come oh gosh 😭. I would have done triplets for this fic but nature doesn’t work like that. Well since I’m done I get to eat. Adiós! (Pls make my period show up y’all)

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard all pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This man didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you are to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ��S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[annisassintchaska]

The Little Things: Lewis Hamilton x Black!Reader

Today had been a very stressful day for Lewis as he went through all the meetings and read over all the files that needed to be analysed, not only for formula 1 but also for The Hamilton Commission. He had been off in the office typing and signing away, not even breaking to get some food into his system and his wife Y/n knew that as she had been at home all day resting.

Y/n had recently given birth to a beautiful baby girl named Solay Hamilton who is now one week old. Lewis had brought home his new family just two days ago so everyone was still adjusting to the new addition. Y/n noticed that Lewis had been in the office for over five hours and that he obviously was hungry, so she left her sleeping infant and her four legged brother Roscoe in the nursery and went to make something in the kitchen. Once the food was ready she took it across to the door that had been shut since morning and knocked before entering.

Lewis looked up as he spotted his wife entering with a steaming plate of food and a beverage. “Hey sweetheart, are you and ‘lay alright?” He asked as she rested the plate in the desk before him. “Yeah we’re great, I just noticed you haven’t had anything since breakfast and so I made you some food. Please take a break from all this and get some nutrients and strength back into body. You can’t continue like this Lew” Y/n sighed as she knew how hard it is to convince her highly dedicated, driven and hardworking husband to take a break from anything he’s focused on. Sensing her worries, Lewis saved the work on his laptop before closing it and packing up the papers back into the folder before he drew the plate closer and started eating. He hummed in appreciation as the food did wonders on his taste buds and he thanked her politely.

After his meal, Lewis decided that he had done enough work for the day and so he locked up his office and made his way down the hall, coming to a stop right outside his daughter’s door. He quietly opened the door, finding his wife asleep on the low rock-able loveseat and his daughter asleep in her crib. He went over and lightly kissed his daughter’s forehead before he sat next to his wife, hugging her as he played with her curls.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Y/n asked silently as she woke up to find her husband next to her unexpectedly. “I had done enough work for today so I wanted to hang out with you both. You can go to the bedroom and sleep, I’ll stay here and watch over her” Lewis replied as he gave her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before she left the room, bringing back complete silence.

Sitting down in front of the crib Lewis stretched his pinky finger rubbing along his baby’s hand who obviously, unconsciously took ahold of it making him smile. “Hey Solay, I don’t know if you’re hearing me or not, but either way I want you to know that I love you and your mummy very much. You both mean the world to me as you make me feel safe and secure. You are the biggest blessing and gift that I’ve ever received and I vow to cherish you as long as I live. You and your mummy encourage, inspire and motivate me to keep going so much to the point that I don’t even know what I was doing with my life before y’all. I want you to know that you are worth everything that this world has to offer and that I would never let anyone take away the light that reflects from you my shiny little star. I love you with all that I have within me and nothing will ever change.” He conversed with his sleeping infant, smiling at the fact that he had someone who appreciated him for who he was and no matter what life threw at him, he always had his two brightest stars to help him to keep going.

[goldeunoias]

Hi I just wanted to share this video! But the caption?!

blame bridgerton for this....(also ain't proofread srry but also also i guess let me know how we feel about different AU's for the members!)

*********************************** The wealthy must always be righteous

The wealthy must always be proper.

The wealthy must always be a pillar of excellence.

And finally,

The wealthy mustn't be scandalous.

"For a girl who's trained to be the emblem of purity you have rather lewd moans princess," Heeseung whispered into your ear, massaging your chest through your nightgown.

"I could get you executed for laying hands on me," you rasped out, breath hitching when you felt the heat of his tongue lick your neck.

"They'd have to catch me first," he smirked, letting the white cloth fall to the ground as he pushed you on all fours onto your bed.

You'd learned your lesson last time and didn't turn around as you heard him get undressed down to his pants, a small whimper leaving you when you felt his weight on your back.

"There's no way you're just this wet from kissing princess and a little foreplay," he mused in your ear, warm hands gathering slick from your slit. "Did you prep yourself before I showed up?"

You buried your face in your pillows and nodded, too embarrassed to answer him forwardly. You heard him chuckle and lift your head up so you could see his hand compared to yours as he held them up in front of your face, delicate palms against rough callouses.

"These tiny little things? I bet if I slid two fingers inside you'd still be too tight..." he remarked, proving his point by forcing two digits inside. You buried your face in the silk pillows to dampen a moan, your legs struggling underneath his form at the sinful stretch you felt.

"See, I was right. I'd have to force my way inside your walls to get it past the tip," he tsked, using his digits to scissor your core.

"H-heeseung," you choked out into your silk pillows, gasping for air when Heeseung gently lifted your head from your pillow.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you're gonna cum already," he tsked, speeding up his digits until your legs gave out from underneath you, Heeseung raising your hips in the air to keep his view.

He only smiled coyly when you let out a shaky "mhmm" pulling his fingers out last minute so you couldn't experience your high. Before you could even whine you were turned onto your back with Heeseung's member propped in front of your lips, getting some extra pillows so his princess wouldn't have to strain her neck.

"Why don't you help me out a little bit yeah?" Heeseung cooed as he stroked your cheek, humming in content as you took the tip between your lips. You started off by suckling softly just as he had taught you so many nights ago, sticking your tongue out on the underside so run along the prominent vein.

"Good girl~ you learn so well~ As expected of a noble," he groaned, resting his head against the wall behind your bedpost as he reveled in the warmth of your mouth and tongue, growing a bit bigger when he saw just how disheveled you were; you had drool dripping down onto your expensive nightgown and you were constantly rubbing your legs together in an effort to feel something.

Heeseung couldn't help but smile, pulling out of your mouth and situating himself so his tip was pressing against the swollen bud of your clit.

You rolled your hips into the sensation and Heeseung covered your mouth as he pushed himself in, knowing how loud your whines could get when you felt his length.

Your back arched slightly as you felt the dull ache between your legs, your nails digging into Heeseung's sculpted back.

"Princess, do you have dance classes tomorrow?" Heeseung cooed softly, chuckling when you shook your head quickly.

"Good. Your legs may be out of commission for the next day after tonight..."

[valeffelees]

Oh do tell about that snowbaz au of yours 👀

I WOULD FUCKING LOVE TO, thank you so much tumblr user pidgelikethebird (and also my most beloved and loyal companion @drowninginships) for providing me the enrichment i need to survive the winter.

ok gimme a min here to turn my thoughts into comprehensible words. i'm gonna say right now: this post is gonna be a LONG one, but 10 out of 10 scientists agree you should read to the end.

so, if you didn't know, The Beauty Inside is a Korean romcom from 2015, based off an American short film of the same name; the orig short film i linked is an extremely quick watch (only 6 episodes, each one 4-10 minutes long) and i would absolutely recommend it, but the very basics of the premise is that: a man wakes up in his bed on his 18th birthday to find he's in a completely different body than his own, and every day since then, he wakes up as somebody new.

AND OBVS I JUST HAD TO FUCKING SNOWBAZ THAT, which is how my AU, titled In the Many Ways of Loving You, was born:

Simon Snow wakes up every day as somebody new; the only person who knows the truth is Penny, his best friend and roommate, since she's been by his side since it all began ten years ago.

he works on commission as a custom bookbinder—like, he has an Etsy or some shit, i dunno, some kinda online shop where people can commission him in a variety of ways to rebind their favourite books, either by paying extra for Simon to buy the book himself and rebind it from new and send it to them, or sometimes collectors will send their personal copies to him to have him rebind them, and he's very good at it, and N E WAY the point of this is that he has a small bookshop he's been going to regularly for the last eight or so years, because it's close to his and Penny's flat, and where the story begins: Baz is a new employee that just started working there about two weeks ago and Simon has a massive crush on him.

ok, now. day one: when we meet Simon for the first time, he wakes up and he's lovely and blonde and brown-eyed and ok, yeah, i've just made him look like Agatha bc i thought it'd be kinda funny, esp since Agatha's not actually in the fic otherwise.

and Simon has to pick up a copy of some random book from the bookshop today bc someone bought a custom binding of it, so he goes down and, as usual, since it's his job, Baz has to come over to talk to him and is like, "hey, can I help you with anything?" and Simon doesn't need any help bc he's been coming to this shop for years, but every time Baz asks he says yes bc he wants the excuse to talk to him, and on this day Simon is like, wait. i'm so hot rn. so he asks Baz out—

and Baz is like [finger guns] absolutely not.

and Simon is like 👁️👄👁️ welp i'm in fucking agony.

but whatever, fine. a guy like Baz is prolly already in a proper relationship, and it's always a bad idea for Simon to get involved with someone he has to see on the reg. he had to start going to a different coffee shop that's twenty minutes out of his way bc he went out on a great date with one of the baristas at his old spot and then obvs couldn't go out again after just that one time, and it made him super emo, so really, Baz saying no was prolly for the best.

TIMESKIP, it's been a few days and Simon has to go down to the bookshop again. but this time he's a bloke. and so Baz comes up to ask if Simon needs help and he says yeah, as usual, and the two of them end up having a bantery convo about the book Simon's looking for bc they've both read it and Baz hated it, but Simon loved it, and it's just very cute and casual, and then Baz is like. so, my shift ends in liiike... four hours. are you doing anything?

and Simon is like. OH. OH!!!

that whole "it's prolly for the best" thing? yeah, fuck that, that was Simon of the past, he doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about bc cute bookshop guy wants to hang out and so they go out and have the most fucking insane romcom date ever.

