#and this isn’t to be hostile to babies or parents or anything but it simply doesn’t make any sense

[divine-construct]

also a hot take but i think you should pay for strollers on public transport. not for babies/kids on your lap (the way you don’t pay for small dogs you keep on your lap) but for strollers. they take up at least one adult person’s space. in all honesty i think you should pay for a suitcase on e.g. buses where there’s no space to store them away (unless you keep them on your lap) too because you have to pay for dogs if they take up space as well. and i think that rule shouldn’t suddenly stop for a child below 6.

[pinkandpurple360]

“All Blitzøs relationships are transactions” counterpoints.

Uh, no. You guys are seriously making no sense. He is used to having his familial and friend relationships partially take place in a work environment. But he still loves people unconditionally outside of work. The ‘endgame’ is stolas becoming a receptionist so this headcanon that he’s the exception is plain false.

Stolas has always been the one who asks for a ‘special requests’, protection, favours, rescue, finding Via, performing on stage, some type of an ‘exchange’. Not Blitzø. He stole from him which is not a transaction, then stolas turned it into one. Sex.

Even in this crystal confession, he is giving Blitzø a gift in exchange for staying with him and providing for Stolas’ romantic fantasies, wants, and desires, for free. And if Blitzø isn’t willing to give him what he wants, he quickly replaces him with a new better qualified man who can.

Blitzø doesn’t believe stolas truly loves him, he believes he just satisfies Stolas’ romcom fantasies. And he’s completely right. Stolas just wants “someone” in his rebuttal he didn’t mention transaction a single time.

That crystal was him trying to buy his love.

This is still his dad outside of work. Nothing changes that.

This is still his best friend, past and present, with nothing to do with work. They do not have a give and take between them. As kids Blitzø really wasn’t good at his job, but Fizz didn’t care. As adults Fizz didn’t ask Blitzø to be his bodyguard, he chose to be.

His two most cherished people, his mother and sister, he was not in a transaction with either of them. As they are working class, they had to be employed to support their family. If you guys think that’s a non genuine transactional relationship, then you have a very skewed privileged worldview.

His sister even now, is not in a transaction with him. She’s his sister no matter what and he wants to make sure she’s okay and to help her. Do you think he breaks into her rehab facility to get money?

Moxxie and Millie, he may feel like they wouldn’t want to be around him if not for being paid. But the opposite clearly isn’t true. He continuously approaches them outside of work, in Harvest Moon the first people he thinks of when he’s presented with a day off work for fun, is the two of them. Millie also allows him and Moxxie to stay at her parents home on the night off. That’s not transaction. If it was she’d ask him to pay for it. Both sides willingly spend time with each other outside work.

And the BIGGEST counterpoint of them all: Loona.

He gains practically nothing by keeping her around. Adopting her was his choice. She is hostile to him but he loves her anyway.

She is bad at her job, but despite that, despite not earning him anything, despite not gaining anything via transaction, he refuses to leave her or ever replace her. The thought sickens him and enrages him.

All of his romantic/sexual exes were also not ‘transactional’. He dated Verosika in his own words, he wasn’t her sex worker and she wasn’t his.

He simply doesn’t want to be in a relationship with a rich guy where he does all the taking as a pampered sugar baby and none of the giving. That’s because he’s independent, not that he can’t conceptualise relationships unless it’s for work. That’s evidently not the case.

TLDR;

For others, transaction of money occurred, but there was still a bond of personal intimacy there. For stolas, the intimacy was the currency. He is the only one who has ever requested intimacy itself as a service. He never stopped asking for it, he just provided a large gift then asked for more intimacy for free from now on, in exchange. That’s why it simply cannot be compared to the others.

He’s the only one who was buying his affection and that has left him feeling very violated and very confused.

[unohanabbygirl]

fmbh!lcmd had a child in the first years of marriage, what would change? Would their relationship develop 20 years later?How does the dynamics work? and especially what would they be like as parents? there are so many questions :)

Luke is so against it that i’ve never actually thought of how things would’ve turned out if a child had come about someway somehow. This could go one of two ways; Luke would either have an abortion with the help of Gerardys. Something that while on the table Luke probably couldn’t endure without falling into a bad depression since he’s always wanted to be a parent. Or go through with the pregnancy and have the child be named a Targaryen at birth before shipping them off to live with Jace and Baela as their own similar to how they’ve done with Laena.

When Luke says he won’t have a child while in a forced married void of any love he absolutely meant it. If he were to somehow forget to drink his tea or if it simply didn’t work for whatever reason he would still refuse to raise a child in such a hostile environment. Their early years were a stressful mess, fighting over any and everything, screaming, and throwing the most hateful insults one could at the most painful moments. Luke knows good and well this hatred between the two of them wouldn’t just evaporate because of a baby, in actuality the stress of a child would likely make it 10x worse. Giving their child away to the two people he trusts most would be the best choice in his eyes. This way Luke knows his child is in safe loving arms and won’t know anything but a happy union between parents PLUS he’ll have a bunch of siblings just as he does. Not to mention that he’ll still be able to take part in his child’s life through gifts and letters even when he can’t physically be there.

Aemond of course doesn’t like this. Not because he’s secretly in love with Luke or even wants a baby (he warms up to the idea of a mini version of himself but ultimately wouldn’t have been the best father at this particular time. Too similar to Alicent.) But because he sees this as his nephew trying to hurt him once again he’s agonizing it 100%. Aemond sees Luke giving away their child as a cowardice act of running away from your problems without even realizing viewing your child as a problem in the first place is a clear sign that parenting isn’t meant for you, at least for the time being until some self-discovery and growth is had.

Having this child would wholly encourage Luke to do better while Aemond only grows more resentful. While Luke is trying to mend bonds for the sake of having a chance to one day make their home a loving enough environment for a child, Aemond is bitter, angry even.

Down the road this becomes a really sore spot between them. Especially since I can see Aemond begging for Luke to not send their child away once they’re born, the babe is a perfect mix of both of them and his heart physically hurts. Sadly, Luke knows he’d regret it because he can already see them fighting over the most simplest of things to the point where nannies will end up being more present in their child’s life than they are. He assures Aemond that their babe will still call him father, that he can visit any time, that this isn’t the end of the world. Just giving them some much needed time to become better.

In the end while this decision would encourage them to start working out their internal issues, the anger and resentment from both sides from an unexpected child would make the process painfully long. Their kid would probably be old enough to be a parent themselves by the time Lucemond can honestly say there are no longer any grievances towards one another.

Luke is a great mother, does his all to be there considering his physical presence is often lacking due to distance. It’s similar to how his relationship with Corlys was a child. They were close ofc, extremely so, but Luke didn’t see his grandfather a majority of the time until he moved to driftmark. Luke sends letters everyday, sends toys, blankets he’s slept with so the babe can have his scent, even encourages Aemond to do the same. Always laying out his plans for the month so he knows what days are available for he and Aemond to go visit.

As for Aemond I can imagine a little bit of a disconnect there. He’s good with children seeing as he was practically a father to Helaena’s children, but knowing this is his own child, a child that was never planned for expected in any way does make it surreal. How he seems himself so clearly but also sees Luke as well makes him emotional to the point where he forces himself to remain stiff. The sort of father who never says outright says ‘i love you’ but shows it in his actions rather than his words. Whereas Luke is constantly singing his love and giving hugs whenever an opportunity presents itself.

It’s interesting because their child knows their parents don’t really care for one another, always has. Whereas others don’t come to realize mom and dad don’t care for each other until they grow up to see how more loving couples act.

[yanderemommabean]

That previous deathclaw ask just makes me think about a mama and papa deathclaw, who just got their nest raided and babies lost… but spot you!! A precious baby, who obviously needs their protection and love.

Just because their baby looks… different doesn’t mean they aren’t a deathclaw!! They just need to be guided gently into the right direction. And if you don’t get it, it’s okay. They’ll love you anyway.

You stumble upon the raided and devastated nest, and can’t help but feel bad. You didn’t do this, you know that, but a part of you still feels guilty and empathetic for the deathclaws.

They’re just doing what their instincts tell them too. Hunting and surviving just like you in these wastelands. There isn’t a need to destroy a family and a nest just because they’ve followed what nature told them to do.

Eggshells lay cracked and busted, empty and hollow as the nest echoes with your every step. Yeah, this spot was hit a while back, seeing as the nest looks abandoned. You feel sad but, this looks like a great place to rest. No raiders have a need to come here, and it’s a low chance they know it’s abandoned.

You should be safe for a night.

You sigh and sling your bag off your shoulder, laying out a sleeping bag you managed to salvage, and try to think of anything but the fact you’re in a mutated creatures destroyed home.

When your eyelids become heavy, and you actually manage to get some deep sleep, that’s when things become a lot more…alive in the nest.

Two very distraught, very grieving deathclaws come out of the shadows of the nest, and look at the strange being in the center.

They sniff, and huff around you in amazing stealth. You’re resting peacefully and completely unaware of their presence as they stalk around you in confusion.

You have a bit of egg yolk on your outfit. And you seem so small and so soft. So vulnerable. Did you just hatch? Did they have a baby left after all?!

They chuff and grunt at one another, and instincts once again kick in.

That weird cocoon won’t be warm enough! Not for their soft, odd looking baby!

So momma simply plucks you up, and considers your screams are from confusion. Which is partially right. It’s a scream of confusion and horror as you’re held against her chest while she purrs to soothe you.

It takes you a moment to really understand you aren’t about to be eaten. You feel that the egg you stepped in and possibly laid in must have left a certain scent on you, and the two parents see you as a youngling.

Well you aren’t stupid enough to try and tell them they’re wrong. They’re hostile. It’s best to just suffer through and try to get away when they’re asleep or off hunting.

So, you try that. That night the beasts cooed and purred happily while they surrounded you. The dad, you figured, dropped a large heap of meat in the nest for you and the mother to eat, and you had to swallow your pride and let them “help” you eat.

They picked off small pieces and made sure to watch as you nibbled on the dubious meat, making sure to show that you were full and not starving. They weren’t easily convinced, but eventually they believed you were no longer hungry.

You figured after a hunt and taking care of you, both would be exhausted and sleep around the nest. That’s the opening you need, then you can sneak out and hopefully never have this spoken about by anyone but your subconscious.

But once again, you’re duped. The father curls around you and nuzzles into the nest, while the mother patrolled. They were just following instinct. Making sure no one, not a single living being, would take away their baby.

Alright…looks like you can’t leave the nest then. Even if you tried they’d probably just plop you back in.

Maybe you can think of a better plan when you actually soak all of this in. Right now your exhausted body and mind are begging for rest, and it looks like it’s going to be shared by two giant, deadly lizards.

(-Mommabean )

[writefightandflightclub]

Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let���s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.  

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot).  However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.  

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head. 

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.” 

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you.  You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair. 

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him. 

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say. 

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

[plush-rabbit]

The Pregnancy - Overhaul + Chronostatis

Request: ive been thinking abt don't move+sequels reader, i can only see them being more hostile if they get pregnant, how do you think it would go, would overhaul and chrono be more understanding like the they know best fic or would they stay trashy and mean like in a bundle of joy , especially in a scenario where reader self harm or try to end the pregnancy/hurt the baby

Warnings: Self-Harm Implications

A/N: Headcanons because it’s easier for me to brainstorm with this idea rather than a fic. Hope you don’t mind<3 (also not related to bundle of joy!!) Also please read the request, it can get a bit heavy for the last half!!

-

Kai and Hari would be very involved in your life. While you have freedom to wander around the base,you must do so with either one of them or someone that they have entrusted to walk you around. They won’t be risking you wandering by yourself in their base and potentially getting hurt in any means. Pregnancy or not, you are important to them, and for you to be hurt under their supposed watch is something that they won’t have. They want to make sure that you’re safe, taking any necessary precautions to ensure that no harm does befall on you.

They both view themselves as the parent in the child’s life. To them, it doesn’t matter who is the biological dad as long as they are involved in the raising of the child. They hardly compete for your attention- only truly seeing each other as a competitor when there is intimacy involved. Other than that, they both go to the doctor’s appointment with you and even help buy items for the child and the room. They realize that any sort of competition that could arise would result in stress for you and could harm the child, so they decided to work together, to be the partners that are most suited for you and your own wellbeing- including the baby.

During your pregnancy term, their protectiveness and need to be involved , make them come off as overbearing and often lead to you being overstimulated because of them. You’re grateful that they’re caring in this process and that they’re trying to maintain the healthy nature of the baby, but it's all too much. They involve themselves in your life- nothing of yours is private. You are monitored constantly, watched and treated as if you are proecielan that sits at the edge of a shelf. The only added benefit of having your life shared between them is that they also now fully involve you in their own lives- everything intricate, personal and even the workings of the Shie Hassaikai. You know what time their meetings are- having to work them around your own appointments- and who they are dealing with and why. You are now treated as their equal rather than a pet- or at least now you’re able to know more than before.

