#boy scout my beloved

[avi-mation]

Apocalypse buddies

[thresholdbb]

[t00thpasteface]

Hiiiii₍⁠₍⁠◞⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠௰⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠◟⁠₎⁠₎

Could you explain the hipster Vs fandom war. I've been on here for like four years and I never knew that existed lol and btw I really really love your art and you are one my biggest inspos for how I imagine and draw my Clark.

i'm not sure i can explain it in a way that makes sense, and certainly not in a way that makes you say "i understand why this was such a big deal", but gl'bgolyb knows i can try.

first, let me take you on a sensory experience... picture in your mind the following things... skinny jeans... nerd glasses... a weirdly dapper fashion sense in a time where everything is baggy and neon... boom, you have 2010-2014 online tumblr hipster culture. and also 70s elvis costello, oddly enough.

although admittedly i don't know his stance on pumpkin spice lattes.

anyway. now that that's burned into your brain, consider a significant population of this exact type of person that has already been well-established on this microblogging platform around the turn of the decade. tumblr doesn't really have an app yet because smartphones haven't taken over everyone's life yet, and online fandom culture is still largely dominated by deviantart as the main "fandom hub". most people, myself included, are getting their main meme fixes from facebook (which your parents were not yet on) or the icanhazcheezburger image-aggregator network. THEN EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE FANDOM NATION ATTACKED.

somehow, a huge crowd of people who considered their favorite books/movies/games to be core personality traits began to set up shop on this fair slate-blue isle. i number myself among this crowd, having been lured here by google-image-searching for miscellaneous fanart in 2011. the "old guard" largely belongs to, and continuously attracts new bloggers within, a burgeoning subculture that 100% defines itself by bucking popular trends and social expectations... whether or not this is actually accomplished by purchasing beverages from starbucks and putting old film filters on every photo, i cannot say.

you may be seeing an issue already arising: hey, if the hipsters hate everything that's popular and gatekeep all their interests, and the fandom bloggers are obsessed with extremely popular franchises and are hell-bent making them even more popular, isn't that going to cause a little friction?

well, yes. it caused a fuck ton of friction. a division arose early on between "the fandom side of tumblr" and "the hipster side of tumblr." some people, like myself, played both sides. others abstained from the rigid dichotomy and considered themselves to be on another "side," like the science side of tumblr, known for explaining relatively straightforward STEM concepts in large essays that began with something like "listen up fuckers."

ahhh, unfriendable. such a narrow little window in time where cheezburger sites and facebook had equal sway in the online zeitgeist.

interestingly, as someone who trawled a LOT of aesthetic tags, the most popular of which was simply #aesthetic (it was shockingly consistent in there), i never actually saw hipster bloggers complaining about fandom bloggers. it was always the other way around, with fandom bloggers bragging about how much they're freaking out the squares to get cool points with other fandom bloggers, all while never actually engaging with the hipster bloggers because their tags rarely overlapped.

hi, marge! we're freaking out the hipsters!

regardless of whether there was any material reality to it, or if it was simply a Minitrue level of entirely fictional warfare, this concept entrenched itself into the fandom bloggers, likely as a way to still feel "edgy" and unique while, again, obsessing over extremely popular and mainstream things like doctor who, pokemon, avatar the last airbender, the brand-new mcu, and other decidedly non-counterculture media. even with things it felt like no one irl had heard of, like hetalia and homestuck, those were online juggernauts nonetheless, the former of which had dominated deviantart for years and the latter of which prompted hotels and convention centers across the world to implement very strict rules about unsealed body paint. people treated fandoms like they were some sort of exclusive country club with membership fees and a dress code. and dunking on hipsters became an entire genre of Fake Internet Story, which were already pervasive on this website.

what's the point of being in a clique if there's no outgroup to flex on? #swag

this whole phenomenon ran concurrently, even symbiotically, with other tumblrisms like "tumblr university" and those horrendous "not like other girls" memes...

which means, of course, it was absolutely dead in the fucking water once DashCon happened in 2014. i don't need to tell you what happened at DashCon (there's a million essays and videos about it if you're one of today's lucky ten thousand who's never heard of it), but all across the fandom side of tumblr, it felt like finding out your parents lied about santa claus. turns out the fandoms you're in don't actually say anything about who you are as a person, a bunch of tumblrinas can't just will a fully functional micronation into existence just by wearing tacky merchandise in a public venue, and magic probably isn't real.

i wish i had some grand way to end this story, but really the moral is the same as it ever was: online drama is eternal, inescapable, and completely fucking worthless. if you only post to get mad at shit, especially if you're just making up a guy to get mad at, cut that out. touch grass. look at images of cats. i don't remember any of the enemies i made from this era, but i fondly remember all the friends, and i'm richer for making those positive connections. that's all for today's episode of Tumblr History with Toothpaste Face... remember to tip your waitress and stay minty.

[suchacomet]

new obsession unlocked: tying knots

[ahsterism]

hey g.enshin mutuals— the fanon mika jokes where they make him absolutely feral? that's just ryouki.

[yandereforme]

Damian wayne? nah, Damian AL GHUL.

(in my perspective his al ghul blood is where he gets his yandare shii from cause yk..the al ghuls..it just fits right..)

(imagine if damian stayed in Nanda parbat)

so imagine damian going on an assasin mission in gotham and crosses paths with vigilante!reader(Female if possible xx) on the gotham rooftops where they get into a fight and for the first time, Damian loses, to a girl/woman and now he's obsessed interested in her, now I see him purposely taking missions that's from gotham just to see reader then just one night he plans a kidnapping, think several other assasins on standby so the kidnapping will be perfect and..idk anymore, I ran out of brain juice.(I'm gonna be honest this was my dream last night, and I woke up 💔)

ALSO IM SORRY IM JUST YAPPING I JUST WANTS TO TELL YOU THIS CAUSE MAYBE YOU CAN DO SOMETHING WITH IT CAUSE CAUSE I JUST LOVE YOUR WRITING 💔💔💔

also, me personally, Damian al ghul>damian wayne

I wanna ask without anon but I'm EMBARRASSED CAUSE IDK WHAT I TYPED SOUNDS LIKE WHEN SOMEBODY READS IT!! (and ik my grammar suckz ass cause English ain't my first language. far from that💔💔)

oh no I'm yapping again I'm so sorry

You are not a bother at all! I love this idea, and you don’t need to be embarrassed, that’s how I write most things lol.

Damian Al Ghul x Vigilante! Reader

I’m thinking he went to Gotham to scout out his father and his subordinates (they aren’t a focus in the post)

He completely forgets about them after he meets (and gets his butt kicked by you)

You are an independent vigilante, and you have always been that way. You avoid Batman and his birds, preferring to take care of things like human traffickers, muggings, abusers, etc.

That being said, you knew enough about the big stuff that the boy in ninja gear set off alarm bells. You were prepared for his attacks, and had your weapons at the ready

You were a badass, and wiped the floor with Damian, even pinning him down before other ninjas came out of the darkness, hellbent on you.

He yells at the others in Arabic and you take your chance to slip away. This was above your pay grade, and the Bat could deal with them. You needed to continue your patrol.

Damian was expecting an easy fight, but you surprised him. When you glared down at this boy, blood streaked across your face, eyes alight with hatred as you held him down, Damian fell hard.(I headcanon that Al Ghuls fall for/become yandere for strong fighters or general badasses, while Wayne’s tends to become yandere/protective over kindness/innocence due to their trauma)

Those idiots who interrupted his fight with his beloved were killed immediately, and he immediately set his sights on finding you again.

He found your vigilante work a worthy endeavor, but your civilian life was not up to par. You worked two jobs, both of which were meant to be taken on by peasants, not by important people like you. He admired and hated the fact you survived on your own, admiring your strength but despising what you had to do to survive.

This man will fight tooth and nail to get to go to Gotham at every opportunity. He prefers to watch you on patrol, and privately dispose of the simpletons you were surrounded by

After a while, when your room and all the supplies were prepared, only then did he set up your kidnapping. He approached you late at night, outside of your suit. You gave him another worthy fight, but this time he wasn’t going to let you get away, and knocked you out quickly.

When you wake, it will be to Damian sitting across from your bed, reading one of your favorite novels (he doesn’t like this kind of book, but as his beloved enjoys it, he will be learned on the subject).

Be prepared to have a life of being Damian’s Queen, Y/n Al Ghul. By the time you wake up, he will have already removed all traces of your past from the rest of the world, making sure you had nothing to go back to, if you were ever able to escape, so your best bet is to stay as his queen, and hopefully figure out a way out(you won’t escape.)

[starfishstark]

MOONLIGHT

SYNOPSIS The moment tribals heard of a rumor of an outsider inhabiting their planet, Kaibre volunteered to find this man, see if he was a threat to their people or if coexistence was viable. With their blooming friendship, will they become more or will Kaibre find out about his dark origins...

PAIRING qimir x tribal! reader, reader uses the name Kaibre (i cannot write using y/n sorry chat!), reader uses she/her pronouns, the reader has a kid (rhysin my beloved)

WARNINGS 4.7K words, fluff so far, very mild descriptions of violence

pt 1

There’s someone else on the beach…

Word spreads ridiculously fast on Bal'demnic. Even between the coastal tribe to the river tribe, and even back to the mountain tribe driven in solitude with their forever warm underground pools filled with steam and the sound of laughter and prayers all night long. Even more from a single rumor, everything is exposed.

Kaibre assumes, sure, it’s easier, when a single rumor about a crush becomes a marriage proposal in the course of a week. Why bother hiding attraction? Just propose, and if they say no, go sing melancholy songs to the moons above, and sit in your corner of the lagoon for while till you no longer feel so worrisome over something so trivial. If they say yes, grin like a madman and get married that night in front of the black sands, a cortosis thread tied around their neck, and the high moons. On Bal'demnic, when word spreads, it spreads fast. 

When the morning scouts went on their early rounds, they noticed the disturbance in the waves. It was a little irk in the back of their heads, making them tread lightly until one of the boys caught sight of another person on the beach. An outsider!! On their little planet?!

Within the nightfall of the second day, everyone in the tribe harbored anxious thoughts about what to do next. As the closest tribe to the outsider, the stranger, on their lands, they were expected to take care of it. Word had started to reach the other tribes, and the coastal tribe would soon need to find out whether this stranger was here to harm them or not. The little kids of course thought nothing but another face to play along with, and maybe a stranger with no responsibilities would have more time to toss them up into the air while they giggled their little hearts out. 

“Tell me again, what did you see…”

Everytime, the story was the same. There was the stranger in one of the lagoons further north, he limped into the pool, and he had a bag of belongings with him. In the distance, one of those space ships rested peacefully on a small island off the coast. 

And everyone wanted to hear the story. Of course, when words spread, it’s not always true. 

“He had scars littering his body. He’s taller than the anyone in the entire tribe! He was bleeding out his side, limping for relief to the warm lagoon, like someone had maimed him! Bested him, even! Perhaps he’s in exile, all for killing little naughty children who don’t listen to their mothers…!”

Once the sun had set, and the moons started to align again in the lunar solstice of every night, the warriors and workers of the tribe alike gathered around the central fire. Whispers of the stranger slaughtered the silence, he was a myth and legend all the same. There has been no outsider in Bal’demnic for generations.

“Silence!” Icar swished his long robe in a singular motion, letting the quiet settle throughout the crowd around the fire. Their northern coastal tribe was small, many opting to move to the south for the plentiful resources, but the ones still here remained for the sand rich in cortosis, the metal their ancestors settled here for. Powerful to the breathing heart of this planet. That said, there weren’t all that many workers and warriors around the fire, but enough that the instant silence spoke measures to how much respect Icar wielded in the tribe. “I assume we all know of the situation at hand. I am not to waste time, but we must send someone to actually see this stranger on our planet…on our beaches…”

Icar looked up expectantly from his stare at the fire. There was a wash of agreements from the people around, some people automatically raising their hands and volunteering. 

“No, no warriors, we cannot seem as a threat before we know how powerful this stranger is. He could have more with him. No, no we cannot send a stranger immediately, our safest option is someone more…flexible. Unassuming. We need to show the tolerance for co-existence if they come in peace. Able to collect information, and for the worst path…someone our tribe is mendable to be without. I’m sorry, but we cannot afford to lose a head warrior if this is a legitimate threat.”

Instant groans and protests sounded from the head warriors seated next to Kaibre, one of them even getting up and ready to argue with Icar before Icar shot him a hot look. 

“I can do it.” 

The head warriors turned to look at Kaibre with a curious look, like they didn’t even notice her at the meetings.

Icar looked at her with a pained expression, shaking his head, “Kaibre, you have a son.”

“The- the people will watch over him.” Not gonna lie, Kaibre forgot about that for a moment she volunteered. But she didn’t feel like this stranger was going to kill her, and people like Kaibre have knack for getting things like this right. “No child goes without here.”

It takes a village to raise a child, that much was true. If Kaibre was to drop dead the next second, her son would not go without being taken care of. Without being fed, without a roof over his head, even if he might be alone in the hut Kaibre built by herself, 3 months pregnant with him. But even then, the children will come and go in their hut, he will stay with the people, and he will find his place among them. 

