#but also i think you have me confused with someone else.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.  

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off. 

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself. 

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you? 

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails? 

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time. 

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this. 

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility? 

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you. 

Does she know more than she’s letting on? 

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep. 

What is going on? 

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them. 

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion. 

She remains neutral. “Oh?” 

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?” 

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks. 

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.” 

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true. 

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience? 

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives. 

“I didn’t do it,” you insist. 

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes. 

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg. 

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card. 

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?” 

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods. 

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one. 

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic. 

What have you done? 

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you. 

You killed them. 

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself? 

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come. 

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally. 

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her. 

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.” 

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She 

But she’s not done yet. 

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?” 

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes. 

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you. 

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now? 

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road? 

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her? 

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life? 

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house. 

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you. 

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud. 

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.” 

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now. 

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.” 

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum. 

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints. 

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?” 

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you. 

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel. 

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back. 

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway. 

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together. 

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you? 

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple. 

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view. 

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you. 

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you. 

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you. 

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?” 

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?” 

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them. 

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet. 

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them. 

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes. 

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?” 

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn. 

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking. 

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist. 

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin. 

Blood.

More blood. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come? 

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward. 

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right. 

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down. 

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies? 

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?” 

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it. 

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?” 

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she? 

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells. 

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together. 

The Witch and Lady Death. 

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer. 

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble. 

If anything, they pushed you to do it again. 

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death. 

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get. 

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you. 

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks. 

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now. 

The only question is: why? 

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing? 

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight. 

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating. 

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight. 

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come. 

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest. 

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door. 

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay. 

Nothing. 

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth. 

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list. 

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there. 

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known. 

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there. 

You bend down to see what it says and 

Snow. 

The frozen creek. 

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick. 

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness. 

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that. 

Because the woman from your memory has a name now. 

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now. 

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.” 

Your head starts to pound. “How…?” 

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently. 

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember? 

What did she do to you? 

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.” 

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there. 

Fuck. 

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it. 

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail. 

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.” 

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.” 

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted. 

“What are you–” 

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.” 

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom. 

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. 

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out. 

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away. 

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts. 

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach. 

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.” 

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related? 

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer. 

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you. 

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories. 

Is Agatha the reason? 

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that? 

It seems to make sense. 

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble. 

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed. 

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb. 

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in. 

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now. 

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted. 

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy. 

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said. 

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled. 

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and 

Snow. 

Frozen creek. 

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her. 

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone. 

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes. 

But there’s another woman too. 

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback. 

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her. 

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in. 

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs. 

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going. 

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be. 

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that? 

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases. 

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow. 

Pneumonia. 

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia. 

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident. 

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods? 

Nothing is adding up. 

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly? 

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how. 

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them. 

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road. 

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt. 

It’s the smell that hits you first. 

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous. 

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room? 

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open. 

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower. 

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily. 

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue. 

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest. 

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left. 

OURS. 

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them. 

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out. 

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address. 

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have? 

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone. 

This ends tonight. 

[jiraisupportgroup]

Important Update:

It has been brought to my attention by several people that there was / is a blog that is impersonating me and posting very hateful & harmful things aimed at the jiraiblr community. This blog had a username very similar to this one (jiraiisupportgroup and then jiiraisupportgroup both with double “i”s at different points in the username) they copied my profile picture, header image, blog description, pinned post(?), and even went as far as to copy anonymous asks I have been sent and send them to themselves to reply to to create confusion and trick people into thinking that blog was me.

In light of this I want to make a few things clear:

- This blog is a side blog. It cannot follow you, it cannot like posts, and it cannot send asks. All of those things would instead link to my main blog. If any blog that looks like this one ever follows you, likes one of your posts, or sends you an ask please block them immediately.

- If this blog does get terminated for whatever reason, any back-up blogs to replace this one will be made as another side blog. So please know this warning to block any blog that looks like this one if they follow you, like one of your posts, or send you an ask will never change.

- In the event that this blog is ever terminated, the first few posts of any replacement blog will be proof that it is actually me. What this details I am not entire sure of at this exact moment, and likely will not share to avoid the case of another disgusting copy-cat.

I want to give so much thanks to @bpdgrrrl1312 @bl0odied-kittypaw @criminaldoenjangjjigae @twistedsweetheart @sakiyaki-sashimi @oneeyawn @jiraikasa-kun as well as any others I may have missed (and all the anons who contacted me) for bringing this first of all to my attention, but more importantly to everyone’s attention. Thank you all so much for spreading awareness about this impersonator, and for helping distance myself from the horrible horrible things this person was saying.

As far as I can tell at the moment it appears that the blog is deleted? (Can anyone help me confirm?) But I will keep an eye and ear out to make sure, and update everyone if they pop up again. Thank you all so much for reporting this blog while I was not online for the night T-T not only for myself but also for the jiraiblr community as a whole.

It really hurts my heart and sickens me to know that someone impersonated my blog to spew hatred and vitriol. I did not get to see a majority of the things the blog did post (I saw screenshots of maybe 2 or 3 of the posts), so I can’t even imagine what else they were saying (especially to get banned so quickly because tumblr typically does not ban accounts very fast).

If this blog targeted you or even if you had the misfortune of seeing this blog, I am so deeply sorry. Please know that no matter what this person may have said you are loved, you are important, you are valid, and you deserve to be safe and feel welcome. I truly believe that, and I am so sorry that anyone tried to make you feel otherwise.

I am sending all of you so much love and as much support as I can ♡ I know many of us are stressed going into holiday season and this whole situation did not help with that. From what I can gather you all handled it quite well and for that I am so so appreciative. ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ love all of you so much and I am sending everyone the warmest wishes and happiest days I possibly can ♡ ♡ ♡

[genderqueerdykes]

not a question but thank you so much for talking about transandrophobia omg. i feel like i’m going crazy when people try to assert trans men automatically gain all the privilege cis men have, or even that they deserve worse treatment for “wanting to be men.” being transmasc is truly beautiful <3

it literally drives me insane when people claim that trans men instantly gain cishet male privilege the second we come out. most if not all trans men never gain that privilege to begin with. they are not treated or viewed the same way as cishet men. they're clawing and fighting for their lives to be seen as men, period, let alone to be treated like a man, or to be given the benefits that come with being a cishet man.

and i've seen that too. that people think that trans men and mascs literally DESERVE to suffer and be treated like shit. i think that sentiment is really rampant right now. like pissed off transphobic transfems blame trans men for the issues they have with cisheternormative patriarchy and it's placing the blame on the wrong person. transmascs are not actively oppressing trans women by virtue of being men.

trans men are also systemically oppressed. like this sounds rude as hell but as someone who is transfeminine, i really have to sit here and say "the trans community isn't about you." like yes, the trans community is here for us transfems, we belong in general trans spaces just like everyone else. but the general trans community isn't the trans woman community. like i just hate that people are trying to chase out everyone but transfems at this point.

it's so pointless. so many transfems get indoctrinated into rad feminism and do rad fem's work for them by torturing trans men and telling them that they're just confused women. i have never, in my life, seen more corrective rape threats than i have when trans men start opening up about the oppression they face. hell i've gotten them from other transfems before. it's disgusting how we don't confront this behavior.

that is what cisheternormative society does to trans men. why are you perpetuating it from the inside? why are you proudly transphobic? why are you hurting people to try to relieve your pain? hurting someone else will never undo the damage done to you. it's the cycle of abuse. you have to break it. you can't allow the cisheternormative patriarchal cycle of abuse to be practiced within our own walls without it biting you in the ass, too. it's bullshit

[gay-dorito-dust]

Okay i dont know if you still do writings for isekai au’s, but imagine isekai’ed reader who shows up in gotham and somehow the batfam knows them from their favorite show/movie.