'cause you gotta remember, Simon only gets one real day with people, so he doesn't do like casual coffee dates or movies or whatever. they go out and like fucking B&E a museum after hours bc Simon knows someone like the janitor or something (i dunno) leaves one of the back doors unlocked so he can step out for a cig every few hours, so they sneak in and have the time of their life running around looking at art while trying not to get caught, and we're going to use the suspended disbelief bestowed upon us by the power of romcoms to pretend security cameras aren't a thing, and it is BRILLIANT. like, Simon and Baz have so much chemistry, and when the night ends Baz is just like all smiles and creased eyes and messy black hair and, breathlessly: "I want to see you again."

and Simon's heart drops. because he wants to see Baz again, too, but he can't. no matter how much he wants to, he can't. when he wakes up tomorrow he's going to be someone new, so he can't, he can't, he can't, he—

"Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow?"

SIMON NO!!!

"It's a date."

FUCK!!!

ok, so now we have a problem. Simon can't just stand him up, i mean he could but he doesn't want to, and he really does want to see him again, so he does the only thing he can think of: he stays awake. all fucking night.

Baz, the next day: "You look exhausted."

Simon, wired asf on caffeine and trying to be smooth: "Had someone on my mind all night."

and then they go have another wicked date, but i have nothing in my notes about what it is. oh, i have them living in Canada in this fic btw bc as a rule, if a fic doesn't have to be set in England, i move them to Canada for comfort. so i might have them go cliff jumping or something? who knows. we'll go with that for now.

cue the romcom montage.

[mother tongue starts playing SO DON'T SAY YOU LOVE ME FALA AMO, JUST LET YOUR HEART SPEAK UP AND I'LL KNOW]

ok. post-date. Simon is so dumb and infatuated with Baz and does something only a boy who is dumb and infatuated and sleep-deprived would do in his situation, and he goes back to Baz's flat with him to "watch a movie", or in other words: the movie starts and then they prolly have sex, but in my notes this is written as "??? smash ???" so i guess it's kinda up in the air.

either way, Simon passes the fuck out at Baz's place bc he was properly exhausted by that point, and he wakes up to Baz screaming at him bc obvs he looks like a different person now.

Simon, half-asleep: [PANICKED FLAILING] BAZ IT'S ME!!! STOP THROWING THINGS!!! BAZ!!! IT'S ME, IT'S SIMON!!!

and Baz is like: WHAT THE FUCK

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN

and Baz is like: HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN!!!

so, here's a detail from the orig film that comes into play here: in the orig movie, the MC keeps a video diary, logging every day what his face looks like, and in this, Simon does this on his phone and backs them up to his computer every hundred days, so he gives Baz his phone and tells him the whole story while Baz scrolls through these short like minute long videos of Simon on various days going, "Hey, this is me today. I have [this and such] thing to do, blah blah blah."

and the thing is, Baz recognises him in some of them. bc Simon is always coming into the bookshop. he stops watching when he gets to the day Simon looked like Agatha, and Simon has been quiet for a while at this point, just letting Baz process.

Baz: "I want you to leave."

Simon takes his phone without a word and goes. Penny picks him up on the corner a block over and drives him back to their flat. she doesn't ask what happened. she already has a pretty good idea.

when Simon's next commission comes in, he thinks about going to another bookshop, he really does. but this one is so convenient, esp since Simon can't drive bc he can't risk getting pulled over carrying a licence that doesn't have his face on it, and he's been going there for eight years and it's not like Baz will recognise him anyway.

so, to the bookshop he goes, but this time when Baz comes up to ask if he needs help, Simon is like, "haha, no that's okay," and goes back to looking for things on his own, and Baz kinda lingers awkwardly for a moment before going on his way, but then when Simon comes up to the till to pay for the book, Baz just stands there staring at him. and Simon is so uncomfortable, like, he just wants to leave—

"Simon?"

SORRY, YOU WHAT?

"What?" Simon gapes at him. "How did— how did you? But I'm—"

"Can we talk?" Baz asks.

"How did you know it was—"

Baz shouts over to the other employee on the floor that he's taking his lunch break, and Simon just slowly follows him out of the shop with the book forgotten, unpaid for, at the check-out.

and here's the deal, Baz liked Simon a stupid amount considering they'd only gone on two dates, but they were good dates, and Baz doesn't date much, so he's a bit hung up on just how much he liked Simon and the weird way shit ended, so he's basically like. i want to see it again. and Simon is like, see what? and Baz is like, you. the... whatever that you do, i want to see you change.

and that's how Simon ends up bringing Baz back to his flat, and btw: Simon has a rule about never bringing people back to his flat bc it's weird as fuck. his room is really tiny, and it's cluttered as fuck in a Howl's bedroom type way. he keeps to the same cheap, casual style for all his clothes, but he needs things in a bunch of sizes. shoes are a nightmare. he has to take care of his hair in a million different fucking ways. so he has the lives of a dozen people shoved into a room the size of a shoebox, and his mattress has no frame. that shit is just on the floor, so it takes up less space. and there's this mirror, a wide full bodied mirror, propped up against the wall facing the bed, so that the first thing Simon can do each day is roll over and look at himself.

Simon and Baz have supper together, they talk, they pretend this isn't weird as fuck and, even though it is weird as fuck, they still have so much chemistry, and this is a fanfic, so they just end up having sex again but it's supposed to be kinda emo and tender and look, it's what my heart wants, ok?

morning comes. Simon wakes to Baz's hands on his face. which is already and improvement compared to last time. Baz is looking at him very seriously, but also very like. softly. he's touching Simon's features, tracing them, and Simon is quiet for a very long time, watching him do this, until he's just like. what are you doing.

Baz: "Getting to know you." A pause. "Why does it happen?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz: "Are there other people like you?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz, sighing: "Well, what do you know?"

Simon: "That I'm still me. Inside, I mean. Like... if you had a book, and every day you gave it a new cover, the story wouldn't change."

Baz: "You must get lost on a lot of shelves."

Simon: "Yeah."

and from there, Baz is just a part of Simon's life the same way Penny is, he knows the truth, and he deals with it. for the first time in Simon's adult life, he gets to really date. he and Baz do a bunch of domestic shit together, for months, and it's so good. all of it is so good, all the time, and they fall so fucked up deep in love with each other.

(detail from this point that is relevant later: Baz and Simon make a game out of Baz recognising Simon at work on days when he hasn't seen yet what he looks like. Simon will come in and try to act like a stranger, but Baz can Where's Waldo him every time.)

but then Christmas comes. and Baz has to go home to see his family. and i don't have an exact idea of how this convo goes, only that it is not a fight of any kind, like, it is a normal convo about the holidays but Baz apologises to Simon during it for not telling his family about him, he says they'd want Baz to bring Simon home if he did (bc i just don't wanna fuck with homophobia in this so we've shot Malcolm with the ally beam) and he wouldn't know how to explain Simon's whole... thing to them, and Simon kinda realises that like. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz can bring home to his family. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz gets to have a normal life with.

SO SIMON GHOSTS HIM.

like, Baz comes back from his family's place, annoyed that Simon hasn't returned any of his texts or calls, only to find that Simon and Penny have literally fucking moved flats in the two weeks he's been gone. and obvs he's fucking devastated and confused by this and desperately trying to get Simon to respond to him, but he won't.

Simon goes out of his way to find a new bookshop to go to, and that's the end of things for about a week or so, and i haven't actually decided what happens here exactly, but the general idea i wanna go with is that Simon goes to the bookshop Baz works at just for the sake of seeing him, checking up on him, bc he misses him.

but remember that game they played? so yeah, Baz walks up to say his usual like, "hey, can I help you find anything?" but he fucking clocks Simon after like ten seconds.

scene change: they're in Simon's new flat, like maybe Baz demanded that if Simon is going to break up with him he owes it to him to do it goddamn properly, but i dunno. details, details. but they end up getting in a huge fucking fight and Simon reveals the reason he ghosted Baz was bc he realised Baz can't have a real life with him and Baz is like:

"You don't get to decide that for me! You're still you, you're still lovely—"

"You don't even know what I look like!"

"I don't care what you look like, you fucking moron, I care that you're Simon Snow! There's a person inside you that exists every day, even when everything else changes, and he's lovely. I love him. The rest doesn't matter, how can you not see that? Stop telling me I'm not allowed to love you however you are, I'll love you a hundred different ways, Simon. Any size, any shape. I'll love you over, and over, and over. That's a life for me. A real life for me. You!"

and then Simon throws his arms around Baz's neck and hugs him like he needs him to breathe and Baz clings to his shirt and they're both prolly crying all loud and gross, but it's fine. they're gonna be fine.

the next day: Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck. "Like this one, then?" he says.

"Loveliest yet." Baz brushes his knuckles over the slope of Simon's shoulder. "Freckles, curls, broad shoulders... Mmm, maybe we should stay in bed today."

Simon laughs and rolls over to pin Baz to the mattress, grinning at him. he goes to say something, prolly rib at him the way they do, but as he does he catches his reflection in that mirror he keeps by his bed and he freezes.

"Holy shit!" he shouts, and shoves himself up onto his knees. "That's me!"

Baz rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, I told you—"

Simon shakes his head furiously. "No, it's. Baz. I'm. Jesus fucking Christ, that's me. Baz, that's me."

Baz sits up slowly. "Do you mean—"

"Fuck, holy shit!" Simon grabs his curls with both hands. he hasn't touched these curls in ten fucking years. he looks older than he remembers himself, which is a given, but it's definitely him. his father's eyes, his mother's chin. the moles on his cheek, above his eyebrow, below his ear.

Simon freaks out in a way that kinda toes the line between being happy and being a breakdown, he throws himself at Baz, and they both fall back onto the bed and Simon is laughing and he's shaking and he doesn't understand, he doesn't get it, but holy fuck, he has his own face, he has his own body, he has his own hands. Baz pushes them apart so he can get a look at him, and Simon is actually kinda self-conscious when he does, which is a new feeling. he never has to feel self-conscious about anything, usually, since he knows every flaw or insecurity isn't really his, and will be gone the next day, but this is just... him.

Baz takes Simon's face in his hands and then, breathlessly, "Hello, Simon Snow."

