#always looking out for other people and having to be taught and claw their way into how to look out for themselves

[mythtakens]

Bobby Eddie character parallels yes obviously flawless no notes but Bobby Eddie Maddie character parallels??????? I think about that too hard I need a sedative

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[chowadoe]

my Metamy kid!! his name is Dusty Rose :D ft. single mom Amy Rose and Absentee baby daddy metal sonic LOL

his name's Dusty Rose after Dusty Miller, a plant that looks like metal/silver. Dusty Rose is also a pink color ! it also rhymes with Rusty Rose. im so smart (/j)

born from Metal Sonic's core and infused with Amy's biosignature, Amy and Metal Sonic had a very brief 'thing'... eventually Metal Sonic was soft rebooted and sent away yet again, but he left a piece of himself (part of his 'core'? infused with chaos energy..?) to Amy, which then became Dusty. leaving Dusty as the last true remaining testament of their love

(I just love the idea of Amy with a Waitress style character arc... finding love again in raising her child and not the way she used to think, being spent with another person)

Dusty would be very fixated on the idea of love, after all his mother raised him on the notion of that. Amy's standards for true love and fairytale romance have definitely changed being with Metal Sonic, but the root message being that love is all encompassing and transformative.

He was 'created' to look like Mobian, and Amy treats him no differently than any other Mobian/human. Still, he believes that he should hide all the parts that 'other' him from society, which means his robot parts. (legwarmers!)

He's got a bit of a bad boy edge to him LOLLL i kind of created him that he'd be an emo kid. (fall out boy.. my chemical romance.. a bit of IDKHow) really good at electric guitar and part of a band. eventually he finds his passion is in lyric-writing (all those love stories and inheriting his mother's gift for writing love letters)

he often wonders what a beating heart is like, as someone without one. he's interested in the heartbeats and the pulses of others, but he is a total sweetheart himself.. still, even to other mobians unaware that he is an android (a weapon at that), it's still a little off-putting..

more abt him belolow

Dusty's core is already made/designed after Amy's biosignature, and in meeting other people, he's able to read their biodata and stash it into an archive, but he doesn't reproduce it onto himself. (though unsure if he could? either his code has a blockade or he chooses not to)

Dusty, additional to his stash of weapons, has the ability to shift too like his papa... become something similar to Metal Overlord but not entirely... like a half robot dragon boy or smth.. IF he's under the right conditions to have it pulled out of him. or something

Dusty DOES "grow" up. basically, he's an inorganic being whose core is trying to emulate/copy the growth progression of other organic beings.

As it would grow in size (and Dusty's cognition "matures"), his mother and her friends would modify as needed to adjust his frame, etc, but rarely were things ever replaced. Like a mollusk, its shell growing in size- but one needing accommodations. A heart bigger than its own body that threatens to spill- a chick that has outgrown its shell, well before its expected date- needing modifications to keep it inside and protected

Metal Sonic and Amy would have something profound-- one of those tragic, star-crossed enemies-to-lovers dark fantasy romance stories Amy's always loved to read about- but then having it play in real time and having to come to terms with the real world implications of actually having one. It's just that- a fantasy. and metal sonic would grapple with the ideas of love, which i think would be inherently dark and a little possessive given his upbringing-- but what him and Amy have would be sweet at the very core of it. so him giving a piece of his core that reads and adapts to Amy's biosignature and oops... accidental baby....

Dusty finds himself drawn to music. his mom and dad couldn't quite communicate love language physically (with Metal Sonic's claws and his lack of mouth) so I hc that Amy taught Metal Sonic how to hum and sing and communicate their love through music and vocalizations (which carried onto Dusty)

4th pic is Dusty doing breathing exercises with his mama... Dusty gets embarrassed super easily so him and Amy would regularly do breathing exercises so he doesn't overheat like a PC

[navybrat817]

The Dad Diaries: Grief

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky explains grief to Jamie as best as he can when you need a minute to yourself. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, touch of fluff, grief, loss of a friend, reflecting, talk of death, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Another part to the The Dad Diaries . Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky could hear your cries before he reached the bedroom, the sound causing a lump to form in his throat. He could picture you hastily wiping at your face when he knocked. You were in pain and it hurt him to know you were hurting. The worst part was that it wasn’t the kind of pain he could fix by patching it up. It was the kind of hurt that lingered beneath the surface before it clawed its way out.

Grief.

“Do you need anything, doll?” He asked.

“Just give me a minute, please!” You called out, your voice close to sounding like your normal self. You were trying your best to be strong when what you needed was a moment to break. People didn’t realize the weight of the things they carried until they buckled under them.

And you didn’t need to be strong all the time.

“Mama?” Jamie asked, reaching a hand out toward the door.

Bucky kissed the top of his head. “Mama needs a minute,” he whispered before he held him against his chest. He hoped his smell and steady heart beat soothed him. “She’ll snuggle up with you soon, okay?”

If anything could make you feel better apart from being in his arms, it was having your son nuzzle against you.

Jamie made a small sound, his lower lip trembling. “Mama,” he said again.

Bucky didn’t take it to heart that his son wanted you. He understood that there were days when he’d want his dad and other days he’d want his mom and times when he’d want both of you. If anything, he felt proud that his son wanted to go to you. Maybe he sensed that you needed support and love.

“I know you want your mama,” he said, carrying him back to the living room. “But you are stuck with me for another minute.”

Jamie moved his head, his eyes set in a stubborn stare. He looked so much like you at that moment, demanding with a look to know what was the matter and how to fix it. What could he say?

“Jamie, you know how you have your Uncle Steve and Uncle Sam and Aunt Nat and everyone else?” He asked, a sad smile touching his lips at the happy look in his little boy’s eyes at the mention of his friends. He wanted his child to hold onto that innocence for as long as he could. “Well, your mama had a friend who was going to be like an aunt to you, too.”

Was. Past tense. Because your friend recently passed away. You wondered if she knew how important she was to you. If she knew how she impacted your life. She was too young in your eyes to go. Still had so many things she wanted to do. While death is fair in that it comes for everyone, it doesn’t always feel fair when someone you care for is taken away too soon.

The one thing you were thankful for was that she was no longer in pain.

“Mama’s friend, your aunt, isn’t here anymore. She misses her and she’s sad that she’s gone.”

“Mama sad?” Jamie repeated, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, Nugget. She’s very sad. Grieving. And grief is… so many things,” Bucky explained, swallowing a bit as he felt a crack in his heart. “It’s loss and mourning. It’s love that you carry inside and it no longer has a place to go.”

Jamie gazed at him, soaking up every word. His son was too young to hear something like this. Too precious. But if life taught him anything, it’s that it was too short and there was no guarantee of tomorrow.

“Some days the grief comes out of nowhere. You never really know when it’ll happen or why. You may hear a song you’ve heard dozens of times before or catch a scent of something familiar and it triggers a memory or feeling,” he told him, kissing his forehead again because he needed to ground himself. “You think you’re fine and then you fall apart.”

That was exactly what had happened a few minutes prior. You were smiling one moment as the three of you sat in the living room and the next you burst into tears before you rushed out. Bucky wished like hell he could’ve manifested your sadness into something tangible so he could snuff it out. It wasn’t his battle to fight, but he could be by your side to wipe the tears away if you let him. Or whisper words of care. Or to say nothing at all. Some didn’t always want to hear words of comfort or hope when they just needed to feel.

He would be there to give you whatever you needed or asked for.

“It’s okay to feel those feelings, Jamie. I get sad, too. There’s no timeline for healing or grieving. It takes as long as it takes. And we’re lucky in a way to feel things so strongly,” he told him. You were always understanding and patient on his off days. He more than lucked out by having you as his wife. “You know what your Uncle Vis says grief is? That it’s love persevering,” he added, bouncing him a bit to make him smile. It put a smile on his face, too. “And your mama has so much love to give.”

“So do you.”

Bucky looked toward the doorway where you stood. Bloodshot and puffy eyes, but with a small smile on your beautiful face. He wanted to hold you and remind you that you weren’t alone. “Hey,” he said as Jamie reached for you. “I think he wants to cheer you up.”

“Is that right? Well, I think a snuggle with my boys is just the thing I need,” you said as you took a seat beside Bucky and took Jamie into your arms. “Sorry I rushed off like that.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered. He had plenty of moments where he needed to step away and compose himself when his thoughts got too loud. “We just want you to be okay,” he added, kissing your temple before Jamie grabbed your face.

