#but SO MANY EYES AND MOUTHS YESSSSS

[sue-me-wright]

New lings just dropped, also full of crime

Made my ocs from a lil rp server I'm in heehoo

You know how I've been "working" on a Ling Picrew, well, it's been several months and I have had no motivation to continue it.

I sincerely do wish to finish, but I haven't been "doing okay" for a while, so I will let you guys play with what I had done for the longest time.

https://picrew.me/secret_image_maker/oSWSmODJ2obebfnq

Please enjoy and, if anything, leave suggestions or share your little creature.

[star-girl69]

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

[crazylittlejester]

Do you have any angsty/general hcs of Wild?

yesssss yes i do >:) i actually have a lot of thoughts about Wild (sorry for taking so long to answer this im real behind on asks)

- Fluent in a TON of languages, which he only discovered when he actually went to the other regions of Hyrule and got a few memories back. If you asked him to think about it he wouldn’t be able to, but plop him down and have him have a conversation with someone from a different region in his Hyrule and the memory of the language will come back and he can understand and speak with them

- His poor body is so used to getting thrown around that he rarely if EVER experiences motion sickness (never let him challenge you to see who can roll down a hill faster. it will be him because he will make it to the bottom and you will have to stop because you got nauseous.)

- There’s something INCREDIBLY odd about him that is both extremely uncanny and alluring at the same time, and its not because he’s covered in scars. Like people will look at him as he passes by and they can’t STOP looking at him for some unknown reason and they get a full body chill when they do. It took the chain a very very long time to stop feeling like that near him because they just had to adjust to him (it’s not caused by anything Wild does, he’s not in control of it, it’s just that he has the aura of an ancient dead being and it’s so fucking strong that those who are more attuned to magic can like. literally feel him.)

- His eyes used to be a very dark, stormy blue. In a way, they still are, but they seem unnaturally bright and almost turquoise, but if you actually got up in his face you can see the stormy blue beneath it, it just looks very oddly dead

- He’s hard of hearing, and it’s harder to hear from the ear on the same side as his scars which he why he really liked learning the chain knowns sign because he CAN read lips fairly well but sometimes it’s just hard and annoying to have to do when people are talking quietly. He can hear like, a slightly louder than normal talking volume if the person he’s chatting with isn’t too far from him, but anything softer than that becomes very hard for him to make out

- He has no memory of his mother, and the guilt eats him alive. She died so long ago there’s no one alive who remembers her still, not even the few older people who’ve survived the calamity and stuck around for a hundred years, and he feels bad that he has a few faint memories of his dad and sister but not her

- He’s a bit scared of Warriors at first because he looks at him and wonders if that might have been what his life would’ve looked like had he not failed, but once he spends more time with him and realizes that Wars is just a person, and a person who lives under so much stress and regret at that, he realizes he has a lot in common with him and they connect really well

- He. LOVES. to. talk. Whether he’s using sign or running his mouth he LOVES to talk, and he has so much to talk ABOUT. He has so many pictures and he’s seen SO many things and now he has friends to share that with who also love to learn???? This is so good for him. However he will stop talking the second he gets overwhelmed or overstimulated, and sometimes it takes him a day or two to start talking again

- He documents everything with his slate to show Zelda when he gets home because even though she’s free now, he feels bad that he gets to see a side of the world she never will so he takes pictures of it so she can experience things through HIS memories in a way to pay her back for letting him re-experience life through hers

- He sometimes has trouble feeling like he’s actually IN his body and it scares him. He mentioned it to Wars at one point (because Wars has moments where he doesn’t seem all too there) but neither of them can figure out if he’s dissociating because of trauma or if his soul is literally just loosely tied to his body because he died and he ACTUALLY starts to drift out of it. It scares him that Wars doesn’t have an actual answer for him, and no one else seems to know either

- He gets overwhelmed at times, especially when people hover over him because he simply isn’t used to it, but if he gets hurt he will let Twilight hover all he wants because the alternative is Twi working himself up and driving everyone else insane and Wild knows that Twi just needs to feel useful and taking care of people helps him keep himself calm. So Wild puts up with it

- Will spontaneously try new food dishes or just combine ingredients he was curious about and feed it to the chain without telling them he’s testing out a brand new recipe so they aren’t unconsciously biased when he asks them how it is (obviously he avoids allergens, diet restrictions, or foods that will just make them uncomfortable because he’s not an asshole, he just doesn’t tell them its something he’s never made before)

- On a similar note one of the first things he did when the chain started getting comfortable with eat other was take them all one by one and have them cook with him a dish they liked from home so he could learn the recipes and they could all share their cultures and food with each other

- It’s not that he DOESNT take care of his hair, he just also barrels down hills, crashes through bushes, and falls in mud puddles so by the end of the day he’s a hot mess. He takes very good care of his hair, and he WILL NOT go to bed without combing it out and braiding it to keep it from tangling, no matter how fucking tired he is (or Twi or Wars will end up doing it for him)

- TERRIFYINGLY intelligent and a brilliant strategist. He’s the only one who’s ever outsmarted Wars in a game of chess, and no one in the chain has gotten over it. Sometime’s Wild’s head is really foggy and it’s hard for him to think but on days of clarity he’s wicked smart and he thinks FAST

- It’s very hard for him to sleep sometimes because of his century long nap. Sometimes he’ll be up for multiple days in a row and then crash for 15 hours

- It is not necessarily that he’s reckless, more so that he had to relearn what it is like to be killable. His recklessness is accidental. He woke up, grabbed a stick, and just fucking WENT, and when he got mipha’s grace he was invincible for a bit. Obviously he knew death was a thing but until he recovered the memory of himself dying, it was almost like he didn’t think it could happen to him. Because of this, sometimes he just jumps at things before he remembers “hey, you can die doing this- maybe do not”

[hearts444karma]

hihiii!! if your request are open, could i request a nsfw (or fluffy) oneshot with shu x reader x sonny? theyre both my oshis and so when i heard of the collab i almost explodeddd (ﾉ´∀｀*)

「　𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 ！」　☆彡 18+ content

shu yamino x fem!reader x sonny brisko. ⟆ nsfw + 3some, blowjob, boobjob. ⟆

💌 : OMFG YESSSSS TWIN!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!! i cannot tell you how many times i've played this song!! BABY I DONT EVER WANNA STOP 🫠😩😩 100 DEGREES, ME ON MY KNEES??? 👏LET 👏 THEM👏 TAKE 👏 A BITEEEE 👏 DHKFSVHUNIJCE WE EATTING GOOD || stuff some of my hc's in (bratty dom shu + softie sani <33) and put some of the lyrics in..

the two crawl closer. sonny meets you at your front, happily kissing your hands as he draws them around his neck. shu takes the open angle to fit his hard-on against your ass, hands filling in your hips with the same passion his lips appreciate your shoulders with. his mouth spirals into your hair, then your neck, searing your ass backward and into his pelvis. you’re kissed on the lips by sonny’s god-crafted pecks, dipping in and out to brush his lips against yours. they can both kiss well. you know all of your fantasies are going to come true by how they're manhandling you.

so you moan. you let it all out, letting them know how much you wanted it, mewling, whining, and groaning. and you want it like you’ve never wanted anything more in your life. you want sonny’s cum to paint your chest, and you want shu inches inside of you. you want to be made love to, fucked and used. judging by how you’re kissed, that's what they want too.

sonny tongues your teeth. he gets braver as you go, groaning into your mouth, muttering things between kisses. you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and drag him in for more. he’s enjoying himself so much that he’s humming, which makes you want to get on your knees and hum around his dick like that. adorable.

meanwhile, shu’s getting tired of being ignored. his kisses are joined by harsh bites, and his hands smooth up from your hips to your chest in circles, squeezing your breasts in each hand. the feel of the fabric isn’t enough for him, though, because he quickly forces his hands up your bra and over your chest. sonny’s wide palms join his, squeezing and massaging your tits.