“But you have just had a son, it’s been barely 4 cycles.” Icar reminded her, watching her carefully. 

“I…don’t believe this stranger will kill me.”

The tribals went silent again, holding their breaths. 

Kaibre was sensitive to the air, the kids used to say. She could always tell if one of them was lying about where they all really were. Even when she was a kid, she could tell when one of her friends would become sick the next day. She would always give her food away for the hunter and warriors who went hungry too soon too fast, like she could tell that night they would be bountiful in their hunt and bring back the food she had given away tenfold. 

And even now, everyone held their breath to the girl who could feel what was wrong in the air. Their attention made her squirm in her seat, trying to focus on Icar, who was looking at her with furrowed eyebrows, but resolved in his decision. 

“Are you sure? Rhysin only has one mother. One guardian.”

Her eyes focused in on the movement of the fire, swallowing her fear and trying to commit herself to this. When her eyes met Icars’ again, he knew her answer. 

“You will leave one rotation from now, when the sun sets, take a cortosis blade with you for protection, and a bag of warm supper for amity.”

Kaibre nods, barely able to keep in her excitement of going out of the village again. She hadn’t been out like this in 4 cycles. 

The next day goes by in a hurry, with Kaibre prepping her eyes with the dark ashes in a clay pot for seeing in the night, strapping a cortosis blade flat to her thigh, hidden by the ruffles of a white skirt. Her black drape lays artfully on her, even earning her a “Pretty Ammi!” from Rhysin when she sees her getting ready. She laughs, picking up her little boy and kissing both his cheeks, before telling him to run off to Lysa’s house for the night, her close friend. 

She sees Icar one last time where he hands her a bag full of food, enough to feed two and a clear sign of appeasement. Giving her one last nod, he sends her off before the moons align that night. 

The trek to the northern lagoons is not difficult usually, but with her watching every step in the darkness, and carrying all that food, it takes the breath from her just a little. However, the energy returns to her the second she sees the trail of smoke coming from an opening in the nearby cave system adjacent to the lagoons. Her breath catches, and she carefully treads on the rocks leading her to the cave opening. 

She hears the whirs and revs of machinery, oh she hasn’t seen any her entire life, and peers from behind a rock wall to see the stranger…

They were right, he bleeding out his side. How did Lysa even come up with a lie that clever and accurate? Even from where she was standing, she could see the slight way he preferred to his left side, with the hint of bandages under his loose shirt. 

Wow, he’s wearing a shirt…

She hasn’t seen a shirt except one time she dreamt of one, and once when she saw it in a what they call a magazine in the mountain tribe from years ago. 

He had skin paler than those in the tribe, almost like someone washed him in milk compared to her own wood toned skin. His hair covered the back of his neck, hanging low in front of his face, covering it from his view, but she picked up on hooded eyes narrowed in on what he was melding. 

She looked around the room, staying behind that wall keeping her from his view. It didn’t look like that of someone aggressive. 

“You know, you don’t have to hide behind that wall.”

Kriff…

She leaned from the edge of the wall again, peering at the stranger all over again. He was relaxed, and open with his posture. Hunched just a little in his seat, with his lips tugging at an easy going smile. 

“Do you speak Aurebesh?” He asked patiently while Kaibre stepped completely out of the shadows, standing with arm against the rock wall.

She nodded, unsure what to say after being caught so blatantly, and not more than a minute she had been there. Was she losing her touch?

“I apologize for disturbing your planet…It was recorded as uninhabited and uninhabitable. It wasn’t until I landed that I realized how ridiculously outdated that was.”

Kaibre nods unsurely, slowly - towards him and stands closer to him. “Why are you here?”

“I- uhm,” He looks taken back by the question, unsure what to answer. “Refuge. I’m, uh, searching for somewhere safe. To live, away from…all that out there.” He gestured vaguely to the stars, visible in the openings of the cave. Awful cave to be in really, absolutely useless in the rain season. “I don’t plan on hurting anyone.” To emphasize his point, he raises his open palms as a pseudo-surrender. 

She relaxes, getting closer to him curiously, dropping her bag carefully before taking another step and lurching forward to cup his face with both hands.

“You look like the mountain people…” She trailed off, rubbing her thumb on his cheekbone inquisitively, as if she thought it would wipe off. Her fingers touched his hair, wondering how it was so straight on him. 

It was a common greetings between tribes meeting once in a decade of rotations, just to see how different the people looked between tribes, but Kaibre was unaware how sudden it seemed to him. 

“Uh….what are you doing?” He asked quietly, watching her attentively but taken off guard with how curious she was. He didn’t move her off though, a small piece of him enjoying the innocent curious touch as opposed to the violent, brash, and fleeting touch he’d escaped. Her hands were warm against his cool face, and he looked right at her, trying to meet her eyes. He breathed out softly, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Kaibre from the northern coast tribe.” She tilted her head in the same way his was tilted, her lips turning into a smile when she saw the way he started to chuckle at the same time. Kaibre noticed his hands slowly covered her own on his face. “What are you called?”

“Qimir,” he answered immediately. “I promise I’m no threat to your people…So long as they don’t hurt me…”

“Where are you from…?”

“Coruscant,” He answered in the same quiet voice, like being too loud would scare her away. Quimir squinted at her, taking in the embellishments on her ears, like little bells. Really, how did she manage to be that quiet with those on her? Her hair was pulled back into a complex braid, leaving stray hairs on the nape of neck and at the edges of her hairline. 

Kaibre nodded, feeling satisfied with the way she scrutinized him as a person, and stepped back, slipping her hands from under his. She picked up the bag from the ground, holding it out to him like an offering. “A gift. We did not know if you were able to catch any food.”

He smile turned lazy, looking at her in sincere gratitude. “Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve missed good food…”

They sat on the ground next to each other, with Qimir asking what each food was called and nothing less than melting at each bite he took in his right hand. After the first two times Kaibre slapped away his left hand when he went to go grab something new, he quickly learned he had to eat with the right hand or nothing else. 

Kaibre still noticed how he preferred his left side. “What happened?” If he was attacked, he could be tracked, and if he was tracked, he could lead trouble right to her little planet.

“I got in a mixup with some spice traders. Not to worry, they won’t follow me here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That’s…exactly what she was worried about. How did he know that?

She nodded slowly, pulling out the grain drink from inside the bag, handing it over to him. Qimir squinted at first, looking at her with apprehension with the first time, eyes flickering between the weird substance and her expecting face. 

“Uh…what is that?”

“It’s sathu, drink up, you’ll heal fast.”

“I can heal with some bacta, really, it’s fine—”

“Sathu is refined and prepared for hours, you know how much work goes into this?”

He looked at it again, his face betraying his thoughts. “Do I have to?”

She looked at him expectantly, nudging it forward again. Kaibre, single mother of a toddler, nailed down the ‘don’t make me ask twice’ look ages ago. Qimir stood no chance. 

He sighed, taking it from her hands, smelling it questionably, and took a sip. However, catching the window she had, she held her hand under the cup, pushing and pushing till he finished the whole drink. 

Once he finished, he shot her a grumpy look, maybe aiming for angry, but all she could see was the little brown sathu stache that clung to his actual stache. She nodded, happy that he finished the whole drink without spilling any. “Good, good boy, you finished the whole thing.” 

Qimir looked like he might have choked on something, nodding again, and looked at the wrapped up food. He hesitantly looked out the cave. “Is it really ok for you to walk back alone?”

“You came to the forest, I was raised in it,” Kaibre smiled proudly, gathering the leaves and putting them in the bag again. 

“Will you come by again?” He asked casually, eyes averted as he stands up. 

She thought about it. “It depends on what the people decide on. We might negotiate terms for coexistence, maybe even cooperation between us.”

Qimir just smiled. 

__

Qimir thought about the strange woman he met. She came just up to his collarbone, with long hair swept up into a intricate braid, and dark lining around her round eyes, making them stand out when she studied him those few long minutes. The way her hands felt cupping his face and rubbing against his skin like the color might scrub off if she did it too hard. 

And then the food she shared with him. No one told the tribals to do that, but they took it upon themselves. Now Qimir is no fool, they’re trying to prevent animosity in the future for sure, and he felt no aggression coming from the womans’ ridiculously untrained force signature. 

He felt her energy from a hundred feet away, his face perking up at it. At first, he thought it was a group of many people traveling together, maybe for a battle. It was only when she got closer that Qimir realized it was one person. One force sensitive person. Incredible. Really, how did the Jedi not detect her?

He could almost feel tendrils of the force nudge against his mental walls, trying to poke and prod a guess of what he was like. Of course, she wasn’t even aware that’s what she was doing. He had to have her, had to teach her, he could feel the urge tugging at him the second she left. 

She’ll be back… Qimir reassured himself. He could still remember the second she stepped from behind the wall, white ruffled skirt, and a black shawl draping as a top, leaving her shoulders exposed and a sliver of her hip. 

Kaibre, hm? Bal’demnic, oh what a perfect place for refuge…

__

As the rotations flew by, Qimir became a friend to the Bal’demnic people. Kaibre communicated rules to him, and he accepted, more than happy that they were willing to share the space with them. Kaibre made the walk up to his caves more than once a week, to either bring food, or at his request to help with carving out the space in his caves. In return for the food, he would trade the village for some of the things he brought from outside the planet. He would leave maybe once a month to go run for supplies, and in that time he would return with dozens of pelts and waterskins, and sometimes gifts he saved to trade with later for. 

But she would lying if she said she only went up there as often to trade. She found solstice in the quiet companionship beyond the village, given the little artificial light he had set up around the cave, technology she had never seen before. They could take forever in front of the false sun, until the moons had long aligned and she realized she had to head back to Rhysin before morning. She realized that Qimir preferred her company as well, asking if she would return everytime she left. 

“Qimir?” Kaibre called out, carrying millets and grain in her bag. She looked around the cave, setting down the bag in it’s usual spot. “Where did you go?”

He could be in the lagoon maybe, but it was unusual at this time. After the sun set? Likely not. 

Today was another day she came with no plan in mind, expecting no trade at the time. She came to talk with him, like they often did. He had this sharp tea that he poured to the both of them, sipping at the edge of the cave where the grass met the sand met the hard rock. They talked about the stars, what they would call each on Bal’demnic, and the rest of the galaxy. 

They talked about themselves. Sitting across the archway from each other, plenty of space between them, but when they started talking about their pasts, it seemed like that space shrunk to feel much more bearable. 

Qimir came from a tribe called Jedi. He tried correcting her that it was simply an organization of sorts, of people unable to love and live like the rest do, but with a name like that, they would be a sick tribe. He described how he couldn’t handle staying with the Jedi, and she was curious why they weren’t allowed to love, but he brushed it off and she didn’t pick it up again.

He felt like he didn’t belong. So Kaibre confessed how the people would say Kaibre was sensitive to the air. His demeanor changed, getting up to sit next to her against the wall instead, nodding and heeding her confession like it was a prayer.

Kaibre told him how it felt sometimes like she didn’t belong in that tribe, where everyone was just a little wary of the truth about her, and he held her hand like she was an altar. 

She looked around the corner again, raising an eyebrow when she didn’t see him. She could clearly smell the sharp tea he was brewing in the corner, so he couldn’t have stepped out for long. 

“I’m over here!” He called out, walking in with a new pelt in his hand. He was wearing these hamaka pants, as he told to her once, dark along with a crossed wrap top. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait Kaibre- woah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, pause. Who is that?”

His eyes were narrowed in on someone behind her, and she, confused, turned to see no one. “Who?”

“Behind- Behind the wall??”

Kaibre reached her hand up the slit in her skirt, pulling out her cortosis blade with ease, as Qimir hurried to grab her shoulder and steady her. “Wait, it was just a little kid.”

“Come out,” She said steadily, watching the edge of the wall carefully. And out padded little ol’ Rhysin in all his glory. “Rhysin?!”

Kaibre sounded undignified, sheathing her blade back into it’s place, walking over to Rhysin with the intention to dragging him by the ear back to the village. Rhysin, sensing her intentions from a mile away, ran at his window and right to Qimir, grabbing onto the hamaka pants and tugging at them. By reflex, Qimir picked him up and turned him away from Kaibre. 

“Rhysin, hm? What brings you all the way here? With Kaibre?”

“He was supposed to be sleeping!” Kaibre emphasized. “Do you know how dangerous that was? What if you tripped on something? What if you got stuck in a hunter trap? Hm? I almost threw my blade at you!”

“Ok, ok, it’s not his fault he’s just a little curious. I know someone else that was just as curious as him too,” Qimir spoke easy to her, breaking down the tension and anxiety she had from seeing Rhysin here. The way he adjusted his grip to bounce Rhysin up and down to comfort him at the same time didn’t go unnoticed to Kaibre. He was a natural. “Besides, you’ve been hiding me from the rest of your tribe, isn’t it around time I saw some new faces?”

“Rhysin when we get back to the tribe, you are in big trouble,” Kaibre wanted, narrowing her eyes onto him. 