“Mama no sad,” he said, forcing your cheeks up in a smile. The sight almost brought tears to Bucky’s eyes because it was so simple and heartfelt. “No sad.”

You giggled, a soft sound, before it erupted into full blown laughter. It soothed the crack he felt earlier in his heart. The room felt brighter, especially when Jamie joined in with the laughter. “Not sad, Nugget,” you assured him before you looked at your husband, love shining through like always. “Not anymore.”

The grief from your loss would come again in waves. Just like the days Bucky mourned the parts of his life he lost and couldn’t get back. Some days were harder than others, especially when regret and “what if’s” came to mind, but the important thing was that neither of you allowed yourselves to live alone or lose yourselves in grief. Not when there was so much to be thankful for.

You felt what you needed to feel. You asked for help and leaned on each other. And you carried on together.

Because what is grief, if not love persevering?

I lost more than one loved one recently and writing this helped me process some of the loss. We all need someone like Bucky. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[immortaljai]

hiiii! can I request hcs of a jealous and protective (and slightly possessive🤭) logan with his bimbo!gf? I love your work ! 💗

It was sometimes a bad thing, you were so cute, so...unaware of your surroundings- AND HE TRIED TO GIVE YOU OTHER OPTIONS (you ended up shooting him on accident) So basically, you have a very possessive guard dog, he's always around you and if he isn't by the slight chance his eyes will be on you. He knows that people would love to harm him and what better way than is pretty innocent girlfriend who seems ditzy?

Logan is no dumbass though; he always has your location and constantly checks it with the "dumb new technology" you taught him to use.

If it's a night out with Wade his hand is in yours or he's got his hand on your belt strap. Another thing if some girl tried to flirt with him, he mean mugs them and points them with his eyes to your pink comically small looking bag that has been on his shoulder.

If they persist, he will growl at them and literally sneer a "Fuck off, ma girls waitin' fa ya to leave" it's quite a spectacle to see him so possessive over you.

If you go out alone or wonder off you have..proof of your claim ship either tree tattooed claws on your chest with a small heart or hickeys, maybe both to send the message.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Home for the First Time

It was early when there was a knock at the door of Wayne Manor, Bruce was still in his nightgown because even though it was nearly noon he’d been out late. He stayed back while Alfred opened the door, curious to see who it was and hoping he hadn’t forgotten he was supposed to meet with press or something today. But no, it was two children, nearly identical besides the fact one had blue eyes and the other green.

“Hello,” The blue eyed one greeted with a bright, charming smile, he had one arm out slightly, subtly shielding the green eyed boy who was hanging back a little, a serious look on his face and a stubborn set to his jaw. “My name is Danyal Al Ghul and this is my brother Damien. Perhaps Bruce remembers an ill advised dalliance with our mother Talia roughly 11 years ago? We are the result, and she says it’s time we meet our father and learn what we can from him.”

“Of course we’ll submit to a DNA test to prove our lineage,” The green eyes one, Damien, put in. Danial didn’t look at the boy as he nodded along.

Behind Alfred Bruce choked on his coffee and started to cough. Alfred was unflappable as always and simply nodded once. “I see, why don’t you two come through into the sitting room? The paternity test shouldn’t take long using our equipment, we’ll just need a bit of your hair,” Alfred said as he stood back and usured the kids in. Bruce deciding now would be a good time to disappear and compose himself before he had to meet these unexpected children.

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

Danyal was nervous and excited as they sat in the drawing room, cradling mugs of tea neither of them had drunk. Damien was probably suspicious of an attempted poisoning, but Danyal was just nervous! Not that he showed it, his hands didn’t shake and an impassive little smile stayed on his face as he observed every inch of the room. That was the difference between him and Dami really, Damien had been raised the heir to the Demon Head, Danny to the Bat and Wayne industries. They had gone through the same physical training of course but they had different behaviours ingrained in them.

Damien had been taught to repress all emotion and not show it at all where as Danny had been taught how to mimic them. Hide his true emotion and show the appropriate ones. A ‘press smile’ as they say, to charm and manipulate and give just the right half answers that truly gave nothing away. He excelled in science and technology which would be perfect for running Wayne Enterprises, so it mattered less that his reading skills flagged behind Dami’s a bit, or that he had been the weaker combatant.

Had been, until he had been struck by lightening and then revived by Lazarus. It had been a disappointment, but thankfully not something he could have been faulted for, an act of god to punish their grandfather for his avoidance of death and because even the gods feared who they would become. He remembered the strike, the unimaginable pain of it, and the aftermath as he lay on the ground, his heart stuttering and thumping to hard, then not, then fluttering, then not, then nothing as he had passed out.

He did not remember being dropped in the pit, but he did remember waking up within it. It burned through his veins, seeping in to the hand that had been struck holding his weapon, racing up along the fractals of energy, collecting the currents that still had him twitching uncontrollably and curling together into a hard ball in his chest. A wash of cold spread over him from his new centre, soothing the burn of the acrid, acidic pit. It made drifting there… comfortable.

He knew it shouldn’t have been, he had seen multiple people break the surface, gasping and screaming and clawing their way to shore, but it wasn’t for him. Then again Ra’s bathed in the pool, so maybe this was alright? It made him wonder about the people who never surfaced again, did they choose to stay because this was how it felt to them too? Drifting listlessly in comfortable… What? What was this feeling. Danny had turned and dove deeper into the pit, seeking answers as he always did, even when it wasn’t wise.

He didn’t know how long he swam before he could see the edges, the pool narrowing closer and closer till he could barely make it through, and then he found an exit. It was small, a porthole into a void of stars and doors. It was unlike anything he’d seen and he realised immediately it was calling to him, that was why he had dove. It wanted him to enter, it called it was where he belonged, it terrified him. When something far to large drifted by his little vantage point he fled back towards the surface, the life he knew, and the broken family he still loved.

He was a bit surprised to find that Damien and mother were still there but grandfather had already left. That was fair really, Danny didn’t know how long he had been down there, but his brother and mother are still there. It seemed Damien was being allowed a rare moment of weakness, on his knees by the edge of the pond, staring blankly into the water with their mother crouching next to him, rubbing his back though Damien’s eyes were still dry. They were… grieving him.

He burst through the surface of the glowing pool, gasping for air he scrambled up onto the bank, coughing up the disgusting liquid clogging his lungs. His ears were ringing and his sight narrowing to a green blur, completely unaware of what was going on around him until two hands, one the size of his own, and one larger land on his body. The smaller set held back his hair while larger rubbed his back, slowly sound returned and he heard his mother’s soft cooing and Damien’s panicked breath.

He gasped for breath and looked up at the two of them, the green retreating from his vision as he blinked rapidly. “Damien? Mother?” He had gasped seeing the relief overtake both of their faces that Lazarus hadn’t stolen his mind.

It hadn’t, in fact he was just as sharp as ever and had found that since then no one could detect him when he wanted to remain unseen, no door could stop him or keep him out. He was what any assassin dreamed to be, but it had also come with new awareness since he had been overhearing things no one would usually let him hear. He had heard the conversations Grandfather had with mother going back and forth about which of them should go to their father, since it was always meant to be Danyal but now with his new abilities he was clearly chosen by Lazarus so maybe he should be the true heir.

Danny known Grandfather was manipulative for as long as he could remember, not like Damien, who still had faith in the league and their grandfather. Damien was smart, and talented, he was suspicious enough for both of their physical safety, but he had a much harder time realizing when they were being manipulated, or when they were being used. That was alright, Danny could make up for this weakness as Damien had done for his unwillingness to kill. It had taken him a while of carefully planted seeds in both Grandfather’s ear and Mother’s to bring them around to the idea of both of them going to father.

Danyal didn’t know if father would be any better, but he would probably be easier to escape from then the league and maybe with some distance he would gain the courage to point out to Damien how it was wrong.

That was how life found them both sitting on their fathers couch, Danny’s tea long since having grown cold. He surfaced from his thoughts, seeing his eyes shimmering unnatural green in the reflection within the cup, as it usually did when he thought about his death.

He blinked it away in time to look up and see Bruce entering the room, he put his smile back on and stood, Damien following suit and looking sullen. They had agreed Danny would take the lead, but Damien still didn’t like it. “You must be Bruce, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Danyal said offering his hand to shake. Bruce blinked looking a little startled and shook his hand, Danny did his bast to give a good, firm handshake, hopefully his hands were too cold. “Mother always speaks highly of you, and even Grandfather admits there’s much we can learn from you,” He said, stepping back to let Damien shake Bruce’s hand as well.