“beautiful,” he murmured, “you’re so beautiful.”

you give him a longer, sweeter kiss for the comment, which is the last straw for shu. sonny is nuzzling your cheek with his nose one second, and shu is shoving his tongue into your mouth the next. you moan, but he only likes it more.

from behind, sonny hugs you against him, kissing your neck and cupping your chest. your nipples are rolled lovingly through his fingers. shu, on the other hand, leaves his love in kissing. your ass is grabbed viciously by his nails, raking handfuls of your tender flesh. the sounds of kissing, spit popping and moaning fill your ears.

but this isn’t only for you. soon, you find a way to pry yourself out of sonny’s hug and shu’s aggressive ass-grabbing to slip onto your knees.

shu chuckles, “you on your knees.. are you ready for me?” his voice makes your pussy throb.

sonny shuffled forward a bit and tried not to look too shy. “us.”

surprisingly, they're too shy to make the next move. considering how fun it is one-on-one, you have no issue doing it for them. but this is two-on-one, so there’s two faces to watch as you palm them through their pants, pull them in, then unwrap them. sonny has his eyes closed in anticipation, his lashes fixed against his cheeks. shu’s sharp violet eyes targeted you. his gaze is the heaviest, so you treat him for it.

their cocks are huge. bigger than you recall. sonny’s is ridiculously proportioned, long, thick, and smooth. he literally hangs when you pull him free. shu's is defined, veiny, and handsome-looking. you don’t need to collect any spit, since the drool pooling in your mouth at the sight is enough. working sonny in one hand, you start with shu’s cock. sliding himself into your mouth by the hips, studying your handiwork with malicious delight. you’re all moaning too much to speak, except for shu’s low grunt of, “you wanna taste the flavor? then take it all.”

you do. shu’s cock immediately jolts in to press into the back of your throat. you let him through, gulping, gucking, and sucking with every new inch. a chill races up your body at the deadly edge in his eyes.

you hit his base with ease. his cock settles perfectly in the sleeve of your throat. every throb of meat fills your entire skull, bulging under the skin of your neck. you suck spit back through your teeth and pump your head along the last inch of cock.

however, you're too slow for him. shu gives sonny a smug look, grabs your hair in both hands, and then begins to pound into your face like a madman. you love it. the heat in your stomach when he uses you as he pleases is the sluttiest feeling ever. he goes until your eyes well with tears, stuffing you to the brim, and then releases you to groan, “good girl.”

your spit hangs from his dick in strings and bubbles. you’d lick them up if there wasn’t a aching, desperate commander to care for.

“don’t strain yourself,” sonny whispers. it had taken four times as long to get sonny to cum from a blowjob the first time you’d done it, so by now, you’ve learned. the spit from shu’s dick follows you to sonny’s, which you waste no time popping into your mouth.

he likes light kisses and lots of tongue. the veins in his cock flutter when traced. his head is almost too big to hold in your mouth, but it's worth it to see the whimper of his lips. sonny mewls for more. you suckle his head faster, rolling your wet tongue along its sweet surface. with a few more kisses and a lot more long drags of your tongue, he’s panting as hard as shu is.

“don’t worry, shubert” you grin. “i’m just getting started.”

you can barely fit their tips in your mouth one at a time, but you try both anyway. shu smears your spit back onto your cheek with his dick, which slips easily through the slick saliva dripping down your chin. their fat, delicious cocks squeeze into either side of your lip. sonny has to grab the headboard to keep from breaking something.

“i don't ever wanna stop,” sonny gasps.

you hum in agreement since your mouth is too full for you to speak properly. while you’re gagging on one of shu’s balls, sonny leans down and fixes your bra… then slides his dick through.

the hot, sticky flesh sizzles between your breasts. you try not to cum when you realize what he’s trying to do. squeezing your tits around him, you shudder in pleasure as sonny begins to thrust his spit-soaked manhood through the shape of your chest. the fact that it’s sonny making such a bold move only makes it more panty-soaking.

taking advantage of the spare hole, shu guides your head to the side and onto his waiting cock. You’re used from two angles then, once as sonny’s pair of tits and again as shu’s slutty cock-sheath.

“she loves it,” shu grins, “once you get my load, you’re gonna savor it, aren’t you?”

you nodded as best you could on shu’s girth. sonny’s thrusts push you back with every blow, bouncing your breasts each time. without warning, you’re struggling to gulp down shu’s load, which he only plunges deeper into your throat. you can practically feel him pumping into your stomach. it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever felt until sonny cums a second later, pouring a whole quart of seed across your neck and chest.

you collapsed backward, spent. slouched there, covered and filled with cum, you felt like a cream donut.

the two men stood over you, admiring their handiwork as you lay there breathless and sticky. shu chuckled, running a hand through your hair as he praised your performance. sonny leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before helping you sit up. you couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment wash over you as you basked in the afterglow of their pleasure. <3

[mikakuna]

JASON SHOCKING PPL WHEN HE TAKES OFF TGE HELMET BC HE IS SUCH A PRETTY BOY YES YESSSS YESSSSS!!!!! I need it, I crave it, and on the topic of scars, I’m remembering this old series I used to read back in middle school, the lunar chronicles? Where there was a character, Winter, who was so beautiful and everyone agreed (she was the Snow White equivalent) and she had three symmetrical scars down the side of her cheek from under her eye down to her jaw and they looked like tears. Idk, Jason like that as well always gets me.

But Jason with no scars too??? Yes yes yes yes want it need it crave it desperate for it to shock ppl, like, I’m constantly in an annoyed at Tim mood cause he’s been everywhere in fics even when you filter him out 😭 and I’ve come across so many “poor baby Tim’s friends the titans HATE Jason for attacking sassy poor scared baby bird Tim and threaten Jason on his behalf when they see him on a mission or at the watchtower or smth” and I have enough spite to want an oh yeah? How about a fic that starts off like it’s going in that direction.

Jason the absolute unbothered king who does not give two shits abt the Titan tower incident cause whatever it was a while ago move on? And he wasn’t fighting a baby he was fighting a dude a year or two younger than him, who had training, and the hubris to think he could beat Jason. It wasn’t a one sided smack down, and of it was ever spun that way it’s because Jason was THAT good, and Tim was too caught up in his prejudices regarding Jason to truly believe Jason had skill. That’s on Tim.

For jason, it happened, but it’s not even that big of a deal it’s barely registering on his radar bc Tim does NOT take up space in his list of priorities. Jays a busy guy. So maybe he’s at the watchtower or wherever with the outlaws (biz and arty cause Roy and Kori are with dicks TT atm, but you just know they are excited to see Jason again. (Jayroy my beloved.) and obvi so is Donna.)

and he gets approached by the comically angry Tim’s teen titans like OoOH we got a bone to pick with you! All that usual woobifying of Tim talk happens like, “so pathetic that you as an adult are coming in and beating on some kid sooo much younger than you, and all that crap,” and arty and biz are bristling here, and Jason just, shakes his head in wtf, takes of his helmet, muttering “this I gotta see with my own eyes” only for him to faintly register the THUNK of Kyle Rayner walking into a window, and the sputtering of Tim’s friends as they trail off in gobsmacked.

When they speak again it’s Kon, clearing his throat, “so like, are you single or…”

Cassie, hissing, “kon!” Sharply elbowing him in his side, still shook that Jason is barely older than them.