In order to ensure the safety and health of the child, Chisaki makes sure to plan all your meals accordingly. He’s precise, cutting certain portions and making sure to eat the food before he has Kurono deliver it to you. He spends his time making sure that the food is prepped and contains nutrients that are best while also making sure that it’s something that you are allowed to eat. Your cravings are the worst of it- he can handle the cramps and the moodiness, but you just get some rather unhealthy cravings for certain food that he won’t allow you to eat. He can handle your whining and pouting, but he won’t allow you to eat something so high in sugar. Though, if you were to start to tear up or give him the silent treatment, Chisaki would be willing to find some sort of alternative to your cravings, not wanting you to be in a foul mood- especially towards him.

On the other hand, Kurono is much more easy going. He's still very observant about you and protective towards you and the baby, but he is more willinging to sneak you in a few pieces of candy for you to eat. While Chisaki may be the one to prepare the food for you, he’s busy with items that pertain to the business which leaves for Kurono to sit with you and enjoy a meal. He’s there for his own enjoyment but to also make sure that you eat most of the food that has been prepared for you. If you are unable to, he is forgiving on that part, knowing that your pregnancy has made it difficult for you to enjoy certain foods and has worsened your appetite. There is no real solution to this that he can offer other than bringing you a nutritional shake for you to at least give you some energy. After you’re done with that, he’ll surprise you with pieces of candy, telling you to savor them because he's unsure of when he will be able to bring more. While you eat them, he’ll play with your hair, telling you that he’s glad he can have some alone time with you.

If you were to self harm, your partners would not react well. They’ll constantly question what signs they missed that you were unhappy, blame outside forces and even your pregnant]cy, citing all sorts of hormonal change that’s been going on. They’ll fix whatever they can, taking you to a parper hospital rather than treating you at the base. While Chisaki would be able to heal any of your wounds with his quirk, he’s fearful as to how his quirk and your body would react with a pregnancy. He isn’t going to risk the child’s life with something so serious. Instead, you’re taken to the hospital, a lie agreed upon by all three of you that you simply had injured yourself while prepping dinner.

However, if you were to try to terminate the pregnancy, they would be furious. You’re the child's parent as well, they’re the child’s fathers. They support any decision that you want to make about your body, but to do somethin so reckless- and to a family member, no less- they are beyond angry. You’re lucky for the baby to be well, the attempt in vain. They, however, cannot do anything to you before or after, so they simply try to move past it. They can’t strap you down to a bed until you come to full term due to exercise being important and they can’t restrict your access to the child because that’ll only ruin the bond between the entire family. They simply have you take melatonin, talking besides each other once you are in deep sleep, trying to figure out what they can do to ensure that this incident doesn’t happen again.

The base is baby proofed. Your room and the area that you reside in are placed under complete care- corners rounded out with plastic grips, cabinets locked and only members given the codes, anything sharp placed inside of locked cabinets, even pens and other writing utensils are carefully monitored to make sure that they are not left out in the open. Your privacy is taken away, the only privacy that you are given is in the bathroom and even that comes with a time limit. You are not allowed to do things yourself, you are watched and taken care of. Your glass cups are replaced with plastic, your eating utensils softed and food already pre-cut. You have lost all autonomy with your stunt.

Possibly the worst thing to arise from this is losing their trust. You have to earn it back and it’s entirely difficult to do so. You have no free will and they walk you around, deciding that no one else can take care of you like they can. No amount of pleading nor tears will have them change their mind so soon. Their words are always the same- “they aren’t trying to punish you even if it seems like that, but you have to understand that what you did wasn’t right.” You’re talked down to, told that you don’t know what’s right for you. They’ll sleep beside you, a lock on all the doors and their arms above you, keeping you trapped with them and forced to sleep in the same bed as them.

Due to your declining mental health, both Kai and Hari decide to be your therapist, or at least your outlet. They want to help you but it’s difficult for you to be let out- who knows what lies you would spread, they muse. It doesn’t matter what you say- you could insult them, cry and beg for death, or even just talk about a meal you dislike- all that matters is that you speak to them. They want to help you and having you suffer with your thought salone, believing that no one is there to help you, is something that they simply will not have. They care for you, but you must understand that your lack of freedom is something that you brought upon yourself. If it were anything else but this, they would have allowed you freedom much quicker, but you put the child in jeopardy and for that, you have to suffer the consequences and sit in your guilt until they feel that you’re better.

[loudstan]

Epiphany

A collection of  NCT werewolf AU stories.

Doyoung (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (pt. 5) (pt. 6)

Summary: The wolf population kept decreasing and those who were left had a hard time trying to fit  into society. Sure, people didn’t consider them as dangerous as vampires, but wolves could still sense some hostility every time they did as much as go for a walk in a public place. Thanks to wolves’ natural magical abilities, NCT (one of the remaining packs) found a safe place among witches in a town where no one knew their secret, allowing some members to finally get a job, study and interact with others without fear of being rejected.

Life seems to finally be peaceful for them… except that wolves have needs, and one of those needs is finding their mate.

Pairing: Werewolf! Doyoung x Witch! female reader

Warnings: A bit angsty this time :(, future smut.

 It took Johnny less than ten minutes to get to the campus’ main gate, where Doyoung was waiting longingly. For the first time, he was happy to see Johnny’s unfashionable (or vintage, as the owner himself liked to call it) jeep and hurried to open the door to be met face to face with his leader.

“What the hell happened to you?”,Taeyong’s worry was evident in his voice. “I just got home from work and everyone was going crazy saying that you needed help, but they all were talking at the same time so I didn’t understand anything,” he looked at Johnny and added as if he was asking his secretary to take note, “We need to work on a method to make our conversations more coherent.”

“I’ll tell you when we get home, I need to get out of here,” Doyoung uttered while getting on the back seat. “Johnny, please take me home.”

“Alright…” said Johnny sympathetically. He had never seen the other so vulnerable and he would do anything he could to make it better.

“Wait,” interrupted Taeyong as he studied Doyoung’s state. Something was definitely off. Maybe it was the scratches on his neck, his messy hair, his usually tidy clothes completely wrinkled, his pupils dilated or the dark spot at the front of his pants. Actually, everything was off. “Where is she?”

Doyoung bit his lip and looked away in shame. It was like Taeyong could see right through him.

 “Where.is.she?” he asked again, his tone more severe as he started to understand the situation.

“In the teacher’s restroom, department of magic law,” Doyoung groaned, hiding his face behind his hands , remembering what he had just done.

Taeyong furrowed his eyebrows looking from Doyoung, to Johnny, to the campus’ main gate.

“Does she know…?” Taeyong finally broke the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly, not very sure of how to finish that question.

“She knows everything, okay?!” Doyoung yelled, his eyes a mixture of fear, frustration and anger. “I lost my temper, confessed I had imprinted on her and said the most possessive and animalistics things-”

“Oh yeah I heard that,” Johnny chimed in. “And so did the others, so you may want to talk to the youngest ones about it.” he told Taeyong who hushed him to listen to Doyoung.

“And then I bit her and came in my pants while humping her like a fucking dog. So yes, I am one hundred percent positive she knows absolutely everything.” he finished, panting violently.

Johnny and Taeyong exchanged looks.

“So you bit her?” Taeyong decided not to acknowledge the rest of the story and focus only on what he considered important. “You claimed her as your mate, right?”

Doyoung stared at his brothers in complete silence, then looked away again and nodded full of shame.

“What did she say?” Taeyong inquired.

Doyoung played with his fingers nervously. “She was kind of...dazed when I left, so she didn’t say anything.”

There was another dead silence.

“Are you serious?” Johnny was stupefied. “You just left her there? No aftercare? No pillow talk?!”

“Pillow talk in the restro-? I-I didn’t know what to do!”

“You could have just made sure she was okay!” Johnny declared offended, like he had been the one ditched in the teachers’ restroom.

Both made silence when Taeyong let out a heavy sigh.

“You need to go back to her, Doyoung,” He basically demanded.

“I-I can’t…” he blinked away a rebel tear that wanted to scroll down his cheek. “I can’t control myself right now, Taeyong.”

“Doyoung-”

“You don’t understand! I’m telling you I have no control over-” his hand pointed at his own state vaguely, “THIS. If I see her right now, god knows what I’ll do to her. Let me go home and calm down. I’ll talk to her when I get a hold of myself, please.” 

 Taeyong looked into Doyoung’s pleading eyes for what seemed like an eternity until he finally let out a resigned “fine” and started unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Where are you going?” Johnny asked.

“Take Doyoung home. I’ll check on his mate,” he replied, jumping out of the car.

“What?!” Doyoung and Johnny exclaimed at the same time.

“I’ll just make sure she’s fine. See you at home.” he said simply and slammed the door.

Johnny sighed and started the car.

“Okay, let’s get you home,” he said looking at a very distressed Doyoung through the rear-view mirror.

When you saw yourself in the mirror you let out a surprised squeal. Who would have thought that poker-faced mister TA Doyoung could make such a mess out of you? 

You were struggling to keep your balance by holding onto the sink with trembling hands since your legs refused to cooperate when someone bursted into the restroom.

“Y/N?” the stranger asked. His eyes were wide with concern and he was gasping for air like he had run a marathon. He didn’t wait for your answer; one look at your neck was all he needed to confirm your identity. “I’m Taeyong, leader of Doyoung’s pack,” he introduced himself like a parent to a teacher when their kid messed up.

“Oh...hi,” you replied dreamily, still tipsy off pleasure. You should be wary of the stranger getting in the restroom with you, but your mind was too occupied thinking about Doyoung.

Taeyong sighed. You clearly were in no condition to go home by yourself. He was just glad he had found you before someone with bad intentions did. 

“Yeah hi,” he said gently like he was talking to a lost kid. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” you acknowledged instantly, “and a bit anxious.”

“That’s normal,” he nodded, walking towards you carefully, “Do you see that mark on your neck?”

You turned back to the mirror and your fingertips brushed the fresh wound, then looked at Taeyong through the reflection and nodded.

“That means that you are connected to a werewolf now. When the bite is still fresh, it’s normal to long for your mate’s company.”

“Where is he?”

“He... isn’t feeling well, so he asked me to walk you home,” Taeyong half lied but you could see the pity in his eyes.

“...No, he didn’t,” you spit bitterly, starting to remember everything, including the way he looked at you before leaving. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“That’s not-” Taeyong started.

“It’s fine,” you interrupted. “It 's fine. Thanks for checking on me anyways,” you tried to walk past him and leave with some dignity, but your legs gave up after three shaky steps and you ended up collapsing in his arms, sobbing quietly and you knew there was no way you could get home by yourself.

 Taeyong was a patient man. He walked with you slowly, helping you take baby steps and eventually carrying you on his back until you got to your small apartment. He helped you lay  down on the sofa and nagged you about letting a man you had just met enter your place.

“I am not normally like this,” you defended yourself, “this was an emergency.”

“I believe you,” he smiled softly and sat down on a chair in front of you. “Is there anything else you need? Do you want me to cook something for you?”

“...How do I break the bond?” you asked him after a few seconds.

“What?”

You sat up and repeated louder, “How do I get rid of this?”

[hollenka99]

A God Walks Into a Temple

Summary: The Blood God is someone to be feared as much as revered. So that is why he is going to raise this baby he just met to be a soldier, definitely not for any other reason. Prologue of Blood and Feathers.