AND THEN THEY KISS bc what else would they do here.

and uhh, yeah. so. Simon goes out to the kitchen where Penny is making breakfast and she loses her shit when she sees him. big hugs all around. Baz really does take the day off work to spend it with Simon, even though that just means lying around on the sofa watching movies while Simon works on his current rebinding commission. when Penny gets home that evening, they order takeaway and sit around the lounge room playing boardgames together until late, late, late into the night. Penny falls asleep in the armchair, and now it's 3-am.

Simon is tired. he's looking at the clock, sitting with his knees up and his arms around them, with Baz beside him. Baz has his forehead on his shoulder, an arm around his waist. he doesn't want to go to bed, because what if... what if it was only for today. how long will it be until the next time? what if there is no next time, what if, what if—

"We'll still be here," Baz whispers, exhausted. "And you'll still be you. No matter what, Simon."

and so they go to bed.

Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck.

"Good morning, Simon Snow."

AND YEAH, that is the entire plot of my The Beauty Inside AU.

i told you this was gonna be a long one, but if you've made it all the way to the end of this mess, thank you kindly again for indulging me!

[jerzwriter]

The way I screamed when I saw this commission! The artwork is by the simply lovely, delightful & talented @rosefuckinggenius. If you have never commissioned her, you should! Rose, you're the absolute best, my dear! Thank you for bringing my babies to life this holiday season!

All is Merry & Bright

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey Carrick) Other Characters: Bryce Lahela, Vivian Carrick (F!OC), Jordan Carrick (M!OC) Words/Rating: 1,200 / Teen Summary: It's their second Christmas with little Samantha, and the Carricks are getting ready to take their Christmas card photo. As Uncle Jordan sets up the perfect shot, Grandma Vivian and Bryce provide the commentary. A/N: In my timeline, this would be taking place during the Christmas 2024 season.

With their coffee orders securely in hand, Tobias stepped into the vestibule of his townhome, careful to make sure ‘Hurricane Samantha’ wasn’t underfoot. A year ago, he and Casey wondered what it would be like when she began to walk and talk; now they knew it only added to the joyful chaos they had come to know and love. It was as familiar as the warm vanilla cinnamon scent that had filled the air ever since Casey moved in and as welcoming as his wife’s loving embrace or his daughter’s smile at the end of the day.

He smiled as he placed the snowflake bedecked cups on their dining room table. The last four years of his life bore no resemblance to the thirty-six that had preceded it, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his brother's desperate pleas from the next room. He was doing his best to keep Samantha occupied, but she was quicker than he thought, and the bowl of red, silver, and green-wrapped Hershey kisses was too tempting. As the toddler's tiny hand reached up to grab the bowl, Jordan started to unravel.

“No, Sammy! No! I know Mommy and Daddy don't want you on a sugar high while before taking your Christmas pictures!”

But Samantha was undeterred.  “Yum-YUMS!” She yelled. The bowl was about to topple on her just as Tobias lifted her from behind, placing her high atop his shoulders in one swoop.

“Uncle Jordan’s right, pumpkin. Let’s save the sugaring up for after, OK?”

“Wow!” Jordan was astonished. “You said I was right!”

Tobias shot his brother a smirk. “Yeah, well, even a broken clock is right twice a day! Where is Casey, anyway.”

“Upstairs, finishing her makeup.”

“Still?”

“She was all done,” Jordan shrugged. “But then Ma had... opinions... so she's upstairs touching up.”

“Oh, shit!” Tobias laughed. “Then we’re safer down here with this little firecracker.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

But Casey and Vivian were descending the stairs at that very moment, and Mrs. Carrick was all happy to interrupt her sons.

“Hate to disappoint you, boys. But we smelled that delicious coffee the moment you came in. There’s no keeping us away.”

“Gam-mah!” Samanta squirmed excitedly, throwing her arms her grandmother's way, and that's how Vivian instantly forgot about her coffee.

“Oh, come here, my little angel!" She cooed, retrieving her from Tobias's arms. "That’s right! Tell Daddy that Grandma’s here. His services are no longer needed!”

“Really?” Tobias sneered. “Because with all your complaints of wanting another grandchild, I think my services are most certainly needed.”

Bryce dropped his coffee cup to the table with a thud. His eyes rose to the ceiling as he let out a sigh. “I don't know if putting up with you two is worth the free coffee.”

“Maybe not,” Tobias said, pointing to a few bags on the table. “But there are also cookies from Parziale’s, and I’m ordering in Chinese after the photo. Would that make it worthwhile?” Bryce may have answered if he weren't too rushing for the cookies.

Tobias let out a slow whistle as he walked toward Casey, making a show of looking her over as he did.

“No mistletoe needed here!" Casey laughed. "You can just kiss me."

Tobias studied Casey's face, then kissed her forehead. “Not bad! Not bad at all!”

“Jordan told Vivian he didn't like it,” Casey smiled. “He wanted something a little edgier. That a little punk edge four our family Christmas portrait would go a long way.”

“And I made it clear that my foot would go a long way...” Vivian interjected. “A long way up his ass if he thought I would allow that to happen.”

“ASS!” Samantha hollered, and everyone but Vivian broke into a fit of laughter.

“See what you make me do!” Vivian scolded as she whisked Sammy into the living room. “Making me say bad words in front of my grandbaby.”

“There is a swear jar in the kitchen," Bryce noted.

“Yeah," Casey added. "Between all of us, her college education will be funded before she turns two.”

“Amen to that,” Tobias laughed.

“All right, guys, as fun as this is, do you think we can start taking the pictures?” Jordan requested. “I do have a date tonight.”

“Oh, do you?” Casey teased.

“Yep,” Jordan grinned, playfully smacking his brother. “Someone’s gotta keep the Carrick rep going since this one has gone all domestic.”

“That’s not our rep!” Vivian shouted. “You’re not getting any younger either, Jordan! Who is this person? Do I know them?"

"I think I know him," Casey winked. "Make it quick; Vivian is itching to plan another wedding!"

“Oh! Trust!” Tobias laughed heartily. “Trust! She is!”  

“All fun aside," Casey segued. " We should start the photos before it gets too close to Sammy’s naptime.”

“Yeah, we want to do it before my naptime, too,” Bryce added.

“You’re not in the photo,” Tobias reminded. “You can go nap now if you want."

“You know, I’m still insulted by that," Bryce complained. "Why am I not in the family photo?”

“Because you’re not their stepson, no matter how much you may act like it," Vivian advised. "Now, if you want a family portrait, I suggest you get mar...”

“Annnnd on that note, it's photo time!" Jordan grinned.

“Sammy, come here, baby,” Casey beamed as her giggling little toddler wobbled over to her. “Let Mommy fix your sweater so we are all pretty for our picture!”

“I’ll admit,” Vivian observed. “Those sweaters wouldn't have been my first pick, but they're definitely you two! They will make an adorable family Christmas card.”

Casey stopped what she was doing, exhaling as she snuggled under her husband’s arm. “Family Christmas card... our second already. Can you believe it?”

“Oh, do I hear disappointment there?” Tobias teased.

“Not even a little. But sometimes, I’m still astonished. How did we end up here?”

“Do I really have to explain how this came to be, Mrs. Carrick,” Tobias winked. "See, when a man and a woman fall in love, sometimes, they do this thing together...."

“OK, No!" Jordan insisted. “I don’t need to hear about how Sammy was conceived.”

“No, we don’t,” Vivian agreed. “But I do need you two to keep at it - in private! Because I sure would love a second grandbaby on next year’s card.”

“I think that’s her way of offering to babysit for us tonight,” Casey winked. 

Tobias pulled his wife and Sammy closer. “Then, that's our queue! Come on, let's get this picture over with."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

@choicesholidays It fits a few, but let's go with ... it's a tradition. .

Tagging the rest separately.

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

May I introduce my Space Rangers AU, just a teeny tiny bit?

At least- some initial doodles including some designs for it-

While there are a lot of other characters that have fun designs and backstories for this au, these four (+ Rusty) are the main focus for now-

They're space experiments, escapees from A.F.O (not the person), an organisation that experiments and tries to create perfect beings using solar and lunar energy extracted from suns and moons!

Brief character info:

PL:

Was stolen as a child from Earth and experimented on, ended up busting out and saving a bunch of the other kids.

Took them to Yuuei (a built up safe haven for all, home of the space rangers)

Ended up going on some adventures with Ecto, who was now his best friend that would tag along with anything.

Became a ranger captain and eventually built a crew with Ecto

They accept odd jobs and commissions, no matter the manner of them, and get money through them (+occasionally thieving things)

He ends up rescuing and breaking out more experiments from different A.F.O bases, and takes them to Yuuei for safety.

Rescued Rusty, who was in the animal space trade, and now looks after him and treasures him.

Hes about 70% space rock and metal and random alien blood at this point-

Loves to visit earth to get the snacks there.

Ecto:

Was a royal from a planet with constantly shifting gravity, so his body allows him to just kinda switch his own sense of gravity around if that makes sense-

(he can just vibe on the ceiling whenever he wants lol)

Also has this shadowy bone demon that lives within him/as part of him.

Got stolen and his planet kinda got wiped out, and off he went to go get experimented on.

He was supposed to be 'scrapped' but survived bc of Higari.

They made friends with each other when still young, Higari saved Ecto from being killed and he helped him break out.

Ever since then, he stuck with him and became a ranger with him (also ended up falling for him and becoming a huge mess about it)

He really likes the sweets that Higari gets him from Earth.

Tsunagu:

From an ancient civilisation that is now long gone, his entire kind was wiped out after him and a other kids got stolen by A.F.O.

Was part of the original experiments carried out by the actual AFO(person) before Tsunagu kinda went rogue, killed him, destroyed the original base and fled.

He is OLD as fuck.

He would qualify as a "royal" but wouldn't use that title, as within his civilisation they were all perceived as noble beings.