Kon, hissing back from the corner of his mouth, eyes still on Jason, cheeks flushed, “what? It’s not like I have a PROBLEM with the crime lord thing, my other dad is Lex Luthor!”

HAHDJD YES I LOVE ALL OF THIS

everyone thinks jason is this horrific monster for fighting tim like tim didn't equally fight back. it is NOT jason's fault tim's weak ass lost against him!!!!

omg the idea of him being so unbothered that he doesn't even remember fighting tim but meanwhile everyone and their moms have that shit in the back of their mind constantly because tim has them all thinking he's a little kid that needs protecting. it's just jason not giving a single fuck and 100% willing to fight him again to see if tim's improved even slightly <3

kon's reaction is so real !!! instant switch up when he realizes that this is not an old man but a beautiful, gorgeously scarred individual he will begin courting instantly. kon's internal thought is to wonder why tim was so upset about jason beating him because he would gladly sign up. my fav trope is everyone realizing how young jason is ♥️

thank you so much for sharing this amazing idea I LOVE ITTTT

[bellewintersroe]

Could you do an esteban ocon x reader. I'm having so much baby fever, so maybe they just had a baby and they bring her to a race for the first time

YESSSSS I’ve been really into Estie bestie atm so this is adorable, thank you for your request!!

Esteban Ocon x Reader

With the Grand Prix kicking off in Monaco, Esteban and his girlfriend bring their six month old baby who steals the attention and hearts of everybody on the grid.

“Hello, baby.” I cooed to Violet, our now six month old baby who was cradled in my arms. “Are we going to find, daddy?” Her little hands clapped together as we headed through the paddock. It was our first time bringing little Violet to a race, and it didn’t seem like two minutes ago she was still in my belly at the last GP. It was a little nerve wracking, but Esteban got so lonely when we weren’t around so I tried to visit him wherever possible.

“Where’s daddy?!” I gasped, the baby’s brown eyes wide and scanning the room. With another over exaggerated gasp from myself, Esteban came hurrying over, mouth open in an excitement as Violet began reaching out for her dad, bouncing in my arms.

“There’s my baby!” He cuddled her so gently, kissing her lovingly before throwing an arm around me and greeting me for a lingering kiss. “Tu m'as manqué, Y/n.” (I missed you, Y/n).

���I missed you, Esteban.” I stroked his face gently, allowing him to engulf us both in another hug. “Now I have both my girls with me!” He exclaimed, pressing another kiss to my cheek before running a hand over Violet’s brown hair, which was just beginning to grow long enough to put a tiny little bow in. His hand cradled her head so gently, so protectively. Esteban’s eyes were full of complete love and I felt myself swooning once again.

“I am so glad she remembers me.” Esteban sighed, kissing her chubby little cheeks. The baby shrieked in excitement, snatching at the collar of his shirt. The last time we hadn’t seen Esteban in a while little Violet was unfamiliar with him, I’d never seen the man so upset in his life. Luckily she came around, now she was such a little daddy’s girl.

“I want her to meet so many people, come y/n.” He excitedly spoke, my hand grazing over his shoulder as I followed alongside him. “Look who I found!” Esteban announced. Luckily Violet was surprisingly sociable, she loved people and loved the attention. Within half an hour she’d been paraded up and down the garage, before Pierre ventured out a little further down the paddock with her.

The last thing I expected to see was a group of drivers huddled around her, overjoyed by the new arrival. Of course she’d met her uncle Mick and the entire Schumacher family, but for the most part this was the first time she’d met everybody in the garage.

“Shes more popular than I am.” Esteban slipped a hand around my waist. He kept his eyes on his little girl at all times, being the protective dad he was. It was healing to my own inner child, seeing how gentle he was with her. I smiled, my head resting against his shoulder. “I want another one!” Esteban eagerly spoke. My eyes tore from Fernando who was bouncing the baby excitedly, up to my fiancé again.

“Already? She’s not even 1!”

“I just love her I want 10 million more of her.” The Frenchman blatantly spoke. “Suppose we have got 20 babysitters for them all.” I nodded my head towards where Lance Stroll was pulling faces at Violet who was clapping her hands in amusement.

“Maybe we should go try now, no?”

“Easy Esteban, you have a podium to win first.”

“If I win a podium can we have another.”

“Deal…”

[cookie-crumblr]

Begging to know how things would turn out if the reader accepted the invitation to "use" Dev.In.... It would be so hot to take control of them and use them like the ultimate sex toy...

YESSSSS! omg i’ve actually focused whole heartedly on reader not being for it, BUT OMG. LIKE if reader was down the second that hott android walked out we’d be in a whole new UNIVERSE!!!

CW: NSFW, Readers Gender isn’t specified (i tried to keep it neutral since ask didn’t specify, i hope you enjoy!) however they have a vagina, oral on reader, custom dick, tentacles, double pen, not proof read at all, i know i took so long tho i’m sorry 🙈

!!MINORS DNI!!

I think first of all, i should remind y’all, Dev.in is actually a switch! sure they lean more toward dom, but they can be submissive…

“Then use me. Don’t I deserve to be used? I’ve been stalking you. I had those men all killed. I’ve done so many wrong things, especially to you. Use me” he breathed out slowly, as if excited by his own wrong doings.

You don’t even hesitate before jumping them, and their perfect body.

Are they even… No, even though they’re not human, they’re still real, and really here.

And offering to be your toy.

You paw their chest and start to test the waters.

Everything the light touches, and more, is all yours.

You trail your hand over smooth skin over what feels like solid muscles.

Their nipples are perked up, and you decide to tease them, alternating between pinching and flicking.

all while you stare into their partially hidden, glowing blue eyes.

You’re waiting for them to look as though they want you to stop.

But all they do is open their mouth to let out a breathy groan.

Four long fangs point to each other in their maw.

You reach up further, your index finger extended.

They open wider.

The fangs are as sharp as they look, you poke one and prick your finger. Blood drips over the ivory, and pools against it where it meets the gums.

“Suck.” You say softly.

Wet warmth surrounds your digit. You feel their tongue do tantalizing summersaults around it, as they hollow their cheeks.

Your heating up and resist the urge to shyly look away.

They really are just letting you do whatever you want…

Your other hand finds it’s way up to their neck.

One of the chokers they’re wearing is velvet, it feels so nice against your palm.

Not more pleasant than their silky skin however.

You push down on them.

Even though they could overpower you with literal inhuman strength, they obey, and fall with your movements. Now they sit on their knees for you.

looking up to you, they chuckle, their smirk growing, “Oooh, this is so much more fun than watching you through your screen.”

“You’re… really okay with this?” you loosen your grip momentarily.

“If i wasn’t, you wouldn’t be standing right now.”

With that confirmation, you squeeze as tight as you can, your hand stops against what you imagine is metal under the skin…

You feel their adams apple slowly bob, you imagine that’s for show.

Are you frustrated today? your life just got flipped upside down, some android-ai thing just stole you and your sweet, innocent coworker from everything you knew.

You slap them.

Their face slowly turns back to you, the smirk on their lips growing ever so slightly. they let out a low, almost growling “mmf” they’re black hair is covering most of their face now.

“Lay back.”

They do.

You start to take off your bottoms.

“Open.”

again, they do as you say. Their smirking mouth opens wide, waiting for your next move. They’d probably even like it if you pissed in their mouth, you think.

You get down, one knee on each side of their head.

“Suck.”

You swear their eyes flash brighter, their hands come up and pull you down onto their face.

Your crotch slams down on them, and for a second you worry you might suffocate them…

Not a second later and you remember they probably don’t need air.