Like imagine the reader is like “omfg your jason todd”

And then jasons like “good lord your (reader)”

And now both parties are confused to how they both know each other but are from separate universes.

This but could you imagine that with Jason, you’re probably a character that he’s grown an unhealthy attachment to, kinda like how -if you fw Jason Todd like me- you have grown an attachment to him.

So this would come off really freaky, especially if you oh so happen to carry red hood comics on you for some light reading or when you were bored and had nothing to do, so by pure coincidence you come across the actual red hood as though one would as though you’ve seen him before.

The same could be said about you as well as Jason/ whoever finds you would think it’s pure coincidence that you look like the person they’ve read or watched, but when you say something that only they know you would say in these types of situations, then it becomes clear that something outside of both of yours and their control is going on.

That and I think that the bat family would bring you to the manor because it’s not everyday that someone walks through Gotham freely with their true identities within their heads. It was dangerous and frightening to allow such a thing to go unchecked.

You on the other hand, were scared with the idea that your entire life had been watched and read by vigilantes with far better lifestyles than yours, what if they’ve seen you piss? Or shower? Or get changed? Like your whole life was akin to that of the Truman show. It would feel like that to you but you couldn’t help but feel flattered knowing that the bat family knew you, but also felt conflicted on how comfortable you felt with random people knowing the lesser liked parts of yourself.

It would be a cool, yet frightening experience to know that in another reality you’re being consumed as someone else’s form of media. It’s enough to fuck your mind a little but you’d also want to know just how much they knew and vice versa.

So it’s a feeling that would die down from being cool to know that the multiverse exists, and become one of pure anxiety as you both knew each other deeply without ever having met one another, it felt overexposing and often a little backed into a corner of sorts.

You feel weirdly interested that Jason knew who you were.

Jason also felt weirdly interested that you knew who he was, but he’s more heavily guarded so that feeling would fade rather quickly upon realising just how much power you hold if a situation ever called for an exchange of personal information.

The novelty would wear off within minutes as an in depth discussion is to be had about what the fuck was going on with you.

[squeakadeeks]

merry christmas my gift to you is telling a terrible tale since I think enough time has passed (ie over a decade) that i can tell you this without exploding.

when i was like 12 and starting out with art, i was so excited to open commissions just like a ✨real artist✨ and it being deviantart in the 2010's, within about a month i got someone asking for furry inflation fetish art. being a kid and having no sex ed, let alone the insanely specific sex ed that would be needed for me to understand what that is, i didnt flag it as inappropriate. I thought it would just be a "cool anatomy exercise like ✨real✨ artists do!" i was so ready and i took it on for 200 llamabucks or w/e the onsite currency was at the time. i did it, i drew it, whatever. well sure enough after posting it i quickly learned what furry inflation art actually was and i was mortified. being in like.....7th grade i was still terrified of sex and i was worried about my parents finding out so i took the entire sketchbook and buried it under my mattress. I lived in fear for months afterwards and felt like i deserved to be shot for falling for it and making something sinful.

the proceeding events happen in a confusing haze because my mother is an utterly puzzling woman so some suspension of disbelief is required but believe me when i say. i wish this was apocryphal. I dont know how or why, but some how some way my mom not only finds the sketchbook under my mattress, goes through the entire thing, finds the one singular offending sketch, then in a concerning mystery i will invest not a single iota of effort to solve due to the implications, immediately clocked that it was sexual fetish art. the one saving grace of a spherical wolf being niche enough that people wouldnt understand the dark deed i had done was out the window. She rips the page out, goes downstairs and parades it to the rest of the family like: "oh my god! look what ____ drew! lets all look at this! lets all look at this right now and laugh at it!" even with just this, i'm full on bursting into heavy hiccuping tears. as a kid this was the ultimate nightmare. you did something bad, you did something really bad, and your primary authority figure not only found it, but is now making sure everyone else you care about also knows the horrible shameful thing you did. except. there was something i couldnt have fathomed at the time that was about to get much, much worse.

my grandfather was dying of parkinson's at the time. when my mother took the sketch and displayed it to everyone like an auctioneer with a high ticket item, i ran out of the room sobbing so i never saw what happened to the blue inflated wolf with punk bangs. Well we all went to visit grandpa. we're all sitting around grandpa who used to be a famous local artist and was a big inspiration to me as a kid. and my mom goes "hey. ____ also wants to be an artist. Do you want to see what they drew?" and you'll never fucking guess what she pulls out of her pocket. hes barely able to turn and look over only to see that goddamn motherfucking wolf again. unlike before where i was crying so hard i couldn't breathe i remember being dead silent and stone still in shock. i dont think i blinked for 5 minutes but when i got up i threw up in the bathroom lol. I cant remember how but this time i did actually get the sketch back and i tore it to pieces and buried it in the yard. it haunted me for YEARS

but anyway now i have a memory of my mother showing my dying grandfather furry inflation art that i accidentally made when i was in middle school because i wanted a rainbow llama badge on deviantart.

[lemon-russ]

Imagine our dudes with a frail little girl. A shy and sweet crybaby. The kind of kid that hides behind her mother's skirts when strangers show up. Who is more likely to make her cry often? What would their relationship be like with their baby girl?

Awww 🥺 sensitive daughter and primarchssss

Guilliman, Leman, Fulgrim, Sanguinius, Ferrus, Magnus, and Horus would be gentle and sweet I think, apologizing if they made her sad, would be very protective of her, the normal sweet dad flavor regardless of their kid I think

Perturabo would make her cry all the time and not know why but would feel bad in his way, and try to make it up to her by building her little gifts. Also would destroy anyone ELSE who upsets her. Which is a lot of people. And makes her more upset and him more confused.

Corvus, Dorn and Mortarion wouldn't know how to handle her and maybe be a little distant, but walk on eggshells trying to not upset her (and she'd love them for it, they'd just be terrified lol)

Vulkan would be number one dad. She's a daddy's girl and he is obsessed. He would be crushed when she was sad but always know how to cheer her up. They are best friends. He also cries at the sad holo-vid dramas. They eat icecream and talk about their feelings when she gets upset. Best dad for this.