He can shapeshift, never shows his natural form due to insecurities with how he was experimented on, and trust issues.

The experiment on him went VERY wrong, and he was accidentally injected with the Solar energy of an ancient Celestial Solar Being :]

It inhabits his being and goes rogue sometimes. It is searching for its "Home", which happens to be its other half - an ancient lunar being <3

He is dangerous and grouchy as hell, but has a sense of humour deep down.

Also met Higari and his crew by being broken out of jail by him and now constantly relies on him to break him out of jail. Very often.

He's a captain of his own ship and crew.

Shinya:

Was stolen from earth quite a long time ago as a baby and not only experimented on, but raised by the scientists.

He was brainwashed and all that jazz to become one of their "higher functioning mercenaries".

He aided in their schemes and killing for quite the long time until he was sent on a mission out to earth.

This didn't go well, and he ended up losing all of his memory to do with A.F.O and space and only knew the information he was given to fit in: "Shinya Kamihara, age 33, scientist and medic for space exploration"

He came back out to space on an expedition and it went wrong, he got stranded with important dangerous stuff, and eventually gets helped by Higari and his crew and meets Tsunagu.

The rest is all a very long plot. He has to find out who he was and is.

He has hidden markings from his experiment mercenary days, and only certain circumstances/equipment/technology can reveal it.

He also, mirroring Tsunagu's predicament, is the host for the Celestial Lunar Being that is searching for it's home.

:)

Rusty:

The Bestest Boy

Is a Space Travelling Dinosaur

He is small, very huggable, and likes to eat seeds and nuts and occasionally anything else thats handed to him.

Rescued by Higari from being traded in the space trade.

He can blow lil sparkly galaxy bubbles from his nose-beak-thing, and step on them if he wants to.

He is The Best Space Ranger.

[lilacmuffins]

"could you be my best friend?"

[oc-tober (day 6) - past]

did a little writing piece about april and kaia while they were still online bffs and not physically together or dating!! (title of this post is based on the song "online love" by conan gray, btw,,)

art below was commissioned by me from my best friend ever @muxhroom-marx-markiplier like two years ago, it's still my favorite drawing of them that i have on my computer!! (also shoutout he still does commissions and his art is wonderful go look at his post about that)

>> kaia hexum & april lang

i made these two in 2018 or something, back when i was forced to draw vocab word comics for my english class. they had this whole thing going on, and they were extremely in love with each other. they wear each others' colors because i only had like 4 colored pencils at my desk when i rushed through drawing the original comic,, then i kept them and used them for short story assignments and various other ELA things throughout middle school.

i love my girls, they've gone through so many cringe little phases of my life with me but they're still in love and that's what counts!! i don't give these two nearly enough attention as i should but shh it's ok i love them so so much still <33

little one-shot & prompts below the cut! lowkey the writing is not great but it's ok i wanted to get the idea out--

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Kaia was a child, her mom didn’t have a lot. After her dad died, they lived paycheck to paycheck, scraping up money for food and some nights not getting enough. Kaia always ate, though, and she was raised by the family Windows XP computer that sat in the living room. The thing was on its last legs, but it still ran YouTube and Skype. That’s how she met April, originally stumbling across a “Reading Tarot for Beginners” video. It looked like it had been filmed with a microwave, and the girl with red hair looked like she was 13 (a year older than her). Kaia loved the energy of the video, watching the girl’s face light up as she talked about her tarot cards (they looked custom ordered, with cats and oranges being a major aesthetic). She left a comment under the week-old video, one of only three. “XxApril_WitchxxX”, the YouTuber’s username, had a lot of cute videos without many subscribers. Only nine, not including Kaia. It was like fate when April responded to the comment and DMed Kaia, asking if she had a Skype account. The two of them talked about April’s videos, getting closer when April started to do “lets plays” along with her other content. Even when she couldn’t afford to play, Kaia would watch and commentate in voice chat, just to have her new friend’s company.

Eventually, they started to talk about more than videos too. Kaia talked a lot about her friend, Tove, and her mom. She started to learn coding, with her awful computer. She learned how to make games that she could watch April play, games that would stump her and she could get playfully mad at her friend as she refused to give her the solution to the puzzles. They continued to get closer and call often until they were 16, four years had passed in the blink of an eye. Ms. Hexum knew April almost as well as she knew her daughter, at this point. One night, at the dinner table, she sighed and shook her head.

“Kaia, sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to pay the internet bill anymore. It’s getting too expensive.” She spoke. Kaia stared at her mother for a moment, not knowing what to say. Her little part-time job couldn’t pay it either, and April’s parents weren’t being very generous anymore with their divorce on the horizon and their daughter “refusing to get a real job”.

“Wait, so… I-I won’t be able to call April anymore?” Kaia asked, her voice cracking. It seemed impossible after these four years, even overseas the two were inseparable. Kaia’s mom put her head in her hands, she wasn’t sure what to say. Kaia didn’t blame her, of course, she knew it was hard. Still, she pushed her dinner to her mom, mumbling something about how she could eat extra tonight and walked to her room so she could call April (the computer had been moved to her room three years ago, or something like that). The two talked for hours about what to do, if Kaia could afford a phone so they could at least use Discord to text each other, but it was no use. A few days later, they said their goodbyes and the internet was cut off. Kaia cried to Tove, she thought she’d never talk to April again. That one day she would move on, start her life and forget about her. It took two years for Kaia to save up to the point where she was able to buy a terrible phone. As soon as she got past setting it up and kind of learning how to use it, she spent hours desperately trying to find April’s current Discord account. Her mobile data hated it, and her bank account hated the international call fees even more.

“Kaia?” April’s voice came through the speaker, crackling and not quite right. She sounded relieved. “How are you calling me?”

“April, I’m coming to Florida in a month. I have a ticket, it cost so much money. Mom helped me save up.”  Kaia explained, rushing to get it all out. She was hearing her best friend’s voice again after so long, it made her want to cry. “I can’t stay on the phone for long, it costs more money.”  She sniffled and reached up to twist one of the curls of her now blue hair around her finger.

“Oh! A-A month? I’ll have to get everything ready then.” April laughed, sounding just as close to tears as Kaia was. “I’m so happy to hear your voice, you have no idea.” She added. Kaia hummed in agreement.

“We can still text a little too, between now and then. No calls though, we’ll be together soon.” The blue-haired girl explained. They chatted for only a little while longer, and before Kaia knew it, she was up late packing her few belongings into a purple suitcase. This was the start to a new era of her life, and she was so ready to have April be there as a part of it. Only a month until she could see her and give her the hug she’d wanted to for so long…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Prompt List:

[riahlynn101]

"I Love You to the Moon and Back" (5).

I hope you guys enjoyed the story <3 Thank you, guys, for all the support, it's much appreciated :D!!

Trigger warnings: blood, children in distress, and All for One and the commission being themselves.

Sidenote: I'm going to write an epilogue at some point this week, as well as a few different (one shot) stories that have the same premise but change a few things around.

For instance:

-Inko not dying. -Aizawa being the main father figure in the story (while All Might and All for One hash it out in the background). -Inko not dying and being rewound. -All for One working through his own childhood trauma while being forced to live with All Might. On top of which he has to go to U.A, and watch his son be parented by everyone except him.

Chapter 5

--

Tenko is scared. 

He’s been scared for a majority of his life. It’s familiar, like an old, worn shirt. First with his father whenever he got into one of his moods. Then, wandering aimlessly on the streets. Voicelessly asking for help that no one intended to give him. Help that….

…that Sensei gave him. 

Despite the precarious circumstance, Tenko can’t help but wonder if Izuku being his cousin and Sensei being Izuku’s dad might be connected. Surely it must be more than coincidence that Izuku’s mom is also related to Nana? Sensei wouldn’t target his aunt, marry and have a child with her, just to forsake Nana’s legacy, right? Right?

He would.

Tenko uses his free hand to scratch at his neck. 

That means his baby cousin is in danger. With Tenko gone, what if Sensei tries to mold him into a villain? He won’t let that happen. He promises himself that, no matter what, he’ll do for Izuku what no adult ever did for him: provide protection. 

The president has his wrist in a tight grip. It’s uncomfortable but any attempts to say as much are met with an icy glare. And getting a member of staff’s attention is utterly useless. They seem to ignore the ongoing struggle of a grown man dragging an eight-year-old by the wrist through the hospital. One nurse even had the gull to wave at them as they passed. 

“Let go!” He exclaims, using four fingers (even with gloves on he worries that his quirk might activate beyond his control) to swat at the president’s arms. His arm is tugged roughly. 

“Stop!” The president demands. “We’re almost there.”

Tenko calms himself down enough to look around. He recognizes this floor. He furrowed his eyebrows. “This is…. the hallway to Izuku’s room.”

“Yes.”

“But…you said-”

The president lightly chuckles. “I’ve said lots of things. Lying for the greater good is a part of my job.”

They’re almost to Izuku’s room. 

The room that the president said they transferred him out of. 

The room that Tenko left to get his cousin help.

The room where his cousin was is struggling to breathe.

(Don’t think negatively! He’s okay. He’s fine! Izuku isn’t dead! He isn’t!)

“You said they transferred him to another room.” He tries wrenching his wrist out of the president’s grasp. It hurts, especially when he yanks on his arm to make Tenko stop, but he doesn’t quit this time. He wriggles. “I- we have to get a nurse. He’s having trouble breathing. Please,” he begs.

The president pauses mid-step. The look he gives Tenko reminds him of the night father slapped him. He feels just as weak and helpless as he did back then. Only difference being a quirk accident isn’t going to save him now. 

“And what if I say, no?”

He doesn’t want it to. His hands are already covered in the blood of hundreds, if not thousands. Every night he has nightmares of the atrocities he’s committed; has had nightmares since Sensei took him in. Except back then-when he was Shigaraki Tomura-it was easy to push those feelings deep, deep down. 

“Please,” Tenko begs again, heart pounding in his chest.