“Hey! Be nice to him.” Qimir all but pouted along side the three year old. “Who is this little adorable little monster anyways-”

Kaibre sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Rhysin, meet Qimir, the outsider and my friend. Qimir, meet my son, Rhysin.”

Qimir’s entire body stiffened up, looking appalled, shocked, and nervous at the same time. “Son?” He choked out, still bouncing Rhysin up and down. “I-I didn’t know you had a son.”

“It…didn’t come up…” Kaibre answered. Actually, she preferred that he didn’t know she had a son with no father, just appearing one day in her womb. Where was she going to start explaining that one?

Qimir hummed, and then just smiled at Rhysin. “Well, I don’t suppose you guys can make the trek back this late. Especially with this little one, and the pelt at the same time…”

Kaibre sighed, looking regretful. “Rhy, baby, why?”

“I wanted to see him too.” Then he had the audacity to pout. 

Qimir practically melted, pouting back and then at Kaibre, “Oh please, Kaibre, one night won’t harm anyone.”

“Qimir, you have a tiny bed. And I’m not sleeping on the floor because someone decided to play explorer tonight!”

“Actually, I have a new pelt,” Qimir pointed out, “And this little guy wouldn’t mind sharing now, would he?”

Kaibre pinches the edge of her nose. It’s alright, yes, but the fact her son would be this reckless…ah, what was she thinking? He was her son after all. Hers, and unpredictabilitys’. She couldn’t get too mad at him, but at the same time she had half the mind to chase him down the coastline all the way to the village the next morning. 

“C’monnnn.” Woah. When did he move that close to her? Qimir tugged at her shawl lightly, mindful of the way it would fall off her if he wasn’t careful. He and Rhys gave her matching pouting faces, but she was a little preoccupied with the fact she could count the strands of hair falling in front of Qimirs’ face right now, and the little laugh he did when he realized her staring. “The pelt is really really soft, promise.”

She sighed, nodding while Qimir and Rhysin both giggled in glee and celebrated in their own separate world. Rhysin was not going to getting off Qimir any time soon.   

When Qimir finally set him down, Kaibre practically flew at her chance to get her hands on Rhysin, by holding him upside down by the ankles. She emphasized her point while Rhysin giggled at her antics, and agreed he would never do it again (lies). They ate dinner in less tension after that, Qimir exuding off a strange energy. He seemed at unease, but acting completely fine otherwise. She gave him weird looks, ones that he couldn’t have not noticed, but he ignored them outright. It’s fine, she’ll confront him about it next him she sees him, without Rhysin here. 

“See? The pelt is pretty great, right?” Qimir laid it down in a carved out corner, perfectly fit for it. She supposes he’s been planning for a while after the initial discomfort of his ratty mattress dissolved. She told him good pelts were found further north, where the thick fur was essential in cold seasons. He even knitted a large blanket to match it. After securing down the pelt onto the bed and moving the pillows back, and placing the blanket on top, he stepped back to show it off in a “ta-da!” motion. 

Kaibre shrugged, picking up Rhysin and laying on one side with him, while Qimir laid on the other side. 

It was fine, it was incredibly warm and comforting on the pelt, and even the blanket insulated heat inside. Just the one night…

__

“Ammi, ammi, ammi, get up, get up, get up-”

Kaibre whines quietly, feeling warmer than she has any morning in a long time. She batted away his hand tugging at her arm, moving closer into the warm corner she was against, “Rhy, go catch rabbits, let me sleep…”

Rhy ran off, she rolled her eyes, leaning further into the wall— that wrapped back around her?

Kriffkriffkriffkriff, that was not a wall, that was mister ‘wall-of-muscle’ Qimir. 

But dank farrik, he was so warm. 

Her eyes fluttered just a little open, noticing that she was currently laying on his bicep (perfect pillow, wow) with his other arm pulling on her waist, fingers splayed around and over the rolls of her stomach where she was curled up. She sighed, content with the soft fur under her, the droning sound of Qimir’s breathing on her neck, and the warm vibrating off his chest. Rhys would be fine, no forest animal came near these caves…Kaibre could indulge in a while, just until Qimir woke up and realized what he had done accidentally in his sleep. 

She could hear a soft groan coming from him, probably the rising sun getting into his eyes before he was ready to leave sleep. She quickly closed her eyes. No need to let him think she was letting him hold her like that… 

But she didn't say anything when his breathing changed every so slightly from his sleep, and his arms furrowing deeper into his hold on her.

[pinkanonwrites]

Imagine if Malleus was turned into a gliding lizard, he'd be so tiny!!

I did end up going with a lizard for Malleus's transformation rather than a dragon, I hope you all enjoy it! I think it suits him well.

GN! Reader, They/Them pronouns, Comfort

+2,100 words

“ I think they just have trouble believing that you can see things from their perspective, that’s all.”

Malleus couldn’t help but cock his head at your statement. “Their perspective?”

“Yeah. They all see you as this all-powerful super mage, you know?” You shrugged in response. “When you think someone is that far above you, it’s hard to picture them actually experiencing the world the way you do. That you actually see things…” You made a vague flattening motion with your hands. “At their level.”

“At their level…” He hummed, hand resting on his chin and thoughts appearing to be a thousand miles away. “Your insight has been greatly helpful tonight, Child of Man. I hope I have not troubled you with these questions.”

“Not at all! If you ever need a hand, just let me know. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Malleus chuckled. “That we certainly are.”

When Malleus had asked you about his inability to connect with most of your fellow classmates on his regular night visit to Ramshackle, you weren’t sure if there was any advice you could give that would actually help him out. Regardless of your direction of his appearance and mannerisms, people would think what they wished about the future King of Fae, and the last thing you wanted was for Malleus to try changing anything about himself. But maybe if you could get him to understand that it isn’t necessarily his fault, it would help ease a bit of the burden.

You can’t say you expected it to end like this though, with Lilia depositing a small, greyish-brown lizard into your hand after instructing you to open your palm to him. First thing in the morning and everything.

“You take good care of him now!” He chirped, and if you hadn’t reached out with your free hand to death-grip his blazer sleeve you’re certain he would have pivoted on his heel and left it at that. But ohhhhh, not today. You weren’t letting another bonkers boy slip right out from your grasp without explaining just what the hell he was going on about.

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“Oh? This was your idea, wasn’t it? For Malleus to get to see things…” He perfectly copied the hand motion you’d made to Malleus the night prior. “On your level.”

“That doesn’t explain the lizard! And were you spying on us?”

“Honey, I’m always keeping one eye on what our dear little prince is up to. That’s my job!” He gave you a playful boop on the nose with the tip of one manicured finger. “And the ‘lizard’ is gonna be your scout for the day! After a day in the life of our beloved Prefect I’m sure he’ll have all sorts of fun commoner stories to tell Malleus about when I come to pick him up.”

“So I’m just… carrying around a lizard all day? For Malleus?”

“That’s the spirit! Why don’t you show our little scaly sweetie here all the cool stuff you get up to then? I’ll be back at sunset to collect him. Have fun you two!” He reached over to the lizard in your palm and gave it a mimicking boop. “And don’t cause any trouble! Any more than usual, at least.”

And with a whirl of sparkles and a flash of a glinting fang, Lilia was gone. You looked down at the lizard in your palm, staring up at you with little, googling eyes.

"I guess… you're coming with me today?"

In response (you think?) the lizard gave you a slow blink and a little flick of his tongue.

"Alright. Not like my day could get any weirder anyway. Should I put you in my pocket, maybe? Or you could-WOAH!"

Instead of letting you decide, the little lizard took a flying leap from your outstretched palm, landing square in the center of your chest and scrabbling wildly against the fabric as it struggled to find a grip. You quickly cupped a hand under the little creature and let it clamber upward until it had found a comfortable resting place on your right shoulder.

"Jeez! A little warning next time? What if I dropped you?" A little webbed foot papped against the lower side of your cheek and you sighed, reaching up to give your new tag-along a pat on the head with your index finger. "Alright, alright, I forgive you. Just be a little more careful, okay little buddy?"

Before you could even finish bonding with your new scaly friend, the door to Ramshackle house blew open behind you. Bursting from the doorway was a whirlwind of ashy gray fur, blue flames, and shrieked, panicked placations.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!" Grim yowled as he veered a hard left and disappeared behind the house. From within you could hear your spectral roommates shouting for your attention, twinkling bursts of magic going off in the distance. If you had to guess, Grim had probably set the living room curtains on fire… Again.

"WATER MAGIC, YOU GUYS! NOT WIND MAGIC!" You hollered as you rushed back into the house. Looks like you were going to be late for morning classes again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Seven class periods, one free study, an incredibly hectic lunch time, and several after-school assignments from the Headmaster later, and you were barely hanging on by the skin of your teeth. Malleus sure picked a doozy of a day to send a little lizard to keep an eye on you, because it felt like just about everything that could have gone wrong did.

You spent all of your Flying class miserably landlocked, as usual, running drills and doing jumping jacks until Coach Vargas had deemed your amount of exercise “suitable.” 

Then during your History of Magics study period you were stuck looking up what ended up to be first-grade level history on the Shaftlands, missing your chance to get any of your actual essay done in-class.

In Potionology you added powdered mint leaves instead of dried, and the resulting mishap quite literally blew up in your face. Fortunately you had been fast enough to block your lizard friend from the blast with the palm of your hand, but you had to stand there soot-stained and miserable throughout the remainder of Professor Crewel’s lecture anyway.

You nearly got trampled by the lunch rush, and if it weren’t for Jack’s quick thinking you’d probably be a pavement pancake right now.

Then, as if you hadn’t had enough to do in your regular school day, Crowley had you visit every single Phys. Ed club and take their photos for the school newspaper. Does he even know how hard it is to wrangle a bunch of mean, sweaty teenagers into letting their pictures be taken? He must have, because that would explain why he made you do it.

Finally back to Ramshackle Dorm, the sun was already setting when you slumped up the steps and collapsed face first into your mattress. Homework could wait. Right now you just needed a chance to breathe.

Vaguely, you felt a small, scaly figure wriggle itself underneath your palm and lift it up. You shifted your head to the side just enough to see the lizard propping up your palm like a makeshift tent, tongue sticking out as he stared you down with big, glossy eyes. You bit back a chuckle.

“Hey, buddy. Good hustle today. Didn’t fall off my shoulder even once.”

It scampered forward, floppy-limbed and frantic, until he stopped right in front of your face. A little, suction-cupped hand papped on the side of your cheek, a tiny show of solidarity in the face of your unending workload. It almost brought you to tears.

“Thanks, bud.”

You rolled onto your side, cupping him carefully again under one palm to keep him steady.

“You wanna know the worst part of today? Worse than running laps or failing history or almost getting trampled?”

He cocked his tiny head in your direction.

“The worst part is now you’ve gotta go home, and you’re gonna tell Malleus all about what a colossal fuck-up I am.”

The little hand papped against your face again, a few times, each with increasing urgency.

“It’s true! What one thing did I get right today? I’ve been tripping over myself just to keep from self-destructing since I got here. Everything you have here, it’s so… So different! And everyone seems to have no problem with it except for me. I’m just… “

You sighed, tracing a finger up and down the lizard’s soft, scaly back.

“I’m just tired, bud. I wish it was as easy for me as it was for everyone else.”

You trailed off again, one final thought budging to be let free. 

“I wish Malleus was here.”

POOF!

You wheezed, vision suddenly obscured by a thick, purple-black smoke. Despite its sudden, engulfing power, it almost made you feel strangely at ease. It smelled like the forest right after a heavy rain, the slight charge of a thunderstorm that’s only just passed. And as the smoke coiled and curled off over the edges of your mattress to seep onto the floor, the vision of Malleus Draconia appeared before you. He was draped across the bed in a position similar to yours, mirroring your pose with a look of incredible melancholy on his face.

“Oh, my Child of Man…”

“Malle-!?”

Before you could even begin to question him Malleus was sweeping you into a hug, burying your face in the fabric of his uniform. One of his hands held your lower back, the other cradled the back of your head so gently, oh so gently. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been hugged like this.

“The world has been incredibly cruel to you today, hasn’t it?”

Fuck. Fuck. You’d gotten so good at holding it in, at taking a deep breath and saying everything was going to be okay. But in less than a dozen words Malleus had obliterated every wall you’d so carefully constructed since arriving in Twisted Wonderland to keep from having a complete emotional meltdown. Well, there was no use trying to hold it in anymore, not with the way you were bawling into Malleus’s tailcoat, heaving like you were sure you were never going to breathe again.

But Malleus didn’t shush you, didn’t say that everything was going to be okay. He just held you tight, let you pour your emotions out into his expensive shirt, rubbed your back as your sobs became whimpers and finally soft, steady breathing once more. When you could finally pull yourself together enough to throw a sentence together, that’s when you pulled your face out of Malleus’s chest.

“How did…” You rasped. “How’d you get here? Did little buddy tell you? Are you like, psychically linked or something?”