If you were to research the cultural history of piglins, perhaps one of the most prominent figures you will encounter is the Blood God. This deity can be found mentioned as far back as their records go. He likely predates any ancient literature they have. There are disputes, as with anything from that far back in history, as to his origins or his true role. Some say he is simply a war god for a race that easily become hostile. Others argue he is Death personified while a handful speculate he is specifically the patron of those who die bloody. Whatever attributes he is labelled as, be it war, bloodshed, death, chaos or vengeance, it is clear the Blood God is not an individual to be messed with. A significant piglin settlement is rarely devoid of some sort of effigy pertaining to their god, especially the ruins of old cities. A common sight is a golden statue portraying a grand piglin dressed in armour and armed with a sword, typically in a stance suggesting he is rallying his forces to fight and potentially fall in his name. The only method known to kill the Blood God is causing him fall in battle. Even then he will not be quashed for long. Within weeks, he will be reborn amongst his piglin brethren. His bloodthirsty nature will reveal itself before too long and his years of harsh yet necessary training will begin so he may lead his followers into battle once more. The last time the Blood God was defeated was centuries ago. The days of his youth in this life are faded memories. The blood that he has witnessed with these eyes alone has been enough to replace vast bodies of water. He has admired each tribute to him, dilapidated and well maintained alike, countless times. He's not even sure of the quantity that have been sacrificed in his name by this point. Functional immortality can get dull, repetitive even, with enough time. So perhaps it’s a good thing he finds himself passing an avian settlement that night. The valley is populated by a small city. The architecture is tall, practically dominated by skyscrapers. There is a temple a fair distance away at another point of the rim surrounding the place. In the darkness, he can just about make out a series of stairs leading up to it, all well lit by lamps. The local area up here is full of farmland. However, it would seem the year's harvest has been collected by now. A small gathering exit the temple. They disband with some flying home and others ushering themselves down the stairs reminiscent of defeated troops. That is the least of his concerns though, especially given his divine visitor who lands beside him with a swoop. "Well well well, this is a rare sight. Bit far from the Nether, aren't you, Blood God?" "Perhaps. And you are? Sky goddess undoubtedly but which one? There are a few of you." She gives him a thoughtful smile. From her hair, she retrieves a yellow flower which she proceeds to twirl within her fingers for a moment. "Celandine. Perhaps you are more familiar with my mother, Aderyn, the Mother of Birds." "Sure. You're all the same anyway." "Oh, is that so?" She laughs in mock offense. "Then I suppose all piglins and Netherworlders are of the same breed too." He grunts in acknowledgement that she has spoken but gives her words no further attention. Instead, he gestures towards the temple and asks "What's going on down there, some ritual?" "Ah." She gazes in the same direction as him. "Now that would be the Offering of Hatchlings. They do this every year. As you may or may not have noticed, the wind have been growing colder recently. They've gathered the year's harvest and it is time for them to temporarily migrate to a warmer climate. But, of course, they want us to ensure their journey is a successfully safe one. For whatever reason, they've convinced themselves the way to sweeten the deal is to leave two of their children that were born in the past 12 months behind for us along with other gifts. Come, I'll show you if you'd like." "Well, I got nothing better to do. Lead the way." The interior wasn't anything significant. White walls surrounded them without a ceiling. What did surprise the Blood God, however, was how there was more room to walk around than the view from outside gave the impression of. That said, the centrepiece of the room is, by far, the large sculpture that resembled a nest, filled with cushioning. Surrounding it are gifts like samples of freshly yielded crops, gems and gold ingots. Situated on top are two winged infants in white gowns that had been abandoned as part of the ritual. On the left was a girl with hair as dark as her complexion and light purple feathers that may grow richer in tone as she ages. She bawls from fresh abandonment but the empty air is yet to pay her any notice. Then to the right was her companion who was seemingly slightly older and far calmer. The boy stares up at him with blue eyes that match the gradient of his wings. He does not cry or murmur despite the ceremonial desertion of his parents or the oversized figure (even by piglin brute standards) of a god looming over him. The infant... even breaks into a tiny smile at him. "They just leave them out here? Surely there must be some parents that get attached to their child." "Oh, of course, all the time. Some see it as a great honour but others do view it as a great loss, yes." She sighs. "I have made it my vocation to watch over their community and ensure these chosen children are kept safe. I even bless them with longevity so that they may endure far into old age. There is another town far from here where I send them. There's always someone who is willing to raise a new arrival." "I see." He does not know nor understand why the notion appears in his mind. He has no reason to care about some dumb baby, especially not one who isn't even remotely the same species as him. Caring about living things isn't on brand for him either. Nah, he was more the type to make things stop living, not ensure their survival. Although... he could use this as an opportunity to raise a warrior whose skills were on par with his and those of his greatest recruits. Maybe if this experiment produces successful results, he will consider home growing armies' worth of overworlder children. Oh, who is he kidding? He simply wants a change of pace, a new experience. As far as he can recall across the spans of all his lives, he has rarely troubled himself with trivial distractions such as a family or passing his knowledge based of vast years of experience to the next generation. Who says he can't break that pattern? "What if I took this one with me, the boy?" She raises an scrutinising eyebrow. "Are you sure?" "I have lived eons. How difficult can one child be to maintain?" The incredulous look towards him persists before laughter unfurls from her mouth. She comments something about how he is setting himself up for more than a few surprises. It bears no consequence since she complies with his request regardless. As Celandine advises him on the basics like how to hold the boy and gods above, no, you cannot feed him cow's milk as to compensate for a lack of his mother's own. Shortly before the pair depart for their new life together, he is told the child's name is Phillip. He see no reason to change it.

[comebackbehere23]

Another part. Because why not?

Lena is so happy. The sister Quinn grew up with, so stoic and wandering around without self-esteem or an idea of who she is, has blossomed into someone so carefree. Quinn pokes at her salad while her sister playfully feeds fries to a woman who looks like she shits rainbows and cries diamonds. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she is forced to watch Alex trade quick kisses with a blonde who is one hundred percent high and is wearing a bomber jacket with the word ‘Legends’ stitched into it.

“So, what does that mean?”

The blonde glances up with glassy eyes, “Huh?”

“Legends.” Quinn mumbles. “What does it mean?”

“I’m in a gang.”

Quinn chokes on her salad, “What?”

“Sara,” Alex scoffs as she slams a gentle elbow into her side. “She’s kidding. She’s part of a jujitsu team on campus, they’re kind of a big deal.”

“Hence the Legends.” Sara smirks.

“Wow. Um, that’s cool.” Quinn nods.

Lena shoots her sister a smile, “Alex likes to think her girlfriend is so much better, but Kara is the president of the debate team and she’s the captain of an acappella group.”

“Not the Bellas though.” Kara sighs.

“You’re better off without them.” Sara assures her with a quick shrug. “Without Aubrey, they’re just a bunch of stuck up bitches who think they’re something because they make noises successfully with their mouths.”

“What about Chloe?” Alex teases.

“Chloe is perfect and precious, a gift to this world. No harm will come to her ginger head.” Sara declares. “The rest of them could be on fire and I’d barely bat an eye.”

Alex presses a kiss to Sara’s cheek, “So sweet.”

“Bad blood with these uh Bellas?” Quinn frowns.

“Aubrey was Sara’s best friend and when she left the Bellas kinda changed.” Kara explains. “They got a new captain, and they lost the tradition that Aubrey tried to keep.”

Quinn furrows her brow, “I swear I’ve heard of the Bellas before…”

“Well, they won Nationals.” Lena shrugs.

“No, no. That isn’t it.” Quinn mumbles.

And then it hits her. The colors of Barden plastered on a pink binder. A yellow and blue scarf wrapped around a tiny wrist. The obnoxious ringtone of ‘I Saw The Sign’ filling the air. The pictures plastered on the metal of their lockers. The afternoon where Quinn stumbled over a tiny form crying in the corner over her sister. The familiar voice of someone she wants to forget clouds her head, and she can hear her repeating the same words over and over again.

“Rachel Berry-Mitchell.”

Sara arches an eyebrow, “Their captain’s name is Beca Mitchell.”

“There’s no fucking way.” Quinn growls.

“Hey,” Lena hesitantly begins. “You okay?”

“Just fucking peachy.”

And yet, it’s clear she’s far from it. Because Quinn is cursed, she has been since the moment she had sex out of wedlock. Or at least that’s what her mother led her to believe. She’s cursed, doomed to forever have the worst of luck. And that bad luck brought her downfall right back into the future she is trying to build; that curse dropped the love of her life right in front of her, and once again out of reach.

*

“Emily likes Rachel.”

Beca shudders, “Nope.”

“She totes does. It’s aca-adorable.” Chloe giggles, and she immediately rolls her eyes as Beca gives a loud gag. “Beca, it’s cute. They’d actually make a really cute couple.”

“Legacy isn’t allowed to get anywhere near my sister. I know how relationships work.” Beca scoffs. “First comes dating, then sex, then marriage, and then my sister will be pregnant.”

Chloe tosses her head back with a laugh, “What?”

“Yeah. It’ll happen. Just watch.” Beca grumbles as she glares at her computer screen. “So, Legacy needs to keep a good five feet between herself and my baby sister.”

“Aw, you’re so protective.” Chloe coos.

“Rach and I have been through a lot together.” Beca admits. “Just because our parents got remarried and became a family doesn’t mean everything was a dream. Her dads were a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah?” Chloe frowns.

“They tried to fight for custody of Rachel.” Beca sighs. “Apparently, Shelby was only supposed to be an incubator for Rachel and then she was gonna hand her over to the Berry’s but then they talked it over and it changed. By the time she was three, they were in way over their heads and exhausted.”

Chloe tilts her head, “So, they gave her to Shelby?”

“Yeah. Shelby was having regular scheduled visitations until they switched it up and gave her custody. Once she got older, and tolerable, they wanted her back.” Beca shrugs. “And my dad and stepdrama said fuck no.”

“Stepdrama?” Chloe repeats.

“Like stepmama, but Shelby is like the queen of dramatics so I call her my stepdrama.” Beca explains. “Anyway, Rachel kinda became a toy that kept getting yanked back and forth so I protected her. I took care of her.”

Chloe nudges her shoulder against Beca’s with a smile, “That’s because you’re sweet and loving, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Whatever. Damn your baby blues for making me spill my guts all the time.” Beca huffs as she extends her headphones. “Check this out.”

Chloe slides the headphones on, “New mix for the Bellas?”

“Nope. It’s a Chloe Beale special.” Beca chirps, and she presses play as soon as Chloe lights up in excitement. “Hope you like it.”

“I always do.”

Beca watches with a half-smile as Chloe nods her head along to the beat, “It isn’t much yet, but I think I’m onto something special.”

“You already are something special.” Chloe giggles as she tugs the headphones down. “It’s good, Beca. Seriously. I love my Chloe Beale specials. I use them when I workout.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and everything else in between. I like listen to them all the time.” Chloe grins. “You should make a mix for Rachel…”

Beca shakes her head, “Rachel mixes her own stuff.”

“Aca-scuse me? We have two DJ’s in our group? We have been blessed by the aca-Gods.” Chloe declares. “Oh, and maybe Rachel can make Emily a mix. A little TLC mix.”

“Shut up.” Beca orders with a laugh.

“Rachel and Emily sitting in a tree…”

“Seriously? Are you five?”

“...k…”

Beca doesn’t let Chloe finish, she simply tackles her back on the bed. And as her laptop closes and her headphones clatter to the side, she realizes that she doesn’t care. It kinda scares her; she wonders when Chloe Beale became more important to her than music.

Two Weeks Later

Quinn doesn’t see Rachel around campus. It’s not like she’s looking for her...well, technically she is but only so she can confirm her deepest fears. And finally, the confirmation is thrown in her face in the worst way possible. Yes, she sees Rachel but she also sees a tall brunette smiling brightly as she extends half a chocolate chip cookie. From a distance, they look comfortable. Intimate. Safe. Like they’ve known each other forever. Everything Quinn doesn’t want to see. So, Quinn does the logical thing and approaches them.

“Berry.”

The cookie falls from Rachel’s grasp, “Q-Quinn?”

“What an unpleasant surprise this is.” Quinn snaps, and her eyes are quick to snap to the girl beside Rachel. “And who are you?”

“Um...Emily?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Quinn demands.

“What’s going on over here?”

Quinn flexes her jaw as she turns her head to see a short brunette and a redhead approaching, “Nothing that concerns you, you Keebler elf. How about you and ginger snap take a walk?”

“Dear God.” The brunette breathes out. “Are you okay, dude? You seem to be holding onto a little bit of hostility.”

Rachel stands on shaking legs, “It’s my fault, Becs. I’ll get rid of her.”

“Whoa. No. I know that face.” The woman sneers, and Quinn actually takes a step back when sharp blue eyes cut to her. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want with my sister?”

“Back the hell off, Mitchell.”

“Well, this just got interesting.” The redhead sighs.

Lena appears at Quinn’s side with a scowl, “I’m not even going to bother asking any questions, I’m just going to tell you not to mess with my little sister. Is that clear, Beca?”

“Crystal.” Beca assures her, but Quinn can see the fire that rages in her gaze. “As long as your sister stays the fuck away from mine.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Lena sneers.

“Come on, Rach.”

Quinn watches with a stoic expression as Emily stands and reaches out to Rachel, her expression only falters when Rachel immediately intertwines their fingers. Rachel doesn’t even look at Quinn, her face just sinks in relief as soon as Emily gives her hand a protective squeeze to lead her away. Quinn stops breathing for a second and she has to close her eyes, anything to avoid what she sees in front of her. Beca is the last to part from the confrontation, and she walks backwards until the redhead yanks her along by her ear.

“Who were they?”

“The Bellas.” Lena mumbles. “Welcome to Barden.”