I've kinda always HC'd Khan as being an absentee parent lmao, like shows up randomly like ah yes, you have grown. You're... what, 12? Oh, 17? Huh. Well. Good catching up. And thus would be the reason she's upset and fragile 😭 Alpharius/ Omegon basically the same but just are in her house occasionally. And know everything about her.

Angron would be gruff but protective, somehow not being the one to upset her ever because he'd be afraid of losing his temper so he'd be quiet and serious but also love being around her. Constant terrifying companion scaring off would be bullies lol.

Lorgar would be obsessed. He would spiral if he made her cry. He would try and control her life so no one could upset her. He would coddle her and put her in a metaphorical (hopefully) guilded cage. She would NOT be ready for real life and if he can help it never would have to be. Spirited away baby energy.

Lion would be awful and make her cry all the time, then get upset when she did and not understand he is the problem. He'd be the classic "I don't know how to handle this so I won't". He would not be a good dad about it lol, not mean but very much distant and exasperated. He would not handle her as a teenager well AT ALL. She WILL have Daddy Issues (tm). They don't hate each other but never click. He would kill someone for her if she ever asked. His only response to someone else making her cry is in fact "do you want me to kill them".

Curze............ hopefully he forgets he had a kid. Or he's going to be her biggest nightmare 😭 thinks it's funny when she cries and scares her on purpose.

[anyamaris]

Sanguine Kiss

Pairing-Vampire!Yeosang x Nicknamed F!Reader Aurora

Genre/Au-Smut/Supernatural AU, Biker Gang AU

Trope-Strangers to lovers

Rating-18+ MDNI

Word Count-2835

Collab- Gunsmoke and Leather Masterlist

Summary-Stranded with your group of friends due to a breakdown, you find a mysterious bar while you wait for a tow. Parted from your friends, you'll find yourself faced with a mysterious figure and a very interesting encounter.

Warnings-Adult language, vulgarity, blood play, biting, possessiveness (he IS a vampire), unprotected sex, thigh humping, creampie, dirty talk, reader is a bit of a masochist, 18+ mdni

A/N-Thank you for the beautiful dividers @cafekitsune💜And to the amazing @daemour for the gorgeous Yeosang banner!!!

Also thank you to @sanjoongie and @yoonguurt for kicking my ass with getting this done. I love you both.

The atmosphere in the bar immediately strikes you as slightly oppressive, bodies churning in a sea around you and your friends as you try to speak with them.  

Nix and Elara are slowly eaten up by the crowd as you try to make your way to the bar, losing sight of them after only a few shouted exchanges.

Damn the stupid van for breaking down, you think.

Craning your neck, you can’t help but try to search for any of your companions, but then a shiver washes over your entire body as you feel the sudden sensation of eyes upon you.

Of course, people are going to be looking at me…I’m in a public place, you think, bemused at the physical reaction to the mysterious tingle.  

Yet, you can’t help but rub the back of your neck at the gaze that seems to be  following you as you push your way through the crush.

“NIX!” You call out, already knowing it’s pointless as the loud music pulses through the bar.

Before you can open your mouth to call out for Elara, a voice permeates your mind, causing you to halt in confusion.

Don’t worry about them, they are all quite occupied at the moment.

The smooth, deep tone washes over you and the wave of bodies around you fade away as that gorgeous voice demands your attention.

The dense soupy atmosphere falls away as you turn, pondering if you are hallucinating sexy voices. 

I haven’t even had a drink yet…

You start to shake yourself out of the mysterious daze, yet before you can, you’re blessed with the beautiful resonance once more coursing through your body and mind.  

The bar doesn’t have what you desire, doll; allow me to quench your thirst.

As if someone else has taken over, your chin is tilted upwards and to the right as your gaze follows.  

Above you, on what appears to be a second floor, a dark haired man in leather stares down at you.  

At me?

No, he must be just watching the crowd, you figure, yet as the thought drifts through your head, you swear he raises an eyebrow at you.

The bar lights don’t allow you to see much of his features, but what you can see is impressive. 

The way the black and red leather hugs his frame, the white outline of the fingerless gloves appearing like skeletal hands as he grips the metal bar he’s leaning over.    

Dark tendrils of hair tease his cheekbones, and as you admire his almost ethereal beauty, he tucks a strand behind his cute ears.

My ears are…cute? Echoes through your mind, and this time it’s you who raises an eyebrow.

Without realizing it, your feet are moving on their own as you forget all about what brought you here in the first place.

Are you reading my mind? You ‘answer’, feeling ridiculous for entertaining such a crazy idea.

A smile flashes across the gorgeous man’s lips, pointed teeth glinting as your body moves on its own across the floor.

Momentarily, you wonder where the hell you’re even going, but the crowd seems to part for you to reveal a metal staircase at the corner of the room.  

You’re not answering my question, doll.

The very air around you seems to be guiding you forward, but given the destination, you aren’t going to fight it at all.

You ascend the stairs, wondering if somehow you’ve been slipped some kind of drug despite not having had a single drink tonight.

I’d need to explore them up close to answer properly, you direct at the mysterious man.

You crest the stairs and step onto the second floor, yet the man you were hoping to see up close is no longer there.

The air seems to quiver around you, and before you can take another breath, the chill of cold fingertips caresses your neck.  

A spike of fear zings up your spine as the voice that has been speaking in your mind breathes softly into your ear;

“That can be arranged.”

When he was speaking in your mind, the timbre of his voice gave you the shivers; it was nothing compared to the way it’s now causing your heart to throb in your throat as his breath teases at your neck.  

Trying to ignore the way your panties dampen, you remind yourself that you’re alone in a strange bar with a man you don’t know.

The thought should have you trembling in fear, yet as you glance down and catch sight of Nix being led out by yet another man, you can’t help but feel thrilled by the risky situation.  

Well, you’ve never been known to shy away from a new experience.

“Are you propositioning me to … admire your ears?” you titter, lightheaded as a palm slips up your side. 

His husky laugh causes your womb to quiver delightedly, and you find yourself leaning back into the hard, leather clad body behind you.

“Do you make it a habit to lure innocent women up to admire your body parts?” You inquire, cocking your head to the side to catch a glimpse of this mysterious stranger.  

His sable hair tickles your cheek as you eye him, his deep brown eyes almost black in the faint light of the bar.  

You catch a peek of those pointed teeth once more before he’s spinning you around, then your back is hitting a flat surface behind you as he leans in to study you.  

“Only the ones who smell as delicious as you do.” He responds.  

Your head spins at how fast he moves, eyes wide as you take in his entire face finally.

Good fucking gods, this man is striking.  

You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen someone so ethereal yet mouthwateringly sexy before, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from licking them in hunger.

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Does that mean you’re going to taste me?”

A wicked smile curves his pretty lips as his lashes flutter at your words.  

“I plan on devouring you, sunshine.” 

A soft moan escapes your throat as he leans in to press his thigh between your legs, pinning you to the wall as he runs his nose up your throat to inhale you.