“And anyone who can impress grandfather must be half a god,” Danny joked causing Damien to hiss and elbow his side as he usually did when he though Danny was speaking out of turn. Danny made a little oof sound and then gave Bruce a conspiratorial look, pleased to see he had made the stoic man crack a smile.

“It’s good to meet both of you as well, I’m sorry I didn’t know about either of you until today. The paternity test confirmed that you are my sons, Alfred is already setting up rooms for you next to each other in the family wing. In the mean time how would you feel about meeting a couple of your siblings? I believe Tim, Cass, and Stephanie are home at the moment? You’ve had a long trip, if you’d rather wait till tomorrow then I understand.”

“We’d love to meet them,” Danyal said, a little louder then usual to cover his brothers scoff. Damien scowled at Danyal who scowled back just as fiercely and tried to step on Damien’s foot, he knew the other boy would move out of the way before he could but it would make his point not to be disrespectful! It was clearer then clear that their father didn’t care much for blood given how much he loved all his adoptive children no matter what Grandfather thought. If Bruce wanted a biological heir he could have easily have gotten one, their blood might give them a slight advantage but they would have to prove their merits. But of course Damien believed everything Grandfather said still.

Damien dodged and then kicked back, Danyal rolling his eyes and dodging as well. Before a full fight could break out they both heard Bruce chuckle at them, Danyal gave the man a sheepish smile and while Damien blushed and looked down at the floor sulkily. “Alright, well then follow me. I’ll call Dick as well, I’m sure that when he finds out he has two new brothers to meet he’ll come running, I’m sure he’ll be here for dinner as well.”

“We’ve heard a lot about him too,” Danyal said with an impassive smile, they had to know about those who might be their competition after all. Danyal knew a bit more then Damien but they both knew what they needed to, like strengths and weaknesses. Danyal wondered if he was going to have to come to their adopted siblings defences, he fully expected Damien would try to assassinate them, whether or not it was actually wise to do so.

“Alright, then lets go see Tim first, he’s playing video games in his room. Steph and Cass are in the studio together,” Bruce said as he ushered Danny and Damien out of the sitting room and up a set of back stairs into the family wing of the manner. Danny and Damien following, having a silent argument of signs and dodgable blows about how exactly they should be handling this. What finally ended the argument was Danny flashing fang, his eyes glowing green and baring his teeth at Damien. Both to remind Damien of his true strength and to show how important this was to him, which made Damien relent for now he wasn’t sure.

Either way they had sorted it out by the time Bruce opened the door. “Tim, how do you feel about two new brothers?” Bruce said almost sheepishly and Tim groaned, pausing his game and spinning around in his chair.

“Damn Bruce where did you find these two?” He asked giving his adopted father a tired glare.

“On his doorstep,” Danny said promptly.

“We’re his biological sons,” Damien said at almost the same time, then glared at Danny who shrugged, both were true.

“Damn really?” Tim asked as he finally got up, examining both of them.

“We already did the paternity test,” Damien said with what Danny would call an unwarranted amount of pride.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Danyal. You can call me Danny if you want,” Danny said, stepping forward and offering Tim a handshake and his best smile. Tim blinked and shook his hand. “I’ve never played a video game, they didn’t allow such frivolities in the compound. They look like fun though, perhaps you could teach me?”

“Uh sure, sounds fun. What about you? You want to learn other little bro?” Tim asked looking to Damien.

��Why would I want to learn a skill with no practical use,” Damien scoffed. “My name is Damien, and I do not approve of nicknames,” He said, giving Danny a haughty look as he shook Tim’s hand. Danny just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say little D,” Tim scoffed. Damien gave an indignant squawk and before he could go for a weapon Danny grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bruce said, grabbing a knife Danny had missed Damien drawing and twisting it out of Damien’s grip as Danny got his brother in a headlock.

“Sorry about him, the League of Shadows doesn’t care much for social graces, I barely escaped being just as feral as him,” Danny joked before letting out an oof as Damien elbowed him in the side and escaped his hold.

“Eh it’s not the first time a brother has tried to kill me. I can look after myself,” Tim said, which was clearly a warning to Damien judging by the look. Danny knew that Tim could, but also knew he was still underestimating them, and he hoped that wouldn’t bite him before he figured it out. “Let me know if you change your mind, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do with tech and media, I’ll be happy to be your guide.”

“Tt,” Damien scoffed and stomped out of the room.

“Well I’m looking forward to learning about all of that, I think it’ll be fun! Ignore him, he’ll come around. Just, uhh, watch him, That won’t be the last time he tries to stab you. If anything it’s a bonding activity for him,” Danny joked as lightly as he could before hurrying after his twin, Bruce on his heels.

Part 2: here

Masterpost

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

PICK AND CHOOSE - l.c

Warnings: skin picking

Summary: the one where Luke and you finally discuss whatever is going on in the relationship

Wordcount: 2.4k

You sat down on his bed, the Hermes cabin empty because they were working on a prank against the Athena cabin with the Hephaestus boys.

You had called for this conversation with Luke, both of you putting it off because what was there really to say. This was it now and your heart was speeding up at a record time and you were worried it was going to beat so fast it would fly out of your chest.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just-” you looked down at your hands, fingers picking at the skin by your fingernails, “-I dunno, just feeling a little insecure,”

You could feel the shame wash over you at the words because there is no need whatsoever for you to feel that way.

well there is.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you continue to stare at your skin, hoping that the insecurity will go away with every tug of the hangnails at your fingers.

Maybe it was the fact that he had been paying you no attention since that night or maybe it was the way that you couldn’t stand the thought of other girls looking at him the way that they do, eyes roaming over his body. God, you should be the only one allowed to look at him like that.

You didn't know how long you had been silent for before he reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Insecure?”

You scoffed at his words. This was not how this should go. You were supposed to be okay with casual, that’s what the two of you had discussed.

Insecure. The word made you feel sick to your stomach because it was such a petty feeling, like envy and jealousy. It came out of nowhere and sometimes just surprised you but you had been feeling it all your life.

It had been a rough day anyway but the way he said the words made it even worse. It felt like he was taunting you.

You pulled your hand away and placed it back in your lap, only just noticing the skin bleeding at your fingernails.

“It’s silly, I know-“ you started to say and he cut you off.

“It’s not silly,” he reassured, “Everyone gets insecure,”

You shook your head, “This-” you gestured between the two of you, “-us,” just saying the word made your face heat with embarrassment because what us was there.

It felt wrong, like two little kids playing dress up at having feelings. Luke was the first guy you had ever thought about in this way and here you were making a fool of yourself in front of him.

“I dont mean to be-” the words couldnt come. This was one of those emotions that you could never quite phrase and no matter what word you used, it always came out wrong, “-needy?”

Luke could sense your uncertainty about it all and he just watched you intently, those eyes that you could stare in for hours now only gave you one look. Pity.

You had to fight back the words that were trying to claw out of your throat. You wanted to yell and scream and tell him how pathetic that look made you feel, like you were some rescue puppy he had found on the streets and taught new tricks. He was your first: first kiss, first makeout, first…

Images flashed in your mind of him laying in your empty cabin, shirtless, you on top of him, hands pressed against his chest. Then you were lying there next to him in his bed, head laying against his chest as he explained the book he was reading to you. Those moments felt so far away as you looked into his eyes.

“You’re not being needy,”

this time you did scoff, “You know that thing babies get when they play peek-a-boo? Object permanence? I feel like I have that with people. Like if you’re not in the room then you must hate me and this paranoia has followed me round my whole life. Gods, sometimes, dont you just think that everyone hates you and that they’re faking being friends with you?”

The words stumbled off of your tongue before you could stop them and by then you had blurted it all out, chest heaving at the end as you realised how vulnerable you had just been in front of him.

You didn’t even look up from your hands as you waited to hear his response. He was going to hate this and you knew it.

Luke was so calm all the time, holding his composure about this. He barely even mentioned whatever was going on between you when you were with the other campers. It was like you didn’t even exist.

You couldn’t quite but your finger on how long you had been sitting on that feeling but maybe it had been there since the moment you first kissed in your cabin after the bonfire, his lips tasting like the moonshine the Dionysus kids brewed and his hand pressed firmly against your back.

You finally looked up at him, eyes meeting yours. When you would stand up, there was a significant height difference but here, sitting down, you were on even playing ground.