[nvvermore]

Songbird vs Rattlesnake

People get mean when the chips are down, and Amaryllis and Vesper were no exception to the rule.

words: 2115

cw: fighting, descriptions of burns/cuts/blood, manipulation, abuse, misgendering/deadnaming (for context, this is set in a period before anyone had ever come out)

—

“Hey Mal,” the greeting is snarled from behind directly behind Amaryllis. Whirling around reveals Veronique, leaning against the wall, nonchalant, positioned like she’d been just waiting for them to pass by. They wouldn’t be surprised to learn that was the case.

“What do you want?” they spit back. Really, they didn’t have the capacity for her antics today. Amaryllis hated being caught off-guard by their sister, anxiety now bubbling in the pit of their chest.

“Wow, I can’t simply seek out my baby sister for a little chat?”

Her arms are folded over her chest, and Amaryllis notes she’s in her riding clothes; her long, violet hair had been braided back, knee-high riding boots giving her short stature a boost, and well-tailored jodhpurs and dark riding jacket perfectly in place, not a wrinkle in sight. Clearly, she hadn’t come from the stables.

“No, you can’t.” 

Veronique couldn’t, because her days of sitting and chatting pleasantly with Amaryllis were far behind them. They couldn’t imagine a single reason why she’d have a sudden change of heart.

“Gods, you really are such a fucking diva,” she pushed herself away from the wall, “I get it, the precious little songbird has much more important things to do than entertain the likes of me.”

“All I do is entertain the likes of you. That’s the only reason anyone keeps me around.”

“And you don’t even appreciate it.”

“Why would I appreciate being treated no different from a circus animal?” Kept in a cage and only let out to play for a selfish crowd, then shoved back in until the next show.

“I don’t know what the hell they all see in you,” she began to close the distance between them. Despite Amaryllis being the one who towered over her, they were intimidated. It was hard not to be. Though they wouldn’t let it show, even if Veronique surely knew the unease they instilled. “You get the entire crowd's love and attention and yet you don’t even give a damn about it!”

“You’re right, I don’t. It’s all just smoke and mirrors; I couldn’t possibly care any less.”

“You’re insufferable!”

Veronique was right before them now, had to tilt her head all the way up to look at them properly, but it didn’t detract from her imposing aura. Amaryllis returned their ice-blue glare, refusing to falter before her.

Over the years they’d gotten better at standing up to her; or at least standing their ground when she taunted them. Amaryllis didn’t like fighting— with anyone— especially not someone so unpredictable. Someone who, despite how illogical the feeling was, they loved. Someone who was supposed to love them, and possibly did once, but had been ruthlessly turned against them.

Veronique was never hostile to them before Amaryllis had started to take the stage; she might have been the only person who was nice to them who didn’t have to be. As a child their concept of ‘nice’ had been skewed, sure, but they were certain no one was forcing Veronique’s hand when Amaryllis would stumble upon her stargazing in the estate‘s gardens.

 She’d invite them to sit and tell them all about the constellations. Or point out the bush nearby full of lilac-colored hydrangeas, and how they were her favorite. She’d explained how they symbolized heartlessness, and all flowers had a special meaning. Once, long before they ever saw themself as ‘Amaryllis’ or even a them, they’d asked her what the scarlett flowers in the garden meant, to which she replied ‘pride’.

The siblings were only six years apart in age, ten and sixteen around the time in question, but Amaryllis thought she was so much older and wiser. So gentle compared to the rest of the family, a trait they admired and constantly tried to emulate. 

Amaryllis wasn’t allowed at parties, but that didn’t stop them from eavesdropping, inspired by the way everyone in the room seemed to gravitate towards Veronique. Showering her with compliments on her excellent riding form or her perfect aim with a bow, and how every word made her smile shine as bright as the stars she’d pointed out to them. They had very little understanding of familial relationships— and most social situations— and how they were supposed to work, but they understood that she was their big sister, and it made them happy to see her happy.

And then Amaryllis’s talent was exploited, and everything shifted. So they knew very well why Veronique hated them so much. The spotlight that once illuminated her belonged to them now, involuntarily snatching it away from her. And unfortunately for the both of them, their parents had made sure it was not a beam large enough to share. 

Amaryllis was wracked with guilt at first, but it faded along with Veronique’s kindness towards them. After a while, they stopped feeling guilty. It wasn’t their fault, and like Amaryllis, her anger should have been directed at their parents who’d decided to pit them against each other. With every new act of disdain, the interactions they’d shared as children became irreparably tainted. It began to make sense why she favored hydrangeas, with their callous meaning.

“It must run in the family,” Amaryllis folded their arms in front of their chest. Clearly mimicking her posture, Veronique didn’t look pleased.

“Yea, on your mother’s side.”

The jab was misplaced, Amaryllis didn’t know their birth mother and never had; and when they gave no reaction Veronique scowled. Despite all her intimidation, she’d never been good at masking her expression. Before Amaryllis could retort at all, they were shoved backwards, just barely keeping their balance from the harsh action.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You! That’s what’s wrong with me. You! You’ve ruined everything for me! Always have!”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice, take it up with my superiors.”

Another shove, and another, and then Amaryllis was thrown against the wall and Veronique’s hands were circling around their neck. Their hands shoot to seize her wrists, nails digging into her skin as they attempt to pull her away. She’s strong, strong enough to hold Amaryllis a good inch off of the ground.

Their toes point down, reaching, but brush uselessly against the marble flooring. Amaryllis doesn’t want to fight back but there’s little choice, she’s actually trying to cut off their air. With regret even now, they slam a knee up into her stomach and she lurches back. Veronique is a skilled fighter, a star athlete, but now she’s angry and distracted and has left herself open in the process.

Their other knee slams into the floor as they’re dropped, and Amaryllis thanks their perfect breath control for the fact they aren’t breathless in the slightest. Veronique isn’t hurt, just surprised and irate. It wasn’t as if they had any other option, but Amaryllis may as well have just jabbed an already riled up rattlesnake with a stick.

“What the fuck? Escalating from tormenting me, to what? Attempted murder?”

Unhearing, she bends down to unsheathe a dagger from her boot. Certainly, they’re royally screwed. Amaryllis could keep up with a frenzied and unarmed Veronique, but they’re no match for her armed.

Amaryllis rises and quickly backs down the corridor, not sure if it's better to keep their eyes on her or turn and make a run for it. They’re cursing themself for not spending more time learning combat magic. Maybe they could charm her, but they’re terrified and unfocused, and when they open their mouth to scream, nothing comes out. The only things that could be heard were the clicking of boots against the tiling and Amaryllis’s rapid heartbeat.

In the blink of an eye Veronique is caught up to them, and effortlessly lands a kick to their chest that sends them crashing to the floor. Then she’s on them, pinning them to the floor, eyes dark and dagger poised with intention. Their hands catch her wrists again, and there’s a power struggle over the blade’s proximity to Amaryllis’s neck. They flail and kick but it’s no use; Veronique knows how to keep someone down, and is dense with muscle that makes her heavy.

“If you’re so miserable, let me do you a favor and put you out of it.”

It wasn’t a joke, it never had been, but the revelation sunk further the closer Veronique’s blade came to its mark. Amaryllis let their head fall back to the flood as the struggle continued, desperate to conjure up something, anything, to get out of this impasse. But they were afraid to the point of tears, already so tired, and magic didn’t come easy in such a state.

If they so much as took too deep a breath or flinched, the tip of the dagger would graze their nose. They weren’t trained for this, their stamina was impressive but they didn’t use it for fighting, but Veronique was trained for this. Amaryllis’s eyes fluttered shut and they wondered if it would be so horrible to just give in; she wasn’t wrong, they were miserable.

Just when they were debating on letting go, a raucous scream rang out and Amaryllis recoiled. They had thought it might have been their voice, but then they felt the sharp sting of the dagger slicing their cheek open as Veronique was dropping the knife and jolting away from them.

“You witch,”

Distantly, Amaryllis noted how warm their hands felt, and when they opened their eyes to the view of their palms turned searing sanguine, like iron fresh from the forge. A gasp falls from their lips, but the motion tells their brain the pain wasn’t coming from their hands. Slowly, they pick up a faint, but repulsive scent, and as their shock fades, they start to put the pieces together. 

The screams were still sounding, and when they finally looked to Veronique, there were angry, bright red handprints burned into her wrists; enough to cause notable damage, but too little to have damaged the nerves. Somehow, at the last possible second, Amaryllis had mustered up magic capable of drastically heating up their palms. They weren’t even entirely sure if they had even known such a thing was possible.

It saved them, but it felt wrong. Never before had Amaryllis used their magic for something so destructive. The worst they’d ever done was place harmless charms on ‘noble’ guests. Despite Veronique’s full intention to gut them, they felt a conflict stirring, and for a moment wondered if they were capable of any healing.

Suddenly Veronique was approaching, and Amaryllis sat up and snatched up the dagger that had been abandoned nearby. As they held it, their touch began to rapidly heat the metal, and soon enough the weapon complemented their hands. There was a low hiss as their blood that had decorated the blade heated too, boiling away and leaving it congealed. Amaryllis was shaking and crying and bleeding, but they were unyielding as they turned the dagger on its owner.

Amaryllis watched her face carefully, telling themself they were prepared for her next move, so when something in her expression shifted, they saw. Like she had been in a trance, captivated by her rage and misplaced hatred, and it just hit her exactly what she’d done. Veronique gasped, the tears that had come from the burns now falling for completely different reasons. Frantically her eyes flitted between the red of Amaryllis’s eyes, the red of the wound marring their pale skin, the red of the blade leveled at her.

“Mal…” she choked out, and then she was dashing down the hall, gone as abruptly as she had seemed to appear.

Then, a scoff sounded from behind Amaryllis and they spun around, still on edge. Standing a few feet away, looking thoroughly disappointed, was the madame. She looked down upon her ward, bloodied and on the floor, and rolled her eyes.

“What a pity,” she said simply, and in that moment, Amaryllis reconsidered their stance on violence. “I had assumed she was more capable, but perhaps I had too much faith in her.”

It was the first true confirmation Amaryllis had of the woman’s crime; her carefully planned manipulation had fallen short, and she couldn’t even pretend to act like it was an accident.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” she ordered, and then left without another glance.

After that day, even long after the cut across Amaryllis’s freckled face had healed and faded into an unsightly scar, they never saw very much of Veronique again. Sometimes at night— however illogical it was— they’d find themself at the hydrangea bush in the garden, eyes trained on the stars, wishing they’d both been dealt a different hand in life.

—

[bluedemon1995]

New story because apparently I don’t have anything better to do. Yet I do and sorry for not finishing other stories!!!

Chapter 1

KNOCK< KNOCK>KNOCK

I slowly lift my head up from my arms looking side to side, where apparently, I fell asleep. At my desk. With all the lights on. And the TV on. Way too loud. And did I mention the lights, which are so damn bright that they are hurting my eyes. In fact, I think my foot is asleep and I feel cold, freezing in fact. My body aches as I gradually move, clutching my fingers in and out to get some feeling, ugh I drooled on my paperwork! Well, shit, I absently rub at the wet spot and blink repeatedly. What is actually going on?

I hate when I fall asleep while working at my table or desk. Oh well, who am I kidding, it’s not the first time and sadly it won’t be the last. Groggily I try to focus on the numbers on my clock, rubbing my eyes to see it’s a little after 2 am. Who the heck could it be? Shit they are persistent, I’ll give them that.

<KNOCK, KNOCK> Good news never arrives at 2 am. Suddenly, I’m wide awake, with my stomach in knots as I trip my way to the door while hurriedly scrubbing my face (I definitely don’t want drool on it), finally stumbling to the door. I rush to unlock the door and yank it open it as I yawn and push my hair out of my face. Damn I really need a trim, its too damn long. Again.

I look up, and up to see…Krolia?!?! I lean around and look for Keith or Cosmo, nope.

“Hey, Krolia, um, hi? What can I do for you?” Yep, definitely not fully awake yet I open the door anyways and indicate she should enter. I look down, um… yeah…I’m in my brother’s old Garrison t-shirt and some fluffy socks. And that’s it. FUUUCCKKKK….I vaguely remember spilling coke on my pants, which is why when I look back I see my pants are on the floor by the chair so yeah, I am pant-less…and braless catching sight of my bra…also on the floor…well, why are those things so uncomfortable anyways?

Does anyone really wear them once they get home? I think not! Ugh. I indicate she should take a seat on the couch while I try to evaluate what’s going on. Hopefully she doesn’t notice my lack of attire. She looks serious but honestly I don’t think I ever see her relaxed so …I’m just going to take a leap and assume my attire doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. She’s a girl so no surprises anyway. And at least I woke up and answered the door, which isn’t a given knowing my sleep patterns once I knock out. God, I get enough teasing!