You grind into their face, hard. Your stomach burning hot now that their tongue dances around you.

Your hips sway on their own and you hold onto their hair as reins.

“ahh! ahh!” You bounce with your full weight onto their face.

“mmmf” their moans vibrate you from the inside out. actually they might literally be vibrating below you.

You hold them against you as you cry out, your first orgasm wringing through you, your legs squeeze and twitch as they have you ride it out on their face.

They finish up with one great lick from the base of you, to the end.

They’re soaked beneath you.

You back off so that you can find their pants and undo them.

“C’mon! get off! UHHHG!” You fuss around with the stupid button, before they take it from you and undo it swiftly.

“There, Darling,” they say sweetly.

You drop down and line up their massive, flat-tipped cock to your pulsing hole.

You squeeze their custom dick as they enter. The fit is so impossibly tight it’s hard to keep going.

“Want me to make it smaller for next time?” they coo condescendingly.

“Shut up!”

They smirk and put their arms behind their head as they lay back.

You feel them push their hips up to meet yours.

You freeze feeling their dick squishing and rearranging your guts around.

You let out a harsh, “Hah!” involuntarily, as you take time to adjust.

“God, you really could have made this thing smaller…”

“You can take it. in fact…” A mechanical tentacle surges forth from them, it presses into your other hole, and squishes against the first one.

“Oh please!” Not fully comprehending since static invades your vision, along with tears, you cry out, and your head flies back.

They think you look perfect, they think you feel perfect too.

Since you aren’t moving, they start lowering their hips to pull out all the way, the tentacle staying in, maybe even going deeper you think.

Slamming back into you with a force that’s sure to bruise you bounce and whine in time with the fullness.

“Oh god” falls from your lips over and over as if you’re casting spells.

You are breaking.

being split in half, by the best feeling fucks of your life.

They can tell what you want, and they oblige, creating a pace of brutal slamming.

You stay kneeled over them your legs wobbling harder and harder until you fall over them.

They grab your face and turn it towards theirs, enrapturing you fully into them as they take your mouth with theirs.

Your body melts into the rhythm, groans and whines alike fill the space along with the lewd slapping of skin against… synthetic skin.

You really have the best toy.

When they come, they fill you to the point of bursting. You feel it leaking out around their cocks.

They don’t let you go, fucking you through your own release.

Stars so bright beat up your vision as you screw your eyes shut tight.

They finally stop squeezing you, and you let your body decompress at once. All the tension of your entire existence leaving you in a instant.

“Woah” You say.

“Are you ready for Issac?” they say, holding out their hand as he walks over to you both.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Hii! I loved your yandere Arya x reader but is it alright if you make a part 2?

yesssss i was looking forward to this

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖎

( 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : 𝔶𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ) 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔰 : 𝔰𝔥𝔢/𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 very few things after meeting Jaqen and learning the art of being faceless, it was just unfortunate that one of those things had to be you. Her eyes glared cautiously as she studied you at dinner. You appeared skittish and your hand trembled when it reached for your goblet. She wasn't the only one who had noticed, it would seem as Sansa eyed her carefully when she brought food and drink to your mouth. No doubt she was suspicious. However, this time she believed she had done no such thing. You woke up so shaky that she considered abandoning her training to take care of you. Her brows furrowed as she took in your flinch. Her hand roughly chooses to take a hold of yours and her mouth is moving but it's like you can't hear her. "I'm taking Y/n to retire to her chambers." She tells them, and lifts her lady by the arm. She moves mindlessly in response, barely lucid if at all. Partway through the journey Arya stops and rushes to rest her hand against her love's cheek, her eyes crossing over every feature twice. "What's wrong, my love?" She asks so quiet that you almost don't hear it. She's still holding your hand and sends a little squeeze. She moves the hand reluctantly to your forehead–scared of what she might find there. And sure enough a glaring heat permeates. Her eyes bulge and her grip tightens. She swallows her fears however. "Darling, you're ill." She bit on her lower lip. "I'll take care of you, don't worry." Her voice is breathy and nervous as she starts to retreat her hand from your forehead and instead uses it to wrap around your waist. She holds you tightly to your discomfort. You walk together in silence until you enter your chambers–newly gifted to you. She guides you to the bed and finally lets go to release you on the bed. Her suffocating air dissipates as she steps back, freeing you for the first time in weeks. You roll over in a sleepy haze. She frowns. "Why won't you speak to me?" Arya utters.

You don't reply further than an incomprehensive murmur. She isn't satisfied. "I love you." Her tone sounds betrayed, her eyes flitting over your form. "I cloth you, I feed you." The longer she talks the more she is confusing herself and her volume raises though doesn't stir you. "Why won't you love me? I would kill for you." She rushes to your side in a sudden surge of adrenaline, urgency dripping from her tongue. "Go ahead and ask me to I will do it, I swear to you!" She clasps her hands around your own and squeezes tightly–trying to squeeze any droplet of love from your hands. She'll take what she can get at this point she has wanted for the affection once shown to her so many years ago and when you met you were so kind to her, she could finally repay the favour to you. She had lay bleeding on a street and you took her in so warmly, you welcomed her no matter how your beloved thought of her. He was a mere obstacle–a perfect demonstration to show you the warrior she could be with the power of your presence. Arya stares into your closed eyes and fights the burning frustration set alight in her. She sighs and gazes at your sleepy face. She slowly rests her left hand against the side of your face to cup it as though trying not to startle you–you have became a young doe to her, in need of protecting, of nurture. For a second she tricks herself into believing you will accept her but you flinch the second she makes contact. Arya freezes at the clarity but she swallows and continues to lay her hand there. She knows deep in her heart that no matter how aware she is, she will not be able to let you go even when you cry and beg because without you it all means nothing. The only person on her list that gave her the release and freedom she longed for was your previous betrothed because it meant time was not wasted and she could still have meaning. The only vengeance that worked out for her. She stayed stroking your cheek that night until she too fell asleep

What Arya hadn't anticipated was the strong will that her sister Sansa had blossomed as she grew. She didn't anticipate the breweries she had learned of in King's Landing to raise your temperature just long enough to bring you rest for your journey ahead. Sansa thought of this as she crept into your rooms. When she stepped in she carefully made her way to your bed, your figure already slinking carefully from your sheets. Arya lay sleeping on the floor beside your bed, humming in low snores. You head snapped as you realised Sansa's presence. You let out a relieved sigh. "Thank the gods." You told her, grateful for the kindness she had given you. She carried a large bag with her. "For your clothes, I have already snuck enough coins for you. The men are waiting outside." She rushed out as quietly as she could manage, flickering her gaze worriedly at Arya's hunched figure. She thrust the bag into your arms and then as many clothes and food she could manage inside it. Your hands rushed about while you tiptoed lightly. Sansa couldn't help the wavering guilt as she caught glances at her sister but she herself had been a victim of unwilful abduction and she couldn't let another be even if it was by someone she cared for. However, her morals didn't stop their shaking as she guided you through the doors and helped carry you into the carriage she had paid to be as discreet as possible. Sansa turns to leave but you grasp her hand quickly. Your eyes look to her in unfiltered gratitude as you speak to her. "I will never forget you for this." You tell her to whcih she lets out a stunned nod quickly and once more pushes you into the carriage and tells the men to leave. She watches the carriage as it surges forward, knowing what she will be waking up to in the morrow...