“We can stop,”

those words made your heart sink, stomach twisting into knots at the idea. How could you go back to the way things were before when he had been looking at you like that? When you knew what he sounded like in bed, breathy words whispered into your ear?

“That’s not why I came here,” you stated, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to put into words the way you felt.

There were no words and there never would be. How could you ever express all of the love and care that you have for him without seeming obsessed after two makeout sessions. This was supposed to be casual.

You had promised him no feelings from either of you and yet here you were less than two weeks later, heart so full to the brim with him that any pain he felt, you felt tenfold.

“Then why did you?” He asked so nonchalantly and you could feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes.

Shaking your head, you looked back at your blood stained fingernails, “I shouldn’t have,”

His eyes trailed down to your hands. You both shared the same bad habit, biting at your fingernails. His were painful, bitten to the halfway point and scared yet yours were healed, nice paint always draped on top to hide the peeling of your skin - your next victim.

Luke grabbed onto your hands to stop you from the compulsion and you felt forced to look into his eyes, “I don’t want to stop either,”

They were the words that you wanted to feel so why did they make your heart sink even lower into your chest?

“I-” the words were caught in your throat. Keep your composure. Thats what you kept repeating to yourself as you felt the tears brimming on your waterline. Crying in front of him was not on the agenda today.

Casual. Most boys dream and most girls nightmare. You should be okay with all that you could get from him, a kiss here and there but maybe that was making these feelings worse.

Maybe it was the way that he wouldn’t act like he wanted you on some nights, barely even acknowledging that you are there, his conversation focused on some other camper as you stood by the sidelines waiting like an idiot.

Maybe it was the way he talked to other girls, their eyes trailing over his shoulders and arms like he was on the market, hand on his shoulder as they laughed at one of his shitty jokes.

Maybe it was the way that you wanted him to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close, to kiss you when the other head of cabins were looking, to want to make out with you when he was sober as well as drunk.

“I like you,” you blurted the words out.

He chuckled, “I like you too, is that not obvious,”

You shook your head with disdain at his comment. This was not time for silly jokes.

“No. I really like you and I dont want you to kiss other girls,”

his brow furrowed and he shook his head quickly, “Who said I want to kiss other girls?” He questioned.

You shrugged, a sheepishness coming over you at your admissions, “Beckendorf,” you stated, “He said he wanted to wingman you,”

”Did I say I wanted Beckendorf to wingman me?”

“No, but-“ you furrowed your brow and he just looked at your confusion.

“I like you a lot,” he promised but the words seemed to melt off of your skin like they meant nothing, “I do not want other girls, it’s just-“

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “You want to be single but have me on the side, just in case you get bored?”

He could hear the spitefulness in your words, the anger in your tone and he wondered how long this had been building up in your chest for, how long you had been wanting to say this to him.

“That is not what you are to me,” he reassured but the words didn’t help.

Scoffing, you pulled your hands away, “Then why don’t you want to kiss me? Why do I have to make the effort all the time?”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at you, watching as a tear slipped over your waterline. You cursed yourself as he leaned forward and wiped the tear away with the pad of his finger. He hated to see you like this, so much self loathing inside of you.

“I’m nervous,”

Now that was a ridiculous statement, “You? Nervous,” you shook your head at the woods because there was no way that they could ever be true, “You are like the coolest person I know, why would you get nervous?”

You watched as a blush crept up to his cheeks, “Because you’re the coolest person I know,”

your eyes widened at his admission and you wondered if he meant it.

“I worry that we are going to screw up our friendship by doing this, that I am no going to be a good boyfriend for you. I cannot lose you,” he admitted and you just sat there for a moment, staring at him.

“I think i just did, screw it up I mean,”

He shook his head, “You? Never,” he promised, hand coming down to rest on your knee which you only just noticed was bouncing up and down in your nervous state, “I care about you so much,”

”Then show it,”

“The other campers-” he started to say and you sighed. Great. Another excuse why you were not going to be working out.

“Ignore them, let’s be us,” you were practically begging at this point because you knew he could call this arrangement off any second and you would be left drowning in all the affection you never got to show him.

“I don’t want them to know, they will get involved and ruin this,” he was right and you hated that.

“I want you to want me,” the words tumbled from your mouth easier than you expected them to, “I want to be at the bonfires and you dance with me and talk to me and it sounds so needy,”

“It’s not needy,”

”It is!” You exclaimed.

The room went silent and you were left staring at one another, listening to the creeking of the walls in the wind and the rustling of the grass, “It is,” you repeated, a little bit quieter.

”I can’t do casual,”

He nodded, understanding the complexity of it all, “I can’t do a relationship,”

A sob was caught in your throat as you heard those words, they were the last thing that you wanted to hear and he knew that, watching as your face contort at his statement, lip trembling as you tried to stop the tears from overflowing.

“Okay,”

He tilted his head to the side, “Okay?”

You just shrugged because what was there left to do. There was no way that you were going to be able to convince him that you were worth it, that you were worthy of being his girlfriend if he didn’t want to be convinced.

“You’re an idiot,” he stated and you turned to look at him with a face that read shock horror.

“Excuse me?”

He could see all the hurt and anger bubbling up inside of you, brows pulling together and nose scrunching up just like it always did before a fight. He knew you too well.

“I would try. For you,” he stated and there it was again, the flip of emotion on your face to one of confusion, your lip pulling up in confusion, brows still furrowed but softening to complexity, “I want you in my life and more than a friend,”

You shook your head because this was all so wrong. You stood up, head spinning. This was not the way that this was supposed to go. This was going to be you breaking this thing off with him and yet here you were potentially entering into a relationship.

He followed after you before you could reach the cabin door, hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer to him, “Say yes,”

“Luke,” a hand came out, balancing against his chest.

“Say yes,” he repeated, nose nuzzling against your throat. You knew this was wrong but Gods, it felt so right.

“Luke,”

He hummed in response, looking up at you with those big brown eyes that you had come to love over the years.

”Say yes,” he hoped one more time would do the trick.

You nodded your head, leaning down to feel his breath against your lips, “Okay,” you nudged your nose against his, “Okay,”

“Be my girlfriend?” The words seemed so natural on his tongue and you couldn’t fight the warm feeling in your chest at being addressed in that way.

You kissed him then and there. There still were not enough words to explain this feeling but as you kissed against the door in the Hermes cabin, you knew you were going to regret this moment in the long run.

But right now, there was no regret.

A/N sorry for the lack of posts, I've been at uni for a while but I'm feeling the inspiration. This is good for you guys and bad for me because this is the most autobiographical fanfic I've written in a while so enjoy as my love life plummets to hell

[rooksamoris]

Amora, thoughts on this? And how can it be applied to the scarabia duo

omg my cousin sent me this video too!!

in regard to JAMIL <3

he definitely gives me cat person vibes (literally everyone in the middle east/north africa is a cat person from armenia to oman to algeria). i headcanon that scarabia has a bunch of cats around the place. jamil carries heavy baskets of laundry while kittens brush by his bare ankles as he walks about.

its so funny to sit beside him while the cats hide under his hair.

"Ah--out of my hair," he grumbles, pulling the kitten away from his hair. Its tiny claws were clinging to the thick strands, tangling them up with its excitable movements. When he sees the amusement on your face, he rolls his eyes and places the kitty in your lap, gently. He was always so mindful of how he held them, "Pull their hair instead, Za'afaraan (saffron)," he commands. He named the cats in Scarabia after spices. How cute.

i bet he and his family would go on park days too. it's a quick and cheap way of them getting to enjoy each other's company, but it is always so short lived. his responsibilities to kalim are all consuming.

Najma leaned over and glanced at her brother's phone, "Can't you put that down for a minute, himar (donkey)?" she asked, gesturing to the ma'amoul (date stuffed biscuit) and chai that was in front of them. His father had bought it from the souq (market) and his mother made the tea. It was the recipe she had taught him years ago. Jamil rolled his eyes, and shoved his sister's cheek away, "I need to make sure he stays at the estate." He kept his gaze away from his parents. There had to be some sort of tension and guilt... "Yeah, whatever..." Najma trailed off, before sipping her own tea. Her fingers traced over patterns on the sheet they sat on. Ornate swirls and floral motifs. Her unsaid words were weaving their way into the designs, never to be said, but to be seen in her dark eyes. When was the last time they had even spent family time like this? Her brother sighs and breaks his ma'amoul in half, "Here," he says, setting his phone down. Hopefully for longer than a few minutes.

as for KALIM!!

im sure he loves all animals, but cats?? he loves them, especially big cats. you can't tell me that the al-asim family don't have their own version of raja from aladdin. it gives jamil a heart attack at first, but soon enough this tiger is kalim's favorite thing in the world. the tiger ends up trained to protect and coddle kalim. whenever he's in the scalding sands, after greeting all his siblings, he rushes into the fur of his tiger.