A few measly days ago, he had been the most feared person in the entire world. A force to be reckoned with. He had a single-minded focus on causing mass amounts of destruction.

The president hums, considering the request. 

Outside of the league, he has no real connections. It’s been that way for years. He’s adapted to it, but he’ll never get used to being alone. 

“If Izuku dies then all your plans go to waste,” Tenko says. He has to fight the urge to scratch at his neck. It’s a habit he needs to break. 

He had a family once. They loved him, even father in his own, broken way. He misses them terribly, all the time. If reality were a video game, he would have hit restart and destroyed all his progress just to spend five more minutes with them.

“He won’t,” the president says, resuming his dragging of Tenko to room 383. 

But life isn’t a video game. He doesn’t get a redo. His family is dead, and they’re never coming back. His cousin is his only family left in the world. The only person who saw him at his worst and decided that he needed to be saved. So….

“No!” 

…he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fight for the second chance he was given. 

Tenko finally wrenches free. He jumps back, narrowly avoiding the president’s heavy hand. 

He doesn’t wait for the president to react before booking it down the hall and towards All for One’s room. With any luck he can catch All Might. 

-x-x-x-

Hisashi stares at the bottles of medicine in front of him. The labels are small, and he has to squint to differentiate between all of them. 

Izuku falls into another coughing fit, startling him. He tenses up.

“It’s okay, Izuku,” he hears Yoichi murmur. 

Hisashi relaxes, refocusing.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find an inhaler. There are a million and one different kinds of pain meds, even more antibiotics and antivirals, but no corticosteroids. 

He huffs. 

He really, really doesn’t want to ask his brother for help. It’s embarrassing and every older brother’s worst nightmare. The last time he asked for Yoichi’s help was to get his hand free from the cookie jar, and his brother never let him live that down. 

Izuku whimpers. His coughing fit, at least for now, is over. But Hisashi knows he’s running on borrowed time. 

He grits his teeth. 

For Izuku. For my son. 

“Yoichi?” 

His brother hums, sounding distracted. 

“Do you happen to remember what your medicine was called?”

“Please,” Yoichi counters.

“Yoichi, your nephew is on the verge of dying.”

“He won’t, and it never hurts to be polite. You taught me that, Nii-San.”

Hisashi, with his back to his brother, can still sense his smug smile. There’s not much he can retort with. He did, while raising Yoichi, instill that manners are important. And the fact that his brother’s (and presumably the other vestiges) prolonging what, in any other instance, would be a death sentence (choking for ten-plus minutes without immediate medical intervention), calms him down a little. 

Hisashi is willing to swallow his pride. Just this once; for his son. 

“Please, can you tell me the name of the medicine? I can’t find any corticosteroids.”

“Now, was that so hard?” His brother lightly teases him before his tone turns serious. “I used an albuterol sulfate inhaler. I think I spotted one on the third or second shelf. It should be in a red and white box.”

“I already looked-” He spots a red and white box with the words: ProAir HFA: Albuterol Sulfate printed across the front. Not wasting a second longer, he unboxes the inhaler.

 Hisashi hurries over to his son’s side. He shakes the inhaler, propping his son’s head up with one of his hands. Izuku’s eyes are unfocused and glazed over. A groan escapes his lips and he tries to turn away. 

Yoichi leans down to whisper something in Izuku’s ear. His medium length hair tickles Izuku’s face; he watches his son’s face scrunch up at the sensation. 

(He will never get over how much the vestiges can interact with the living, or really, only with his son, him, and Tomura. But that has to count for something, right?)

His son relaxes. Hisashi administers the medicine. One puff, followed by ten seconds of ensuring his son breathes as deeply as he can. Another puff, followed by ten seconds of his son regaining his breath. Rinse and repeat a few more times. 

When his son is finally breathing on his own. Hisashi can’t help but hug him tightly. That had been a close call.

Too close. 

“I love you so much,” he tells his son, the words muffled by Izuku’s unruly curls. 

His son murmurs something unintelligible. 

Hisashi pulls back. “What was that, baby?”

Izuku blinks sluggishly. Drool has crusted around his mouth, and Hisashi has to stop himself from using his thumb to clear it away. His curls are more of a mess than usual, weighed down slightly by sweat. 

He looks up at Hiashi, the corners of his mouth up ticking into a small smile. “I love you too, daddy.” 

-x-x-x-

Toshinori is halfway down the hall from All for One’s room when he sees Tenko running full force towards him. 

“Tenko!” He calls, waving the boy over. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

Tenko is sobbing, trembling all over. “The president…he….and Izuku.” His breathing is fast and shallow. He blinks rapidly; his fingers clenching and unclenching. “He lied! The president wants….wants…” He trails off, crying harder. 

It’s then, staring at his master’s grandson, that it finally sets in how deeply traumatized Tenko Shimura is. 

Toshinori gets down on his knees, ignoring the creaky sounds they make. He gently places his hands on Tenko’s shoulders. 

Tenko looks at him, still in the middle of an anxiety attack. “Please, help him.”

There’s a more pressing issue. Time is of the essence, and there’s no telling what the president intends to do. He should spring into action, running full sprint to Young Midoriya’s room. But….

 Toshinori brings the boy closer, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s going to be alright.” 

Tenko stiffens, arms hanging limply at his sides. Slowly he relaxes into the hug, sinking into the embrace. Toshinori can feel Tenko’s tears wetting his shirt. His heart breaks a little bit more. 

When they pull away from each other, Tenko’s eyes are puffy and red, but he’s no longer crying. He sniffs, regaining his composure. “We should get going.”

“Yes, I think I know where they stash their medicine. Would you be so kind as to find an inhaler? It should say what it is on the box. It isn’t much, but it might be enough to stop Young Midoriya’s coughing fit.”

Tenko nods, looking unsure. “But…but what about the president?”

“Leave him to me.”

-x-x-x-

Nakaya stares at the empty bed. 

The sheets are rumpled and there’s a lunch tray on the floor. A few spots of red mark the white bedding, likely from the boy’s IV being removed. 

All this planning for nothing. 

He sighs, exhausted from today’s events. It’s not ideal but he might have to cut his losses. At least for now. He’ll pass along a note to staff to call the commission if Midoriya turns up. 

Nakaya turns to leave. 

Something hits him in the face. A wave of pain soon follows. He stumbles back, falling on his back. It takes a few seconds to make sense of what he’s seeing. 

Yagi stands above him, shaking his wrist. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you.”

Once the shock wears off, because surely All Might of all people would know better, he sits up. “You’re going to regret that,” he says, dabbing a handkerchief to his bloody nose. 

“Am I?” He asks. “Nurse Anita, you can come in now.”

Nakaya’s eyes widened. 

“Nurse Anita has agreed to give a full testimony on what you did here today. She says you used unlawful authority to coerce and threaten the hospital staff here to keep them from doing their jobs. And she’s not the only one to claim this. A security guard mentioned he saw you on the cameras earlier cornering a nurse.”

“So?”

“So? Even for the president of the commission, using open coercion is frowned upon. The commission, as you know, is quick to dispose of anyone that might make the public look at them unfavorably.”

Nayaka’s heart skips a beat. “These are unprecedented times.”

“They are,” Yagi agrees. “But most of Japan is still functional, like this city we’re in. Public opinion still matters to the commission. You’re not going to get out this unscathed.”

“What do you want? Money? Power?” He tries to think up every possible bribe. “Food? Women?”

“You hurt my boys.”

Nayaka shrinks back. 

“I sent Tenko to go get an inhaler from the medicine closet.” 

Nurse Anita pipes up. “Usually, we keep the medicine closet locked up. It would be very irresponsible of us not to.”

“Oh, when I passed by it earlier, I saw that it was slightly ajar.” Yagi’s eyes flit over to the empty bed. Fear flashes in his eyes. “Tenko told me you lied about transferring Young Midoriya to another floor, and Nurse Anita confirmed that. So, where is he?”

-x-x-x-

Hisashi is picking up his son, when he hears the unmistakable sound of someone coming over to the door.

He glances around the room. There’s no where he can hide. He’s too tall, and his son’s still too out of it to be trusted to stay in one place. 

As if on cue, Izuku mumbles something that sounds a lot like: “All Might is the bestest.” But he could be wrong (God, he hopes he’s wrong). 

The door handle starts to turn. 

Hisashi goes over every quirk he owns. There’s not many. A handful of a handful from what he had before rewind. He got All for One at fourteen and didn’t dare use it (on purpose) until much later. All of the ones he has right now are from him accidentally taking people’s quirks. 

None of them are teleportation. 

None of them are helpful.

The door creaks open.

Hisashi holds his breath, holding his son close. He hasn’t decided if he’ll surrender peacefully or try to escape some other way. For once, he would like to avoid confrontation. Izuku doesn’t need to see that. 

In steps Tomura who, upon seeing him, shrinks back. His eyes dart down to the body in his arms. Anger flashes in Tomura’s eyes. A deep-seated resentment bubbling to the surface. 

All for One feels a smidge of empathy. He himself once held that same anger, that same resentment for so many people. People that hurt his family and him. He can still recall all these hundreds of years later, the nasty words and feeling so small and helpless. 

But…he’s All for One- the supervillain-he has a part to play. He doesn’t get to feel empathy for anyone besides a select few. 

“Tomura,” he greets. “Lovely seeing you here.”

“Put my cousin down!” Tomura is glowering at him. All of his hackles are raised.

Okay, clearly, playing the villain won’t work here. All for One rethinks his approach. What would he do if someone, he thought was dangerous, was holding Yoichi when they were kids?

I would have probably killed them. Scratch that, I would have definitely killed them.  

Okay…so, new approach. What if he kicked Tomura, really, really hard? He’s smaller than he used to be, and All for One has a good three or four feet on him. It shouldn’t be too hard. But then there’s the possibility of Izuku finding out, and if he accidentally ends up killing him, he’ll be upset. That’s one headache he doesn’t need. 