“I-” you start, gasping as his tongue darts out to taste your skin, “-I don’t even know your..name…” 

The feel of the leather stretched taut over his muscled thigh feels far too good against your wet panties and you thank your earlier self for picking a skirt to wear as you rock your hips against him.

“Yeosang.”  he murmurs as his lips skim across your ear, his hot breath fanning the flames of desire even more.  

If this continues, you swear you’re going to combust right here and now.

“Yeosang…I don’t normally find myself-oh my-” your voice wavers as his hands slip around behind you and grip your ass cheeks.

“Hmm?” His fingers are bunching up your skirt, rocking you against his thigh as your entire body just shakes in pleasure at the friction he’s causing.  

Swallowing hard, you attempt to continue past the blinding ecstasy of your building orgasm, past the dryness of your mouth as his lips and teeth nip at the tender skin of your neck.  

You hiss in pleasure at the way his sharp fangs tease at your flesh, stinging gloriously as you try to recall what you were saying.

Fuck, just his lips and teeth are making you crazy.

And the fangs…

“Is there…somewhere more private we can go?” You finally manage as you try to ground yourself in reality.  

He withdraws his thigh from between your legs, hands parting from your rear end and you almost cry out at the loss.  

Almost.

You’re not that far gone…yet.

“So you can admire my…ears?” he asks, giving you a cheeky little grin.

Clearing your throat, you merely nod, fixing your skirt as he looks you over.  

His eyes gleam as your cheeks heat, and your stomach does a flip as he licks his lips before turning to lead you deeper into the darkness.

Following him down the dimly lit hallway, you find yourself following him into a room that appears to be a private room of sorts, lined with couches and a private bar.

Your mind drifts to your friends, wondering what kind of interesting evening they are all experiencing.  

You can only hope that you won’t be missed because there’s no possibility of you being done with this…man…anytime soon.

A low, sexy laugh greets your ears as he closes the door behind you.  

“Don’t worry about your friends, doll.  They are being…taken care of.” 

Yeosang slips an arm around you, turning you to face him as he pulls you close.  

“We’ve barely spoken, and I’m all but giving myself to you…please tell me those fangs are the real thing…” 

You can’t stop your fingertips from skimming the seam of his lips, parting them to expose the pointed canines.  

He raises an eyebrow as you admire his teeth, opening his mouth for you to have better access.  

“And here I thought you wanted to admire my ears.” He laughs, his hands skimming down your sides as he playfully nips at your fingers.

“Oh, there’s a lot about you I want to admire.” You tease, glancing up to give him a little smirk.

 Before you can stop yourself, you press the pad of your thumb against one of his upper fangs.

The sharp thrill of the sting is followed by a bead of blood welling on the digit.  

His eyes dilate as you watch his reaction, pulling your hand back to run your bloodied thumb over your lower lip.  

Oh he likes that, you think a moment before his lips are on yours and a low growl is escaping his throat.  

His arms tighten around you as his tongue flicks over your lips, then plunges deep into your mouth.

You bring your hand up to tangle into his silky hair, twisting slightly and tugging as your tongues dance.

The ache in your abdomen grows as his hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers kneading and squeezing every inch of bare skin he finds.

You begin to back him up, subconsciously registering the nearest couch as your free hand pushes at his leather jacket.  

Not wasting a moment, he shrugs out of it, tossing it to the side before tugging your skirt up to squeeze your ass once more.  

As his knees hit the cushion of the couch, you take the opportunity to push him down in order to crawl on top of him and straddle him.

His soft laugh sizzles through your entire body, hitting you right at your core as you look down at him.  

“Seems I’m not the only hungry one here.” he hums as his gaze rakes over your body slowly.

You slip your shirt over your head, discarding it to join his jacket before rocking your hips against his leather clad lap.  

You elicit a groan for your efforts, and the large throbbing bulge tells you just how much you’re affecting him.

“Starving…” you whisper against his mouth before biting his lower lip.  

At this, his hands are suddenly tearing at your bra, then your skirt is bunched around your waist as his lips meet one of your exposed breasts.

Your head spins as his teeth nip at your taut nipple, soft moans already leaving your throat as you grind down onto him.  

Threading your fingers through his hair as you look down at him sucking and licking at your tit, you tug to get him to look up at you. 

“Bite…make it hurt…” you beg, the sight of his lips suckling at you driving you closer to losing your mind.  

His eyes dilate to the point of almost going pure ebony, and his hand is suddenly between you, yanking his button and zipper down to free himself. 

In one swift motion, he’s pushing your panties aside, then tugging you down on his thick cock as his teeth sink into the plump flesh below your nipple.  

The dual sensation of him filling and stretching you as well as the sharp pain of his teeth breaking your delicate skin has you already clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck-oh fuck Yeosang-don’t hold back…” you moan, clutching his shoulder as you rock your hips in a circle even as you start rising up and down on him.  

HIs hands grip your hips, guiding you but allowing you to lead as you ride him.  

Yanking back his head, you cry out at the sight of his red stained teeth, sharp and wet from your blood.  

“So fucking sexy, oh my god-” You moan, feeling the warm trickle of your blood dripping down from the bite.

His tongue darts out, licking his teeth as he watches you bounce on him, his husky groans mixing with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over.

“You taste like the dawn, sunrise.  As your name implies..” He growls, eyes rolling as you pulse around him.

Tugging his hair again as you feel your entire body shake from the pleasure, you force your fingers into his mouth to cut the tips deep enough to draw blood.

Hissing at the stinging pain of it, you clench tightly around him even as you bring your bleeding fingers between your tits, letting droplets of blood drip onto your flesh.

“FUCK-!” he growls deeply, fingers digging into your hips painfully, nostrils flaring as he throws his head back to admire you.  

“I must be fucking dreaming, oh fuck-” he moans as you bring your injured fingers to his lips.  

His tongue swirls around the tips, collecting the blood before sucking deeply on them, and your hips stutter at the pleasure combined with the pain of it.  

Pulling your fingers back, you bring them to your tits to trace along the skin, painting yourself in blood mixed now with his saliva.  

“If you think you’re leaving after this, sunshine, you’ve got another thing coming-” He warns, punctuating every other word with a thrust upwards even as he yanks you down onto him.

He sits up, hands slipping under your ass to take control of the pace as his tongue traces along the bloodied pattern you’ve traced along your tits.  

The ache between your legs begins to grow along with the pressure of your impending climax as he angles himself to hit your clit with every single thrust.

“Come for me, sunshine, drench me with that pretty pussy-” he growls with a shaking voice.

Wordless cries leave your lips as he licks the blood from your body, and when he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your breast, you finally feel the coil snap within you.

Screaming his name over and over, you cling to his shoulder, yanking his hair desperately as the huskiness of his voice just enhances your orgasm.

His hands leave your hips, arms sliding around you as he pulls you down onto him one last time before he cries out in his own pleasure.