“Ah. No, not quite. My apologies for the deception.” Malleus Draconia, looking sheepish? You never thought you’d see it. “I wanted to see what your days were like in a manner as unobtrusive as possible, so Lilia supplied the idea of a minor appearance transmutation so I could accompany you.”

“Oh. So you… Were little buddy?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. That’s… That’s kinda embarrassing.”

“How so?” You honestly should have seen it sooner, with the way Malleus looked at you with those curious, glossy-green eyes.

“I carried you around all day! I like… pet you, and stuff. You watched me almost blow myself up.”

Were your eyes deceiving you again, or was Malleus actually… Pouting? “My apologies. I never intended to make you feel this uncomfortable.”

“No! No, uh. I mean… It’s fine, really. It was nice, actually, having someone besides Grim keep me company all day. I’m glad it was you.”

He smiled, soft and warm and incredibly fond. The hand still cradling your lower back was rubbing  in slow, soothing circles, nearly enough to make you doze off. “I am glad as well. I’ve always known you to be fascinating, but I never could have considered just how much weight is upon you to succeed.” He cupped your cheek, thumb running back and forth over your cheek bone. “You, my Child of Man, are unfathomably strong. Never once have I considered you to be, in your words, a “fuck-up”.”

Your breath hitched again, and you thumped a palm against Malleus’s chest. “You’re gonna make me start crying again.”

“Then I shall cease my praises. For this evening, at least.” 

Eyelids fluttering, you let yourself curl closer into him, just the slightest bit.

“Thank you, Mal. For… For just everything.”

You knew that you wouldn’t be able to lie like this forever. Tomorrow you’d have to get up and stop Grim from burning the house down once again. Tomorrow you’d have to run laps and avoid getting trampled in the cafeteria and have to justify all the homework you weren’t able to get done tonight. But that was all for tomorrow. Tonight was just you, and Malleus, and what you thought was the ghost of a kiss on the center of your forehead as you drifted from the land of the waking into a, for once, peaceful slumber.

“Sleep well, my Child of Man... My love.”

[honey-crypt]

okay, Elliott x farmer where that man goes with Leah to the band concert w/ sam and the rest and is SOO so surprised to see his partner there, on the STAGE. He would fall even more in love if he heard his partner sing too...

Aftermath of the concert?? he definitely is all over them after that LMAO

(Sam's 8 heart event but we make it about Elliott)

a/n: a new addition to the ongoing @fuerrziah / @honey-crypt elliott-verse haha it takes place about a month after the drunk singing elliott fic :3 enjoy! (btw the song featured is something i wrote a year or so ago)

word count: 2k

warning: horny elliott & general nsfw so minors dni (i also traumatize leah)

summary: goblin destroyer is debuting tonight and elliott can’t find you anywhere! worried that you’re missing the show, he attempts to get touch with you when he gets a shock of a lifetime, as you enter the stage as the singer.

★ ballad of scylla - elliott x farmer ★

The bus ride to ZuZu City was filled with excited chatter and anxious anticipation, as the Pelican Town attendees eagerly awaited the arrival to Sam and his band’s show. Elliott, on the other hand, was unfocused on the outside world, notebook in hand and chewing absentmindedly on his pen.

“Something wrong, lover boy?” his best friend Leah jested to him. Elliott looked up and promptly removed his slobber-coated pen from his mouth, “Oh, apologies. I was lost in thought.”

Leah let out a low hum and questioned the writer, “I don’t see (Y/N) here. Did they get caught up in farm work and miss the bus?”

Elliott frowned and resumed chewing on his pen, “Unfortunately, I believe that to be the case,” he answered, words muffled by the pen, “Sam and the others don’t seem too upset by it, at least. Perhaps, they’ll be joining us at a later time.”

“I hope so,” the artist leaned her head against the window. Outside, the countryside slowly morphed into the urban scene with trees and flowers replaced by bright lights and glamourous storefronts. Elliott took the pen out of his mouth and scribbled down a few words in his notebook.

Pelican. Does anything rhyme with pelican? he tapped the pen against his knuckles, No… nothing rhymes with pelican- Oh! Farm! Farm rhymes with charm! the writer quickly jotted those rhymes down. His first month anniversary with Pelican Town’s dearest farmer was approaching and like the romantic creative he was, Elliott was hellbent on writing (Y/N) a poem as their anniversary gift.

“Elliott… oh, Earth to Elliott…” a finger snap coaxed him out of his writing focus, “We’re here,” informed Leah, ruffling up Elliott’s well maintained side-part. He let out a huff of annoyance and fixed up his hair, “Why must you ruin my hair, Leah? You know it takes me at least an hour to get it this nice.”

“‘Cuz I find it funny how anal you get about it,” his friend snickered. Elliott rolled his eyes, his friendship with Leah often overlapped with that of a sibling dynamic with the both of two teasing one another. Nonetheless, Leah was right, they did arrive at the outside concert hall in ZuZu City. Elliott hastily collected his belongings and exited the bus with Leah, making sure to thank Pam for driving everyone here.

For an outdoor concert hall, the space was surprisingly packed, as various attendees milled about the greenery and awaited for the show to start. Elliott attempted to use his height to his advantage, scouting the area for any sign of his beloved farmer. Yoba, no luck. Elliott frowned to himself, as he and Leah searched for a good spot to watch the show, Where are you, (Y/N)? I hope you’re alright.

Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail took to the stage, the three band members working with the event crew to set up their instruments and sound equipment. Elliott admired their tenacity; To perform your hard creative work in front of a crowd was always an artist’s greatest challenge. He periodically got updates from you and Sam about the band’s progress, mainly you because he didn’t spend as much time with Sam as he did with you.

“Hello!” the whining of electronic feedback and interference echoed throughout the concert hall, “Oh, jeez,” Sam tapped the microphone a few times, “Can everybody hear me?”

Many onlookers in the crowd shouted affirmations and Sam grinned, “Awesome! Well, hey everybody, welcome to the show! My name’s Sam and I’m playing guitar tonight,” he pointed to each of his band members, “We got Sebastian on keys and Abigail on drums. Together, we make… Goblin Destroyer!” a few people cheered at the name, “Tonight, we’ll be performing our debut song Ballad of Scylla, but before we do that, I just wanna shout out the person who gave me the push to actually put forth action and effort into making this reality.”

Elliott sensed approaching footsteps next to him, as a familiar figure walked upstage with Sam, “My friend (Y/N)!” you embraced Sam in a side hug, your body on full display under the stage lights. The writer gawked at your outfit; your black skull crop top left your stomach exposed and arms muscles highlighted, paired together with black bell bottom jeans hugging your hips and your worn out combat boots giving you an extra inch or so of height. Oh no, they’re HOT, so so so hot… he thought to himself, his thoughts and language rather crude.

Sam passed the microphone to you and got in position with the rest of Goblin Destroyer. You attached the microphone back on the stand and looked before the crowd, your eyes landing on Elliott and giving him a wink.

His heart fluttered with anticipation, excitement, and a dash of lust. He focused his attention on your lips, hearing a familiar ‘One! Two! Three!’ followed by a collection of loud layered beats and chords. You launched into song, grasping the microphone stand and belting out the most beautiful singing Elliott ever bore witness to.

“Waves crashing against the shore,” you sang, “The warring ships echo a roar! Through the eye of the storm, I emerge and with a battle cry, the ships submerge!” Leah pumped her fist in the air and cheered alongside the crowd of adoring fans.

“The turbulent sea drowns the crew! Lungs filled with salt water, faces just as blue!” you stared down at Elliott, eyes glowing like the mythological beast in question, “I am Scylla, devourer of treacherous sinners! Their flesh and blood, my dinner!”

Sam launched into a riff, fingers wildly strumming the various strings of his guitar, as Sebastian practically slammed his fists against the keyboard and Abigail smashed the drums. You plucked the microphone off its stand and jumped into the crowd, fans losing their marbles and reaching out to you. Yet, you paid no attention to them, as you snaked your way towards a flabbergasted Elliott.

“A storm in a bottle, a storm in a bottle! Glass threatening to break!” you grabbed him by the tie and yacked him towards you, so close that Elliott could feel your breath against his skin, “Unleash the storm, unleash the storm!”

You released your physical hold on him and climbed back on stage, but you couldn’t get rid of the mental hold you possessed over the poor, helpless man. Elliott could only stare, speechless; the music bumping in his eyes, the people around him dancing wildly, you…. oh, you. You, his beloved. You, his soul. You, his heart. You… Elliott was head over heels in love with you.

“Whirlpools of suffering engulf my being! Consuming my body must felt so freeing! Poseidon takes no mercy on my pain, for the men of sea I have slain!” Elliott hung onto every word that came out your mouth, as memories of the night you two got together flashed before his eyes.

“I was once a creature of beauty and grace! Yet, jealousy led to my home to be lace!” The moans, feeling your hot skin against his own. “The poison bleached my skin and took my eyes! Writhing tendrils of my body let out cries!” Savoring your lips, the aftertaste of alcohol mixed in your spit.

“A storm in a bottle, a storm in a bottle!” Calloused hands digging into your soft waist. “Glass threatening to break!” The delightful whimpers and pleas that your lips recited like a prayer. “Free the storm, free the storm!”

“They call me a monster for who I am!” The way you vacuumed your mouth around his cock, slurping and sucking as if it was a lollipop. “When in reality, I am just a sacrificial lamb!” His canine teeth piercing into your neck and painting it in bruises. “A creature in need of a guiding hand!” The feeling of being inside you, tight and wet with spit and lube. “Against Heracles’ sword, I take my stand!” Elliott! Elliott! Oh, how his name oozed with desperation and need.

“Punished by my creator for my love!” Thrusting into you. “To the pits of Tartarus, I am given a big shove!” Groping at your chest with one hand. “My skin burns like the poison I drank once before!” You sucking and nibbling on the fingers of his unoccupied hand. “The gods of old call for an encore!”

“A storm in a bottle, a storm in a bottle!” Your hole clamping down on his cock. “Glass threatening to break!” Pinning you down with his body weight, his thrusts frantic and sloppy. “Save the storm, save the storm!” Crying out your name, as he coated your hole with sticky seed.

The final guitar riff snapped Elliott back into the real world, as the crowd hollered and applauded at the band for their performance. You remained on stage, sweat running down your forehead and your chest heaving from the workout. Elliott whistled and clapped as loud as he could, “(Y/N)! That’s my (Y/N)!”

The crowd began to disperse while the band and the event crew started packing up the equipment. You sat down on the stage with legs dangling off the side, chugging a water bottle like your life depended on it. Elliott broke away from the crowd and approached the stage, resting his chin on your thigh, “My love,” he greeted you. A smile graced your lips, “Elliott! Did you have fun?”

“Absolutely,” his emerald irises were consumed by his black pupils, “It was a pleasant surprise to see you sing tonight. I was afraid that you missed the event because you weren’t on the bus.”

“I had to take my truck,” you answered, “but, but you know how I felt when you drunkenly serenaded me last month,” you added on before finishing your water. Elliott traced an assortment of shapes against your leg, “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact your little stunt had on me.”

You pulled the bottle from your mouth and wiped off some spilled liquid with the back of your hand, “Oh? What do you mean by that?” your eyes twinkled with playful mischief. Elliott squeezed your other thigh and pressed a few kisses against the thigh he was resting on.

“Allow me to show you.”

…

…

…

bonus:

Leah waited outside the bus, foot tapping against the concrete impatiently. She checked her watch and grumbled to herself, “Where is he?”

“Hey kid, party’s leaving!” hollered Pam from the bus. Leah let out a sigh and replied, “Just give me one second!” before jogging back to the concert hall. She scanned the area for any sign of Elliott and passed by one of the concert hall’s event crew, “Excuse me!” she asked, “Have you seen a redheaded man in a puffy, stuffy outfit nearby?”

“Oh yeah,” the crew member answered while she tided up the stage, “He went towards the parking lot.”

“Thanks!” the artist waved the crew member off and headed off to the concert hall’s parking lot. Leah walked down the rows of cars, looking which one Elliott could be near, when she suddenly heard a moan. She stopped in her tracks and waited, hearing another moan a few seconds later.

Curious, Leah tracked the source of the odd noises and found (Y/N)’s truck close by, “(Y/N)? Ell-” she cut herself short and covered her mouth to hold back a scream at the sight before her: Elliott with his pants down and (Y/N) pinned against the side of their truck. Trying not to get caught, Leah sprinted away and returned to the bus. She took the seat behind Pam and the bus driver kicked the vehicle in high gear, driving away from ZuZu City.

“Kid, you okay?” the bus driver asked.

“I need bleach, eye bleach, right now.”

[writing-frenzy]

Isekai with the Kurosaki fam; now with some UraIchi spice

So, my brain has been dumping even more ideas for a fandom I can't write for, so I guess I'll dump all the ideas on the ground and sees what happens; also, partly inspired because of DevinePhoenix's Glass Body, Steal Wings and slightly be Cannon Ichigo in AU series by Williamcipher, especially the third of the series, because ye.