What if-

“Sensei?” 

All for One shakes his head. “Tomura, please, stand aside. I have no intention to harm him.”

“I won’t let you turn him into a villain! He deserves better than that!”

“Why- Tomura, I’m retiring from villainy,” the for now goes unsaid, “and we both know Izuku could never become a villain. Being heroic is so deeply ingrained in him that there’s no way for him to shake it.”

Tomura stops glowering and lowers his arms. Not a total surrender, as he’s still blocking the exit, but progress is progress. He looks at the ground.

“But…but if you take him,” Tenko looks up at him, bottom lip quivering, “I’ll be all alone again. He’s all I have left.”

This time All for One can’t help the wince he gives. 

He doesn’t feel bad.

He doesn’t feel bad. 

He doesn’t feel bad.

“I’m sure All Might can…keep you company?” All for One cranes his neck to look behind Tomura. If the blond oaf shows up then it’s game over. He’s not in any shape to fight All Might, even if the man’s a shadow of his former self. 

He may be tall, but his body is malnourished. 

“Please, don’t take him from me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not forever. I’m sure both of you will meet again. Someday.”

Tomura shakes his head. “Please, please, please, please, please, no, no, no…” 

All for One takes a risk and lightly shoves Tomura out the way. He lands on his hands and knees, giving enough time to leave the room. 

As he starts for the main exit, he can hear the boy sobbing. Izuku squirms in his arms, stirring. 

Hisashi shushes Izuku, lightly bouncing him. 

“Sensei!” Tomura yells. 

All for One turns to see him in the doorway of the room, sitting on his knees. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Why!? Why me? Why my family?” His shoulders shake as his body’s wracked with sobs. 

All for One stares at him. He has a million reasons why he chose the Shimura family to mess with. Most of which start and end with the she-demon known as Nana Shimura. Others, like in the instance of his beautiful wife, were because he craved love and affection. 

“Because I’m a broken man, and I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my existence where I haven’t been broken. And when I see other people who aren’t. Who are happy and just living their lives, I have the urge to break them too.”

“You’re a horrible person,” Tomura spits out. 

“I am,” he agrees with no hint of satisfaction. 

“I…I wish you had just left me to die.”

All for One looks over his former student. He wasn’t overly involved in the boy’s development, which was on purpose. He couldn’t afford to become attached. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t. Goodbye, Tenko.”

[firesidefantasy]

12!

from these cuddling prompts. feel free to send more !!

12. just waking up.

based on a commission i'm getting done rn :)) i will reblog this with the art when it's done.

---

sebastian had never been so happy to wake up to a mouthful of blond hair and no feeling in his right arm.  he tried to wiggle his fingers but there was no saving it. the big, sleepy head on his bicep had cut off any blood flow. he thought that even if he had to have the arm amputated, it would be worth it.

part of sebastian felt like he was thirty five again. like he was falling in love with this boy for the first time, like he had no idea what the future was going to hold, only that it was full of boundless opportunity. after twenty years of marriage to jonathan, and the culminative five years split depressingly unevenly between loving this boy and pining for him, sebastian hadn't thought that that small tendril of hope and the butterflies in his stomach were a feeling he was ever going to experience again. caspar jones had always had a way of proving him wrong.

sebastian shifted caspar so that his face was smushed into his chest, rather than his arm. he sighed in relief. amputation was not ideal, no matter how worthwhile it currently felt. he shook out the cramp in his arm and held caspar close with the other. the boy smelled like sea salt and sleep and he felt like home. sebastian hadn't realised how badly he had missed him until he had him back in his arms. jonathan would have scoffed at him for that. the endless pining should have been a hint, but sebastian had never been good at emotions until they were hitting him over the head with a baseball bat. relief burnt a hole right through his chest where caspar's head touched and sebastian squeezed him tight. he was never going to let him go again. sebastian could live his life no other way.

the clock struck nine and sebastian slid out from beneath him. he set caspar down on the pillows ever so gently and tucked the blankets over him so that he would stay warm.  caspar was a world class insomniac, so if he was sleeping, sebastian was going to let him sleep. he wanted his angel well rested. he also wanted him well fed.

sebastian padded downstairs and into the kitchen. it was all patio windows and sleek black countertops, books and a record player and a kitchen island to die for. he had gone all out on their new kitchen when they had bought the place in santa monica. to this day, he would deny that he had caspar in mind when he had designed it, but he knew the truth. california was a big place. he hadn't bought a house in the extremely expensive area caspar jones just happened to be living in because he hadn't expected to be cooking for him at some point.

sebastian looked inside the fridge. residing deep within him was still the unfettered need to make sure caspar was eating right. he wasn't the malnourished kid that sebastian known all those years ago, but sebastian couldn't bring himself to pump him full of sugar and complex carbs, even if he knew caspar would prefer it. he spent most of the day running around. he needed proper nutrition.

that settled, sebastian grabbed the eggs, set some mozart spinning on the record player, and begun preparing the hollandaise sauce he would need to make eggs benedict with smoked salmon. the eggs were almost done cooking by the time thudding footsteps landed at the bottom of the stairs. those footsteps grew louder, and then there were a pair of warm arms snaking around his waist, and a familiar mop of blond hair tickling his cheek.

"morning, angel," sebastian smiled. he pressed a hand over caspar's and noted the bright blue sleeves covering his arms. a warm glow burned within him. it had taken caspar less than twenty-four hours to steal his disgustingly ugly UCLA hoodie. sebastian wanted to fuck him in it. maybe after breakfast.

caspar squeezed his waist. he was all yawns and messy hair. "mornin'."

"breakfast will be ready in a moment," sebastian needed to start putting the ingredients together, but he hesitated by the stove, unwilling to ask caspar to let him go just yet.

"i'm getting deja vu," caspar laughed, his breath hot against sebastian's neck. he pressed a kiss there, and then another, down the slope of his shoulder. "how many vegetables are in this?"

"more than you want there to be, less than i think there should be," sebastian said.  he turned the heat down on the stove. "compromise."

caspar pressed his smile into sebastian's shoulder. "i missed you fussing over my vegetable intake."

"you won't be saying that in a week," sebastian poked his arm.

caspar giggled.

sebastian smiled.

it was good to be home.

[realistically-shifting]

Where I’m waking up - Orion

I’ve been traveling with Hana for roughly two years since the start of the apocalypse. She’s extremely smart, quiet, and she mostly follows my rules. We’ve managed to keep our secret hidden, our immunity and her ability to give it. I recently caught a nasty infection and the fever put me out of commission for a few days. My healing factor helped by turning what would’ve been deadly to a three or four day flu.

To make things easy; After getting sick, I managed to find an empty cargo yacht docked near the city we were in. Delirious from the fever and food insecurity, I was conscious enough to make sure I brought her to an empty, comfortable room that had a locking door where she would be safe while I recovered. I was not conscious enough to realize that the well-kept ship was obviously owned by someone. Remus.

Remus found me and Hana and took us back to his island, waiting for me to get better after barely managing to get me to take medicine. Hana freaked out whenever he tried to get close, and I was loopy yet clearly agitated by his presence when I briefly woke up. He carried me to a guest bedroom close to his master bedroom, followed closely by Hana keeping an eye on him. He owns a great Pyrenees mountain dog that’s roughly the same size as me, Titan, and he had Titan stay with us to keep Hana company (Titan and Hana are now inseparable).

Whenever he isn’t checking on me or trying to get on Hana’s good side, he’s been pacing. Waiting for me to get better and wake up so he could see me properly. He’s been having dreams of me for years at this point, and the dreams were happening every day up until a few days ago. Now, I showed up half dead on his yacht with a child. He hasn’t been able to calm down this entire time. When he first saw me, he was in shock until he heard and saw Hana crying. He would’ve been taking care of me and staying at my bedside this entire time, but he didn’t want to needlessly stress out Hana who is already understandably upset with me bedridden. Still, whenever he came to take care of me, he always hesitated to leave the room and his touches always lingered, hoping I would wake up and he’d get to see me look at him.

Remus believes that the gods themselves wanted for us to meet. I’m debating telling him about the immunity myself, or shifting to where he found out when taking care of me and seeing Hana when she let her guard down. Either way, in the story he was thankful to the gods for both of us. The woman/person of his dreams, her daughter, plus the one with the ability to give immunity and evolution. At this point he already considers us basically married, I just don’t know that yet, so he lets us do whatever we want and trusts me with everything.

I’m in the guest bedroom with Hana. Hana is across the room with Titan, sleeping deeply with him curled up around her, so I don’t have to worry about her as I’m shifting. She’s been keeping herself busy with her things plus the toys Remus brought her. It’s early morning, the air is cool now but it’ll get hot later. The only light is sunlight coming through the window. I’m laying down on two firm, white pillows, laying on top of soft cotton sheets with a fluffy comforter on top of me. To my left is the door to the room, there’s a small bedside table Hana dragged in front of it to barricade the room. There’s also one bedside table that has some toys on it, plus our things are sitting in a pile beside it. To my right is the window and another bedside table. On it is a bottle of water along with the bottle of medicine he got me to take. There’s also dried food like jerky, but across the room there’s a table that has a mostly eaten plate of food. He’s been preparing meals so Hana could have something hot to eat. Hana helped me get into a black nightgown, my hair is braided down in cornrows, and I can see the door to the guest bathroom from where I’m laying in the bed. It smells clean, it’s quiet, and my body aches slightly, but otherwise I’m totally recovered.

Remus is outside, doing his morning exercises before coming back in to make breakfast and check on us again.

[umbra-by-jacqui-natla]

Prologue

June 25th, 2013

9:55 PM

Today has been weird. Not like any other day, but this was something else. I don't know where to begin with this one. Well, the best thing to start is at the beginning. More specifically, four days ago.