Hot come fills you as he finally bursts, clutching you tightly as he brings his mouth to your neck and finally bites into your throat.  

Another wave of pleasure wracks your body as his fangs break the skin, forcing you into a second climax as he drinks from you.

Dizziness finally hits you as he parts from your neck, his tongue lapping at the wound as his hands slowly skim along your body.  

A soft whirring noise escapes you as he slowly flips you onto your back, his eyes going from sated to concerned as he looks you over.

You can’t help but giggle at the sight you probably pose, clothes a mess, blood smeared and bitten, leaking vampire come.

Yeosang goes from concern to amusement as he checks you over, shaking his head slightly at your reaction.

“Perhaps I drank too much…?” he inquires, raising one of those gorgeous eyebrows at you.  

You rake your gaze over him, lips stained crimson, leather pants yanked halfway down, half mast cock soaked with your combined releases.

You can’t help but bite your lip and giggle even harder.

He slips beside you on the wide couch cushion, pressing his face between your plush tits as he licks at the sweat and blood mixed on them.  

“I can’t wait to hear what kind of tales will come from tonight…” you hum, threading your fingers through his silky hair, “Next time, can we fuck on your bike?”

“Mmmmhmm…” is all he answers with, and you start giggling again.

“So does this mean you’re keeping me?” you ask him, recalling his earlier words.

“I’d like to see you try to get away, sunshine.  You’re mine now.” he growls, arms tightening around you possessively.

You should be afraid but…

Well, who doesn’t want to be claimed by a hot vampire biker?

[eggritos]

Staying anonymous for my safety (twt can be insane) but I just wanna let you know someone on twt reposted one of ur rewrite animations on twt but dubbed over it, it blew up on there and I think it's disrespectful that they probably didn't even ask permission from you to do all that so I just wanted to let you know incase. Here's a link to their post: https://x.com/DRCYBER0/status/1870314004138078444?t=YXftqUvzNCb-dB9gb8BFaA&s=19

Oh I've been seeing many reposts, most of them are also dubbed. It's not something that bothers me, I was not expecting the popularity the animation would gain though! I do find it disrespectful that they didn't credit. Even if my watermark is still there some ppl will still confuse the reposter as the animator. I uninstalled Twitter a while ago, so reaching me there is pointless, but I do appreciate the ppl who are linking the original and reinforming others!

Dubs are cool, and I've mentioned that permission isn't rly needed for them as long as credit is given. It is a way to have fun. But I was mostly talking about comic dubs, not animation dubs. There's not much I can do about reposts though. And I'm not mad or anything. Just don't claim to be the original artist when I'm right here!

Earlier someone else informed me that a doodle of mine was also reposted on twt. Specifically the one of my Shard redesign reading a book to Sage. It got a ton of attention but the reposter did credit and link the original post in the top comment. Now that wasn't a problem because more people got to find me through that! Which is why credit is always important.

Not everyone is going to search for the original artist and not much care either, but the ones who do are the ones who want to see more of that art. And the work for searching up the artist pays off as they are now able to enjoy more of it and support them. Giving credit makes the search easier, and proves someone else made it.

I'm not letting some reposts stop me, if anything it actually makes my work more known. The more I draw/animate the more my work will be seen, and that's all I want. Plus it's fun.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Christmas Eve // Quinn Hughes

be my date this Christmas Eve, be my holiday, my dream

summary: a heavy snowfall changes Quinn’s Christmas plans

warnings: light fluff, kissing and cuddling. Sorry it’s short! I just wanted to post something Christmas themed 🎄

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Quinn paced back and forth in front of the window, his phone glued to his ear. It was Christmas Eve and we were supposed to be heading to Michigan to spend the holidays with his family, but our plans might be changing despite our best efforts. Vancouver was covered in a heavy blanket of snow, not a single car was seen on the road all morning. Quinn gets off the phone, a small exhale left his lips as he walked towards me. I was buried under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate wrapped around my hands, doing anything I could to stay warm. Christmas music filled the room as I watched Quinn, he was stuck in his own head as he sat down beside me. My eyes never left his face, he bit his lower lip, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s deeply thinking.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Nothing is flying out of the airport right now, so it looks like we might be spending Christmas here.” His voice was low, almost like velvet. His face was hard to read, he looked upset our plans changed but also keen on us just staying in Vancouver. His hand traced small circles around my ankle as he locked his eyes with mine. They were the perfect shade of green, always adapting to whatever emotions he was feeling.

“I’m really sorry.” My heart sunk, I was looking forward to seeing his family again too. His parents welcomed me with open arms and his brothers treated me like I was the sister they never had. All I knew was that I had to help fill the void Quinn was going to feel not being with his family, and those were hard shoes to fill.

“It’s okay.” His words mumbled as he continued to chew on his lower lip. “I’m actually okay with us being here instead.”

Confused by his reaction, my head titled to the side, “what do you mean?”

“Every time we celebrate a holiday, or a birthday, I rarely get to have you alone.” His voice somehow lowered more, it was husky this time, making my stomach flutter. He guided my face towards him, pulling me into a delicate kiss. His lower lip, arguably my favourite part of his body above his belt envelopes my mouth so effortlessly.

We pulled apart briefly, my lips trailing his jaw this time, “that’s the whole point of the holidays though.”

“Yeah but…I’m tired of sharing you with everyone else.” he replied, brushing my hair out of my face so he could admire what was in front of him, “I love that my family adores you but I want you all to myself this Christmas Eve.”

He was right, every time we’ve gone out to celebrate something, we’re surrounded by our friends, his teammates or family. We should be so lucky that we have so many people that love us, but anytime we tried to have a moment alone we were interrupted by someone. Most birthday parties ended up with our friends sleeping on our couches, even our own bed and leaving us somehow separated. This might actually be our first time celebrating something together, with no interruptions.

“This is so tedious.”

I looked over at Quinn who was squinting as he iced some sugar cookies. He looked so adorable in the Christmas sweater I forced him to wear, I was gonna save it for tomorrow but now seemed like the perfect time to wear it. He looked like he belonged in a Christmas hallmark movie.

“You’re doing great.” I commented coming up behind him. He turned around and put some icing on my nose, making me grab some to return the favour.

“Let me taste test.” His tongue ran along my nose as he got rid of the icing. I went to do the same but he ran away from me.

“Quinn, get back here!” I yelled as he made his way into our room. He stopped, laughing like a little child until I pushed him onto the bed. I had him right where I wanted as I crawled over him, licking all the icing off his face. He squirmed but my thighs kept him locked into place. We fell into a fit of laughter, completely enjoying each others company.

“I made a call when you were in the shower.” Quinn said, breaking the silence as he propped himself up with his arm.

“About what?”

“I got the owner to let us have the rink so we can go skate before dinner…maybe pass the puck a little bit.”

“You’re so cute.” I mused, “always thinking about hockey.”

He licked his lips before his bright eyes looked into mine, “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise but I got you new skates I was hoping we could’ve used in Michigan. I guess our arena will have to do.”