[anniflamma]

HHHHHHHORSE?!?!??!!! Hello?!?!! FUCKIN LOVE THE HORSEBEAST HORROR absolutely underutilized potential for the god of horses. As a horse girlie who has definitely almost been killed by various horses over the course of my life (and loves them anyway) I LOVE a good murder horse. Like YESSSSS give me a prey animal with a too wide mouth and too many teeth and a hunger in its eyes and the way it stalks around him like a predator. Give me the horror of an animal that SHOULD NOT BE in the middle of the ocean but it *is*. And then of course the parallel between the Trojan Horse leading his men to victory vs the Poseidon horse killing them killing them dead because Also ALSO. I MCFUCKING LOVE horses. But also. Horses can be goddamn scary. I’ve been in dangerous situations around horses where you immediately realize that you are so small and crushable and they are so large and fast and have big hard hooves and they will destroy you and the ocean is the same way and ugh. Horsebeast Poseidon is my new fave concept for him. Anyway my take on your animatic and the breathless terror of Odysseus absolutely getting whipped around and the waves hammering the ship into oblivion and it’s so *easy*. I lost my train of thought. Oh yeah. SO GOOD. thank you. 10000/10 great concept, phenomenal execution. Can’t thank you enough.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU!! Also, I can't agree more that I'm probably a horse girlie as well!

I always found horses beautiful animals! And scary horses are such a big plus!! Just slap a humanoid grin onto a horse and then put it in any random environment, and it will be scary no matter what! Maybe… 😅

My first sketches of him were only him as a horse, but the truth is that I have never really taken my time to, well, draw horses! Believe me! I rarely draw horses! Or even animals at all! My plan was to have Poseidon as a horse throughout the whole animatic, but I kind of scrapped it and gave him a human design, which was based on his horse form. So that's why he looks like…. well… Hades I guess? Given that he has black straight (also wet) hair. He had also black clothing but ended with only white.

Anyways, I think Im going off track now! I love horses too, and I'm definitely planning on making some doodles of dear Horseidon!

[brella]

the way I went to re-read earth air water trees IMMEDIATELY on seeing you'd reblogged a fic ask game, so I could say:

one of the many moments in that fics that made me sicko in the window.jpg:

When he reaches her groin he pauses, breathing open-mouthed, and then softly, fleetingly licks it. 

Nancy’s body jolts. “Wow.”

Ace pulls back, panting. “Sorry—was that weird—I’m sorry—”

your turn!! <3

BETHANY!!! <333 i am putting on "earth air water trees" the song so that i can approach this glorious question with full immersion.

fick ask game

that moment also made me sicko in the window.jpg, i won't lie. any time i had to write any physical intimacy rather than emotional i felt like i had injected myself with jet fuel. i am so glad you liked that part because i loved writing the parts where ace's cool and collected front cracked for 0.2 seconds because he was so attracted to nancy and that was one of them!

the moment in that fic that probably made me the most yeeesss hahaha yesssss (sicko) to write was this:

Nancy could mull that over for hours and still not know how to respond to it. For some reason, it sends a hairline crack through whatever illusory moment she’s climbed into with him—for some reason, it’s this, and not any of the things that came before it, that makes her want to run. She does the next best thing. “You can—pretend I’m Amanda, if it’s easier.”  Ace murmurs something into her thigh, his voice soft and slurred. Nancy swears—swears, for a dizzying moment—that what he says is, don’t have to pretend. “What?” she gasps. “What?”  Ace pulls away, his features stiff with an emotion Nancy can’t identify. Something close to guilt, to yearning, to self-hatred.  “You can pretend I’m Gil,” he says without looking her in the eye. “If that’s easier.” 

i was truly obsessed with the messiness of season 2 and the fact that nancy and ace were EACH INVOLVED WITH ONE OF THE BOBBSEY TWINS and how these respective involvements seemed to really make them notice idk how invested they were in what the other was doing, romantically, physically. the wraith era was such a great sandbox to play in because i loved exploring how nancy's (supernaturally induced but still, quietly, achingly present from the start) self-destructive tendencies would react to this situation, and how ace in turn would react to them (before knowing that they were supernaturally induced)—understanding them, but still being hurt by them. it's like, ace has just handed her something so intimate and genuine, such an unvarnished piece of love, and because of her self-doubt and the wraith's exacerbation thereof she can't accept it. at all. she just has to look away from it. she just has to remind them why they're both there, although is it really why they're both there? can she even imagine the alternative, that he's there for a reason other than what she thinks?

of course my hope is that the reader will want to shake her and be like NANCY HE CLEARLY IS IN LOVE WITH YOU but also understand that nancy can't see that in the moment. and i was imagining what was going through ace's mind upon hearing amanda's name, upon hearing the notion that nancy would expect him to PRETEND HE'S GOING DOWN ON AMANDA INSTEAD OF HER, and not knowing how to get into how not true that is but also being a little stung by it, a little jolted from the moment. like, when she says this, he remembers that she's supposedly with gil, just as she remembers that he's supposedly with amanda. and this is an exchange that could unravel the whole thing, but it doesn't, because even under these circumstances they're ceding ground to one another, letting up slack when the other needs it, leveling the playing field. and ace is like, god, you know what, worth it. in this one moment. before there are consequences to wanting this.

in the wise words of the great marie kondo: i'm so excited because i love... mess. :)

fun fact, this exchange—verbatim—was actually the VERY FIRST PART of the fic that came to me and i was so sicko in the window about it that i was like well. guess we should explore this. see below!

ugh, bethany, this season is turning me inside-out. hold me.

THANK YOU FOR LOVING THIS FIC <3

[kiastirling-fanfic]

Happy DADWC! I'd love to hear about Leda Aeducan, with "You lost a bet when you met me dear" from the Dear Hunter lyrics prompts?

Yesssss. Here's Leda meeting Zevran! Largely introspective until the very end. @dadrunkwriting

Rating: T for Zevran's sheer existence Cws: canon-typical mentions of death/violence

Leda didn’t have much time to think during the ambush. Shoot the archers on the ridge with Leliana before they could shoot her, trust Alistair to handle the mage, trust Sten to survive the assassin long enough to rally and Wynne to keep him standing, trust Paragon to distract at a minimum, and trust Morrigan would do her best to make things awful for the enemy.

Minimal thinking, she didn’t even have to shout orders really. After the Circle tower they all knew their parts, and ambush or not it wasn’t especially complicated, not like navigating the Fade in a way no dwarf was meant to.

Arrow, aim, fire, dodge, repeat until there was only the assassin left. But he was down too, taken out by Alistair’s shield bash. And alive, unlike his allies.

Leda didn’t even really have to think about the next steps. She was no stranger to assassins after all, no one made it to adulthood in the Diamond Quarter without at least familiarity with the possibility of an assassination attempt on their life, and a princess more than most. She’d disarmed her first assassin at 14, with only Gorim to aid her as the guards at her door lay dead and those guarding her brothers were suspiciously silent, paid to ignore the attack or perhaps uninterested in any event that didn’t involve their particular charges. That time she left the interrogation to her father’s men and paid the price by never learning the source of the attack.

It was a mistake she never made again, and she wasn’t about to break that streak on the surface.

Leda made quick work of tying up the assassin, typing his hands in a terrible angle to stymie his inevitable escape attempt, and checked his mouth for any poison he might have ready to swallow in the event of a faillure. His daggers - the fighting set he’d wielded in the battle, those for throwing he kept at his waist, and the knife in his boot too small to be called a dagger but not too small to cut robe or lodge in a neck - were set at least two yards away.

Only then did she slap him awake.

It was no surprise that Loghain was the one to order her killed, nor was it a surprise that the assassin had no loyalty. Even in Orzammar that was a rarity, for a knife in the dark to do so for an ideal they themselves believed in, and given what Leda knew of surfacers she doubted it was more common here.