I was watching the ABC7 news when I learned that my hometown in Maine was in a fiery inferno and most of the teenagers died under mysterious circumstances; at the time of this entry, 12 students were killed and 30 others were reported missing. And in the midst of it all was one girl they said was responsible for it: Carrie White. I requested some time off to go to Chamberlain (my hometown) and testify at the White Commission. Dr. Drake, of course, accepted it and had given me a week off.

I took a plane to Maine and took a cab to Chamberlain. The driver asked me why I wanted to go there and talked about the bad things that happened there. "It's a long story" was all I said to him. Once I arrived, I got a hotel room and I couldn't believe how quiet it became. Chamberlain was a quiet town but this was too quiet. It was slowly becoming a ghost town. People were moving out and funerals were seen in many corners of the cemetery.

After I settled into the hotel room, I went over to the courthouse for the White Commission. I sat in the witness area when a young girl named Susan D. Snell came up. She must have been at least seventeen. Beautiful as well: tall, blonde, blue eyes, flawless skin. I thought she was a Victoria's Secret Model when she walked in with a black dress hugging her figure. Either she was going to a funeral or she just came back from it. Her face looked stern and tired. She seemed deeply affected by all this.

Poor girl.

When she took to the stand, a man in charge of the investigation asked her if what she saw was a natural act. Then she proceeded to say that her boyfriend and most of her friends died that night; she also said that she knows what she saw. But it was her speech that stuck with me and I still remember it.

"Carrie had some sort of power but she was like me. Like any of you. She had hope and she had fears. And we pushed her. And you can only push someone so far before they break."

That took me back to 1998 when the rain of stones happened. When it fell on her house. I remembered it as if it was yesterday. I was just sunbathing in my backyard in my white bikini. I was dozing off for about three minutes or more until I woke up to see a three-year-old Carrie White standing by her picket fence and staring at me. She was such a pretty girl too. She wore a little yellow dress with her mousy blonde hair tied in a loose braid. I didn't know how long she was standing there so I smiled at her.

She didn't smile back. She just pointed and said, "You have dirty pillows".

It took me a moment to realize she was pointing at my chest. I said they are my breasts then she said that she wished she had some; I told her that she will when she was older. But it was her answer that left me dumbfounded.

"Mama says only bad girls have dirty pillows."

What did that crazy woman teach her daughter? I said that I was a good girl and asked does her mom had breasts. And as if on cue, Margaret got out of her house and 'saved' her daughter from me. Carrie started crying and my mother came out, wanting to know what was going on. Then, Margaret called me a slut for exposing myself. Then, hailstones fell upon their house and we all just ran back inside our own house.

And I thought that day was weird enough.

Once the Commission was done for the day, I got out of the courthouse and headed to the taxi stop until I spotted something among the trees. It was limping along the moist grass as it stumbled over its feet. I saw that the figure was a girl. She was in her light blue nightgown with her dirty blonde hair covering her face. She fell on the grass and I ran to her. I tried to help her up but she flinched away. I asked for her name and...

Her name is Carrie White.

I couldn't believe it. I can't believe it. I shouldn't believe it.

She was dead. Everyone was saying she was dead. Yet she was standing before me. I told her my name and her green eyes glimmered. She seemed to remember me.

Knowing what happened here, I was scared for her. If anyone finds out she's still alive here in Chamberlain, they might have to get their pitchforks and torches out. Well, not the pitchforks and torches but you get the idea.

I gave her my jacket and took her to the hotel. To make this long story short, I hired a car service to take us to San Francisco and I left with Carrie beside me. I don't know how the hell she's alive. But if there's one thing I learned from this, I need to be vigilant with her. I don't know what else she's capable of.

Link to Chapter One

[astridstorm]

Funeral Homily for Peter Windley Herman

Good morning and welcome to St. James. A special welcome to Alice, Peter’s wife; to Caroline, his daughter and her fiance, Bruce, here with us from Florida; to Peter Jr and his girlfriend Megan, here from Chicago; to Alice’s siblings here today: Margo, Marion, Rob and Tom; nieces and nephew: Alison, Meaghan and Patrick. 

There are friends of Peter’s here from Millbank, welcome to all of you. Also from George Washington High School, even grade school (PS 187).

The Rev. Tom Newcomb, the former rector of St. James is presiding with me today, welcome to him. Until recently Peter continued to have regular lunches with Father Newcomb and their men’s group--some of them are here with us today, as well.

And of course a very warm welcome to the many parishioners who came out to remember the life of this man who was well loved and respected here, and will be--IS--very missed.

Peter and Alice have been at St. James for over 30 years. They became Episcopalians as a compromise between their two traditions, Roman Catholic and Methodist. This is not uncommon. I’ll never forget, though, Peter’s reason for staying in the Episcopal Church, not exactly a ringing endorsement. These are his words exactly: “you can get used to anything.” :)

But I think he did love it here, and that’s as much for the tradition as for the people--really, more for the people. He gave a lot to this community, serving as treasurer and member of the vestry, consulting frequently on our by-laws, looking at contracts. He was a loyal member of the (old) men’s group (as he called it), a regular at coffee hours. He always saw to it that we sang the Navy Hymn on the Anniversary of Pearl Harbor. He was of course a recipient of the Wally Owen Award for outstanding service to St. James.

What I think he’d be most proud of, though, was his generosity to the children of our parish. On the back of the bulletin is a picture from about four years ago of Peter and some kids sitting near the ice cream truck he would commission each spring. It usually came on Pentecost, one of the principal (and most important) feast days in the Episcopal Church -- but never mind that, because everyone really knew this day as Ice Cream Truck Sunday. 

Peter also generously had ponies brought in each year for Palm Sunday for the children to ride--this because of an old, as in centuries-old, church custom of having ponies lead the procession into the church, taken from the Gospel story of Jesus’ entry on a colt into Jerusalem. The Greater Church may call it Palm Sunday, but here at St. James it’s probably better known as Pony-ride Sunday. At least to our younger members.

We have others speaking today after me, but before I invite them up I’d like to point out that every bit of this service was chosen by Peter--every bit. Since I’ve known him, he’s talked about what was going to be in his funeral service. “Media vita in morte sumus”: In life we are in the midst of death. Peter embodied an old-fashioned appreciation for mortality. The more keenly we’re attuned to it This side of the grave, the more fully we can embrace our lives. And he did.

He reminded me just days before he died--and I quote--“I want it to be known that everything in this service reflects my values.” (end quote) From the prophet Micah’s vision of a day when war shall cease so that every man can sit under his vine and under his fig tree, safe and free from harm. To the Psalmist’s joyful noise in thanksgiving for God’s mercy. To the apostle Paul’s celebration of the variety of gifts given God’s people, all of which “worketh under that one and selfsame Spirit.”

Need I mention that all these readings can only (and ever) rightly be conveyed by the Authorized King James Bible itself, the only Bible Peter took seriously?

The hymns in this service all have meaning, too--In the Garden tells the story of Mary Magdalene’s heart-rending discovery of Jesus that first Easter morning. How Great Thou Art is an homage to creation and the humility it inspires -- these come from Peter’s Methodist upbringing. Others I scarcely need to explain: classic hymns and above all the Navy Hymn with which we’ll conclude this service.

But I think the pinnacle of this service and of the Scriptures for Peter was found in the story of the Good Samaritan, our Gospel reading. A man is beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. Two men--religious leaders of this man’s own people, no less--pass by, hardly giving him a second glance. But a third man, of a different and disreputable tribe, stops to help. Not only that, but takes the wounded man on his own horse, to an inn, where he pays for him to be cared for, and brought back to health. 

It contains everything Peter valued going all the way back to his student days at Columbia and the religious classes he took at nearby Union Seminary, and his days in the Navy--values he formed then and never gave up: mercy, engagement, caring for the stranger, recognizing our shared humanity, and never failing to help someone in need.

The passage ends with what Peter wanted us to hear today, above everything else--his four favorite words in the Scriptures. And for that last line I’m going to have to take some liberties with the King James version because Peter always said they were the FOUR best words in the Bible, and I just noticed in the King James it’s five. I’ll just edit slightly. 

“Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?” Jesus asked. 

“And [the lawyer] said, He that shewed mercy on him. 

Then said Jesus unto him, Go, [and] do thou likewise.”

Today we give thanks for a great man. Whose legacy we will carry on--and carry further, just as he would have wished us to. Go, and do thou likewise. Amen.

[scarlettriot]

Hide & Seek • 73 Days

Pairing: Kirishima X f!Reader

Warnings: Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI, Trespassing, Vigilanteisum, Blood, Passing Out due to Injuries, A Very Corrupt Commission

Contains: Aged-up characters to late 20s. Reader is a vigilante, Kiri is still a Pro (for now). Reader makes changes to her appearance as a means of disguise. Reader also has a quirk. Kiri calls Reader Sweets as a nickname.

Summary: When a mission goes very wrong, you decide you can't be a part of the cover-up and therefore go off-grid. Kiri can't stop looking for you though.

Tag List: @meggsngrits • @weebaboobs • @katditca • @silverhairsimp • @bigmooncheeks

Word Count: 2,532

A/N: Brand new series! I hope you all enjoy it. If you saw my post regarding this fic a few hours ago and read the blurb, you can skip to below the cut. My editing on this is probably ass so sorry in advance. Happy reading ♥️

There was more than one type of villain in the world. They didn’t all wear dark clothes or hide in the shadows of back alleys.

Being a Pro Hero allowed Eijiro to see the very scum of the earth. People who got their rocks off by doing some of the vilest of things. But, what he was never able to wrap his brain around was the fact some of those people blended into the daily masses. They existed right in front of his nose, and there wasn’t a damn thing he, or any other Pro, could do about it.

They were untouchable. 