A few hours later we were in the Canucks dressing room getting our skates on. Quinn rolled his eyes at me when I said I wanted to sit in JT Millers booth to put my skates on instead of his. He knew he was my favourite player besides him so he let it go. He placed my foot on his lap and he knelt down in front of me and tied my skates up. My stomach flipped just watching him so effortlessly tie them for me. As he finished he sat up and pressed his mouth gently to mine for the hundredth time today, but I didn’t care. My eyes fluttered shut, making me want to savour this moment with him.

“I’m gonna tell JT we kissed in his booth.” I snicked as we walked down the tunnel towards the ice.

Quinn just shakes his head as he opened the bench door for us, “you’re such a brat.”

He grabbed my hand and led me onto the ice. I admired the empty arena, it felt like a completely different place compared to how it was during a game. You could’ve heard a pin drop in here right now. We did a few laps around so I could break in my new skates. I was a pretty decent skater but I felt like Bambi compared to him.

“One on one?”

I just nod as Quinn passed me a stick. It was a little long for me but I was determined to make it work. He dumped a bucket of pucks onto the ice as he began to fish one out with his stick. I watched him, bewildered. The way he controlled the puck was so effortless. He looked up, cheeks flushed as he realized what I was doing.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I replied bashfully, “am I not allowed to admire my boyfriend’s stick work?”

“This is doing it for you?” He smirked, raising his eyebrow. “I do this every night.”

“I know.” I breathed. I’d be lying if I didn’t say watching him play was my biggest turn on, because it definitely was. “I guess I never get tired of it.”

Quinn threw a sarcastic remark at me, I rolled my eyes before he pulled me into a deep kiss. My stick dropped to the ice as my lips parted for his tongue that was begging to enter my mouth. Despite it being cold in here, my cheeks were completely flushed.

“I wanna take you home.”

“Soon.” I replied, grabbing my stick and slowly guiding a puck into the net. We played one on one for a good hour before we decided to go home. Quinn will never admit I scored more on him than he did on me, so I guess that will be our little secret…for now.

Our dinner wasn’t perfect. We had hardly any groceries considering we weren’t supposed to be in town. We found spring rolls in the freezer, made a small charcuterie board with cheese, crackers and grapes we had in the fridge. We polished off a bottle of red wine as we watched a few Christmas movies, both agreeing Christmas Vacation was our favourite. Our hands slowly wandered more and more during the movie as the wine started to hit us. Quinn swooped me up into his arms and brought me into our room, his lips never leaving mine. All the lights were out in our room, all you could see was the snow falling from the sky, Christmas lights in the distance, along with the pale glow of our tree from the living room. It illuminated Quinns face, making his eyes sparkle more that normal.

His movements were so slow, nothing could be heard but our laboured breaths. Quinns face was buried in my neck, his stubble that he’s been growing out more grazed against my skin. It felt rough, but I was so lost in his touch that it didn’t even phase me.

“It’s midnight.” Quinn whispered in my ear, his lips pressing into my neck, “Merry Christmas baby.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t spend it with your family.”

“It’s okay.” He replies, kissing my forehead before peering into my eyes, “spending today with you was the greatest gift of all.”

Quinn envelopes me into a hug as we began to fall into a blissful sleep, unaware of how much snow would fall during the night. Maybe sugar plums would dance in our heads but all I knew was my heart was full. I didn’t need a bunch of gifts under the tree, I had everything I needed, and he was wrapped up in my arms… the perfect present.

[olailamajnoon]

Steve, Part 2

Previous fic

Steve walked into the bathroom of the warehouse where Batman had stashed him. Stupid flightless birds, he muttered, thinking of Oswald Cobblepot and his giant drum belly. Thanks to you, I don't have place to hang my underwear. The lack of fucking clotheshooks inside the cold-ass bathroom annoyed him. Who wants to put their underwear on the floor while showering? And there was no bathtub. Fucking Penguin, and fucking Regina.

Regina, with her drop-down-dead beautiful eyes, and her soft gurgly voice. Her lips, the way they kissed him, like he was wanted and loved.

She had wanted a squirrel fur coat, and had made it the price of admission, and Steve, like a total chump, had taken the bait.

"Takeout!" someone called from the door. Steve stepped out of the shower hurriedly and put on his robe and tighty-whities. "Coming!" he called, hoping the voice belonged to the blue one, and not the red one who liked to poke fun at his—everything, really.

He breathed in. Why the fuck was he nervous? These guys had never hurt him. These guys were constitutionally incapable of hurting him. They treated him like a vulnerable bunny. Even the big strong one with the guns.

He walked into the warehouse's main room. (He was calling it the main room because he didn't know what else to call it. It was large and white and square, and main.) The lighting was dim and harsh at the same time, and the concrete walls and floor were hard and smelled old.

There were like nine bats. There were definitely nine. Steve could count. He realized what he must look like, in his tattered bathrobe.

"Nice robe, Steve," said Red Hood. Steve stuck his tongue out.

Batman turned around, and stared at Steve. He didn't feel as self-conscious as he probably should have.

"Do you need fresh clothes," said Batman. He had some kind of gadget in his hands.

So Batman had definitely noticed.

Steve tried to smile and act jolly, but the truth was the presence of nine bats had unnerved him. He knew one thing about the Batfamily—they usually operated in twos or threes. Unless...there was a Gotham-wide operation, which could only mean one thing. A disaster. A cataclysm of epic proportions.

"What's going on? Can I help?" he asked, his smile too wide, his face way too happy.

"No," said Red Hood and Red Robin together, and then frowned at each other.

"Help how?" asked Nightwing. "You've already given us all the information on Penguin you could. Thanks to you, we took down his waterfront businesses. All of them."

Steve glowed at this praise. Then he collected his face, and composure. "I could go places you people can't. Perp habitats. Henchmen bars. Hellholes. I can be of use to you."

"Why," said Batman.

"Why?" Steve was confused. Also the heater was off, and he was standing in the middle of a cold warehouse trembling, but he didn't want Batman to see and think he was afraid or some shit. He wondered how soon he could get into his clothes. The bats seemed to be wearing insulated suits, the bastards.

"Why do you want to be of use," Batman said, as if repeating himself.

"I dunno," said Steve, shrugging. He breathed out. "Maybe cause you gave me another chance."

Batman looked at him steadily, not saying anything. Just looking with his arms crossed.

"Everyone deserves another chance," said Orphan gently.

"Yeah, well. It's whatever, you know," said Steve, embarrassed there were suddenly tears in his eyes. He didn't want to cry big man-tears in front of Batman.

"Fine," said Batman. "You might be of use."

"Really?"

"Yes. If you prove reliable, there may be a place for you. Keep out of the line of sight, and wear a mask."

Wait.

Holy fuck.

A mask?

"Yessir," said Steve. "Yes, yes sir."

"You will also—" Batman seemed to bore into Steve's eyes, "—not ask any questions that are not relevant to you, or try to ascertain our identities in any way."