“Pidge, you should not just open your door like that, you didn’t even ask who it was! I could be a dangerous person!” Krolia states in her very calm and serious voice as she takes a seat. Sitting very straight up like she’s in a meeting at a boardroom. Or a spaceship. What she doesn’t look like is a person sitting in my messy front room in the middle of the night on my couch. Ah well.

As I lock the door, I slowly turn to walk over and reply, “Well, you ARE a very dangerous person but good news, so am I! So, not that I’m NOT happy to see you, but it is 2 am so I imagine this is not a social call. What’s up? Where’s Keith and Cosmo? Do you need my awesome tech skills?” Chuckling I add, “What, was Keith afraid to ask?”

Krolia fidgets and finally I get a good look at her eyes-shit she looks … worried … scared … now I’m back to high alert. “I am sorry to interrupt your rest. But Keith has been captured by some … hostiles on a planet we were giving aid to. The Blades want to wait and discuss what should be done. Negotiate. Talk … make plans, wait, argue. I find, that, well, that I simply cannot comply. Not now. I cannot abide by the Blade rules, not with Keith being held. As a prisoner.”

Suddenly I’m fully awake. I interrupt, waving my hand around like I can put the words back in her mouth. “Shit, shit shite! Okay, no problem. Is he, like…ok, do you know where he is? Who has him? How the hell did this happen and why am I just finding out about this!”

Krolia lets out a breath, not breaking eye contact with me, “Yes, I do. They are essentially holding him for ransom and, and I, I left the Blades when they started negotiating with them, going back and forth over the details. Like he was a spacecraft or some bargain or trinket to haggle over. That is NOT acceptable. We are not in the middle of a war. I refuse to let him think I have given him up.”

I can literally see the sadness in her eyes, and I know, she’s thinking again. I recognize guilt when I see it. Continuing, she sits even straighter, “But, I have not been able to see him in over a… week, I think is your measurement? I asked Cosmo to bring me to Earth for help. And here I am. He brought me to you.”

I nod, pulling at my hair, thinking THANK GOD! While initially I was in the process of sitting; now I’m pacing the length of the room, trying to think and come up with a plan, a good one, one that gets Keith out in one piece. “Okay, okay, I can work with this. I’ve been working on a spaceship in my spare time and it’s functional though not pretty. I can call Shiro, Hunk and Matt, they can meet us. I’ll text my parents, and I’m going to let Lance know and either he can be our home base, or we can pick him up. Oh, and I have to let Coran know.”

Looking at her, then down at my half dressed self, “So shit, I need you to give me 10 minutes and we can leave.” I look back up to Krolia who has tears in her eyes. Oh no!!! I can’t take a mom crying. I have too much guilt from leaving my own mom, I can’t take this.

I impulsively grab her hands, “Hey! No worries, they don’t know who they messed with! We’ll get him back in no time. Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t had to rescue him sooner! You know his winning personality and all.” I give her a small encouraging smile and not seeing any relief, I end up giving her a hug. I hate to see the worry in her eyes, it reminds me too much of the look my mom had, for far too long. And I know how much Keith loves his mom, he wouldn’t want her to worry. And it’s Krolia.

Krolia hugs me tightly for a few minutes.Then she leans back and looks at me and says somberly, “I prepared a whole speech. I thought I would have to try and convince you to come and help.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, “You are breaking the rules, true? Cosmo obviously knew better than I who to come to. Thank you~~”

Impulsively I lean forward and give her another much longer hug, more of a squeeze, trying to stop the words coming out of her mouth. And I end up just hold her tight rubbing her back. “Hey, it’s okay!!!”

*Flash* Cosmo is suddenly here and cuddled up to the both of us. In his teeth he has something of Keiths? Maybe his shirt. Awwwww, “Hey boy, don’t worry we are going to get our guy!” I don’t know how long the three of us huddle together. But, we need to get moving. I need to do something!

I stand, take a deep cleansing breath and say, “Okay, first things first, let me get dressed, second let me make some calls and let the guys know what’s going on then Cosmo can take us in a flash to my ship.”

At her nod, I rush to my room, grab my bag and run into the bathroom. I’m rapidly calculating the logistics. What do we absolutely need, what would be nice and what might be a problem to get. Is the ship really ready? Do we tell any of the other team members or is it better if Griffin and the others can claim ignorance? As I get ready, I’m quickly coming up with lists and to dos. Rapidly making lists in my head I instinctively sort what needs to be done now and what can be saved for later. I need to move quickly because, well, it’s Keith. I don’t have time to go through proper channels. It’s imperative we get him back.

After I’m dressed and have gone over the lists in my head few more times, I finally feel ready enough to to call Shiro, fill him in and give him a list of essentials. He doesn’t hesitate to agree, saying he can leave the Atlas ASAP, but he does need to talk to Curtis first. I ask if he can clear the way with the Garrison. He quickly agrees, asking what he can take off my plate, what he can do, and given some duties he quickly hangs up focused and determined as ever.

Both of us are now completely concentrating on our individual tasks. Thank goodness, this is one of the times that I realize that Shiro really just steadies me. I don’t even need to see him in person, just hearing his voice tell me we got this, I believe we do. Not to mention that I trust him with my life. Yeah, that’s like solid gold.

Next is Hunk, who is on the Atlas as well, so luckily, I only have to make one stop. He quickly agrees and says he will meet with Shiro at the pickup point. I debate who to call next. I end up calling Lance, who I don’t want to upset, because he is going through such a rough time. I know I’ve been babying him, hell we all have. But ultimately, I feel like he has a right to decide for himself whether he wants to come along. He’s still part of us, the original team. He isn’t a kid and I know he has come a long way in the grieving process. Besides, how could I not tell him? That would be the ultimate insult even if I was just protecting him.

Or at least for me it would be. So, I take a deep breath and wonder if he will even answer, after all, it’s late for a farmer and Lance…is still dealing with things.

“Lance, Pidge.”

He kinda chuckles or wheezes? which is as close to a laugh as he gets now a days, “Yeah I know. Don’t you ever sleep? Did you forget how many bushels equal a peck?”

I smile, “Yeah, every decaphoeb or so I sleep and I know one bushel is four pecks, smart ass. Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no easy way to say this, so here I am. I’m going to do this my way and gonna just rip the band aid off. Keith has been…captured and is being held for ransom. The Blades want to wait and negotiate a return, which has no firm deadline. Krolia came to me and well, we are going to get him. You can come or you can coordinate for us from home or really whatever you want. No pressure, seriously, I know you are recalibrating and, shit, you don’t even have to come, I don’t know what I was even thinking. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even called, this is probably bringing up all kinds of”

Lance interjects, calmly, “Pidge.”

I sigh, “Yeah, I well, I still have to tell my parents and ask Matt if he wants in. Lance, really, whatever you want to do is fine. Take a little time to decide. Whatever you need.”

I hear him take halting breath, “If you think I won’t hurt your chances, or his, I want to be there. I want to help.”

I smirk, and can’t help but reply, “Dude since when has hurting our chances ever stopped you from coming along!”

He almost laughed again, replying “Yeah, yeah, ok, should I go to the Atlas? Will that be easier? Is that where you are all meeting up? How can I help you?”

I smile and nod, even though he can’t see me, “Yeah, um, the Atlas- that works. I’m getting supplies and will be in route shortly. So, um, I kinda made this, um, ship”

He interrupts, actually laughing, for reals, “Of course you did! Look, call your mom-don’t text! And EAT! I’ll be waiting for you on the Atlas. Sharpshooter out.”

I hit the hang up button, take a deep breath and call my mom. This is the call I’m kinda actually afraid of making. What if she says no. I mean, I’m going and all, but, I don’t want to hurt her. She’s been through so much and I still feel the pain of causing her more pain. While she never said she holds it against me, honestly, I don’t see how. I also don’t want to scare her but hostile aliens and me are not a good combo to mention.

And now, seeing Krolia, so sad and un-Krolia like really made me feel bad all over again for what my mom went through. And it was probably worse because she had no idea what happened to me. Which is why I’m calling even when I don’t want to. She listens to my rambling explanation, without saying a word, and ultimately just states, “Honey, just be careful, and, no arguments, Matt is going with you. NOPE, I just said no arguments. I’ll wake him and have him meet you at the ship. I assume you are taking the ship you are building, but correct me if I’m wrong. I’d hate to send Matt to the wrong place.”

“Mom…I…I’m…” softly, I don’t have a better response than “thanks.” I can literally feel my eyes well up with tears, God why do I want to cry?!

She must hear the tears in my voice because before I know it she says, “Honey, I’m your mom, what do you think, you have secrets?” Softly chuckling, she whispers, “Just, promise me, you’ll be careful. I know you have to go, and I’ll tell your dad. So don’t worry about that. But I need you to come back with your guy, safely and unhurt. Please. And thanks for calling first this time! I can see that your last punishment has really made a lasting impression.”

“Haha, yeah mom, just for you” but then what she said hits me…square in my red face, more seriously - I whisper furiously, “I love you, thanks for understanding mom, but you know he’s not my…GUY. He’s my TEAMMATE. I mean he’s ALL of our team’s person.”

My mom laughs and says “Sure thing, honey. You are right, because you always go off into space for people you don’t love! Let Krolia know I’m here for her and if you need back up, just call, seriously call, I’ll move heaven and earth for you” (is that a sigh) “always …love you. Be safe. Please.”

We hang up and I shoot a text to my dad, I know my mom is going to tell him everything but seriously, I may need back up so it is better to be safe and tell him what I know and share plans as I go. I grab my bag to leave and turn off the lights. No second thoughts, just going through my mental list, this is for Keith after all.

Krolia stands, “Are you sure? You are already done? Who can help?”

I look up, firm and resolute, ”It’s Keith” I helplessly shrug, “…we are all going.”

She looks kinda well, honestly, weird, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you all into this. Your mom must…”

I know where this is headed… nowhere helpful. She has to know that I’d move heaven and hell for Keith. Any of us would. So I simply, grab her arm and walk her out my door, making sure my door is locked (can’t have a repeat of two weeks ago) and hold onto Cosmo.

“Krolia, no offense, but you couldn’t stop me, or us. Any of us. And my mom knows I, or rather, WE wouldn’t leave Keith hanging. So, it’s cool.” I look around and make sure I have all the supplies that are necessary as well as the minor things like locking my door tight and things are turned off. “Alright, Krolia, let’s go get our guy. Cosmo, who’s a good boy?!? Please take me to my workstation, boy.”

As we flash out, I send a hopeful thought into the universe, please keep all those I love safe. Please.

[moodyoranged]

bristol & teddy because im gonna use these to spitball now. <3 @loveback

Are their zodiac signs compatible?

no <3 but hear me out. i think whatever the rest of their charts are make it all even out and like just as people they have room to grow together. cancer’s problem with libra is that they’re not responsible enough, but i think teddy, especially after the girls are born, would be able to step up and find like the discipline to be there for them.  and then libra’s problem with cancer is that they’re not “full of life” enough and i think bristol simply doesn’t fit that concern so they could make it work even with astrology-zodiac-signs.com working against them.

Who developed a crush on the other first?

teddy liked bristol first. i think he was like third guy in his high school friend group and his buddy actually like knew and interfaced with bristol. but there’s simply a charm to being the weird little friend that he worked to his advantage. but anyways he liked her first because he simply wasn’t on her radar at that point.

Who made the first move?

teddy. he simply had to be bold and use his boyboss powers to make a move on a girl who’s only vaguely aware of you and your situation. it was kind of like. they had three conversations where she wasn’t overtly mean to him (one of them she was but it was bit sexy) so he just went out on a limb.

What did they do on their first date?

first date was technically them going to a party together and not actually spending time together while they were there they were just formally There Together even if they only spent like forty minutes actually talking and treating it like a date. their second date,  which felt more like a real first date, was dinner and a movie because he was a teenager and what other dates could he possibly know.

Who said “I love you” first? Who is more likely to?

the first time around, teddy. he hadn’t really been in a relationship before, and kind of jumped the gun just because it felt like the thing to do. it was a spur of the moment decision, and one he felt was way overkill after the fact, so they didn’t really revisit it. i think second time around it was also probably teddy don’t know why i clarified the difference.

Who believes in soulmates?

i don’t think either of them do. i think they love each other and i think they’re like glad to have one another but i don’t think they see it as like some kind of cosmic arrangement (maybe a little sometimes, when they really think of the odds of them ending up where they did, but not really). they feel to me like they’d fall more in the camp of acknowledging like love is work and choosing each other and not just some invisible strings pulling them together.

Who wants to be married someday?

i don’t think either of them are like. biting at the bits. like they’re just secure in their family without having any of that.  i think maybe teddy would like just assume they were heading there one day but it’s not some deep desire.