It was all pretty words and red tape that kept the heroes in line. Being led to believe they were doing everything for the right reasons so they could rest easy at night. But, Eijiro wasn’t resting easy anymore. Each time he signed a new NDA or was told to withhold information during an interview or conferences, it was like a part of his very soul was being ripped away. What little he had remaining was torn away as soon as he read your letter…

He’d known something had been wrong after the mission. You didn’t immediately turn over the NDA but instead took the 24-hour timeframe they allowed and left work for the day. You didn’t text him aside from letting him know you made it home okay. He hadn't heard from you all night long. And then he woke up in the morning to find that fucking note slid under his front door. 

You had to tell someone, it said, and he was the only person you trusted completely.

He thought he knew what it was going to say. After all, cover-ups were such a shitty thing to deal with, but this one, it was so fucking bad. It pushed you too far. He thought you turned in the NDA and were just going to take some time off. That you needed to clear your head. But it was so much more than that. 

I can't stand by and do nothing anymore. Someone has to end this.

The note didn’t say where you were going or what you intended to do precisely; you didn’t want to put him in the middle of anything since the commission would be after you now. But there were a few words at the very bottom of the page that captured all his attention. He read them over and over:

I really hope I get to see you again someday. I love you, Ei. 

You were one of his best friends, and now you were just gone?

No. No, that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t accept it!

He was supposed to be in the office today but going to work was the furthest thing from his mind. He drove right to your house, hoping there was some slim chance you might still be there. He used the spare key you’d given him for emergencies and found your home in its usual state… minus you. 

Your backpack was gone and your favorite sneakers weren’t by the front door. Those seemed to be the only things out of place. You’d left your purse behind with all the cards in your wallet. Cash was gone though. 

He found your cell phone, agency access card, and hero license on your nightstand right next to the picture of you and all your friends at graduation. Stuck to the corner of the frame was a yellow sticky note with four words: I really am sorry. 

Eijiro had held it together right up until that point. But with that yellow little square piece of paper in his hands, he sat on the edge of your bed and let grief and rage take over. It was like you knew he’d come looking. Like you knew he’d beat any commission agent here. 

He left everything exactly the way you left it except for that sticky note. That little piece of paper he kept with the letter, tucked away in the lining of his wallet where he knew it’d be safe. 

When the commission questioned him about your disappearance, he played the fool. Acted as if he had the same information everyone else did. Of course, he didn’t have to pretend to display hurt and anger. Those came naturally nowadays. 

They went through your office and locker. Talked to all your co-workers. Tore your home apart looking for any clue where you might’ve gone or what you planned to do. 

There was some twisted part of Eijiro that hoped you had the courage to do what none of them did and blow the lid off this whole damn thing. Expose them for who they really were. But, days passed, and then weeks, now months had slipped by, and nothing even remotely close to that happened. 

You were barely brought up outside your group of friends anymore. The commission kept a file open on you, and it was well known that if anyone had information on your whereabouts, it was to be brought to their attention immediately. Until then though, it was just business as usual. 

Patrols and missions, office work, and press conferences. The world went on, but your friends couldn’t. Certainly not Eijiro. 

It was tearing him up not knowing anything about where you were. If you were okay. If you were safe. He felt sick, couldn’t eat like normal, and lost so much sleep. 

Those quiet hours that should’ve brought his mind peace only filled it with worry. He’d pull your letter out, now fraying at the edges, and read it time and time again even though he had every word of it memorized. 

I love you.

The two of you tossed those words back and forth between each other for years now. Since you were students at UA. Eijiro couldn’t remember when the meaning of them changed. When the love he felt for you grew into something bigger. But, he could recall staying up until dawn with you trying to sort through it. 

A single night wasn’t enough to figure it out. Years weren’t enough time to figure it out. You both kept pushing it off because admitting love and being in relationships in your line of work was so fucking dangerous. 

So, you’d hold each other a little too long, let your lips linger on his cheek, let his fingers fill the spaces between yours, and sometimes, warm each other's beds when nights got a bit too lonely. It was enough. Or that’s what he told himself. 

But now, in these ungodly hours, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and never let you go again. He wanted to kiss you and pour out his heart. And he would. Gods, he was going to if it was the very last thing he did. He’d never give up on finding you. If he couldn’t bring you home, then he’d go wherever the hell you were because he was confident, now more than ever before, that wherever you were was where he was meant to be. 

For 72 days, his determination never once wavered. The search for you was completely off the radar, so the commission wouldn’t have a clue he and the rest of your friends were still on the hunt to find where you’d gone. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they had found out. You were wanted after all, and they were under strict orders to bring you in if found. Not that any of them intended to do such a thing if they ever actually did find you. When they found you. 

The search was exhausting. In Eijiro’s free time, he visited your favorite places, hoping you might have a craving for your favorite drink from that little cafe you always went to. Or, on nice days, he’d head into the park and walk right by that tree you loved reading under. Even when he was on the clock, he’d use his patrol shifts to ask around, hoping someone matching your description might sound familiar to a shop owner. He stopped into the hospitals on many occasions or asked around hotels. Anything he could think of! 

For 72 days, there hadn’t been a single lead. But, the 73rd would bring a ray of hope in the form of an envelope tucked away in a file he’d just received. 

I can only buy you a day's head start before the commission sees this too…

Eijiro knew Kyoka’s quick slanted writing. She went on to explain that a woman had been spotted lurking around the warehouse district for the last three nights. There was no detailed description, not by a long shot! Just a feminine figure, in their twenties maybe, wearing dark clothes with a hood. There wasn’t a hint about if they had a quirk or not. The whole report would probably be laughed off by the commission, and maybe that was a good thing. They weren’t desperate for a lead like Eijiro was. Things they just blew off, he clung to like a lifeline. 

It nearly killed him waiting for night to fall. He made himself dinner and a drink to try and calm his nerves, but it didn’t do any good. He just ended up pacing around, nearly wearing trenches in the floorboards. 

By the time he left his house, he had his bright hair tied back and hidden under the hood of the dark jacket he put on. There wasn’t much he could do about being as tall as he was, but he hoped this late it wouldn’t really matter. Still, just to be safe, he avoided the patrol routes he knew by heart while still taking the most direct path to the district as he could, making only one stop along the way. 

It was a seedy little shop, but he needed a phone since he left his back at his house that way, it couldn't be tracked. If shit got real bad, he had a couple numbers memorized just in case. 

He hopped the fence to the rows and rows of warehouses when the camera’s turned away. Hardening his skin to easily make it over the wiring at the top and landed on the opposite side with ease. 

There was a lot of ground to cover. It would’ve been better if he had help, but he wasn’t willing to drag anyone else into this. At least, not until he had actual confirmation it was you running around here. 

The rooftops of the massive buildings seemed like the most logical place to begin scouting. He carefully made his way in between buildings, peaking in windows just in case something might stick out, and then headed up the six flights of stairs when he reached an access point. 

With the additional height, he was able to move around in the shadows more freely, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that might seem out of place. The problem was, nothing did. 

Two hours had passed, and aside from a couple trucks that seemed to be making legitimate pickups and deliveries, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No suspicious vehicles or dark figures running about (besides himself). But, he’d stay out until daybreak if it meant having a chance of finding you. 

Another hour went by, and he’d been crouching low on one of the roofs he’d jumped over to. He had a decent vantage point of one of the few warehouses that had several lights still on and thought maybe something might happen if he watched it long enough. 

He’d spotted a figure walking into and out of one of the beams of light, but they were moving slowly, reading something. He didn’t think much of it. But he’d been too preoccupied watching this person that he didn’t hear someone else creeping up behind him. 

A pair of arms slipped around his neck before he knew what was happening, and he activated his quirk as second nature. The person held tight though, even as they hissed in pain. Eijiro stood, his arm reaching behind, trying to get a good hold to yank them off, but they just wrapped their legs around his torso. 

For a moment, he couldn’t think if he should actually fight back since he wasn’t on duty, and he sure as shit wasn’t supposed to be here. But, any official security wouldn’t have jumped him without identifying themselves first… 

They still pulled their arms together against the sharpened plates of his neck like they were determined to choke him out. He felt the warmth of their blood seep into the cracks of his skin, and enough was enough. 

His fingers cracked and sharpened to their claw-like points. Reaching behind him again, Eijiro ripped through the fabric of their top and pierced right through to their flesh. He threw them over his shoulder, and they landed hard with their back smacking down on the cold cement roof. 

He wasted no time. Eijiro yanked their hood off and watched hair spill out that he didn’t quite recognize. But, when their eyes cracked open, gods, he would’ve recognized those eyes anywhere. 

Fear pumped through his veins and brought him to his knees.“Y/N…” He’d finally found you only to throw you on your back and see blood trickling from the edge of your mouth.

“Ya got me good this time, Eiji.” 

He knew he did too. Your blood ran hot down his fingers and it made him feel ill. 

You coughed, and more came up with it. Not willing to waste a second more, he gathered you up in his arms and tried not to think about how hard you hit your head. 

“Eijiro, p–please don’t take m’in. Just ‘tend like ya never found me.” 

“I’m not takin’ you in!” He jumped down the flights of stairs back down to the ground. “I just gouged out a chunk of your back and whacked your head on fucking concrete! I’m gonna patch you up, and you’re not gonna complain ‘bout it!” 

Your weak laugh made his heart clench. “If– If I don’t complain, will you lemme walk away after?” 

He swallowed thickly, “If I can’t convince you to stay…” 

He didn’t care about property damages. He barely even waited for the cameras to turn away before he was sprinting back to the fence and sliced a hole clean through it to get the two of you to the other side. 

“I’ve almost found ‘em again, Ei.” Your head fell against his chest, eyes fluttering closed, and he ran faster than he ever had before down the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Sweets! Don’t do this! I’ve taken you down way harder than that before, " That was a lie, "Don’t you go passin’ out on me now!” 

“Gonna get ‘em. Go–gonna brin’ ‘em back…” 

“Sweets–!” He tried jostling you in his arms, “Y/N!” 

You were still breathing at least. He pulled the burner out of his pocket and called the only person he thought could help. “It’s Kirishima, I-- I didn't know who else to call. Can you meet me at my place? It's an emergency.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)