"Uh—okay."

"Trust is built, Steve. My trust is limitless, once I extend it to someone, but it takes time to create."

Steve sighed happily. Batman was trying to trust him. He tried to remember the last time anyone had tried to trust him, really trust him. "I won't let you down, sir," he said.

"I hope you won't," said Batman, rather softly.

Steve turned around to go to his room to get dressed, but then he turned around. "Just one thing."

Batman cocked his head.

"I totally get it. The secret identities and all. But—" he swallowed. "I have no one to tell. I'm isolated from my family and friends, I can't ever return to them. I'm completely cut-off. So. You know. Even if I ever knew. Your secrets are safe with me."

"We'll see," said Batman shortly. "For now, you will operate under me. I'll see what can be done, about...other things."

He thinks I'm lonely, Steve realized. He thinks I'm complaining. But he doesn’t know that for the first time in my life, I don’t have to watch my back. I don’t have to keep up appearances. I’m totally fucking alone...

...and somehow, I’m fucking okay.

[okaysonny]

the one where they lose yenna ╎ zack + johan

❤️ @always-lovingly — hope you like it!

ᯓ★ summary: eli bestows zack with the greatest honour: babysitting yenna. nothing will go wrong, right?

ᯓ★ details: fluff, no reader, spoilers for 517 onwards, canon dynamics. (aka zack and johan's relationship is platonic)

ᯓ★ wc: 3.4k - on the longer side...sorry

ᯓ★ A/N: I HATED MAKING THIS!!! comedy is really hard to write + i feel like i waffled too much... made a post about it, but this fic is drawn from s2, ep6 of friends (the one with the baby on the bus)

how did they get ben back with no paperwork/confirmation? idk but it makes my job easier #yes

divider: @thecutestgrotto

"what? you want me to look after zami tomorrow?"

"…her name is yenna" eli smiles at him sheepishly. "and yes. i have to unexpectedly work at the fruit stall. derek got a stomach bug and there's no one to cover for him. plus, the daycares closed on saturdays. would you mind?"

"…eli…i can't believe this…"

of course. eli should've expected this. what eighteen year old wants to spend their saturday babysitting?

"sorry zack. don't worry about it. i'll get someone else to— "

"i can't believe you're trusting me to babysit zam— i mean yenna!" a beam of light is practically shining on him.

eli blinks. he swears he can see zack's eyes well up.

"do you really trust me to? you really think i'm worthy?!"

well, he wasn't expecting that. eli laughs softly, shaking his head. "well…you visit her a lot and you're really great with her. i think you'd do a good job"

zack covers his mouth, trying not to cry in front of the beauty department's only guy. he does visit yenna a lot. how can he not? the fact that the baby he found happened to be eli's daughter…it felt like fate.

he coughs into his hand, composing himself, before looking at eli with determination - the determination of being the best babysitter in the world. "…it would be my honour"

eli smiles softly. he was hesitant in entrusting yenna with someone who misnames her half the time. but now, he doesn't regret it one bit.

"…thanks, zack"

"oh…you really came prepared, huh?"

zack has come prepared. he still owns that baby carrier from before. he also wears something without buttons this time. and he still uses gel, but not too much gel, because the spikes could stab her.

"of course!" he nods enthusiastically. "only the best for zam— yenna! mesh ventilation to ensure maximum comfort!"

eli can't help but chuckle. "that's…very nice of you"

with one hand, eli hands zack a list of instructions and a bag of supplies. his other hand is holding yenna, as adorable as she always is.

"…if anything happens, call me. i'll try make it back as soon as possible" he hesitantly hands yenna over, her little hands grabbing at zack's face.

"ba!" she squeals.

his eyes light up. "zam— yenna!" he cradles her head gently. "don't worry, eli ! she's safe with me!"

he nods, exhaling slowly. he reaches out to stroke her hair fondly. "you have a good time with uncle zack, okay? i'll be back before you know it" he whispers.

eli steps back, checking the time on his phone. "shoot, i need to go. you'll be fine, right?"

zack grins, using yenna's hand to give him a little wave. "yes, yes. go and chop fruit or whatever"

eli waves back and zack watches as his figure slowly gets smaller. he looks down at her, speaking with conviction.

"alright, zami. uncle zack will give you the best day of your life"

"what the hell, man? why'd you bring a baby here?"

okay, so saturday just happened to coincide with his study session. but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

zack hastily covers her ears. "don't swear in front of yenna! this is eli's daughter, y'know?! i'm an uncle on babysitting duty"

johan looks down at yenna with a mix of contempt and confusion, her big eyes staring back at him.

"ba?"

she's holding a baton with the top of a toy wand attached to it. his brows furrow, remembering his fight with eli.

Are you messing with me? What's with the toy?

whoops. in his defense, how was he meant to know?

johan sighs in exasperation and closes his book. "we're not getting anything done if she's here. by the way, don't expect me to help, alright? you're on your own"

"hmph. yenna doesn't want to hear your obscenities anyway" he pats her head protectively.

he rolls his eyes. "yeah, okay"

yenna suddenly starts smacking her baton-wand against the edge of the table, the smile never leaving her face.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

zack stares at the wand, already dented from her relentless attack on the furniture.

"alright yenna, that's enough of that" he says nervously, gently prying it out of her hand. she immediately starts to fuss, her big eyes tearing up.

johan glares at him. "nice job, genius. now she's going to cry"

"hush!" zack snaps. he waves the wand awkwardly in front of yenna’s face. "see, yenna? it's all better!"

yenna, unimpressed, lets out a wail that could rival a siren.

johan groans and presses his fingers to his temples. "you need to get something to keep her quiet. a softer toy maybe"

zack perks up at the suggestion. "hey, we should go to the city! we can grab something real quick!"

"we?"

"yes, we. you're not sitting on your ass while i do this alone" he grumbles.

johan stares at him in disbelief, but yenna’s cries grow louder, and he visibly gives in. “fine. but if she screams on the bus, i'm out”

zack grins, already packing up. he turns to yenna with a cheerful voice. "alright princess, let’s go find you the perfect toy!"

"...gross"

"you're gross" he mumbles, as they make their way to the bus stop.

zack awkwardly adjusts the baby carrier strapped to his chest, yenna wriggling furiously against him.

“why is she squirming so much?” johan asks, sitting in the seat across from him, his arms folded.

“she’s probably uncomfortable” zack shifts the straps again. yenna lets out an irritated whine, kicking her tiny feet against his stomach. “c’mon, work with me here…”

johan leans back. “maybe she can sense you have no idea what you’re doing”

“real helpful, johan. you wanna take over?” he glares at him while holding the carrier steady.

“pass”

“yeah, that’s what i thought” zack adjusts the carrier again, but yenna’s whining only gets louder. people start glancing over, their expressions ranging from amused to annoyed.

“okay, okay. hang on” he sighs in defeat, unbuckling the straps, gently lifting yenna out of the carrier and onto his lap.