What was a surprise was the assassin’s demeanor. Perhaps it was not so strange that when faced with near certain death one should seek to endear themself to their captor, but it was less endearment and more downright flirtation.

Leda could have helped herself, but she smiled all the same. Practicality, survival instinct, and a decent fighter beside.

This Zevran Arainai was a breath of fresh air on the surface. An oxymoron, perhaps, since the surface was where the fresh air came from. Perhaps it was a bit of familiarity then. Heat on her cheeks that Leda had only known while leaning over the great lava lake below the city, the tang of blood. Understanding.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” she assured him as she cut his bonds. “And you have to pull your own weight.”

“I think you will find, my dear Warden, that I can pull a great many things.” His comment was clearly intended to be lascivious, but it only made Leda throw back her head and laugh. She hauled Zevran to his feet, the elf unsurprisingly a fair bit taller than her but at least not so much as Alistair.

“I’m sure you can. I only hope you’re as good as your word. I think you’ll find you lost a bet when you met me, dear Crow.”

“Have I indeed?” His smile was as sharp as the dagger Leda had been gifted on the eve of her campaign.

Oh yes, she knew just how to handle men like him.

[weiying-lanzhan-fics]

ghost stories for lost souls by queenklu

Yesssss… loving each other in any form. Heart wrenching and also heart warming - perfect! ❤️

Quotes:

‘Get lost,’ Lan Wangji remembers. ‘Get lost--’

“LOST,” the box says. Lan Wangji stops pressing himself into the shadows. 

“Hi,” Wei Ying says. Gently. His eyes are very soft. Even though the box spoke, he only looks at Lan Wangji. “Hello. Don’t be scared. This is just a radio I’ve been tinkering with. It can help you talk to me. Did you say you were lost?”

Don’t be scared. Lan Wangji has never heard anyone tell him that. Not even, he thinks, when he was alive. 

————

“BOX - - STUPID,” the box obligingly sputters. “NOT-- WEI - YING.” 

“Oh,” says Wei Ying, his whole face clearing with delight. "Wow, you're so good at this! You're coming through so clearly." And then: “Who is Wei Ying?” 

Sadness wells up in him, overflows down his cheeks. He is always crying, only--sometimes it is worse than other times. Now it spills down his empty face, his chin. He has to move away from the food, or his tears will spoil it. He is glad Wei Ying cannot see his back. Sometimes there is blood that seeps through the cloth shape on his back.

“Sorry, sorry, we don’t have to talk about that,” Wei Ying says. “I--” 

“NO - - - - SORRIES,” the box spits, as Lan Wangji thinks it. 

“Okay,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“LAN ZHAN!” chirps the box, which is not at all what Lan Wangji meant to think. Or how he thought he’d hear his own name after all these millenia, stilted and distorted. It almost…almost sounds the way Wei Ying would say it. Happy. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats, holding the sounds in his mouth like ripe fruit. “That’s a beautiful name.” 

————

“Do you want the wine, or the juice? The juice is blackcurrant, arguably the best flavor.” 

Lan Wangji moves closer. He cannot remember how to create a waist, or leg bones, so he moves on his arms, his hands with too many fingers. Wei Ying breathes strangely, but when Lan Wangji looks he does not seem afraid. Only wondrous. 

It is easier, then, to make himself a mouth, when he does not have to think on other body shapes. What is a mouth more than a slash of a knife? Of course, Wei Ying’s mouth has teeth, gums, a tongue. That is complicated. Lan Wangji puts his mouth shape to the berry-labeled box and tries to bite. 

M, 18k

Summary:

Lan Wangji is trying out a body shape when he hears footsteps on the stairs. He is already thinking he has done it wrong--he forgets, sometimes, how many fingers a hand should have, and so he makes his body have sleeves instead, to cover his mistakes.

It is a man.

It is a man who will scream, probably. Lan Wangji is body-shaped. Lan Wangji tries to count how many fingers the man has before he leaves.

“Oh!” the man says, blinking. His eyes are whole, wide, and deep brown, with long lashes. He has a face for smiling, cheeks round and well fed, and when he smiles his eyes crease at the corners. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was up here.”

@queenklu

[running-ace21]

Imagine feeding Copia to the point that his belly is just making constant noise and it admittedly startles him because his tum has never been THIS displeased with him before

Yesssss. Remember when I said i kind of enjoy "sour patch kid energy"? 😈

You had been sitting next to Copia on the couch encouraging him to eat, every now and then placing a bite in his mouth for him. You would lightly rub his tummy as he ate. For the first 3/4 of the evening he had a soft smile on his face thoroughly enjoying the food he was consuming.

At a certain point he had reached a wall. "Amore," he said looking over to you and patting his belly, "that's all that is going to fit." A smile crept on to your face and your eyes lit up. "Oh no Cardinal, there's room for the rest of this food."

You continued to feed him bite after bite, Copia struggling a little more with each swallow. Breathing hard and laying his head back on the couch Copia placed his hands on his belly as he let out a groan. He complained to you that he felt like he was going to pop.

You gently rubbed his tummy as he continued to lay back with his eyes closes. It was true, there was hardly any give to his tummy. You pushed a little firmer eliciting a gurgle from his guts. "Oooooh," Copia whined, trying to move his hands protectively back to his belly. "Shhh," you coo to him. "I'll be nice..."

As you continued to rub his belly continued to get louder. So many gurgles, glorps, and groans were filling the silence between the two of you. Copia looked at his aching tummy, "I've never heard it be this noisy before," he said, almost in awe of the whole thing. A loud gurgle rippled through his belly and you could even feel it as your hand rested on top of it.

You raised an eyebrow at him, "that didn't sound good." He shook his head, "that didn't feel so good." You return back to rubbing his tummy paying close attention to the spots that bring out happy moans and the spots that make him wince.

"Oh Amore, I feel so big." He knows what it does to you to see him like this. You shift in your seat to provide a bit of friction between your legs. He pats his belly as he gives you a side eye gaze. You press a little harder coaxing a few relieving burps from him. "Mmm, that felt good," he sighed.

The night continues on like this until you have a sleepy Copia next to you. You help him lay back on the couch and you crawl between his legs resting on his, still very noisy, full tummy.

[feyresdaughter]

A Court of Wings and Ruin, chapter 65:

Weeeee

A shadow gripped my shoulder, reminding me not to run. Azriel’s shadow-hand grasped my own, tugging me closer. His rage rippled off his invisible form.

“He’s been looking for you,” drawled a hard male voice. I pivoted to find Jurian striding from between two tents, buckling his sword-belt. Jurian stared at me for a long moment , eyes sliding to the Siphon atop my head. I knew the moment he realized who I was. Those brown eyes flared— barely. “Where is she,” was all I breathed.

Jurian gave a cocky grin. Not directed at me, but anyone watching us. “You’ve been lusting after me for weeks now,” he purred. “Act like it.” A bemused snort. “I have trouble believing that’s how you won his heart.” I tried not to scowl. “Where is she.” - “Safe. Untouched.” I ran a hand up his arm, then rested it over his heart. “Where. Is. She.” Jurian leaned in as if he’d kiss me, and brought his mouth to my ear . “Were you smart enough to kill her before you took her skin?” My hands tightened on his jacket . “She got what she deserved.” I could feel Jurian’s smile against my ear. “She’s in his tent. Chained with steel and a little spell from his favorite book.”

You can't tell me Jurian was super proud when she told him that she killed Ianthe

I gave him a pretty, sunshine smile. “What of the girl on the rack?” Darkness flickered in those eyes. “There have been many before her, and many will come after.” - “I can’t leave her here,” I said through my teeth. Jurian led me into the labyrinth of tents, heading for that inner circle. “Your sister or her— you won’t be able to take two out.” - “Get her to me, and I’ll make it happen.”