Anyways, so for me, I can never imagine Ichigo would part from his sisters and Goat-face easily, even in a normal au, because it's Ichigo's family, his friends, his lost, his life experiences that makes him who he is as a person; if he died and then transferred, a part of me wonders if he would ever try and get back home somehow. So my brain went-

Brain: hey, how about we have a thing that makes the entire family get into an accident :D

Brain: And, like, maybe a day before or when Ichigo was younger, he ended up saving a godly being's most beloved person, so the god is like; hey, I owe you, I'll reincarnate your family into my world; thing is, the world the god has is maybe connected in a way to an anime/webnovel/comic one of the girls or Ichigo's friends were reading, and Ichigo knows it because he was convinced to watch/read it as bonding.

It's a world of magic and fantasy, where words and names have power and things go bump in the night ever so easily. Ichigo and his Family find themselves in a cozy little hideaway, all confused but happy and relieved to be alive and with each other. Isshin in this au will be an awkward, not the best father but he loves and he tries, and he just wants the best for all of his children. (He is the unsarcastic B+ parent, because with all the shit in this au coming, Ichigo deserves this).

Isshin in their original world is descended from a sword wielding samurai family, and he's had the forms and everything beaten into him since he was young, and the reason why he never taught Ichigo was because he didn't know how to be a gentle teacher and he never wanted to hurt his boy. (it's why he's always given his children freedom and choice of what they want.) And coming into this new world, this new place, everyone can feel a change in their bodies, can feel power in their veins even if they don't know what to do with it. See, Ichigo's mom had a little something funky with her blood but didn't know it and Isshin is actually a human with spiritual powers but with their original world it never came out, and with the God giving them a boost/perks, everyone is learning how to control themselves first and foremost.

It's after a bit of convincing and Isshin making Ichigo promise to tell him if he's going too hard that he starts teaching him the family style, along with others in scrolls with phantom teachers to guide them along. It is rough, it is harsh, but it's Ichigo so he pushes on through and becomes better for it. (The two do agree to see if they can find better teachers for the girls though, as Karin wouldn't suit this style even if she would be good with a sword, and Yuzu seems like she would be better with magic then a blade.)

The family of four spends like three years here, learning all they can, devouring every book and all they can remember of the OG!Story of this place before they all have exhausted all the sources and knowledge of the cottage, can no longer progress in their skills as they have been, and had enough cabin fever to drive any sane person down the river. But they're not stupid, so first things first, Isshin scouting at first, then with his son, before him and Ichigo take turns exploring and scouting the area because they don't like leaving the twins alone. But as they're getting a lay of the land and comparing maps and such to reality, even getting a feel for their new magic gadgets and all, they come across monsters and such here and there Once Isshin is sure that Ichigo can handle himself, its only then they spilt so one can stay with the girls while the other explores for a few days, even if Ichigo is only allowed to do it for two days to his father's week.

After that, packing everything they need into magic bags and hammer space, the family takes one last look to their home of all these years, bows in thanks before they are off. It's not long till they join a trade caravan, Isshin trading his skills as a doctor to do so. They travel around for a bit, before in the end, they settle down in a bustling, safe city that never fell in the story, even if the story's protagonist and gang lives here with all their wacky and troubling hijinxs.

So, now that backstory and such is out of the way, let's get to some of the fun stuff. :3

Ichigo does not realize just how strong he actually is; see, in this world of magic and stuff, swords are... technically considered obsolete; of sure, in the story there is a Magic Swordman who is part of the Protagonist's party, but even there they mostly use the sword as fancy focus then to actually fight with it. But with the way Ichigo was trained, as well as both his and his father's lack of common sense for this world, for them it is as easy to cut down a monster as it is to cut down spells themselves. Neither Ichigo or Isshin understand how insane that is, because once a spell is out, you usually have to dodge it or hope it hits someone else if you can't counterspell it.

The Kurosaki's also avoid the Protag and his crew; lets not get involved in your drama, please and thank you (lol, just had the thought of how protective Isshin and Ichigo would get if the story was with a Harem Protag; both would be protective as heck over the twins because with either reverse or regular harem, girls usually get the shit end of the stick). Ichigo is just fine how he is, even if he keeps getting into fights because of random assholes, his charm flowing out and getting his own loyal friends without his knowing. Karin is way too interested in magical sports to care not to mention her age while Yuzu is getting fascinated by potions, alchemy, and cooking to care.

One day, after Ichigo has been feeding some tidbits to some strays, he finds what seems to be a tea and candy shop, with books to read. it doesn't have much business, being out of the way like it is, but there is the occasional regular coming out. Ichigo shrugs, he has time and so he enters this Urahara Shoten.

Somehow, someway, he ends up making friends with Geta-boshi, who as frustrating as he is, recommends good books and a listening ear. Things lead to one things, stuff happens, and Ichigo finds out this guy also has sword.

Sparring partner acquired, though it takes some convincing, a bit of bribing, but Ichigo is able to get the other to agree; he gets his ass beat easily, but Urahara is a harsh, but good teacher, and so Ichigo just thrives in the challenge.

As for Urahara, this guy is so fucking terrifying, just like in canon, how he is assassin sharp and quick with his blade even as he can spellcast at the same time, just watching Ichigo cut through his spells to meet his blade.

Kisuke: this is the most fun I've had in ages :D I wonder what else he can do if I don't tell him what's impossible.

These two end up getting involved in some harsh canon event disasters, Ichigo fighting with Kisuke, knowing the other man won't let him down. Kisuke, having someone he can trust lead the way, knowing, having faith the other can survive alongside him...

Just, these two bonding, getting closer, Ichigo introducing his sisters and Goat-Face who is giving that weird stare.

(On Isshin's part, he recognizes what's going on, and for all that he is not going to be a hypocrite, is not going to kick this Urahara guy as hard as he can and hide Ichigo away, he suddenly... completely understands Misaki's family's cold and hard stares as he had gotten, watching how the elder blond stares at his 20 year old son like he is sun, like he can't believe there is any light in his life again after being shadowed so long. He's pretty sure that is the same stare he had given Misaki as well, just as how Ichigo looks softer, warmer, happier the minute that Urahara guy stays by his side, just how his mother would melt around him despite her expression never changing.

So, Isshin won't say anything, especially since he can tell neither has a clue... but he will be doing the protective, embarrassing Father as much as he wants.)

So yeah, this is the idea :3 I also have another idea with a Mob Protagonist!Ichigo, where he comes to be a character never even mentioned in a story, and ends up charming local shop owner Urahara Kisuke, who is secretly the terrible, scary Puppet Master Benihime without knowing it. maybe I'll note it out when I feel like it, though if people want, they can ask questions about it.

[bl4z33467]

Ahem, so here, yes here, is my INSANE LORE for vulpes in my stupid little universe.

So the year is 2259. A young laddie is born in utah. He was found by a legionary scout and brought to the legion. For reasons i have not yet decided, ceaser decided this child, named Vulpes Inculta, would be raised as the protege to the legion, aka his replacement. For the moment this was decided, Vulpes was schooled and trained every day. Since the plan was to be the leader of the legion, there was a greater emphasis on learning from the books rather than fighting. He had classes on english and latin, learned hundreds of battle strategies, wars from all across history, diplomacy and of course, leading a faction. Vulpes LOVED this. He found it fascinating and empowering. On the other hand, when he was meant to train in the art of the fight, he was... less than enthusiastic. He was terrible with the sword, pitiful punching skills, his aim was terrible with guns and he nearly blew up himself with explosives many times. It was looking hopeless. Around age 8 they decided to focus more on the learning rather than training, for the kids sake. (If you lift up his shirt you'll find alot of scars from sword slashes) This constant sitting and reading, writing and studying did not do well to the kid's physical health. (Also for everyone's sake i think childhood obesity is bad but like its part of the lore). The legion noticed this and decided that they should try again. They decided that his intelligence must be nature, so another vulpes that was trained for fighting would be the ultimate threat and leader. Some legionaries had found an empty vault from eastern idaho that's experiment called for cloning the original dwellers for each generation rather than typical reproduction. They secretly took Vulpes's DNA and the cloning technology to grow a baby boy, ten years after vulpes was born. This was all done without vulpes' knowledge. When this baby was born, a large ceremony was held. Vulpes was given a knew name, Vulpes Altilis Inculta, and this baby was named Vulpes Novos Inculta. There was celebration with the new vulpes. It was all about Novos. Altilis knew what Novos ment. The New Vulpes. Literally. Altilis had sorta forgetten what his name meant, so he'd have to look that up later. Altilis at the time didn't mind too much. Having a younger brother seemed pretty cool. When he had off, he often would hang out with his little bro. Eventually, Novos was old enough to start training for battle. When he was 4, he began training endurance running, and by age six, he was full on sword fighting with the legion trainers. His aim, immaculate, his ability with the sword, like nothing they had seen before. Unfortunately, the legion had sort have forgotten to teach him. He spoke only basic latin, reading was strenuous, and his suaveness with speech was lacking. The legion, after two times, failed to see that many traits are nurture over nature. They have created an amazing athlete who's as dumb as a brick, and a war strategist genius who can't walk up the stairs without taking a break to catch his breath.

Novos though, was still beloved by the legion more than Altilis. They found his feats of might empowering. Ceaser saw this and used him to boost morale of the legion. The better Novos got, the more Altilis was pushed to the wayside.

On altilis's 18th birthday, he was extremely excited to celebrate his coming to adulthood. In previous years, His birthdays where large celebrations, drawing nearly every legionary to celebrate the protege growing up. This year though, no one really noticed. The day came and went. A few birthday wishes from some people he talked too, but otherwise, no one really cared. Furious, he returned to his study, enraged. "Its all because of HIM. NOVOS. The NEW desert fox. What does Atilis even mean??" He pulled one of his latin dictionaries down and began searching for this word until- he finds it. He reads the english translation in horror. "They named me.. fat??? Pampered?? How DARE THEY?!? Is that all i am to them?? Some spoiled brat?? Just because i cant fight well- or any athleticism well- doesn't mean thats all that defines me!!" He flips through, looking for other words that would fit him better "Lacertosus, vinnulus, primum, primigenius, melius, SOLUM!! These! These are the names i deserve! What should have been!" He pouts to himself. He was a failure in there eyes. All because of his stupid clone. Novos was better than him in every way he thought.

On the flip side, Novos found Altilis to be the coolest thing since nuclear fission. He basically idolized him. He could often be found peaking in on what his brother was doing, hoping to pick up on just a sliver of his knowledge. He knew he was stupid, but was too embarrassed to speak up about it. He would often be shooed away but that didn't deter him from coming back. He had this deep desire to obsess over maps as he did, but could never figure them out. He always followed the commands Altilis gave when it came to battle, as he thought, "If Altilis thinks its right, it must be." And he was nearly every time. He loved his brother. He wanted to be like him, but not to replace him. Altilis though, saw his desire to be like him as a way to replace him. This wore down altilis. He had enough. He was old news, obviously. No one wants the uglier, fatter, spoiled, unathletic, outdated vulpes. The legion would be better off without him. Not just the legion, but the world. He was going to do it.

Its the night before his 28th birthday. He hikes his way to one of the mountain around The Fort and sits down and waits. He wields a pair of binoculars. He waits in only his shirt and undershorts, his robe, hood, skirt, pip boy, boots and socks removed. He periodically takes his binoculars to see if anyone is looking for him. He decides if no one would come to him before his 28th birthday was over, he would finish the job. The day goes on, and ends. The moon begins to rise as the sky darkens. Altilis feels at peace, incredibly sad, but at peace. He takes one last look around and spots a single torch wandering, seemingly getting closer. He reaches for his pip boy, taking note there was still a few more hours left in the day. After about two hours, he hears footsteps behind him. He doesn't bother to look. The mysterious person sits down next to him.

"Ive been looking for you, Altilis."

...

"I missed you today. I was worried about you. I asked around everywhere for you and no one said they had seen you since yesterday. One person told me they saw you leaving the fort, so i came looking"

...

Novos pushes a book over to Altilis.

"I got you this, happy 28th, Altilis."

Altilis takes the book. He's unable to read what it is in the night.

"Its about Canids. I know you like foxes and coyotes and all those creatures from before the war"

Altilis's voice is noticeably strained. Horse form not drinking all day and not speaking, and pained from his depression

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did. I mean you wear your coyote every day"

"No, that today was my birthday"

"Well... yeah. You are my brother. "

"No one else remembered. No one else cares."

"Don't say that! im sure the rest of the legion cares."

"The don't care like they used to. Im nothing to them now. Ever since you came. They like you better than me."

Novos pauses for a bit. He sounds noticeably saddened, as if holding back tears.

"Is that why you're up here?"

"No one would have noticed I was gone. No one would have cared. I could just walk of the edge here and no one would notice."

Novos pauses again

"I wouldn't be able to go on if you were gone"

...

"You're everything to me, Altilis. You're the coolest brother i could ever ask for. I know you dont like me as much, but i seriously dont know what i would do without you. I wouldn't be half the man i am without you."

Theres a silence for a bit, eventually a soft cry is heard.

"Altilis?"

Altilis is choking up between sniffles as he speaks.

"I have been purposely a jerk for you for so long, why on earth do you like me so much?"