Who is more affectionate in public?

well i have it on good authority that drunk bristol has no reservations. but beyond that probably teddy but even then he wouldn’t be like overly affectionate it would all be in the little things <3

Who initiates the most physical contact?

once again drunk bristol shoots for the stars <3 and i would perhaps even say her in general. i don’t know. it just feels right that once you get her behind closed doors she’s touchier. 

Who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

hear me out. bristol. but what they as a couple perceive as cutesy is radically different than what i think that word would usually imply. like i think teddy could open a text where she’s sarcastically threatening his life and he would be like aww that’s my girl. like i just think teddy’s a kind of dry/bad texter but her’s have personality and carry her tone more which he simply will read as his cutie girlfriend. kinda fucked but true.

Who is more protective?

bristol i think. just out of force of habit/who she is as a person. she loves fiercely and protectively because it’s a role she’s always been pushed into, she’s always been the person that has to protectively hold things together. so like it’s not a possessive kind of thing its just something ingrained in her to care so deeply about her family and once he became apart of that it was a done deal. he’s protective of her in his own way, but her’s is again just something that’s apart of her.

Who does the driving?

teddy does more but i don’t think that’s a strict rule they’re probably switching around

Who’s pickier about the room temperature?

bristol obviously she’s calling the shots.

Who is usually the first to apologize?

teddy because he’s usually the one that’s wrong and deserves whatever bristol in response to that <3

Who takes the longest to get ready?

bristol. i don’t think she takes long i just think teddy had three outfits and two of them include hats so he just doesn’t have to think or try.

Who borrows the other’s clothes more?

they’re practically the same height so like. i think they would be able to share clothes it’s really just a matter of if they would want too. i think they share a stash of like faux vintage graphic t’s for pjs and hanging out around the house. maybe a couple jackets. but ultimately she’s got her taste he’s got his she’s welcome to any insane short sleeve button downs or hoodies on his side of the closet but it won’t be a cute oversized thing it’d just be clothes <3 he wore her cut offs to the grocery once when he needed to do laundry in a bad way. he probably wouldn’t again but it wasn’t the worst.

Do they have any pets?

well obviously there was bristol and tatum’s gorgeous dog at first. and i could see from then on them being dog people always having one or two, not super picky about size or breed or anything.

If they live together, who brought up living together first? How long did they date before they moved in together?

i think ultimately bristol would have to be the one to bring up them living together. i think teddy would be like open about being willing to move in but in like trying to figure out how their lives would work after kali, he didn’t want to like insert himself in a way she wasn’t comfortable with even when he was willing to move in and buckle down. i think because he left the ball in her court it maybe wasn’t til a couple months after kali was born that he moved in, just because at that point it felt like less of a statement and more of just a thing that made sense.

What are their relationships like with each other’s siblings? Other family members?

teddy has older sisters, who like bristol just fine. teddy isn’t close with them, so they’re not super invested in like vetting his girlfriends. they like her with the typical disdain you would have for your weird little brother’s baby mama. his parents too they like ultimately embrace her love the girlies and all that but just did not see teddy’s life going this way and aren’t shy about saying it. i think teddy tries to get along with as many of bristol’s siblings as possible, but there’s just a lot of them, and he can’t win them all over. he’s best with the younger ones, probably, just because he finds it easier to get them on his side. tatum was the hardest nut to crack and the sibling he was most invested in getting to like him. i think she was openly hostile to him for a while but once she realized he was sticking around and bristol seemed to be invested in him she cut him some slack. she is now as nice to him as she is anyone else in the family, so not very, but more than she is any outsiders, so he can take pleasure in that.

[rhub4rb]

Home is Where the Heart is

AO3

[First chapter] [Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

-_-_-_-

When Marinette came back downstairs, it was time for dinner. She had put on the clothes Alfred had given her, though he did raise an eyebrow at how she wore it.

He had given her a button-down, probably one of his own, as well as a pair of slacks. The button-down had been way too big on her, continuing to slip down her shoulders. So, being the little creative that Marinette was, she just undid a few buttons so that the neckline was big enough to fit around her chest, pulled her arms out of the sleeves and tied the sleeves behind her back like a bow so the shirt couldn't fall off. The slacks, which Marinette could only assume had once been owned by the sons, were too big at her waist. For that, Marinette just asked Alfred for a belt, rolled up the pant legs, and wore it high-waisted.

Bruce and the sons seemed surprised by it too, but Marinette chose to ignore it and pretend she didn't notice.

When everyone was seated around the dinner table, the atmosphere became tense and awkward, and even if Marinette knew it was incredibly rude, she wished she could have just eaten in her room or in the kitchen. It was almost suffocating to sit there, with the questioning eyes of the Wayne sons looking at her.

"So," Bruce seemed to be the first to try and fix the atmosphere. "Where are you from, Marinette?"

Marinette snapped her head up, looking at Bruce with wide-eyes before looking anywhere but at him.

"I'm uh, I'm from Paris," She said meekly, cringing inwardly at the sound. "This is my first time in Gotham."

"It's a beautiful city," Bruce said in a futile attempt to get her to say more. Marinette just nodded.

Awkward silence filled the room again, and Marinette could only wish for the world to swallow her whole. This was becoming more and more of a disaster by the minute, and she had the feeling she would be lucky if she didn't get kicked out by the end of the night.

"Have you taken any self-defense lessons before?" Marinette sharply turned her head in the direction of the voice, Jason if Marinette remembered their introductions correctly, barely noticing the slight wince he had on his face, which quickly disappeared.

Awkwardly, Marinette coughed.

"Umm, my grandpa taught me a few things, I guess..." She trailed off, not being able to say anything else about it.

"What do your parents do?" Bruce asked.

At this question, Marinette outwardly winced, which caught the attention of everyone at the table.

"They... they were bakers," She whispered.

A heavy silence took over the table. No one said a word, and Marinette tried to desperately hold back tears, stubbornly keeping her head down. 

After a few more minutes of unbearable silence, Marinette rose from her seat, nodding to Alfred. "The food was wonderful, but I think I'm gonna head to bed now," She bowed to Bruce, not wanting to look at him. "Thank you for having me, and thank you for the food."

With that, Marinette headed back to her temporary room.

-

The room was silent after Marinette left.

Alfred seemed to look at the entire family in disappointment, save for Bruce who had seemed to make a genuine effort in making the girl feel comfortable. The rest, however, were more disappointing, specifically Jason.

"What was that?" Bruce asked after the silence had become suffocating. He looked at Jason in particular, referring to the question about self-defense.

"Wha- me?! You were the one to ask her about her parents!" Jason accused.

"I didn't know," Bruce defended.

"Aren't you the one to tell us that ignorance isn't an excuse?" Jason threw back, and Bruce flustered.

"Enough," Alfred cut them off before things could get more out of hand. A fight between the family would not help the situation. "I expect you to treat Marinette better come tomorrow. From what I've deduced, she has just lost the last of her family, you interrogating her won't help the situation."

They looked down at the table in shame, all save for Damian, who simply scoffed and turned up his nose.

"None of us even know the girl personally," Damian said. "Why should we trust her?"

Alfred let out a sigh. He had expected the youngest Wayne to be against the young Marinette staying, he just had hope that he would keep the hostility back until they had gotten to know her more.

"I don't expect you to trust her, I expect you to respect her, like you would any other guest," said Alfred.

"Uh, since when did Baby Bird respect anyone?" Jason asked, receiving a swift glare from the boy in question. Bruce let out a tired sigh.

"Just don't drive her away until she and Alfred have done what they have to," Bruce said. "It worries me that she's here in Gotham alone, even if she is the girl you've run into."

It was the lack of answers and information that bugged the family the most. It was one thing to let someone stay over, it was another thing if that person was a stranger that they knew nothing about.

"Tim, look into the girl. We know more about her now, you should be able to find something," Bruce paused, probably expecting Alfred to protest, but when he didn't, Bruce continued. "Dick, I want you to get as much information out of her as you can without her getting suspicious," Bruce turned his attention to Jason and Damian, who still seemed to be arguing. "And you two," They looked at Bruce, having clearly not listened to what was said before. "Try not to scare her away."

Jason and Damian shared a look before looking back at Bruce.

"Not making any promises," They said in unison. 

-

"I'm sorry Bugaboo..." Chat said, walking over to Hawkmoth, to Gabriel Agreste. "But I want my mother back."

"Chat, no!" Ladybug yelled as Chat nodded to his father, before turning and leveling a glare at the red-clad heroine.

"Good, Adrien," Gabriel said, and for the first time since Marinette had met the man, he smiled proudly at his son. "Now we just need Ladybug's earrings."

The eyes of Chat Noir, Hawkmoth, and Mayura all turned to her.

Marinette woke with a start, her breathing heavy and her sight blurry. The world was going in and out of focus and her breathing became more and more uncontrolled and erratic. Marinette tried to focus, rubbing her fingers against the silky covers to ground herself.

Seven seconds in, eleven seconds out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

When her breathing was controlled, she let out a tired sigh, collapsing in the bed. Tikki was fast asleep on the pillow beside her, though her expression was tight. Marinette reached her hand down, trying to smooth out Tikki's concerned expression.

She looked at the clock on the nightstand. Three AM.

Alfred had said that she was welcome to go into the kitchen at any time, and at the moment, a cup of tea sounded lovely.

Slowly and quietly, she made her way out of the bed, shivering as the cold air hit her skin, biting her bare shoulders. Alfred had found a tank top and some pants she could use for sleep. Wrapping her hair ribbons around her wrist, Marinette unlocked her door, and started trekking down the halls towards the kitchen.

She was glad to say that the manor was a lot less scary inside than it was outside. Warmer, but maybe that was because of the family that lived here. She didn't really get a good chance to gauge how close the family actually was.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she realized that she had no idea where any of the mugs were and let out a sigh, before filling and turning on the kettle.

Marinette started to look through the different cabinets until she finally found the mugs, letting out a small and quiet woohoo in victory. When she closed the cabinet, she was met with the curious eyes of... Tim? Was his name Tim? She almost dropped the mug by the sight of a person suddenly there.

When she realized it was only one of the family members, she relaxed a little, but she remained tense as his eyes stayed on her.

"I, uh, I couldn't sleep," She spoke up, voice quiet. "I thought I'd make some tea."

Tim nodded, before walking behind her and getting a mug himself. He looked tired, even to Marinette, and she didn't even know the man.

Instead of staring like a creep, Marinette snapped out of her thoughts and looked for the tea, trying to remember which cabinet Alfred had opened when they were in the kitchen earlier. When she found it, she let out another victory hum, before she remembered that Tim was there.

Her head snapped in his direction, and much to her dismay, he looked amused. Choosing to ignore him, she focused on making her tea instead, faintly noting that Tim was making coffee at three in the morning.

Deciding that she would drink the tea in the kitchen before heading to bed, Marinette sat down, not looking in Tim's direction. The sound of the chair opposite hers made Marinette look up, and she was surprised to see Tim looking at her questioningly.

"Mind if I take a seat?" Rather than giving him a no, Marinette just shook her head, not wanting to speak.

They sat in silence, but it was a surprisingly comfortable silence compared to what Marinette had expected to happen, which was a remake of the earlier dinner.

"I'm sorry, by the way. About dinner," Tim said apologetically, as if reading her mind, and Marinette could hardly believe her ears.

"Wh- no, no, there's nothing to apologize for, I'm a stranger who's kind of intruding on your home, and you don't know me, or why I'm here and-"

"Hey," He cut her off before Marinette could spiral more and more into her rambling. "It's fine. You probably didn't expect to stay here either, did you?"

She shook her again.

It was quiet again after that, Tim taking out a laptop and started typing away, Marinette letting the clacking seep into the background as she sketched, occasionally looking up at Tim when he would let out an annoyed grumble.

"You look tired," She noted faintly after having looked up again, finally noticing the black bags under his eyes.

"That's because I am," He replied. "But I need to figure this out."

Marinette let out a hum of understanding, before going back to sketching.

There were times where being tired simply wasn't an excuse to not finish  something. But, she thought as she looked at him through her eyelashes, working the way that he was, could end up having consequences. Knowing that she could possibly be stepping way out of line, Marinette took in a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak again.

"But is doing what you're doing now any better?" She asked. "You don't even seem aware of your surroundings anymore. Whatever you do end up figuring out will probably not make sense to you once the sun is rising. It will essentially be worthless."

She thought back to akumas that she had fought while on the brink of sleep, how it took her much longer than normal to beat them, how a lot more civilians got needlessly hurt because of it.

"You can't take care of anything if you don't take care of yourself first."

Marinette didn't stay behind to see his reaction, just politely bowed to him before picking up her sketchbook and pencil, heading back to her room.