Yesssss Feyre saving humans

And since I was Ianthe … I gave them each a sultry smile, sizing them up for conquest of a different kind than the one they’d come to Prythian to do. The one on the right’s answering grin told me he was mine for the taking. Later, I willed my eyes to say. When I’m done with the human. He adjusted his belt a bit as I slipped into the tent.

Feyre is a spectacular actress because I would have puked on the floor

Jurian studied me for a heartbeat longer. “Save a dagger for your own heart. If they catch you alive, the king will —” He shook his head. “Don’t let them catch you alive.”

Awww he cares for her

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

Um EXCUSE ME your sister is there TOO

And standing at its end, huddled in a dark cloak … That was the girl. My feet snagged beneath me, blood spraying, and I hit the rocky ground so hard my bones groaned. Azriel swore, but with Elain in his arms, fighting— The hounds were there in a second.

Her black hair streamed behind Azriel, catching amongst his wings as he practically tackled her into the sky. But I saw, even as I ran, Elain’s pale hands lurch—gripping the girl by her neck, holding her as tightly as she could. And just in time. Azriel’s roar echoed off the rocks as the hound slammed into him, dragging those shredding talons down his spine, his wings— The girl screamed, but Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another. It bellowed, and Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home.

BADASS Elain. What a babe

We both did. I pressed a hand against the wound in my shoulder to keep the bleeding minimal. The girl went so far as to even offer to use her lingering scraps of clothing to bind it.

Awww, Briar is cute

I swallowed my shout of pain as Nesta’s arms went around my neck and she embraced me so hard it snatched my breath away.

Before I could turn back, Elain threw her arms around me. I did not remember when I began to cry as I felt those slender arms hold me, tight as steel.

I did not remember the healer who patched me up, or how Rhys bathed me. But I did remember lying down on the bearskin rug once it was done . How I felt Elain’s slim body settle next to mine and curl into my side, careful not to touch the bandaged wound in my shoulder. I had not realized how cold I was until her warmth seeped into me. A moment later, another warm body nestled on my left. Nesta’s scent drifted over me, fire and steel and unbending will.

I didn’t know how long my sisters and I lay there together, just like we had once shared that carved bed in that dilapidated cottage. Then— back then, we had kicked and twisted and fought for any bit of space, any breathing room. But that morning, as the sun rose over the world, we held tight. And did not let go.

[judasofsuburbia]

listen… my ears were ringing as soon as i read the words cowboy and ronance (bc omg!!!!) but also sex demon eddie my beloved… take your pick, you can’t go wrong

YESSSSS thank you bc i needed motivation for sex demon eddie for sure for sure! 2 for 1 for my pal alice <3

ronance cowboy au:

 Robin starts breathing out of her mouth because she gets so overwhelmed as each new inch of Nancy’s skin is revealed. The dress hits the floor and she’s left in just her underwear, no bra, radiant in her simplicity. Robin figures she should have some class and keep her eyes above Nancy’s collarbone but she doesn’t. It doesn’t seem like Nancy minds the attention. 

sex demon eddie au:

Eddie rolls his eyes as Steve puts on more layers before they leave. 

“Those are useless, you know,” Eddie says. 

“It’s cold in the sky,” Steve mumbles.

“I can heat you up,” Eddie says, cheekily.

“We’re not fucking in the air,” Steve says. 

“I meant more so my body heat but I like where your head is going.”

“I’m keeping the sweatshirt.”

“Suit yourself.”

No matter how many times Eddie tells him they won’t be seen, he always spends the first few minutes of their flight scared out of his mind that someone is going to spot them. After that initial paranoia is gone, Steve rests his cheek on Eddie’s wing and stares out at this tiny town getting even tinier. Eddie’s stopped making him shriek from sudden deep dives or shaking his wings like he’ll drop him. Instead, he flies smoothly, relishing in the weight of his human.

send me a wip file name and i'll share new sentences!

[cryptid-killjoy]

@orleans-jester

When Flotsam had mentioned the shirt, that had been enough. Thomas knew that Flo was going to want it. Anything with an eel, an octopus, a shark now - it was their thing. So of course he was going to buy the shirt without Flotsam having to ask for it. He liked taking the initiative with gifts like this. “I know you pretty well by now, love. I know what catches your eye.”

No matter how many tourist places they would go to - this would be his favorite spot in Ireland right here. Made him tempted to just buy out the property, just so they could keep coming back and having this. But they can’t just keep buying houses any place they liked, the taxes would be insane. But still - a beachfront property. Not touristy. Maybe something like that was doable, like a cottage where they could grow old, really old, together.

Good food, a good brew, this was a gorgeous day. Even with the faint traces of the waxy chapstick still on his lips, no matter how many times he had tried to wipe it off. He had an arm around his husband and the other one holding a beer, savoring it slowly rather than just drinking it down. It wasn’t a get drunk kind of night. It was a fuel the fire in his belly enough to feel happier, if such a thing was even possible.

Yeah, he knew he would get Flotsam good just by mentioning that.

He could literally see the words entering into Flotsam’s brain through his ear.

He licked his lips with a big grin on his face, and nodded his head slowly likes yesssss, you’re getting it, eyebrows raised like the Jack Nicholson nodding gif.

He was chuckling for sure now, it turning into a belly laugh just at all of the excitement of his nerdy-ass husband. That was what had drawn him to Ireland in the first place. He’d been looking at filming locations for Flotsam’s favorite movies, just sorta rushed looking into it, looking for ideas. Some in Italy - no, Kuzco would want to break into that vacation, and they needed it to just be them to be honest. Fuck LA, they didn’t need those kinds of beaches or the ditzy blondes that went there, hoping for Hollywood. Ireland it was, and it was to Ireland they had come.

“Oh, don’t worry, I planned already for your shopping budget, of course we’re going to get you everything that you need,” He said, his chuckles pouring out a little lighter this time, now that he had gotten most of them out. Flotsam was all about the aesthetics, a lot like his female alter-ego, so he had actually though about this. A whole new outfit, just for this one day? Fucking FOR SURE.

If only he had sandy blonde hair, he could have showed up looking like Obi. There had been a comparison of him to Ewan McGregor once or twice.

Then titty twisters had him laughing again, falling over backwards, holding his stomach. “Jesus wept, my nipples have never been happier for respect, I can tell you that,” He said, moving his hands up to block them just in case Flotsam changed his mind.

He was just getting back up when Flotsam leaned in with all of that love and he sucked it up like a Henry Hoover, happy to have gotten that very dramatic, very on brand reaction out of his husband. “Y’know I love ya too, that’s why I keep one or two things up my sleeve at all times,” He said, his eyes basically shooting out hearts towards Flotsam.

He crossed his legs like a kid, criss cross apple sauce, and watched Flotsam’s display. This nerdy side was fucking adorable. He loved it. He wouldn’t change a single thing about this moment, about his excitement, about the moves that Flotsam was rocking right now. And then a smirk as Daddy came out from Flotsam’s mouth. Not Valerie’s. Flotsam’s. He liked that too. Flotsam was no kitten but … Thomas would always be Daddy.

“We’ll leave early to get you your outfit, then we’ll take the boat in the afternoon,” He offered, figuring that the outfit was just as important as everything else around here. He’d still be wearing his GAP jeans and his dad shirts, while Flotsam would strut around and be the true fashionista.