"Well..." novos ponders, "...you're smarter than ill ever be, thats for sure. You seem to have it all together. I see know though that you dont, but at least you can present yourself as put together. Me? Im always a mess."

"You were made to replace me, Novos. I'm not good enough for the legion. They want you, not me. No matter what I will do, you will always be better than me. You are what could have been me. Im just a walking, rejected garbage. Im worthless"

Novos strains in thought, not knowing what to do, as his intelligence is quite low. He does know one thing. He reaches over to his clone and embraces him in a hug.

"Never leave. Never. You are so special and talented. You dont need to be me and i dont need to be you."

Altilis lets his emotions get the best of him and just lets it all out. After a while, novos guides his brother down the mountain safely and back to the fort. The gained new respect to each, especially Altilis to Novos. They know frequently work together and Altilis whiling shares his interests work and other activities with his brother.

[jevilowo]

List of Tf2 inconsistenties that piss me off

Bc its 1am and im staying awake while beloved mutual Jo livetexts me while they watch venom (I'd tag them but they blocked tf2 tag)

The timeline presented in the Shakespearicles post. Just read it yourself its sosisoso frustrating

The claim in the Shakespearicles post that mankind gave up inventing until 1921. What do you call Radigan in the 1890s then idiot.

Different claims on Merasmus' age (older than the universe in doommates, vs 6000ish in the lore comics) (this means the universe is 5999ish i guess okay)

Scout claims in comic 4 that he met Ms Pauling 6 years ago. Medic claims the mercs have shared "at least" 8 halloweens together. Despite both of these, the catch up comics imply the gravel wars with our mercs only took place over one summer. The first two are supposed to be meta jokes I think (ms pauling debuted in the war update comic, 2009, 5 years before comic 4 [miscalculations again??], and the first scream fortress was also 2009, 8 years before comic 6) but come onnnn be consistentttt.

Australian women had moustaches in the 1890s, but Mags doesn't? I've blamed this on long term Australium Depletion but its still annoying.

Saxton Hale claims its 2010 on the mannconomy update page, but the corresponding comic takes place in the 60s. I'm presuming this means the comic takes place on a different part of the timeline from Saxton’s notes but okay.

The crazy wild Australium retcon. So Sniper was created in 2007 to be australian. Then they invented Saxton Hale for Spy vs Sniper in 2009. Then people liked him so he became important. So in 2010, the engineer update invented Australium (although it was alluded to as early as the classless update a bit before that) and the corresponding comic claimed it made all australians buff. Despite this, in 2011 Sniper's parents were given very not buff, probably bc the artist was hella rushed at the time and had no time to reread the engineer update stuff. Then the comic writer remembered scrawny bastard Sniper was Australian, although maybe the regular writers were cooking excuses for that before then. So we got the New Zealand excuse in 2014 (im pretty sure), but that still didn't explain away his parents looking normal. Thus, my australium depletion theory. Valve should just hire me at this rate smh.

Silas Mann. They were setting him up to be somewhat important I'M SURE OF IT. They even retconned a mann co "quarterly concern" from the classless update to include his name for the engineer update! And they changed the cover slightly. Can't tell if this is a retcon or some abandoned "they tried to cut him out of history" sideplot thingy to explain how Silas became the Horsemann. I'm still holding out hope he returns in comic 7.

Abe Lincoln died two different ways and still became a mercenary? I excuse this as he faked his death a little too well (some blueprints imply it in the engineer update)

Speaking of, a coin claiming he invented the rocket jump despite MY BOY SHAKESPEARICLES. GAH.

This is just off the top of my head, mind you, and i haven't finished lore research. Expect many more grievances.

But yeah no in conclusion the writers need a calculator and also to consult each other more often so they don't contradict each other

[romanarose]

If You Wanna be Wild: Chapter 7

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Everything falls apart and evryone is alone.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!:mentions of rape an violence, what happened to Helena, smut, repressed feelings, angst.

Almost everything was written by Fen <3

2.7k words

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**************

There was no making up. There was no Javi bringing Santi food as an apology, there was no talking. 

When Santi walked into the office on Monday, he saw the fucking desks rearranged, Javier’s and Santi’s on other sides of the room instead of pushed face to face. Santi quickly rushed to the bathroom where he panic vomited and had an anxiety attack, resulting in him being 45 minutes late. Javi didn’t say anything about it.

Where Santi couldn’t eat, Javi couldn’t stop eating, munching down food and taking frequent trips to the vending machine. His doctor was going to kill him. Santi could barely function, even coming in late or leaving early which was a cardinal sin in his book. Still, none of it stopped him from seeing Candy. Occasionally Candy asked about him because all month Javi hadn’t been to see her either. Santi couldn’t get much answer either.

They worked, but mostly separately. Javi had even been trying to find somewhere else to work, but there weren’t exactly free rooms in the precinct. They talked occasionally but only about Lorea… making Santi desperately lonely. He had his family and he loved his tias, but they weren’t Javi. It was the day of the rally for the beatification of Laura Montoya, which forced them to be in close proximity as they dressed in plain clothes and scouted the area for any sign of the Lorea family. Not wanting to look too much like officers on alert, Santi tried making conversation, none of which was working with Javi, only getting few word answers. 

The boy was going to drive him absolutely batshit insane if he didn’t stop talking. It was bad enough he kept asking. ‘Should we get food’ or ‘it’s nice out today’, but his voice mixed with the crowds and noise and music and chatter or the rally, people shouting about whoever it was they were here for, politicians trying to stop them and constantly flashbacks of that night of the ball… Then Santi had to go and say 

“She misses you.”

“You mentioned her name one more fucking time and I’ll-”

“You’ll fucking what?” Santi snapped, his nerves had twisted, hardened suddenly by rage. 

His anger took Javi by surprise, he’d never heard him speak like that to anyone let alone him. 

Santi took his pause as indignation. “I mentioned Candy once. Once. And that’s only because you haven’t seen her, or called her or anything!” He hissed. “She’s worried about you actually, she-”

It was Javi’s turn to snap. 

He grabbed the younger man by the back of his collar and pulled him into a side alley, using his own momentum against him and slamming him up against the brick wall. 

Sant let out a little huff of air as his back collided, gritting his jaw as pain raced along his back. 

The action had been forceful, but not enough to cause discomfort for most people. However, a rough, uneven lump of mortar had poked oddly against the scar at the nape of his neck, sending a tingle down his back.

Javi rammed the heel of his hand into the wall next to Santi’s head, using his height to his full advantage as he leaned over him like he was interrogating a suspect instead of a colleague. A friend. 

Santi breathed hard, his frown pinching his eyebrows together, and Javi would say he even looked cute if he wasn’t so bloody annoying, so obsessed with getting under his skin. Unable to let anything go, constantly digging at him in his self-righteous attitude, just needing to push, and push, and push, and…

Cute. The thought caught him off guard. When had he started to think of Santiago as cute?

“What the fuck are you doing Peña?” He growled, puffing his chest out, but not pushing back. 

Javi shook his head slightly, trying to break his racing mind, trying to get back to reality. “Candy, look, you can’t just-”

“She’s an adult Javi, I can-”

“You’re going to get her killed!” His voice raised at the end, louder and more desperate than he had intended, with just the slightest waver. He hoped Santi didn’t hear it, but he probably did. Nothing got past him. “Do you understand?” Santi glared at him, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Those stupid large doe eyes looking painfully dark and enticing. “You’re flaunting her. Taking her to the ball and, and-”

Santi scoffed. “That’s none of your business, I asked her, I-”

“You’re gonna get her gutted and dumped on the side of the road!” Javier screamed, haunting flashbacks to Helena’s beaten and raped body, wrapping his coat around her and having to carry her out, not sure if she was dying or not. “You know how easy it would be for Lorea to do something? This isn’t even a put two and two together situation, Pope, it’s you waving a four right in his fucking face! And what do you think is gonna happen when he takes her, huh? When he beats her and rapes her an tortures her to get information on YOU!” 

Santi swallows, his face still hard, but that little bob of his Adam’s apple draws Javier’s eye, but he doesn't respond. Javier lowers his voice, fist still gripping Santi’s jacket.

“She’s not gonna give you up, she’s not gonna help them hurt you. She’s gonna end up dead. You’re gonna…” He closed his eyes for a moment, took a small breath. It was easier not to look at him, not to have to stare at his soft eyes and plump lips. “You’re gonna end up dead too, Pope. I can’t… I’ve seen it, okay?”  

Javier screwed up his face, opening his eyes so that he could look at Santi man to man. Implore him to see reason. 

“I’m not telling you to stop seeing her, I’m just saying.... I’ve seen shit happen to girls in her line of work. To officers like you that are still wet behind the ears to this kind of thing-” The second it was out of his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake. 

“I’m not a fucking child, Peña.” Santi hissed, pressing forward and getting up in Javier’s face. “I know that’s what everyone at the station seems to think and all their little Virgin Maria mierda. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck if all they see is that.” He pushes firmly on Javier’s chest, almost smacking as he punctuates his sentence. “But I thought you’d know better! I was black ops special agent, I spend years of my life in almost every goddamn continent doing retcon, assassinations, covert operations and rescuing women and children and getting SHOT! I’m not-”

“I’m not saying you’re a child-”

“You are! You are!” Santiago growls, smacking Javi’s chest repeatedly. He doesn’t care that he does sound like a child in that moment, arguing relentlessly on semantics. His emotions are bubbling over and muddying his head. “You’re saying that you know best. That your word is law. Despite all you do to endanger Candy!”

“I do n-”

“You do! You think you’re above it all, you’re just as bad, you pretend to care but you-”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Garcia!”

“Make me!”

He doesn’t think. 

There’s always times he doesn’t think. When he gets too lost in whatever emotion he’s letting overwhelm him. Sometimes rage. Sometimes guilt. Usually negative either way. That’s where Santi is a good partner, keeping a cool and level head while Javi plays bad cop.

Usually ends up with him throwing a punch, not a kiss. 

Santi knew ‘make me’ was childish. Knew it was playground nonsense reserved for kids still in single digits. But if everyone was going to keep calling him that, keep pretending that he wasn’t the only actual goddamned adult in the room then-

Then…

Javier’s lips on his steal his breath away, rob him of every thought that has ever run through his mind. And, for once, it’s blissfully quiet. The anxieties pushed away for the peace of a lover's kiss.

Javi presses closer, pushing Santiago further into the wall and cupping his face with his warm hand as he kisses him, body to body, warmth to warmth. Darting out his tongue to just trace Santi’s bottom lip and groans when he parts them immediately, no hesitation, and lets him lick into his mouth. 

The angle’s a little awkward, Javier’s body trapping Santi’s hand between their chests. But Santiago’s fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as his kisses leave him breathless and desperate for more.

Javier’s leg bumps into his and Santi moves a step, moaning softly and then whining as his thigh presses against his half hard cock, a sharp spike of pleasure running up his spine and- 

His thoughts all come crashing down. What the fuck, what the fuck  was he doing? His mother’s voice rang in his head, screaming his name. 

He could get arrested for this, thrown in jail, worse. He was going to burn in hell.

Santi pulled back quickly, disentangling himself from Javier so quickly that both men nearly fell. He turned, not giving the older man a second look, and ran out of the alley into the crowded street. 

He didn’t even hear Javier call his name. 

*

“Are you okay, baby?” You asked, your naked body covering Santiago while giving him tender kisses, scooting yourself up and down his cock. You loved to tease him, get him whimpering and watch as all those troublesome thoughts left his pretty little head. He was too pretty to be so worried all the time.

He’d been stressed on and off about Javi, occasionally bringing it up, but you think he stopped when he realized it upset you. You were really good at pretending to care when old professors droned on and on about academic works or when men talked about themselves or complained about their wives and mothers again and again and again. You could’ve faked not being upset when Santi, but you didn’t fake anything with him. Javi’s absence hurt your feelings. You were worried about him, and you were angry at him for abandoning you and hurting Santi. For continuing to hurt his feelings. Bitch.

But honestly… you just miss him. A lot. It would take more than a poster to patch this, he’d have to make things right with Santi too, but you’d forgive him. You just wanted him back, and you wanted Santi happy again. He was already thin enough, and as your body slid up and down the sweaty length of him, you could feel he’d lost weight. 

Santi moaned loudly, gripping onto your hips as you bounced on his length, his eyes rolling back in his head as your heat engulfs him over and over. Pulling him deeper and deeper. 

The fat tip of his cock presses deliriously, perfectly rubbing over your walls with every slick slide. Stretching you so wonderfully like he was made for you. He was, he really, really was. Something was bothering him today, and he was finding solace in you. You were happy to give it to him. Pushing all other thoughts out of your head. 

He whines, babbling nonsensically with his eyes closed, “please, please, please,” He rocks up against you, letting his body override his brain as you fuck him into the mattress. “Please, gonna come, please, need you so much,” he gasps, almost sobbing from pleasure. 

You stroke his cheek and pick up your pace, even if he hasn’t said you could tell how close he was. The way his stomach muscles tense, how his eyes are screwed shut and head thrown back into the pillow, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you can come, give it all to me.”