"Ra'isa!" he yells, as he leaps against the large tiger. His arms wrapped around her back and then he nuzzled his cheek to its fur. There was a grin on his face as Ra'isa began to curl her body around him. You just stared in a mix of fear and apprehension. You glance between him and the tiger that was cuddling up to him. Of course, you expected chaos when you decided to visit the Scalding Sands with your boyfriend, but this? "Uhm..? Kalim..?" When his ruby eyes notice the look on your face, he laughs and grabs your hand, pulling you closer, "Don't worry. Ra'isa is very friendly with people I like," he reassures, guiding your hand over her fur. Ra'isa leaned into your touch, sensing her owner's adoration for you. When she curled her head in your direction, her face found its way to your belly, clearing signalling for your to scratch behind her eyes. Kalim leaned against the big cat, watching you with a look of joy. His two favorite people were getting along.

kalim's family is MASSIVE. i don't imagine they all go out too often due to how much security would be needed, but they all definitely have chaotic tea parties. you'd think with all that wealth the kids would not have to fight over who gets the last piece of ma'amoul or the last bite of fatta tamr (yemeni dish. its just small pieces of bint al-sahn mixed with minced dates and honey).

Kalim was holding up a box of assorted Turkish Delights away from all of his younger siblings who immediately rushed to his side when they heard he had brought them. He laughed as they reached up their short arms for the box, "There's enough for everyone, just get into a line," he said. The box was full enough to give each of them three pieces of the treats, and yet they still argued about who would get the first piece.

overall, yeah. arab men aren't scary. they literally kiss their homies good night, since when you greet a friend or are leaving for the night, you kiss each other's cheek.

[poppuppink]

Unripe Apples

Pairing: Enel x reader

(Enel is still a baddie, but I just wanted to add someone who keeps giving this big bitch food because there's no damn way anything will fill his stomach up, besides filling mine with his thunder rod)

Warnings: ENEL, Enel being an egotistical bitch, Reader is AFAB, but I'm planning to change it maybe

Words: 2.5k words

Was there ever a time when a god kneeled? Zeus refused to bow to his father and no god would ever need to look up to their follower's eyes. How special are you to the proclaimed god in front of you, to be on his knees, begging.

Enel was no man nor was he an angel, he held no mercy and not even those who look down on humans refuse to fight him in battle. His staff and gold jewelry clink as he walks on the clouds. Even with his large frame over the people with wings, his presence comes as quick and quietly as lightning.

He was god, in those who follow him and in your own vision. Yet, his own eyes were on you, glinting with curiosity and interest. He'd occasionally hold out his hand out for yours and you'd respond with giving him your family's offering. His body stills, as his outstretched hand only reaches for your hand holding the embellished gift. You only learn to shake for your fate, but all he does is to stroke the freckles on your arm. The servants on his side pry their way to you two, their vicious and jealous presence wanting to get you as far away as they can from their god. The god glares and they fall to their knees in retaliation. He gently takes your offering in one hand as his other strokes your fingertips. The entrancing small sparks pump your heart faster, but your gaze still never meets his. He lets out the smallest huff and proceeds to take the offerings of others quickly with his staff, the aura turning silent instead of egotistical.

Your eyes were always by your feet, your mother and father taught you to keep your spine stiff and to swim swiftly. They gave you a small pouch of kept meat blood, to lure or bait predators in case you were launched far by their god.

"If you ever look up to see unfamiliar rays shining, remember the sun will be your last sight." warned your father

"Learn to starve yourself when the light is brighter than usual, all that you've caught will be offered to him, none will be left to keep you afloat." advised your mother

You were prepared to say the least, using what you had to live accordingly. Even when you can avoid the large jaws hidden in the clouds, eyes still loom over your figure through the jungle. It was not a predator of sharp teeth and claws, it was a god that was looking right at you. You never knew it was the god, but you've learned to ignore it in every task you did with the help of your parents. Your family has soon realized that the gaze is different from what you've experienced, as a matter of fact, the sense of the gaze was only rough when anyone was in your vicinity.

This led to some of your friends to always being cautious around you, their body always on edge as if the world would eat them whole with one wrong move. They soon avoid you on most chances, leading to you tending the garden for comfort. As your field of food comes to fruition, you have encountered the pests that crawls by the fence. The fence wasn't useless, rather, the pest were stronger. They crawled their way through the overlapping branches on the other side, dropping from the leaves onto your crops.

You've decided to hack some of the branches, none of the main ones, but just those that come too close over the fence. With your machete in hand you walked around the fence to climb the tree. It wasn't difficult climbing, rather, it was harder to climb down. The tree was what an average sapling would look like to god, the size was significant in terms of height and thickness.

When you reached the top, your feet were sore from the climb. You finally reached the main branch that pestered your garden. It was not an easy task to cut the wood off, your arm going slack slowly after minutes of labor. It did however fall, the branch creaks with heavy anticipation and a loud resonating thump. You shook along with the tree, your body starved of energy. Sitting on the branch your foot was holding your body with, you let out a large sigh as your back gets accustomed to the bark.

Only your breathing could be heard, the leaves scratching along with the wind. It was only for a few moments, but you were able to catch it. The sound of crunching leaves on the ground closing on your position. You perch yourself off the tree to look down, your eyes searching for the perpetrator. You glance at your machete in one hand as the crunching continues.

Then silence

You can't hear the leaves nor do you think 'it' stayed on the ground. It was in front of you

Before your eyes was the god with thumping drums and a lazy gaze. He was crossing his legs with his staff in one hand and the other holding his chin. You gaped and immediately kneeled as best as you could against the branch. Your gaze facing the ground up above, your body stilling along with your breath.

"What an honor to meet you, my god"

His eyes loom over you as you hold your position as best as you can. It was silent until you heard the jingle of his jewelry and an exaggerated sigh that you tried to barely peak at him

"Tell me, girl, what are you doing up here above the grounds?"

You gave a curt reply in hopes that his interest in you will dwindle and leave you be

"I am cutting down the branches of this tree, my God. The insects use the branch as a means of transport onto our crops."

"Hmm, are you good at farm work, then? Or do you do this for leisure?"

His question only fills you with dread. No question that he wishes to use you for labor and maybe even use you dry for other work. But you were trained to comply with his whims, because who'd be crazy to defy a God who could have you dead at any time?

"I do it in my free time, God. I help with my family's crops and gardening."

"Then can you care for apple trees, girl?"

He got right to the point and you just want to evaporate away from his overbearing sight

"Yes, my God."

"Good then."

He claps his hands together as the golden embellishments clink with one another. In a blink of an eye, the both of you were on the ground as your forehead pressed onto the dead leaves.

You look up in surprise, the sudden transport rushes your heart and sweats you out. In your state of confusion, your eyes finally met with the God's. Instead of the cold gaze, his eyes looked at you like it was watching something of interest. With a stature like his, your neck ached with the other fear symptoms crawling throughout your body.

He looked back at the trees with their branches sticking forth above your garden, realization striking you that your task at hand was never finished.

He sighs through his nose and switches his staff to his other hand, pointing its tip in the direction of the trees you were climbing. Using the staff, he strikes it, letting the sound resonate gently, as quickly as you can blink a white flash comes down.

You freeze in place and the smell of burnt wood fills your nostrils. The slight smoke came from the distinct cuts on where the branches were accompanied by the slight thuds of fallen logs.

Gulping away your fear for even just a second, you bow again to God. Thanking him quietly and meekly.

You can feel his gaze shift from your form and onto your garden, his eyes scanning the growing crops with little interest.

"Girl, offer me something to chew."

As soon as his request left his lips, you rushed towards your crops and quickly chose the basket of apples you plucked earlier before climbing the fence. Using your hands, you carried the basket to god, who has sat on the ledge of one of your garden's crop slots. He was picking at his ear as his large frame looked laughable compared to your garden.

Huffing as you placed the apples before god, you bowed again and waited for his command. Farmers weren't always pressured by god, nor were they enslaved in comparison to the soldiers the god would enlist for fun. In fact, the farmers would sometimes be grateful if they were chosen to serve since the village would be on good terms with god to not cause chaos to the people.