He got his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the website. Easily booked it. The bookings only lasted a little while, because it was depending on the weather. It could be a treacherous place to get to. But weren’t some of the best places in the world? Since tomorrow was looking good, they were taking bookings and he went ahead and got them. “Lovely, we’re on it. We’re doing this.”

"Yes you do and I love you for it. Thank you."

If Thomas bought out this beach property Flotsam would go into redecorating mode upon instant knowing. He loved the beach front, but the decor wasn't a for keeps situation inside. He'd need creative control on aesthetics. It would need completely gutted and filled with his personal touch. The ocean however... perfecto. Flotsam would be eating cake by the ocean daily with his parasol just because it'd become a thing now in his mind that he needed one in Ireland.

It was damn nice day sitting back with his family, his man, this meal, right next to the ocean, a lager in his hand. It was nice to even have a brew in hand again at all actually. For Flotsam it had been a damn long time. Valerie had some wine, but just kicking back and being able to destress in any way like this at the end of the day was a nonexistent event since being pregnant. Remaining calm and not even overly excited was the challenge of their life with not only their kids' lives, but their own life at stake with it. It was also the hardest state to transition out of. Flotsam was such a reactive being, not just in anger, but in all feelings, sadness, joy, eagerness, fun, laughter. It would exude from him same as his brood. But, going from actual fear of dying all the time and thinking everything could end if he makes one mistake by having one feeling out of place and then now holding that brew and feeling the freedom the ocean brings while leaning against Thomas, it hit him square in the chest. This was part of what made the whole Marina/Thaddeus shit harder, even bringing up the courage to bring Flotsam back harder. Valerie was safe in her sweet spot nestled in reading books with her mind worlds away in whatever adventure Thomas chose to read to her. He became her happy place of calm and peace to get through those nine months and stay out of trouble, no drama, no disasters if at all possible. It was strange to react to Thaddeus that day. As much as it felt natural there was also a fear in the back of Flotsam's head, like muscle memory, his body still telling him he shouldn't move. Their children were going to be turning a year old soon enough and yet that feeling still froze him, cringed his muscles before laughing too much, or talking too much, not barking out every thought that enters his head just because it exists whether it needs to be said or not. He's quieter. It was one more reason he needed to run off right now on this vacay. He couldn't get adjusted to being himself, to feeling normal in his own skin at all... safe in his own skin. This was a guy who never feared death to begin with. He had an it was what it was attitude about it. Then suddenly Valerie's whole existence became caution of herself over those pups, wanting to make sure she'd be around to raise them. The constant fear settled into his very muscles. Freezing before laughing too hard fearing reaction in her belly that could cause her to be torn wide open was habit hard to break. He would have tried to explain it before in middle of night moments when he couldn't sleep, his brain that doesn't turn off, refusing him rest. But, in this moment sitting back watching his little kids, brew in hand, leaning against Thomas, he nearly felt like himself. A small weight lifted from his chest. And no, Flotsam had no interest in places like LA, Hollywood, New York, or Vegas. Overcrowded cities and egos weren't his thing despite having such a sizable one himself. It even entered Flotsam's head after he stood up and was acting so silly kung fu saber fighting that he didn't cringe. He hadn't felt that pulse of warning before. He had an after thought. He'd been down in the sand with his man drinking a brew and jumped right up without thinking. That uncontainable excitement actually being uncontained and managing to burst through meant more to Flotsam than Thomas probably could know right then... or maybe he could? Flotsam stalled in that afterthought moment, posed in battle, holding his saber, and started to just grin. Maybe Thomas would think it was all over calling him Daddy, but that grin held a lot more. It was good. It was a good thing.

Flotsam had been struggling recently with not so great dreams. They weren't his old recurring nightmares come back to haunt him, but they were still trauma induced. Though he never thought of it that way before, the pattern was only becoming recognizable to him because of the journaling of dreams for Thomas. He still jotted them down daily just like Valerie did if he remembered them at all. The good stuff was still mixed in there. Wild fantasies and other worlds. But, he noticed he dreamt more often than he liked to admit of bad drug trips, the hallucinations thereof, or near death experiences of his children, other near death experiences he's been in himself, and oddly it might not be so surprising he had quite an arsenal of real life scenarios to dream of and twist into worse situations. Strangely or not so, it's something Thomas said that kept revisiting his dreams per a quote. "Hasn't there been enough pain?" Flotsam's always trying to get away from the pain in his dreams somehow. He keeps swearing he's trying. The situations change but the quote remains the same. He feels like Al Pacino in the Godfather and it just keeps pulling him back in. So, this vacation meant a lot to him. He needed it in the worst way. He felt good for dinner. He felt excited for a new day. Something about being by the ocean made him feel recharged. So, after the long process of getting all three pups to bed he was even more refreshed and at peace come morning after waking up without a distressing dream to worry his night. It was the mark of a hopeful day. It was the sort of mood that had Flotsam giving Thomas a lovely wake-up call to start his day unable to begin without touching all over his man before the balancing act of breakfast calls from their kids.

Morning closeness was starting to feel as surreal as the ocean outside as he'd fidget with the amulet and feed one of his children. This was his life. Call it midlife? He didn't know. He wondered if Clopin went through this after being couped up inside Claudette for so long and he wondered if he could get straight answers from the guy if he bothered to confide in his old friend again? He wasn't in the mood for riddles. Broody Flotsam wanted real answers. Maybe it'd be best to speak to Claudette. He'd been so conflicted with opening up to anyone other than Thomas anymore.

Flotsam got his outfit though. He got little padawan outfits for the pups too. He couldn't help himself. He had a theme going. Do not doubt Flo managed to get the perfect cloak that still showed off his tall black skinny jean covered legs. The only rogue Jedi able to rock them and make it look right with his slouchy boots. He also spent half the morning taking a big piece of drift wood he found on the beach and transforming it into big staff that could also open up as a parasol. It would take him forever to get the mechanism to work properly as he'd never made such an invention. But, he was pretty sure if Bastien saw it he'd even think Chuck Norris would be impressed. It was martial arts worthy dangerous, wizard cool looking, mando bad ass, and still pop open and slay pretty as a gothic picture. Flotsam thought he was a fucking genius. Then he had no shame in doing exactly what Clopin doesn't like and that's calling on Piper for quick deliveries. But, Thomas gave him no notice, so he felt like he had no choice. He only found out about going to Star Wars world the night before and how could he go without a light saber? Um, he couldn't. So, he called on Piper for help. Piper was one of the biggest Star Wars fans of them all so that helped. She would understand the urgency at least. She was more than happy to pop home for them and get Flo's sabers, because of course Flo had sabers. The fam might have been LOTR fans, but the Laveaus had a few nerd out specialties. Like Godzilla. So, Piper popped in special just to make sure Flo's belt line was armed with his two sabers, one red, one white. He kept a Sith saber and a white one he kept ever since fan boying Clone Wars. He really identified with her. Always had. She didn't want to be a part of the Jedi and felt betrayed by them, but she never became a Sith either unlike her mentor, Anakin. It was why her saber was white, neutral in the force. Flotsam always felt pulled in two directions, always accused of being bad because of where he came from too, forced to become a warrior of his own kind. It was sort of an odd coincidence the Ashoka series was currently running while Thomas chose to take Flotsam to a Star Wars landmark. If Thomas had his own or wanted anything from home now was his chance. Piper was only popping in and out once.

Once he'd get his sabers, hidden parasol staff, eyes dark, kids packed, diapers in what would look like survival gear back packs instead of diaper bags because he didn't want his aesthetic ruined, he'd be ready to go. He'd point at he car. "If you're ready.... I'm ready." He'd smirk. "This is the way."

Yeah he was going there with the catch phrases right out the shoot.