-_-_-_-

@constancetruggle @mojos-biggest-fan @lysslovesanime @heredmaquam @luciferge @scribblinggraveyard @thatfandomsgirl @eliza-bich @ki77h3dr4g0n @crazylittlemunchkin @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @skyel0ve @serenacross200 @valeks-princess @thebananathatwrites @aurordraws @nothernbluetongue @bluerosette23 @xxmadamjinxx @graduatedmelon @tritaledkitsune @tinybrie @shamefullove @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @danielslilangel @vivilakitty @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @theatreandcomicfreak 

[chicagocityfclanspromoblog]

D.W. Colt → Genevieve Padalecki, Olivia Munn, Sophia Bush, Penn Badgley → Human Shifter

→ Basic Information

Age: 47

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthday: February 4th

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Religion: Agnostic

→ Her Personality

D.W. has always had issues forming attachments to people. Since she was a child, she looked at things through an overly pragmatic lens and tried to analyze people to best understand them. This most likely stemmed from her mother coming and going and her father’s constant distraction when she was young. She has very few familial connections, and doesn’t let many people past the outside shell that she created. One person who has wormed their way through is D.W.’s fellow clan member, Greta Bow. They connected when Greta wanted to shadow her and she was able to help her work through the trauma she experienced at the hands of hunters. While Greta ended up staying at her current position, D.W. fell in love with her. She knows nothing will come from it, but it keeps her going throughout the day. One unique thing is D.W. ’s ability to view herself, her actions, and her beliefs as tools to help fix what is wrong. She can detach from her emotions and do what is necessary to keep things on the right path.

This detachment doesn’t mean she doesn’t care, however. She cares about ideas and issues a lot, specifically those related to her career. As a Victim Advocate she is able to connect with her clients, both supernatural and human alike. She fights for them and for their safety whether it is from abusive parents or spouses, or just a system that wronged them. She is a driving force to try and end non consensual changes in the Animal Shifter community, and specifically wants to go after the Nimbles and Hyenas. Another goal that she has dedicated her current existence towards is ending the Colt family of hunters. A couple of years ago she set out to seduce one of the brothers in order to gather information. It went further and further, and she has been married to Colin Colt for almost a year. Though she doesn’t know how long it will go on for, she knows it will end with the clan taking the Colts down.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Victim Advocate

Scars: Depending on the Shift/Form

Tattoos: Depending on the Shift/Form

Two Likes: Boots and Being Alone

Two Dislikes: Dogs and Bright Lipsticks

Two Fears: Being Compromised and Childbirth

Two Hobbies: Shooting and Taxidermy

Three Positive Traits: Patience, Undisturbed, Unbothered

Three Negative Traits: Detached, Calculating, Overambitious

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Kenneth Grainger (Father): Despite living in the same city, Ken and D.W. rarely see each other. Occasionally they’ll meet up if Molly and her partner are in town, but that only happens once or twice a year.

Priscilla Grainger (Mother): Priscilla has flitted in and out of D.W.’s life  since she’s been born. When Molly came around, she tried to stay longer, but never lasted longer than a season. Last D.W. heard she was in Edmonton.

Sibling Names:

Molly Bliss (Sister): Molly moved to Albuquerque shortly after her 30th birthday to follow a fellow human shifter, Drew Bliss. The two have lived happily as artists in the interim 15 years. D.W. isn’t very good about reaching out to anyone, so Molly typically initiates all phone calls.

Children Names:

None.

Romantic Connections:

Greta Bow (Beloved): She only truly became acquainted with Greta when she showed interest in the victim advocate branch. When she began opening up to her, D.W. helped her with the trauma from her own capturing. Greta then began shadowing her and they spent nearly every day together for a few months. Slowly, D.W. fell for her very genuine soul. She knows the feelings aren’t reciprocated, but is happy to settle with the fact that she is in her life.

Colin Colt (Husband): D.W. seduced and married Colin to get information on the Colts, and eventually take them down. Now he’s pushing for babies, and she’s running out of ways to say no.

Platonic Connections:

Arthur Milligan (Good Friend): Art is a good friend and the only other person in the family who has a connection with the Colts. His face is known to them as her friend from high school and college, and at times he is the only human shifter she sees for weeks. She always knows that she can count on him when she needs a break from it all.

Churchill Darling (Friend): Church jokingly gave her the idea to make one of the Colts fall for her, after a particularly long ranting session about them. He gave her his full support when she laid it out for him, Sirius, and Vincent, and went toe to toe for it.

Sirius Cobic (Leader): Sirius was the one who finally gave her the go ahead to infiltrate the Colts. With his blessing she has been able to create a massive network of information on the Colts that will lead to their demise.

Vincent Kane (Friend): Vincent does not approve of her mission and was the only force working against her in her quest to start following the Colts. It has made their friendship frosty at times, though they do get along.

Douglas Gish (Friend): Douglas is a good person to go to when she needs to decompress. He’s funny and quick witted, though not annoyingly so. He has a good mind and is great at conversation.

Lillian Pickford (Friend and Coworker): Lillian and D.W. often work together when Lillian is trying to gain justice for her victims. They get along well and share a passion for their work. D.W. sees Lillian’s insecurity and is working out a way to help with her confidence.

Emmanuel Flores (Former Potential Client): Emmanuel was a perfect example of how Percy paid someone off after he ruined their life, however he didn’t want to bring anything forward, or be used as an example against the Nimbles.

Jesse Wicker (Client): Jesse’s parents were killed a few weeks ago, in what looks to be an attack by a hyena. D.W. has been helping to organize the funeral and get Jesse on his feet. He’s turning 18 in a month, and won’t have the support of the system afterwards.

Caroline Hess (Client): She has been helping Caroline process the paperwork for the divorce from her abusive ex-husband. He has continued to try and intimidate Caroline, despite numerous restraint orders. If he threatens her anymore, D.W. may take care of him, and Caroline won’t have to finish the filing.

Hostile Connections:

Elle Colt (Target): Elle, like many of the Colts, to a liking to D.W. quickly. They appeared to be the same age, had the same interests, and could even share clothes. Elle, along with Blaine and Colin, was her primary target in order to be accepted by the Colt family.

Blaine Colt: (Target): Blaine was nearly as easy to win over as his brother, and was actually her initial target before D.W knew he was married. He has a shrewdness about him, however, that made her back off in the end. They’ll often go shooting together when she has to spend time with him. Lately, D.W has been unsure about their connection thanks to Imani whispering in his ear.

Alice Colt: (Target): Alice has a deep distrust of D.W. that stems all the way back to before the wedding when she saw her slipping her ring on and off before coming “home”. She suspects that Alice brought it up to Colin, but it didn’t take much for her to gaslight the younger woman. She knows that the cruelty streak runs deep with Alice and can’t wait to get rid of her.

Hailey Colt (Target): If D.W. had to pick a Colt that she could tolerate the most it would most likely be Hailey. She minds her business and she doesn’t share any overly obnoxious opinions when they go on walks. D.W. can see how depressed she is, and wonders how no one else sees it. Then she remembers that she has a job, and not to get emotionally involved.

Casper Colt (Target): D.W. finds Casper the most arrogant of the Colts, simply due to the fact he has done nothing, yet walks around like royalty. She knows Blaine and Colin are getting sick of the attitude as well, and is looking forward to seeing him get torn down.

Iris Colt (Target): D.W. thinks it’s a bit middle ages to arrange a marriage for power consolidation, but it’s not really her place to say. She has some sympathy for Iris, and wonders what she might have been if not a hunter.

Imani Colt (Dislike): Imani is going to blow D.W cover and she has no idea how to get the former Anderson hunter off of her back. D.W did not have the correct intelligence on Blaine and Imani’s relationship and it has thrown a wrench in her plans. She is unsure whether to start playing it extra nice or go on the defensive.

Percy McCormick (Dislikes): Percy McCormick doesn’t care about the people he unleashes on Chicago or the trauma that he leaves behind when he allows reckless and dangerous changes. A significant number of supernaturals who come to her are Nimbles, looking for any kind of answer.

Juliette Willott (Dislikes): D.W. is incredibly suspicious of Juliette. She doesn’t like the radio silence that much of the hyenas became once she took over, and she knows she is behind the uptick in random changes.

Jin Asato (Former Contact): Jin was her primary contact within the Hyenas before Juliette took over. She thought she was making headway with convincing him to stop the neverending non consensual changes, but all communication ceased once Juliette came to town. Now, Jin won’t answer her emails or calls.

Pets:

Ruger (Colin’s Dog): Ruger, like all domesticated animals with Human Shifters, hates her. He seems to be the only one who has figured her out. She’s considered letting him loose, or killing him herself, but he won’t let her get within 10 feet of him.

→ History (paragraph(s) on background) → The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Genevieve Padalecki [1][2]  

Olivia Munn [1][2]  

Sophia Bush [1][2][3]  

Penn Badgley  [1][2][3][4]

[nopanamaman]

So what’s really up with those demon and angel characters?

I’m gonna say right off the bat - this isn’t an explanation of the song series I used these two for. In fact, the songs featuring these characters on their covers have surprisingly little to do with one another! I just liked the simple designs and drew them whenever it felt appropriate. I tried thinking of an actual story to tie them all together around the time I made The Heartwarming Story Of My Creation, but it was so messy and full of edge that I promptly scrapped it lol

HOWEVER!

These characters DO come from a short novel/comic idea I had way before starting vocaloid. It was a rather silly concept for a slice-of-life story, which could potentially evolve into something with an actual plot!

~So here it is~  

It all takes place in a world where having a demonic servant is treated as the norm. In fact, not having a personal demon is considered weirder than having one! There are ads for various contracting agencies, different demon ratings, demons who specialize in different services etc., etc. It’s not uncommon for parents to bind their child’s soul to a demon as soon as the baby is born, though it’s often done a bit later in life (however, if you’re under 18, you can make a contract only with special permission from your guardian).

Since everyone and their mother has a being with reality-bending powers at their side, the servants have very strict limitations on what they can and can’t do. At base level the overwhelming majority of them boil down to being an extremely efficient houseworker - they are restricted to doing stuff like chores, buying things, helping with communication, keeping company, changing their own appearance to suit the customer’s tastes (a lot of people stick with the demon’s default monochrome-human-with-horns-and-tail form, though, since that’s what they’ve grown used to) changing the clients appearance (usually not to an unrecognizable degree), being a bodyguard, etc.

There are ways of lifting some of those limitations by binding more than one soul to a single demon (but the servant will continue to fully obey only one person). So the most powerful demons tend to be familial - those who have been passed on from parents to their children over the course of generations. The most influential people in the world have extremely strong familial demons.

Truly powerful familial demons are rare, because: 

the parent may not have tied the child’s soul to the familial demon before dying

by the time most parents die, their children have already gotten a servant of their own

the child doesn’t want to accept the familial demon for personal reasons

Some people are hesitant or straight-up opposed to the idea of getting a servant, since, while demons never disclose any details about the process of soul consumption or, for that matter, anything about the afterlife, it’s widely understood to be hellish. The thing is, it’s unclear whether “happy” afterlife even exists - unlike demons, heavenly beings like god or angels or even ghosts do not manifest in the physical world. Some believe that there is no paradise at all, and the only two options for the soul after the body dies are being consumed by a demon and continuing its existence in that particular demon’s “hell” or simply disappearing. The lack of information about what really happens after death makes many people brush off the consequences of making a contract in favour of living a much more safe and comfortable life.

SO

Like I said in the beginning, the comic was supposed to be a series of slice-of-life episodes involving a group of demon friends and their clients (with Kafka being the focus). I didn’t develop them that much, so their characters were pretty simple!

Since demons’ actual names are near impossible for humans to pronounce, they tend to settle for nicknames. They are primarily genderless, but usually present themselves as either male or female for convenience sake; they can change gender according to their client’s wishes. Like humans, every demon is an individual and, while their baseline powers are the same, depending on their heritage, talent and the way they use the souls they consume, their higher-tier abilities and battle styles may differ wildly. Generally it is considered rude to ask a demon what their higher abilities are - even good friends may not know the real extent of each other’s power.

Making contracts with humans and serving their clients for an entire lifetime to them is basically like a regular customer service-type job. Their moral beliefs are a bit different than those of humans, so, while humans can grow very attached to their servants, the demons themselves feel little to no remorse about consuming their clients’ souls. In a way it’s similar to how people treat farm animals. The animal can be cute and you may appreciate the times spent with it, but in the end you’re not going to be too torn up about eating it. 

While demons live for a long time and technically do not require human souls to survive, consuming a human soul is the highest form of pleasure for them - not only does it boost and replenish their power, but also gives immense spiritual fulfillment. A demon living purely off of animal souls will always be much, much weaker than a demon who has eaten a single human soul over the course of the last 100 or so years.

Oh, but what about the angel girl? 

Angels don’t manifest in the real world, right?

Right?

R I G H T ?

Right.