This has happened to your family a few times, but each time becomes more demanding as time goes by. God would only recognize your family nowadays, which in the eyes of others plagued jealousy and anger each time. Soon the village has isolated your family from the rest as your neighbors built their fences higher to hide their scorching gazes on your backs. With this factor, your family felt more enslaved than others under your god. As the village dehumanizes you, you've learned to hate your work to please god.

Crunch

The bite of one of the apples startles you. He continued to eat it as you stayed bowed.

"Girl."

You perk at his voice and find the bit apple in front of your face. He held it out for you, a sign to take it. With hesitant hands, you slowly took it from him in silent confusion. His large fingers are what you touch more as it engulfs the entirety of the apple and you shiver at how his hands are cold as ice compared to yours.

"This apple is fresh, is it not? But there are far better apples I have eaten." He states with a slight tilt of his head

"Yes, my god." You reply quickly as you feel the pricks of his comment change his already narcissistic attitude to that of a scumbag.

"It's good you recognize your place then, this apple is not fit for a God with its taste unappealing to the core."

His hand shoves the apple in your hand to your mouth,

"Eat."

The shock on your face leaves quickly as you take a small bite, your body freezing as his hand still holds yours to ensure him you're following his command

"How does it taste?" Enel asks with bored eyes observing your expression.

You weren't quite sure how to answer his question. He stated how the apple was good, but not enough for a god's standard. So if you appealed to him, you would be in his good graces.

But

The god, Enel, did not like the obsequious people at all. Ironically, he hated them, thinking they were not worthy of a personality that made them appear above others by using methods a spineless coward would use to survive.

There should be no reason for his distaste for these type of people since they fit so well with his demands as a god, but the disclosed eyes of his army and Enel's say otherwise.

"It tastes fresh and that of an average fruit, my god."

Your response acknowledged both the appeal of pride in your family's work fit to please anyone else but a god who deserves something above average was what you thought.

His eyes didn't seem to change in demeanor when he heard you, but the slight shift in his posture to lean forward made you break out a sparse cold sweat.

"But it can be better, it will be."

He said in a chilling voice, insinuating a plan only he knows about, something you know that possibly involves you.

You can only meekly reply with a yes and stand firmly in place. His hand that helped hold the apple to your mouth took it and threw it to the side.

" Girl, be merry, for I will task you to care for this god's harvest and nutrition." He stands with pride and ego, his jewelry jingling in delight as your face pales in comparison.

This wasn't your first time being chosen to provide their crops as offerings to god, but it was the first time god approached you himself. There was usually a messenger, a man clad in white and small gold accessories, approaching your home with his leery smile.

"You have been chosen for ___'s banquet today, our god only deserves the best, so make haste for his holiness' tongue!"

He jeered and left with such grace that you almost mistaken his presence to be a man of goodness.

But why you and why now?

Your god has already insulted the taste of your harvested fruit and even had you confirm it nonetheless. He did say 'it could be better', but how can a fruit be better if this was the best offer you had worked on?

So you rebutted on eggshells

"My god, an honor is it to serve you in harvest work and nutrition, but I am not the best suited candidate for that task."

Your eyes rose to meet his and as if in that moment, you saw why your parents told you the sun would be the last thing you'll see.

Enel's eyes held no emotion, but his stature held animosity to your words, as if he's daring you to continue.

You dare not to and hold your tongue

As quickly as your words held in your mouth, the god's stare slowly but surely went to boredom. The gears turned in his head, as if finding reason to use your statement to offend himself and punish you even when it held no hostility to his position to begin with.

"Nonsense, you have been serving your god's banquets for the past 3 months now, your god knows his word is absolute."

Just as he lectures you, you hear the backdoor of your home swing open.

"Dear?" your mother called out, "You've been working too hard, you can-"

Your mother drops the glass of juice and bows

"My god, what an honor to meet you." She forces as she shakes in place

God doesn't turn his head to acknowledge your mother but continues to stare down at you, never breaking eye contact.

"Woman" he calls to your mom as his eyes keep you in place.

"Yes, my god?" Your mother looks up to meet his request but passes quick glances at you in worry.

"She will serve during this month's banquet. Prepare her in 2 hours and I will get her by then."

The horror on both of your faces doesn't even register as anything but shocked delight in god's eyes. He rises to his full height and disappears without a trace

Just as fast, your legs give up on you as your mother holds you with your father returning home to see his wife and child sobbing.

[solargeist]

an angel doesn't necessarily have to be religious. typically yeah they are, but we're talking fantasy. you could make angels some sort of rare hybridization between different bird like hybrids.

though, if you WANTED to keep with the Catholic/religious theme. there was stuff written about humans and angels (or demons) having offspring. it would in the angels case result in them falling, BUT their offspring would have exaggerated features or even powers.

an angel here could be what happens if you spliced watcher/listener DNA with some other species. in skizz's case it could just be human, but you could probably make cool cases for others.

Yesss you are right, there is a story abt angels breeding with humans and creating giants, angels also taught magic and astrology to humans. (i think this is also what led to the whole flooding thing, which, boooo, let angels be freaky 2024)

I take some inspiration from Catholicism, but don't follow it exactly for Watchers. The Watchers are just that world's version of Catholicism, the people made a religion out of them, how they appear at times to guide and protect, sometimes taking people, and they're always been around. Grian grew up around Watcher religion as a child, he's got catholic guilt as an adult. (his Watcher mum--Aether, also grew up around Watcher religion)

Tho the difference--they don't have a Jesus-like figure, its just tiers of angels, the universe, that sort of thing, but who knows, maybe theres different Watcher branches amongst people as well, there are enchantment dialect differences.

Maybe Skizz just comes from a line of different enchantments, not Watcher based, but it's why he looks like that without being a hybrid. (the protestant joke rly does work here, they don't believe/pray to saints or angels or other figures beyond the main guy LOlol)

Listeners are fallen Watchers, treated much like demons, in the sense that they have to be stomped out, they'll lead humans astray.

Another difference, Watchers are infertile, so they do not breed with themselves or others, they just adopt and use enchantments to change the person, its how they continue, an endless source of Saints.

I do treat it more fantasy style, not super bible-accurate, but the lore inspiration is still heavily tied into it

Their domaines are much like convents, strict and confined.

I call them angels, but.... Watchers are "angels" in the way that they watch people, they bring information and guidance, they're skilled warriors who possess magic, but they don't serve a "God" or "Heaven", this is all of their own interest. (and also humans are cute, they can't help but interact.) Appearance wise they resemble birds, crows and owls, growing feathers and fur, claws and wings, multiple eyes on their face and "spiritually" (the floating eyes they conjure) They dress in flowing fabrics and hoods, they're very modest, but this is just most comfortable for all the feathers and wings, and allows them to blend into the dark and hide their forms. Nothing to do with the purity idea.

Bonus, they're like this meme but both at the same time

[womp-womp-waa]

It was over. Ashlyn was out of the phantom dimension. It was all over now. She was free.

"Are you happy now?"

Logan's voice interrupted the tranquility of her room. It was silent no music, no voices, no sound, just her breathing. His haunting voice echoed off of the walls, of course something had to break the peace. Turning away from him she tried to find a book to read. She never liked reading, but it's never too late to pick up a hobby, right?

"Awww, come on Ash don't ignore us."

Aiden and Ben were both standing next to eachother. She could not escape them, could she? They were always around her house, they never give her the peace and quiet she needed. Blindly, she grabbed a book. She didn't care what book just give her something to distract herselt with.

"We came here to check up on you. You've just been so distant recently."

"Go away." Was all she muttered in response to Taylor. She opened the book chapter one. Okay, reading is meant to be good for you, right? And it's meant to be relaxing, so if she read she would be relaxed, right? Then she would be left alone, right?

"Don't be rude, carrot"

"Go away" She said it louder this time. She wanted them gone. She needed them gone.

Ashlyn heard them move closer to her. Stop it. Leave. None of you are welcomed here. She wanted to speak, she wanted to yell, but her voice wasn't working.

Their voices started to overlap one another.

"What're you reading?"

"Please don't ignore us."

"Why won't you let us help?"

"You know being inside this much won't help"

"Maybe if you spent more time with us then we wouldn't be-"

"SHUT UP"

She screamed, seemed like her voice finally seemed to work. "AND LEAVE" She needed them gone. Why couldn't they leave?

Suddenly, their worry was replaced with laughter. Cruel. Malicious. Evil. Laughter.