He shakes his head rapidly, “no, please,” he moans, “need you, need mommy to come, please.” 

His whines change in pitch, the little sounds getting higher and higher as he reaches the point of no return. His mouth hangs open, his skin flushed and sweaty, and heat floods to your core. 

You brace yourself with your left hand on his leg behind you as you ride him, leaning back ever so slightly to change the angle just enough that he continuously hits perfectly inside, stretching you to your limit. 

Santi sobs, the position change sending a buzz up his spine, pressing on the thick length of his cock to a surprisingly maddening degree. His whole body pulsed, stealing the air from his lungs.

He bucks up once, his eyes fluttering open in surprise as he comes, his length pulsating. He empties himself deep inside you, his orgasm stretching onwards and overtaking every possible thought. 

You smile as you watch him, happy to see him so blissed out. You ride him throughout his high, trying to prolong his sensations as long as possible. He deserved it.

He sighs, shivering with aftershocks as he comes back to himself and looks up at you. You open your mouth to speak, the words on the tip of your tongue.

Santi grabs you by the hips, urging you up and off him and pulling your aching pussy onto his face. He lets out a small groan at the mess he made, his cum leaking out of your folds before he runs the tip of his tongue through them. 

You bite back a moan, grabbing onto his hair for stability as his mustache brushes against your clit.

His mouth feels like heaven as he lick and swirls around your clit, his movements soft but certain, quickly pushing you towards your peak.

Instinctively you buck your hips, grinding down on his mouth to chase your high. He rocks you against him, urging you tp move and fuck his eager tongue. 

“Santi…” you whine as you come hard against him, pulling fiercely on his hair. 

He continues licking, moaning against you as he drinks down every drop of your release. 

You breathe heavily, boneless for a moment before slowly moving away to lay down next to him. 

He pouts a little as you settle. “I wasn’t finished.” He smiles cheekily, your cum shining all over the bottom half of his face,

You giggle, and gently swat his arm and cuddle up next to him. Santi didn’t need instruction, scooting his back to your chest. In your arms, where he belonged. You loved being like this with him, but somehow it always felt like something was missing. You loved when Javi used to hold you, protecting you with a strong arm around your body, but again, you felt like something was missing, in your arms this time instead of around you.

You kiss the scar on his spine. “Good boy, Santito.”

It happened so fast. Santi teanses and you barely have a second to register how he turns to you, his eyes widen in panic, his skin turning ashen before he’s up, out of bed and pulling on his clothes so fast that it shouldn’t have been possible. What the fuck? Did you do something wrong?

“Santi?” you start, trying to keep your voice soft but unable to hide the fear that has overcome your words.Why is he leaving? What did you do wrong? Did you mess up things with Santi too, the one good thing left? You barely sit up before he’s shoving a handful of dollars at you, practically just throwing them in your direction and the bed. 

“Here.” His voice is quiet, distant. Like he’s not really there. A stark comparison to his panicked, edgy movements. He doesn’t even bother tying his shoes, simply shoving his feet inside them and stumbling towards the door.

“Wait, Sant-”

He slams the door on his way out. 

Leaving your bed cold, and you alone.

It was supposed to be sex, talking. Build a nice repour. That was it. You were good at it too, making old ugly men think you were infatuated, but yourself detached from even the most charming and attractive. Something happened with Javi and Santi, a line that became blurred, friendship and genuine attraction and care. Now they were gone. 

You hate yourself for how hard you cry.

***************

thank you so much to everyone whose stuck around while i sort my SHIT OUT (its never ending)

If you like me writing javi, i wrote a drable today too, and if you wanna see a totally insane version of santi, come to rooms on fire!

be sure to give @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction a follow, he's amazing and my everything. they are pumping out AMAZING works rn for the moon knight bingo.

I appriciate you all very very much, please let know your thoughts in the comment!!!

I know you've stuck around for this song, please drop a comment and say hiiiiii!!!!

follow @romana-updates for more!

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolb @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleiite @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp @nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie @reallyrallyauthor @solar-fics

[sc-02]

Earthspark ship nickname headcanons that no one asked for

BreakBee (Breakdown/Bumblebee)

Breakdown: Bug, Sweetstuff, abeille, Bee, Honey’, my Bee, scout.

Bumblebee: Reckless Fool(obvi), BD, idiot, Breaks, Hotshot.

MegaOp (Megatron/Optimus)

Megatron: Optimus, Prime, dove

Optimus: Megs, Megsy, my love

SwinBee (Swindle/Bumblebee)

Swindle: Bee, Bee-Boy, hon

Bumblebee: Idiot, Swins’, afthole

ElitaOp (Elita-1/Optimus)

Elita-1: My love, Dove, OP, Ops, Loverboy

Optimus: Love, Ma’am, ‘Lita, Elita, E-1

MegaLitaOp (Megatron/Elita-1/Optimus)

Megatron: Love, Beloved Idiots

Optimus: My loves, Ma’am/sir, ‘co-worker’

Elita-1: My Love, Dove, Loverboy, “MOTHERFR-”

SoundStar (Soundwave/Starscream)

Soundwave: Idiot, Seeker, Star, “damn traitor (lovingly)”

Starscream: Sounds, wavey, my partner, hun’

ShockStar (Shockwave/Starscream)

Shockwave: Idiot, Seek, Star, Commander

Starscream: Waves, My partner, Shocks

[factual-fantasy]

I HAS 25 ASK :}}}}}🍤

@nihilityart Thank you! And,

@cherrycreamfairy

I am now! Some kind of ice and fire guys? They look neat :}}

For me clothed VS unclothed is the same as Civilized VS uncivilized. Or perhaps Intelligent VS unintelligent..? Captain Barnacles VS a salmon. The very humanoid Captain polar bear is gonna wear clothes and the lil fish guy just gonna swim around and be a fish XD

@beryl-shade

I'm thinking that the Cupcake Factory and Mazercise were never built following Chica's decommission.. the only thing that remains of her is the small party stage her and Freddy used to preform on. :(

Proud :}

Well, my Jevil gains the power create mirrors and walk through them into other AUs and timelines. So maybe his power matches up?? I'm not familiar with that Kefka character <XD

Glamrock Foxy still suffers from baby disease XD He may be bigger then Chica and Freddy, but they can still push him around fairly easily.

I also imagine becuase he's so light he can easily be picked up by the other Glamrocks. Poor Foxy can never catch a break XDD

Also Swap Foxy would never pick up OG Foxy. He couldn't do that to him man he knows the pain all too well <XD

Freddy would be really sad seeing Bonnie like that. He doesn't even have to ask anyone what's up with him. He knows that Bonnie cant handle constant activity, noise and lights. He's just not programmed with that kind of processing power. After every performance back in the day, Freddy was the first one check on Bonnie and get him to his room if he was wiped out.

And he was always the last to speak with him after he emerged from his room. Waiting for Bonnie to talk to him first when he was ready.

Seeing him like this now.. so.. hollow. It just breaks his heart. He can tell just by looking at him that no one has treated Bonnie right or attended to his needs in any way. For years. He wouldn't take any of Bonnies rudeness or sarcasm personally. It would bounce right off him because he knows why Bonnie is saying those things and he means none of it.

If Glamrock Freddy was in the swap AU, he would completely leave Bonnie alone. He wouldn't talk to him or address him in anyway. Buuuut maybe he would hover nearby. To be there to give Bonnie an escape from any given situation or if he happens to need someone or something, Freddy would be there to help.

But still. Never talk to him or look at him. Bonnie doesn't need any more things to process.. :(

Thanks for ask! Don't be shy to send more, I love getting them! :DD

As for the perfect sandwich? Oooo that's a good question. Uhhmmmm.... hmm.. Well, tbh I'm kind'a craving a cursed PB&J with cheetos in the middle ngl..

Oh! Or maybe a sandwich with toasted bread and some mayo, turkey, Ham and cheese?? Its kind'a basic but man does that sound good right about now XD

@ocinstituterep

I imagine it works much like the show/real boy scouts. There's not really any major changes I can think of..

I mean, I guess in my AU Professor Natquik was probably the main polar scout leader- or maybe even the founder of the polar scouts?? Or at the very least he could have been a beloved polar scout leader for like.. 20-30 years or something before he dipped and went to the Antarctic. That's all I can think of <XD

@youlikwjazz004

Thank you! I'm having a ton of fun drawing this Deltarune stuff so far! I'm doing a ton of world building on it and I have another set of drawings to post right after this ask post goes up! :}}

As for Jevil's lore, I made this post that talks about his lore thus far. But the post I'm going to make after this kind'a overwrites that so be on the look out XD

They grew up on the Octopod yes. And I don't think its a thing of child labor XD I imagine that all the Octonauts can cook for themselves. The Vegimals are just very eager to help out and they love to cook! Its become their way of helping out around the ship because they want to help. But they can stop when ever- no one is forcing them to be their cooks or even live there. They can leave when ever they want! But they choose not to because they love the crew and they love to cook!

Actually, google says that Barnacles is from Northern Canada. Something about a decorative banner he has labeled "MV Manitoba", which is a reference to the province of Manitoba..?

Which I guess if he is from Northern Canada, that banner and wheel is the only Canadian thing he brought to the Octopod.? XD

Thank you so much!! :DDD

@nervousdiplomatpalacehorse

YOOO I JUST WATCHED THE TEASER FOR IT!! THATS SO COOL??? I'M EXCITED NOW THAT I KNOW ABOUT IT XDD

And King Resh you say? Ooooo, I like that name :00 And yeah, boy his design sure is spooky <XDD

@ariisonfire (Post in question)

SKKJDKJSFKJ SORRY! That probably didn't feel great-- <XD But don't worry I had no idea your character existed when I made blue Grillby so I'm not copying! XD

@octonauts16

I've seen that floating around. I don't have much of an opinion on it myself. I just hope the fans are satisfied with it :0

@shaziztrazh

I have actually! I watched Elvis the Alien review it on YouTube XDD

WAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH THATS SO SWEET WAAAA💖😭✨🍤💖 As for your questions!!-- XDD

1: In the partial swap with Gregory.. I imagine there was a moment like in the classic AU where Monty and Foxy sat down with Chica and told her that Freddy was gone. She probably got some old posters and pointed Freddy out to Gregory. Eventually communicating that she wanted to look for him. In which, they would find him all beat up..

In the true swap, with little Vanessa, I imagine its the same thing. Despite Bonnie taking the place of Freddy, its still Monty and Foxy that sit down and explain Freddy's disappearance. In which again, Chica points out Freddy in the posters to Vanessa and they go find him.

2: I believe in both the Partial and true swap, Freddy and Chica's decommissions happened the same way/for the same reasons as Foxy and Bonnie in the Classic AU.

3: Fazer blast doesn't actually exist in the partial or true swap. In the classic AU Freddy and Chica's attraction was just the main stage and party area. And Bonnie had the Bowling ally and Foxy had Pirates cove.

When the Glamrock era began, Bonnie bowl and Pirates cove were left untouched. Meanwhile Freddy and Chica's roles expanded and they were given Fazer Blast and Mazercise.

In the true and partial swap, that stage and party area are just kind'a.. left there. Maybe sometimes big party's happen and one of the bots come and preform on that old stage.? But mostly the giant stage is used and that old party stage is left to collect dust. Which is a blessing in disguise. I cant imagine the pain the bots would feel preforming on that stage where their friends once stood..

As for Bonnie bowl, yeah it was expanded big time. And is way more decked out than it was before. As for the Pizzaplex its name is still the same. But I imagine the logo looks a bit different :0

@tisgoodthe1st

Thank you so much!! :DDD

@montygatorshusband

I mean, personally? I don't really like it but that's just because I don't ship Fronnie. But hey its not my artwork so its not really any of my business-

@awoogic

Huh? What about him? Looks like he's from tiktok.?

Thank you! And that would be something that would shock the classic Glamrocks. Swap Freddy is in significantly worse shape than Classic Bonnie.. (which was intentional ;}})

Freddy would be rather disturbed seeing his old model so messed up. Considering how much he misses the past and his old body.. seeing an eye hanging out, his arm broken- his leg twisted in the wrong direction.. ehg, it would really freak him out. He'd have a hard time looking at himself..

Chica seeing her old self would disturb her, but also make her jealous somewhat.?? My Chica doesn't like being a Glamrock and misses her old body and role on stage. So seeing herself back in her pink dress and soft yellow feathers.. despite the removal of her beak and hands she'd be weirdly envious.

Monty and Roxy wouldn't have any unique or interesting reactions. They'd just be like "wow you guys look janked up I'm so sorry" XD

This post I made a while back talks about that! :00

(post in question)

XD Yeah. Eventually his fur grew out and he trimmed all the green back. But it sure was funny while it was there!

[rvllybllply2014]

My hand slipped. Au canon times but Samwell dies fighting off raiders not at the battle of the burning mill. Hints of Davron, older brackenwood and Benijoct x Oscar. Lord Blackwood being lord Blackwood. If confused by that last part search older brackenwood on my blog it will make sense.