Levi was another important character (woah, shocking), second only to Kafka. They were a familial demon, who had been growing displeased with the way their client - the most recent heir - had been conducting his life. Kafka had a strange, vaguely hostile, but close relationship with Levi.

I had a few ideas about what I want do with the story, but it’s definitely not something I can fully dedicate myself to currently. Still, I think it’s a fun, kinda nonsensical concept that I’d like to use in the future. Or not!

At least now that I’ve thrown it out there

[hecohansen31]

ok, so roman godfrey; reader invites him for a new year's eve party at her house. reader's parents end up criticizing roman. roman worries he's not good enough and needs cuddling. *and i need some soft boo imagines*. happy 2020, btw.

(A/N): Happy 2020, also to you, lovely nonnie, although I am late!

Thank you for sending it in, I just wanted to say that the family described in the ask is not definitely mine (if I brought Roman home, my dad would literally cry of joy, because he finally ‘managed to take out the trash, permanently’).

As always, if you didn’t like it or anything, you are more tha welcome to send me another ask so that I can rewrite it for you!

I hope you’ll enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Toxic Parents, Psychological Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Deprecating Talk, Nadia Being The Angel She Is (we don’t deserve her, honestly).

Your family, you knew it by experience, could be a bit… ‘too much’.

So, you had insisted on Roman not coming for your New Year’s Eve party, which you celebrated each year among your family, since you had spent Christmas, alongside Roman, taking care of Nadia exchanging the little gifts you had prepared for each other.

Shelley had also visited you, dropping in her gifts for you, Roman and Nadia, who cooed softly at her aunt, trying to grab her bandaged hands, meanwhile you and Roman hugged each other at the tenderness of the scene.

It had been a calm day and you couldn’t help but be thankful for it, wanting nothing more than your beloved boyfriend and his daughter around you, for these festivities, but Roman had insisted on joining your family on New Year’s Eve.

‘What will your parents think if I don’t show around?’ he had joked, circling you with his eyes, as you finished dressing up in the elegant dress you had chosen ‘… they’ll think I am either a ghost or don’t exist’.

Which you could totally see your parents thinking, but you had just done one last try to dissuade Roman, grabbing softly his face, tucking a few rebel strands behind his ears, looking at him in the eyes and explaining that you were worried he might run away, after having met your parents.

‘Babe, you challenged my mother, Olivia Godfrey… I do think that I can handle your parents’ he had smirked all victoriously and you had been infected by his smiling confidence and ended up making him accompany you to the ‘party’.

You had arrived early, since you knew that your parents would have found it distasteful for you to arrive even simply punctual.

Your parents hosted the party at their house and your entire family attended it, although as you arrived you found only half of the actual family: your grandparents from your father’s side, sleepily lounging on the sofa, meanwhile your mother and aunt worked in the kitchen and you were greeted by your father.

For which you were low key thankful, since he was a bit calmer than your mother.

He grabbed your coats, barely giving a look at Roman, who tried to present himself as soon as you father came back, his hands empty.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr. (L/N)” he muttered, offering him his hands “I am Roman Godfrey, (Y/N)’s plus one!”.

“Ahhh it’s nice to finally meet you, Roman!” instead of going for Roman’s outstretched hand, he straight up hugged your boyfriend, startling him “… we almost thought you weren’t real!”.

You felt Roman shudder at that insensitive affirmation, but you put on an small fake smile on your face, gripping back your boyfriend as you joined the laugh, half looking at the kitchen, hoping to find something that might distract your father.

“… ahh isn’t that, Claire?” called you out your grandma, using your cousin’s name, but you welcomed the distraction and brought Roman, alongside you in the kitchen.

Which wasn’t the smartest move since it meant that you and Roman stepped right into the bullseye and both your mother and your aunt set their gaze on you.

You smirked through the annoyance, meanwhile Roman didn’t seem to understand the threat that your family was and smiled at everyone, helping your grandma, with moving onto a chair so she ‘could take a closer look at you and your handsome knight’.

You were thankful that Roman quickly moved to join a ‘casual’ conversation with your grandma, so he was sheltered by your mom and aunt, who went to quickly crowd around you.

“You look lovely, sweetheart!” mumbled your aunt, as your mother pointedly examined you and you knew all too well that she was either analyzing whether you had put on some weight or how much the dress you had chosen was worth.

And then she pushed you in a tight hug, mumbling about how much she had missed you, as you heard your grandma going on with Roman over the fact that she totally believed that you would have remained a ‘spinster’.

You saw Roman’s gripping hands tightening in his lap at that mention, but he kept a serene smile on his face.

“… ah Roman it is also a pleasure to meet you, I don’t want to bother your conversation with granny, but it is nice to meet the man who made an honest woman of my pumpkin”.

Roman turned to her, smirking lightly, before he also offered her a hand, gaining a nod of approval from your mother, since Roman completely met her personal standards: rich, beautiful and young.

“It is an honor to meet you, finally, Mrs. (L/N)” he answered, not realizing the entire tension that had been going on through you.

“Oh, please call me Sandra” she joked, and then let your boyfriend go back to the enlightening conversation with your grandma, as she asked you the details about the relationship.

You were extremely thankful when the other half of the family joined you, your sister more than anyone else, since she had shared half the traumatic experience that your parents were.

But one slip of her tongue shattered the picture-perfect image of that night that you had created.

“… where is Nadia?” she asked at Roman: she had met you and Roman, much before than your family having, once, slept on Roman’s couch, when she was in Hemlock Grove.

You loved your sister and trusted more than all the other members of your family, so you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from welcoming her, once she was visiting Hemlock Grove for a job offer, and her and Roman had seemed to have good chemistry (although she had begrudgingly threatened him with a fork, had he ever solely thought to hurt you).

She had also met Nadia, loving her role as an aunt, but unfortunately hadn’t gotten the memo about not talking of her toyour family, because first of all: you didn’t trust them with the knowledge of Nadia, and secondly, you knew how your mother would have taken such news…

So, you tried to do some damage control.

Whispering back your reply that ‘Nadia was with Destiny and Peter’, so you could hope that maybe… just maybe… your mother hadn’t heard your sister.

But your mother had caught the dialogue, already and immediately shot you a surprised look, quirking an eyebrow in a questioning way, before she uttered.

“… who is Nadia?” you half-wanted to lie that it was either Roman’s sister or a friend but couldn’t help but believe that lying wouldn’t work with your mother.

And again, your sister had another slip of his tongue.

“Roman’s daughter, mom! She is a cutiepie… you should see her!”.

Both you and Roman were frozen on your spot, and slowly your mother’s gaze finally reached yours, as you faked a smile, feigning calm and innocence, as Roman’s hand sneaked to yours.

“You have a child?” she asked, almost unbelieving, as if she had been promised a pony and got a smelly donkey.

“Ahem… yeah… Nadia is my daughter from a previous relationship… the mother died, in childbirth” explained rather calmly Roman, meanwhile your thumb drew soft relaxing patterns on the back of his palm.

“Nadia is a beautiful baby, and I am beyond lucky to have Roman share her with me” you tried to gain some sympathy from your relatives, which seemed to work on almost each one of them, except your mother, whose gaze held an immediate hostility towards you and Roman, making you both shrank in his seat.

You tried to shift the attention away from you and were beyond glad when your father suggested that you and Roman could go to get some new wine, both because of the free air and both because you could completely swallow an entire bottle of alcohol.

As you walked outside, your sister mouthed ‘sorry’, having understood her mistake and you just shook your head, as you headed outside.

“… is something wrong?” asked softly Roman once you were out of earshot, although you still felt your mother’s eyes onto you, a sensation he shook off, hugging you gently “… your mother sounded… troubled when she heard about Nadia”.

You heard completely Roman’s uneasiness in his voice and gently gripped him tighter.

You had been beyond blessed to be welcomed in Nadia and Roman’s safe haven, and it wasn’t something that you took lightly or would let your mother taint with her affirmations: you already knew why that knowledge annoyed her so much, but you didn’t share in the slightest her opinions.

“She is just old-fashioned, but don’t worry about it… I am more than happy to be with you and Nadia” and Roman seemed to be lightly comforted by the soft smirk you had gifted him, before pushing an even softer kiss on his lips “… she’ll have to deal with you and Nadia, because I have no intention to let you go”.

“Neither do I, lovely” he giggled and as he leaned in for a kiss, but you were immediately brought apart by a rather stern cough, not even attempting to seem fake, revealing your mother, sending you two pointed looks.

“.. Roman, you wouldn’t mind meeting with my husband in the kitchen, he is having problem moving the table, so that we could have more space for each other” and as Roman tried to lightly protest, but your mother simply silenced him with a “… don’t worry, I’ll take care of the wine with my daughter”:

You sent Roman away with a smirk that stated your confidence in avoiding killing your mother, but you couldn’t help but be highly unnerved by her prolonged silence, as you moved to the wine cellar, but preferred it to words.

Which didn’t wait long to appear.

“Are you crazy about getting yourself with a man like him?”.

“You seemed to like him, mom” you retorted, meanwhile you fake of looking through the wine bottles, your hands gently caressing the glass of their bodies.

“Before I discovered he had already a daughter on his paycheck!” she made you turn to look at her in the eyes “… you know that not only you’ll never be his number one priority, but also any child that might come from you will never be loved as that… Nadia”.

“Mom I highly doubt it” your mother came from a completely different generation, the one where you married somebody and stayed with them, till they grew old and dead.

Even if they cheated, even if they were violent.

But Roman wasn’t simply ‘it’, because he had already a daughter.

“Don’t come crying at me when he breaks your heart” she retorted, almost spitting on you as she turned on her heels and left you there.

You took a deep breath, but a sob shook your back again and you couldn’t help but take your good time as you tried to calm yourself down.

In the end you chose one of wine and faked not having heard your mother talking so horrendously about your boyfriend.

Roman looked worried as you came back, and you shot him a small smirk, in an attempt to relax him, but it didn’t do much, because Roman’s worry didn’t ease up and he kept you for the rest of the night by his side protectively.

But he wasn’t able to stop your mother’s glares.

Because of those, you literally ran away after the Midnight happened and the New Year came, justifying your escape as having to pick Nadia and your mother sent you a little smirk, as if to say ‘see… this is what your life will be like’.

You and Roman had to go through a rather awkward silence as you drove back home, picking up Nadia from Destiny and Peter, the latter being extremely attached to Nadia, joking about not wanting to giver he back.

As you got her back, justifying your sadness as tiredness, you strapped her to the booster set, and after a few minutes of soft giggling, she went back to sleep.

For which you were thankful since you were honestly without a once of energy and Roman was gracious enough to suggest he set down, to let you undress, having half an idea of having a midnight bath.

When Roman came back, you were checking the temperature of the bath, dressed in a simple light robe and your hair were in a quick updo, letting Roman gently caress you from the back of your hair to your spine, a soft thrill of pleasure running down it, with his movements.

“Care to have one more in the bath” he asked, tiredly, although he was well aware that you wouldn’t have pushed him away, even more after a night like that.

“… wouldn’t have it any other way, beloved” you replied, gently grabbing one of his hands, proceeding to undress him with extreme gentleness, and then let him have the privacy to immerge himself in the warm water, as you pushed aside your robe to join him.

“… now I understand what you meant with your parent being ‘too much’” Roman softly joked, as you settled onto his chest, laying comfortably your head against his shoulder.

“I am sorry you had to deal with them” you mumbled, turning lightly to lay a soft kiss onto his neck.

“I am actually the one sorry…” he muttered, and you raised to look at him in the eyes, confused “… I shouldn’t… I come with a shit ton of baggage, that much is true”.

And you softly turned to him, grabbing his face strongly in your hand.

“All my mom said is shit” you mumbled, pushing him lightly on his shoulder “… you and Nadia are not baggage, you’ll never be”.

“No, no… one day you’ll realize that… you fucking deserve better and… I can’t fucking give it to you”.

“You sound like my mother, when you say this” you shot back with an harsh glare at him, as you raised Roman’s chin so that he could see your eyes properly “I am a big girl, I think that I can decide on my own, without anybody telling me what to do”.

“You are ruining your life, with us, babygirl” muttered almost powerless Roman and you just pushed yourself back against his chest, raising lightly water, which splashed slightly outside.

“I don’t think so…” you replied, as your hand slipped to grip his softly “… you have no idea how I feel whenever Nadia smiles at me and giggles with me, it makes me feel the most cherished ever… something that not even my family could give: she is not baggage, she is family”.

“… are you going to quote ‘Lilo and Stitch’” shot back Roman, but his tone held no bite and you simply smirked, leaning down to press a kiss onto his lips “… we are fucked up”.

“… fucked up in this together” you completed, giggling as Roman’s hands started tickling you, making you squish even more water out and you were just able to lightly fight him and giggle.

In the end, your new year had started amazingly.