"Awwww you scared, Ash?

"Why are you so surprised?"

"After all it is all your fault."

"Your the reason why we were in that place anyways."

"And your the reason why we're dead."

SHUT UP. SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.SHUT UP.

When she looked up again, they were silent. Standing over her she saw their white, haunted, dead eyes. It was her fault they were gone. She couldn't protect anyone.

Ashlyn could see all of their ugly scars and injuries. Scratches, claw marks, holes. They all started to poor out the crimson blood that she had become all too familiar with over the past year.

It's all your fault

Every single one of them were unique and special in their own way. None of them were similar, that's what made this unlikely group so special to her.

Aiden could always make her smile or laugh. Although, at times he could be unbearably loud for her sensitive ears, he learnt and made an effort. She she learnt as well.

Ben was the first person who she became friends with in their group. He was peaceful, quiet and she knows that it's not his choice but it still meant everything to her.

Logan, who used to be bullied. They let themselves be pushed around by people who didn't understand their worth. And so the group taught them how to fight back, how to stand up for themselves. And seeing that change and witnessing Logan become more confident and comfortable with themselves was magical.

Taylor, one of the sweetest people Ashlyn's ever had the pleasure of meeting (even though she hasn't met that many). Always thinking of others, always buying stuff for people, always being there. She learnt how to dance just for Ashlyn and so she practiced routines with her.

Tyler was the one who people always saw as angry and aggressive. But he was so much more than that. Sure he may have hid behind the aggression, but the amount he cares about people is endless. Tyler cared about his family the most and eventually they all became a part of his family, not that would ever admit it.

They were all so wonderful to be around. They all knew how to make her laugh. They all became eachothers family.

But it was all gone and she will never feel that love again.

[daistea]

Your post about Mithrun being masculine/feminine made me think, because I do agree with you that his backstory radiates kinda traditional masculine rivalry vibes but for some reason I've always perceived him as kind of feminine? And then I realised why

It's literally just because of his hand mannerisms. Some of the stuff he does is the stuff that was taught to me when I had to attend a lady's etiquette class (don't even ask, wasn't my choice)

This is all just off the top of my head so I might be missing some stuff, but first of all I feel like we often see him (mostly pre dungeon but also post) putting his hand on his chest when he's talking to people or introducing himself. This is something I was specifically taught in etiquette class, you incline your neck and the hand on chest thing is supposed to make sure you aren't showing your boobs if you're in the wrong shirt

The other thing I remember him doing off the top of my head is when he's stopping Kabru from walking into the shapeshifter and he uses the back of his hand instead of the front of his hand to touch Kabru, that's another "ladylike" thing that I was taught - it's apparently improper/indecent for a lady to touch her palm to someone else, so you use the back of your hand if you have to touch someone

(For what it's worth I don't think he's intentionally feminine for this, it's probably just that elves have different gender standards and Mithrun was raised noble so this is just properness to him)

But anyway. My favorite part of all this is the way Mithrun's occasional ladyness is juxtaposed by his batshit insane behaviour. One second he's using the back of his hand to touch Kabru's chest because that's proper etiquette and then the next he's grabbing his fucking head like a claw machine. This mf was taught to be proper at some point but all of that goes out the window now. He ran out of fucks to give

You right you right, it’s interesting to think about how he probably retains some etiquette training without realizing it. And it mixes with his natural dgaf mannerisms. Like he can’t help but look like a noble sometimes but then he grabs and pins down Marcille without a care of whether it looks proper or not. I love him so much

And ye elven culture is canonly more geared toward the feminine! So it would make sense for their mannerisms to follow that. Mithrun is like if a man and a woman had a baby…..

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

(Opinions Guys Idk)

Bruce Wayne has been a father for over ten years.

He's delt with any issue children vomiting on his shoes runny noses tears he's got you.

He's also buried his children been covered in their blood helped calm down panic attacks. He might not be the best but he's always tried.

There is however one tiny thing that he can say he's never prepared for no amount of contingencies ever can make him ready.

Any form of high society interaction with Tim.

Watching his third son with a smirk that's deadly convincing the richest to give practically all they have to him.

Manipulating board members, blackmailing politicians.

He looks so much like his mother.

Bruce sees his other children they look uncomfortable he once watched Stephanie yell at Tim that she doesn't understand him that he's horrible for doing it.

Jason calling him a rich prick which he was grounded for not that it has ever stopped his second son.

Another gala happened tonight the entire family was present and now watching once again all of his children even sweet Dickie lecturing Tim.

"Seriously Timmy it's just a little much don't you think"

"Boy Wonder that was disgusting who taught you to act like that"

"Timbers I'm all for fucking with people but what the fuck"

He sees the heartbreak painting Red Robin's face he can feel his own reflect it.

His tiny little sweetheart who learned at his mothers knee, his baby boy who works so hard for the company. Who's done tremendous things the only one of them to actually get the respect of the people of Gotham he can't watch it.

"That's enough," Growls out of him.

All of his children freeze looking at him Damian who has remained quiet looking at his brother with nothing but respect turns hurt masked.

"Your brother did amazing tonight, in a way this was an oversight on my part none of you were specifically trained how to act around the Gotham elite. Tim was raised by Janet Drake who was known as the dragon of Gotham".

They start to shift confusion practically pouring out of them.

He looks straight at Tim as he walks forward placing his hand on his shoulder.

" I might not alway agree with how your mother raised you I wish she did a lot differently sweetheart."

A sharp smile begins to paint both Tim's and Damian's faces.

They understand that he is speaking to both of them the only two to really understand.

"But she raised you to know that power that you hold to be able to rule which isn't something I could your siblings are wrong." He turns to glare especially at Stephanie and Jason.

"I'm not saying what you did is right morally it can be questionable however you both know what to do in situations like that experience that none of your siblings could ever have."

He breathes knowing he might anger his children throwing in their faces that they weren't born with silver spoons they have to fight and claw to be where they are.

"This is both Damian and Tim's territory neither are going into crime alley or the narrows and telling you what to do. You don't get to complain about how they were raised or how they handle situations you have no prior knowledge of." He sees that at least Dick is understanding a light entering his eyes

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

So this is the beggining of a story kinda talking about the difference between how Damian and Tim were raised compared to everyone else.

This was something me and a mutual have been working on but we are disagreeing about it.

They think it's fine I don't know.

Could I get opinions because I personally think it is fascinating how Tim is raised versus others not in a negative or positive.

However I think the way we have done some of it mind you this is almost a twenty chapter fanfiction. Might be slightly not good.

I wanted to explain how Tim and Damian would have an advantage their mother raised badass sons who know how powerful they can be.

They were raised rich and with the world at their fingertips but I think we made it sounds very bashy I need thoughts please let me know.

This is only not even a chapter but I wanted to give something of reference.

I think the privilege is slightly too heavy handed and it makes it sounds like the Rich are better idk. 

[wrongbodies]

The Punishment

Kurt thought of himself highly. Being one of the better players on the school’s baseball team, he was well regarded on and off the diamond. Having always been athletically gifted, and with little done to mitigate his ego, he had grown into quite a jerk. It was common for him to outright ignore students and peers who he deemed below his social circle. And with all the adoration he was used to, he was mostly able to surround himself with the people he wanted.

However, there was a side to Kurt not many knew. In fact, the only ones who knew were boys at summer camps or other such short term happenings. Kurt was gay, and loved getting with guys when he was certain there was little chance they could expose him to his precious social scene at home. When he was with these faraway trysts, he was pleasant and tender, but only because he never would face them again.

But all inflated egos pop one day, and usually at one’s own doing. As Kurt was a senior now, 18 years old and already scouted for college, he wasn’t so careful anymore. He figured he was bound for another state at a great school… Why worry about some nerd who was going to a school across the country (opposite where he was going)? 

Enter Ian. The boy was as doomed as far as poor gay boys in unwelcoming states can get. He was the kind of gay who couldn’t shuck the mannerisms or quash his hormones when flights of fancy caught him. Still, he was a good student and tried his best to do right to others as his single mother taught him. And despite the hard times he was bound for a decent enough school, below where his aptitude could get him, but well within their price range.

Kurt found Ian one day checking him out, a not so surreptitious stare giving him away. Normally, Kurt would ignore someone like that. But something about Ian’s lustful eyes and Kurt’s unchecked libido had him look back. He walked by Ian and whispered to meet in the dugout at the school baseball field afterschool. They would begin a secret affair, where Kurt would put Ian through his paces.