Willem knew that the old gods probably wouldn’t listen to him or grant him his prayer, which was for his father to be alive and able to advise him on how best to keep his house going. But like a good follower of the old gods he still prayed in front of the heart tree. A war was brewing between Rhaenyra and her brother Aegon, and Willem had just taken over lordship for his nephew Benjicot. He would curse Samwell for his stupidity but he can’t, Samwell died protecting Blackwood peasants from raiders. And to make matters worse Willem has heard some troubling rumors about his oldest nephew being seen getting friendly with a Bracken boy or maybe a girl the scouts are a little fuzzy on that detail. But it doesn’t matter to Willem all he knows is that Davos better be careful before he looses his status as legitimate, he can’t ever be with a Bracken.

Meanwhile about twenty years into the past, Willems father is the lord of Raven Tree Hall and is heavily disappointed with both of his sons. Willem because he failed to win Rhaenyra’s hand, but he did slightly redeem himself by killing Jerrel Bracken and managing to not get killed or sent to the wall in the process. But Samwell had done the completely unredeemable sin of fathering a bastard, while he wasn’t married he was betrothed to a nice Moonton woman, they needed the money. Lord Blackwood had believed that he’d raised Samwell better than to father a bastard, especially when he had never fucked another woman after his wife died nor took another wife. It’s with these thoughts troubling lord Blackwood that he goes to sleep.

When lord Blackwood wakes in the morning it’s not in his chambers, he recognizes the rooms as being the guest rooms. He’s confused and pissed, why is he in the guest rooms when he’s the lord? And how did he end up there? Surely his men would’ve stopped him in the middle of him sleep walking? He makes a mental note to ask the maester to make him a draught to keep him sleep walking again since it appears that his men don’t care about his sleep walking.

With that in mind he heads to his chambers to find a change of clothes, but he’s in for the shock of life. As soon as he opens the door he finds a grown Willem in his bed. Lord Blackwood thinks that he died and been straight to some type of punishment to never be reunited with his wife. Willem wakes up as soon as he heard his door open and is startled to see his father standing there. The man had been dead for twenty years for gods sake, so Willem comes to the conclusion that he has died and been sent to where his father was sent to be punished constantly by him. Willem also whispers that it’s not fair, his house needs him Benjicot is too young. And selfishly Willem wanted to see Amos one last time.

Willem addresses his father first, he asks if he’s some type of demon sent to torture him? Had he sinned too much and now his house will have to suffer. But at least it’s not his beloved older brother Samwell sent to torture him, in his mind that means that Samwell ended up in a better place.

Lord Blackwood asks what Willem is going on about? Why does he look like a slightly younger version of himself, while also sharing similarities with his wife? Why is he in his chambers like he’s the lord of Raven Tree Hall, where are Samwell and Willem? Surely if he’s to be tortured his sons would also play apart in his torture?

It’s only after Willem hears his name along with Samwells does he ask if the man standing before him is his father. Lord Blackwood snaps that of course it’s him, his torturer should know better than to ask such an idiotic question. It finally clicks for Willem that somehow his prayers have been answered, the old gods have given him his father back.

Willem struggles with how to explain to his father how he isn’t dead, the gods have placed him in the future. He also racks his brain to see if he can remember a mysterious disappearance of his father that would’ve occurred about twenty years ago but fails to remember such a thing happening.

Lord Blackwood knows something is wrong when Willem continues to stare at him with his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish. He demands that Willem just spit out whatever it is that he has to say. So Willem just blurts out that no he isn’t dead, but twenty years have passed. Samwell is dead and he left behind Davos who’s now legitimatized and a fourteen year old heir named Benjicot. So for the time being Willem is ruling in Ben’s place. King Viserys is dead and his first born son has usurped the throne from Rhaenyra who is claiming that she’s the queen. War is brewing and he prayed for the first time in years for just a chance to have his father here to advise him.

To lord Blackwoods credit, he doesn’t claim that Willem is lying, for as outlandish as it sounds Willem is not creative nor smart enough to come up with such lies.

Lord Blackwood never regrets his actions or his life but he does have one regret and it’s the fact that he never got to reconcile with Samwell. So it’s with that in mind that he tells Willem that he’ll help him. He frames it as Willem being too stupid to keep his house safe during these uncertain times, especially if there’s a new Bracken lord.

Willem is relieved that his father has agreed to help him, even if in the process he was called stupid.

Lord Blackwood demands that Willem give him a change of clothes before they can proceed with planning a strategy.

After he’s dressed lord Blackwood asks if Willems grandfather is still the lord of River Run, and if he is who is declaring for Aegon or Rhaenyra?

Willem explains that his grandfather died, eighteen years ago and Willems uncle took over until he died leaving behind a fifteen year old heir named Oscar so River Run is being run by Willems great grandfather. Although he’s close to death so it’s a waiting game within the river lands right now.

Lord Blackwood follows that news with another question who is the lord of Stone Hedge?

When he finds out it’s Amos, lord Blackwood knows that the Brackens will declare for Aegon. He knows that Jerrel was Amos’ older brother and Willem killed him in front of Rhaenyra who did nothing to punish him.

After breakfast lord Blackwood has Willem send Davos and his men out to the border lands to up the Blackwood presence out there and to also spy on the Bracken peasants and any Bracken guards that might be there.

Willem and lord Blackwood had expected Davos to protest the assignment. But Davos is secretly very pleased it means he has more chances to see Aeron. It’s the early days of their relationship but he feels that Aeron could be the one, of course he’ll do his duty marry a nice woman and produce heirs but he’ll still keep his Aeron.

A week passes with Davos and Aeron being able to see each other everyday. Of course they have to fake arguments in front of their men, but once either man is close enough he’ll whisper he’s sorry and that he loves the other. But eventually lord Blackwood, Willem and Amos get suspicious of the lack of reports. Lord Blackwood and Willem both silently agree to follow Davos the next day to border, while Amos decides that although he loves and trusts his nephew he will also follow Aeron to the borders with his son Raylon as back up.

The following day is the day that Willem and Amos have seen each other in person in almost twenty years. Both feel their hearts skip a beat at the sight of the other man. It’s lord Blackwood that remind them of why they’re there in the first place and it’s to gather information about the Brackens.

Amos responds with they’ll never know what house Bracken has planned and that he’s heard old lord Tully plans on raising his banners for Aegon. That Willem should remember that his grandmother was a Bracken by blood and house Tully loved her, he shouldn’t spit on her beloved memory or his mother’s memory by backing a kinslayer and going against their house’s wish.

Lord Blackwood having heard enough of Amos tells Amos to shut up, he doesn’t know anything about Willems grandmother and especially his mother. And all that talk about honoring family is rich coming from a man whose father sired a bastard.

Amos not being a man to take insults to his family or his family’s honor lightly snaps back that from where he’s standing his first grandson is a legitimized bastard. Also it wasn’t his brother’s Raylon fault that his father slept with a woman before he was married and had a baby. But he did the honorable thing by telling his wife and leaving it up to her to decide whether the baby would live in Stone Hedge or not.

While lord Blackwood and Amos laid the sins of the past out Davos had retreated to the mill with Aeron. Davos was able to keep his emotions in check until he heard lord Blackwood say that he’ll never be his true grandson and as far as he’s concerned he only has one grandson named Benjicot. Davos thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions but Aeron knows him well enough and is close enough to see the pain flash quickly in his eyes.

Aeron does the only thing that he knows to do which is grab Davos in his arms and pull his face into his neck while he rubs his back and rocks him. Aeron tells Davos that whatever he’s feeling is valid and to cry if he needs to, he won’t think any differently of him.

Neither lord Blackwood, Willem nor Amos notice the display of affection between Aeron and Davos, but Raylon does and worries that one of the men will. So he does the only thing that he think to do, which is draw attention to himself. He does so by interrupting the shouting match by standing in between his father and lord Blackwood. But Amos just steps around him while telling Raylon that he needs to stay out of this right now.

Amos had hoped that lord Blackwood hadn’t heard him say his son’s name, but neither luck nor the gods were on his side for lord Blackwood had heard it. With a sneer on his face he asks if Raylon is just like his uncle, a bastard who was legitimatized. Amos tells him no, his son was born his wife’s womb and their marriage bed. When lord Blackwood expresses his doubts Raylon has to grab a hold of his father’s shoulders while whispering that he’s not worth it. Willem mirrors Raylons actions with his own father, but he also shoots Amos a look that says he’s sorry for what his father has said to him. Willem also mouths that he knows Amos is an honorable man and that Raylon is his true born son.

Only after both lord Blackwood and Amos have both calmed down, does a calmed down Davos and a furious Aeron joins them again. Lord Blackwood and Amos agree that they’ll continue this meeting at River Run where they will follow the will of the current lord there. Lord Blackwood is the first to leave and snaps for Davos and Willem to follow him, they’ve wasted enough of their breath on the Brackens. Davos follows immediately he doesn’t want to deal with more anger from his grandfather but Willem stays behind to talk to Amos.

Amos seeing Willem just standing there sends Aeron and Raylon back to Stone Hedge telling them he’ll catch up in a minute.

Amos asks Willem what he needs, hasn’t he hurt him enough over the years? Especially by him not siring a child that could’ve married one of his children? Also why did Willem allow his father to say that his true born son wasn’t a true born son? Is that why Willem stayed behind to rub it in that Willem in his own twisted way stayed loyal to their love? He knows Willem never got married and he’s heard the rumors that Willem hasn’t taken anyone to his bed in twenty years.

Willem tells him no, he wants to express that he doesn’t want to meet him on a battlefield. Even if his father demands that they fight against him and even if Amos raises his sword against him he’ll forgive him, he still loves Amos. But he hopes that his father will listen to lord Tully and bend the knee to which ever Targaryen he has chosen to back. He also apologizes for his father calling Raylon a bastard, he knows how honorable Amos is and how he’d never dream of fathering a bastard. With that he says goodbye to Amos and hopes that it’s not their final goodbye.

Within a week of the disastrous meeting Daemon has taken Harrenhal and sends a raven to all houses demanding that they come and bend the knee to him and Rhaenyra. Meanwhile old lord Tully has died and Oscar has taken over and he sends a raven to all of the houses demanding that they come to River Run to bend the knee to him.

Lord Blackwood wants Willem to ignore Oscar’s demand and ride straight to Harrenhal, its best to be the first house to bend the knee to Daemon they’ll be looked favorably on after Rhaenyra wins the war. But Willem tells him that although he was brought here to offer advice but it’s bad advice for the current situation that their house is in. They all need to ride to River Run to bend the knee to Oscar, because at the end of the war they’ll have to answer to Oscar. Lord Blackwood doesn’t love the idea but he does agree that it’s best to ride to River Run first.

Amos has the same conclusion as Willem, they both leave Davos and Aeron behind. Davos so he can run Raven Tree Hall in Ben’s name and Aeron so he can help advise Raylon.

At River Run after all the houses have bent their knees to Oscar, he tells them that he’s supporting Rhaenyra his grandfather swore to uphold her claim years ago and his uncle had also sworn to uphold her claim. So really he’s just following in his predecessor’s footsteps. Willem and Amos send ravens back to their houses telling them to go to Harrenhal, and wait for them.

Once they arrive at Harrnehal lord Blackwood and Willem tell their house that they’ll bend the knee to Daemon and Rhaenyra and that they’ll be fighting with house Bracken. There will be no protest, if they try to well they can either be beheaded or sent to the wall to freeze to death. The same is told to the Bracken men.

Davos and Aeron are spotted training together constantly but nobody questions them, they just figure that since they have to fight together it’s best to know each other’s fighting technique. And Raylon is there to watch over them and keep the suspicious whispers at bay.

With Willem feeling secure in keeping his house safe he prays at the heart tree for his father to be sent back, and to hopefully rekindle his relationship with Amos. It seems that the gods had heard his prayer yet again because the next morning lord Blackwood was no where to be found and Amos seemed happy enough to talk to him, and not just strategy. Oscar has also been seen getting close to Ben while also almost idolizing Raylon, Davos and Aeron.

When lord Blackwood wakes up the next morning he’s in his own bed. He also discovers that no time had passed while he was in the future, it’s still the next morning. He has breakfast with his boys and tries to apologize to Samwell for how he reacted to him fathering a bastard, but Samwell doesn’t want to hear it. Even after lord Blackwood offers to hold Davos, Samwell tells him the damage is done.

Lord Blackwood also tries to tell Willem to open his heart up to love he’d hate for Willem to die all alone. Willem tells him that he doesn’t understand he’s lost the love of his life to a foolish youthful mistake so there’s no turning back.

Lord Blackwood dies a few months after he returned without making it up to Samwell and fearing that Willem might never find love again.

Meanwhile in the future Willem and Amos don’t get back together but they do rekindle their friendship. They also allow Davos and Aeron to continue their relationship, as long as they agree to fulfill their duties to their houses. And nobody blinks an eye when Raylon meets a nice woman from house Blackwood and announces his intention to marry her. Oscar and Ben became best friends and a few years down the road they’ll end up dating, while also agreeing to the same terms as Davos and Aeron.