Ian, unfortunate romantic that he was, caught feelings. How could he not? Kurt, with his perfect body, unblemished save for the occasional bruises and scrapes from baseball, he was beautiful. And sometimes he handled Ian in their secret hookups so tenderly one could think it was love. But Kurt loved only himself and how he felt when he released inside Ian, and when the stupid nerd begged to be more than secret fuckbuddies… Well, Kurt roared with laughter. They had just finished screwing that fateful day, when he pushed Ian off his dick, who would fall into the reddish-brown dirt. 

Kurt pulled on his clothes, snickering as he turned away and reminded Ian that he was a nobody to him. That he was basically the human equivalent of a cumrag. Ian, outraged, felt his thin fingers claw into the dirty floor. Something inside him broke, a power he didn’t know he had or perhaps an entity beyond our ken took pity. He had little thought other than what he admonished Kurt with as he spoke: “I wish you knew, you jerk. I wish you knew what it was like to be me, and I wish I could be you.”

Kurt chuckled at that, and said, “sure, Ian. When I’m you tomorrow, are we still on to meet up and fuck here? I guess you’d get to top then, huh?”

It was as he was turning away he felt the air change. It wasn’t breezy before, but now it was like molasses. He came to a rest, as a shudder ran all across his body. From his position on the ground, Ian saw Kurt stop moving, just as a similar sensation ran across his form. Kurt turned to look back at Ian again, this time fear in his eyes. Someone always in control, always domineering and powerful, now was in the grip of something he couldn’t comprehend. 

As the shuddering feeling came again, this time the two felt something like a wave start from the top of their heads, sweeping all the way down to their feet. Ian looked at Kurt, and noticed he was shrinking, turning paler by the moment. Kurt saw the opposite, Ian naked on the ground seemed to expand and gain tanner skin by the moment. It became apparent as their faces rippled and changed, the two were switching bodies. Kurt was horrified to see his body before him, his muscles rippling now without clothing to hide under. And Ian became strangely giddy to see Kurt swimming in the clothes he once filled out so perfectly.

“What, why is this happening?” Kurt cried.

“I think this is… your punishment.” Ian smirked. Kurt looked mortified, and started tearing up. Ian started grabbing at the clothes Kurt was wearing. “I need these, you're much too small for them anyways.”

“B-but-” Kurt whimpered. Ian tossed his old clothing at Kurt, garments Kurt would never wear but now were the only hope of hiding his tiny new body.

“Hey Kurt, or Ian I should say…” Ian grinned from his new body, his clothes now in place. “I think I WILL top tomorrow. But also, I think we should go public, don’t you think?”

Kurt felt his stomach drop… this truly was a punishment.

[sugutoad]

matchup trade for @issadollie  !

JUJUTSU KAISEN MATCHUP

Significant Other

You have captured the heart of… Satoru Gojo — the strongest and the prettiest! While reading your information, this randomly hit me. You are this person who is a perfect mix of both chaos and calm and truth be told, so is Gojo (a fact many ignore in the fandom). You love someone who would tease you back when you tease them? He has got your back! He will literally bicker on and on with you until he wins. He will make sure you are loved and heard. He loves you so much!

RUNNER UPS: Yuji Itadori

HEADCANON

You want to visit the zoo? Say no more. Gojo is getting dressed up as well as can (when everyone looks at him, he wants everyone to know that this pretty boy belongs to you) and rushes to get you. When he sees the little gift you packed for him, a smile stretches across his face as he tackles you in a hug, his arms wrapped around you and peppering you in sweet kisses. Though truth be told, a small bit of him feels bad for not getting anything for you when you gave him a present, but then again who wouldn’t give him a present? During the whole date, his hand is grasped in yours as he drags you from cage to cage, not even looking back at you (who by the way, is running as fast as you can to catch up with his long legs. Fucking tarantula looking legs.) Everyone does look at you though! But not in the way that Gojo had expected. They were drawn to his absolute childlike behaviour. 

It would be 3 in the morning and Satoru would not be able to fall asleep. His hand would grasp for something someone,  yet there was nothing, his fingers grazing the linen on his bed. He flips over, his face buried in his pillow, the silence of the room ringing inside his head. His phone blinks with a little ring, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds and he pounces, a giggle bubbling up his chest. It was you! Well, a little meme from you. Gojo smiled, though not because of the joke (it was rather bland, even in his opinion), but because of all the people you sent this to at this time, it was him. And when he replies, it does not even take a second for his phone to light up again. Satoru always knew he was special. That is what he was taught and what he told ever since he clawed his way into this cursed world. Yet he never felt special. No, not until now. 

Whenever you are with your colleagues and your social battery dies down, Gojo is the first person to notice immediately. He always notices even the slightest details about you. You notice and give, pouring out your heart for others and expecting nothing in return. And somehow you are happy with that. He wants you to be noticed for once. It is you who always notices what he likes and dislikes, while he brushes you off like everyone else. But then he notices (how could he be so blind when he had Six Eyes?). And when he does, he notices and shares all the love you gave him in presents and compliments. 

He absolutely loves and hates when you cry. You look so vulnerable, asking for him and no one else yet it hurts him to see you cry because of another and knowing that you will forgive them in mere seconds if they offered the lamest apology. He will kiss the side of your head, teasing you and calling you a cry baby while wiping your tears away. Do not cry. It hurts me to see you cry. He wants to say something so bad, but he struggles to find the words. They are hanging on his tongue, grasping on throats and refusing to be let out. He wouldn put on a true crime podcast later while the two gobble down sweets and tea with sticky hands to make you feel better.

[k-i-h-u]

DWC: Day VI

CRACK, POSITIVE @daily-writing-challenge

Fogcliff Strand had been invaded and ruled over by the sirens as far back as research documented yet every time Kihu swam near or outright visited, he was always taken aback by their presence. For one, they truly were at every corner. And for another... they were one of the few beings alive that made him feel foreign even though he shared their label.

The conflicting discomfort came in the form of tense, slow movements—as if he did not already walk through life at a pace so leisurely it made him look lost rather than attuned.

He chose a cove he knew to be unoccupied by coherent people not already puppeteered by the winged, aquatic mistresses of their own affiliation. Ones that would pay him no mind. Ones that would not remember his entrance, existence, or exit. Ones that had eyes only for the monsters that sang to them in a way that Kihu vowed never to do unless for the justice of fodder.

When emerging shore to sand from a rising crawl, the fins upon either side of his face dripped into the illusion of elven ears in the very same fashion that his tail split until it became a pair of muscled legs so ebony in their covered scaling that the light of the moon did not seem capable of reflecting across their smooth texture. There was not an inch of the man’s half-feigned form that was not soaked, traced by heavy rivets, bejeweled with falling droplets of ocean, or spilling thin streams along his path towards an abandoned ship creaking in the dead of night, every ounce of water plastering hair upon his torso such that it looked akin to a cloak of ink. Only his eyes that cast the mimicry of lanterns diluted by the thick greenery of a lilypad could alert anyone to his stance against the night sky—and only his eyes that were ever needed for the sirens to positively recognize him.

“Kihu,” one cooed, her voice lilting through a crack in the wall of the ship’s broken interior that she caught wind of his approach through. “What a surprise.”

Subtle claws and the webbing between his fingers retreated to the normalcy of a man’s anatomy once he halted her closeness with a palm upon her sternum. The tut from her lips echoed all the others she gave throughout the years when Kihu refused her and her sisters’ advances although it did not stop her from reaching to grace both of her own hands down his cheeks.

Kihu was an anomaly. The sirens and mermaids of Kul Tiras were as female as the naga sirens that occupied other waters; Kihu retained only parts of each race without fully enveloping one and could not illusion his gender to match their own even if he tried. That mystery drew in all that he’d ever tried to coax answers from.

“What are you seeking?”

Whom, he replied telepathically—at least to the senses. She could see his lips move but the voice was always picked up from within... even in this seclusion and amongst his own neighbors. Inaras.

Her nails dug into his slick jaw with a tremoring grimace. “You know where she is,” she loudly snapped. “Seek that damn traitor out yourself! I shall not speak for or of her...!”

As gently as a kinetic lullaby, Kihu rest his hands atop her own until she let up enough for him to fold them about her fingers. You. She took your name... to be what you wished on your behalf. I seek to speak with you, Inaras. Gazes locked. Teach me what you taught her and have kept from me.

The ability, like her long-lost secret of a lover, to sing to an entire bar without irreversibly seducing a single patron.