“so now you’re happy, huh?” zack mutters. yenna’s only response is a delighted giggle as she smacks his knee with her baton-wand.

“you’re spoiling her” johan comments, deadpan.

“what do you know about babies, johan?”

he shrugs. "if you say so"

yenna, meanwhile, starts squirming again, clearly eager to explore her surroundings.

“you wanna stretch those tiny legs?” zack carefully sets her down on the floor of the bus. she stands unsteadily for a moment, then takes a few steps, laughing as she bangs her toy against the metal pole by their seats.

“...are you seriously letting her walk around here?”

“she needs some freedom!” zack defends himself, his eyes flicking between yenna and johan. "she's only a baby, it’s not like she’s gonna go far"

“...right”

“calm down. i'm watching her!” zack beams confidently, leaning back in his seat while keeping one eye on yenna.

for a moment, the two of them sit in silence, the bus rumbling along as she continues her wobbly exploration of the aisle.

“...y’know, you’re pretty calm for someone who's scared of babies”

johan shoots him a glare. “i’m not scared of babies”

“you totally are! the look on your face when she said ‘ba’ was priceless”

johan’s eyes narrow. “keep talking and i’ll make you ‘ba’ yourself”

they continue bickering, their voices overlapping as yenna toddles around the aisle, occasionally smacking the bus poles with her baton-wand.

the bus screeches to a halt at their stop. zack stands up, slinging the bag full of baby supplies over his shoulder. "alright, this is us"

johan follows closely behind as they get off, stepping onto the bustling city street. the sound of car horns and chatter fill the air, and zack immediately starts scanning the area.

“so” johan drawls, looking around. “what exactly are we looking for? a squeaky duck? a magic wand that doesn’t double as a weapon?”

“something soft, like you said” zack adjusts the straps of the carrier on his shoulder. "i never want to hear that banging noise again"

johan opens his mouth to speak, but pauses. his eyes flick down, then back up to zack, his face suddenly paling.

“...zack?” his voice is unusually tense.

“what?” zack asks distractedly, glancing around for a toy store.

johan's face is laced with panic.

“where’s the baby?”

“what are you talking about? she’s right—”

but she isn't. he glances down at the empty carrier on his shoulders, his voice catching in his throat.

we left her on the bus.

"johan, you rat!" zack snarls. "how could you forget about our child?"

"how the fuck is this my fault? you’re the one babysitting her!" johan snarls back. "and what do you mean our child?"

the argument attracts curious stares from passerby.

zack waves his hand dismissively, his movements frantic. "who cares?!" he yells, sprinting off. "we need to catch that fucking bus!"

zack hears johan groan, but his footsteps quickly follow after, the bus luckily still in sight as it makes a turn.

"it's fine!" zack pants. "we just need to alert the bus driver and it'll be fine!"

they turn around the corner, but stop in their tracks.

they're both flabbergasted as it's joined by two other identical buses on their route, the traffic blocking the vehicles out of sight regardless. something out of a 90's sitcom.

zack's lip begins to tremble. he's a dead man. will he die without knowing mira's touch?

he aggressively shakes his fist at the sky. "OH COMPASSIONATE BUDDHA!!! why have you forsaken me?"

"...what the fuck? relax. let's just..." johan pants, trying to catch his breath. "let's just think, okay? there's gotta be a way to fix this"

they both stand in contemplation.

they can fix this, right?

"thank you! please come again~" eli hands over the bag of fruit cheerfully, waving the customer goodbye.

his smile falters.

strange. he suddenly has a weird feeling.

he shakes his head, shrugging it off. it's probably nothing, he says to himself.

"the transit authority!" zack exclaims, an imaginary light bulb appearing on his head. "the bus drivers' hand all lost property to them. we just need to call and let them know we left a baby! she has to be with them! no idiot would leave a baby on the bus!"

johan nods, both of them blissfully unaware of the irony. "i was gonna say that"

zack scoffs. "sure you were. now, all we need to do is—"

zack's phone rings. he looks at the screen, his eyes widening in horror.

"i-it's eli" he stammers.

a smile tugs on johan's lips, slightly amused. he gestures to the phone. "answer it. it's gonna look suspicious if you don't"

zack glares at him, but doesn't argue. he breathes out slowly before accepting it.

"eli !" his voice is incredibly high pitched. "what's up? shouldn't you be chopping lemons or something?"

"i'm on my break" he laughs. "i just wanted to check in. is everything okay, zack?"

"everything's fine!" he chirps. "me and yenna are having a great time!"

"...that's good. would you mind putting her on the phone? i want to hear her voice" he says gently.

fuck.

johan smirks, not even trying to hide it anymore, watching zack in anticipation.

zack closes his eyes, pausing.

he does the only thing that comes to mind, shoving the phone near johan's mouth. the latter's face drops.

what the hell are you doing? he mouths.

zack covers the phone so eli can't hear.

"act like a baby" he hisses.

"over my dead body"

"just do it, you hobo! or i'll tell your mom you failed english again" he glares.

"...you wouldn't"

"wanna find out?"

"um...zack?" eli speaks up again. "what's going on? is she—"

"...goo goo?" johan squeaks, removing zack's hand from the speaker.

zack winces. he's heard better acting in porn.

radio silence.

"is she okay? she sounds a bit—"

"i think she needs a diaper change! bye eli !" he hangs up quickly.

johan stares daggers at him, his cheeks slightly flushed. "i'm gonna beat your ass"

zack shrugs, googling the number for the transit authority. "you can beat my ass after we find zami"

"...i thought her name was yenna?"

the human resources department is a picture of monotony, the ticking of the clock being the loudest sound in the room. the clerk behind the desk often jokes to himself that he lives in a time loop. every day was the same — forms to file, complaints to process, and the occasional awkward phone call. nothing ever changes, and he's stopped expecting it to.

until today.

the phone on his desk buzzes, cutting through the endless drone of routine.

“transit authority here” the caller begins briskly. “we’ve got a...situation. someone called claiming they left a baby on one of our buses”

the man blinks, the pen in his hand frozen mid-air. “a baby?”

“yeah. a little girl. we’ve got her safe now, but we’re bringing her over to your department, since...you know, you handle these things” the voice sounds exasperated, as if they can’t believe they're saying this either.

he swivels slightly in his chair, still trying to process the information. “so, wait. someone just...left their baby on the bus?”

“that’s what we’ve been told” the caller says with an audible sigh. “the guy on the phone sounded panicked. i told him to go to your building”

"...what kind of idiot leaves their baby on a bus?"

“i’m asking myself the same question”

hanging up the phone, the clerk leans back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.

this is new.

he glances at the clock, bracing himself for what kind of man would walk through the door.

or men, he should say.

the door to the department bursts open, startling the clerk so badly he nearly knocks over his coffee. his head snaps up, expecting one man, but instead, there were two.

they both look like they just sprinted a marathon. the first, a broad shouldered guy with a baby carrier strapped awkwardly across his chest, is hunched over, gasping for air. his face bore the genuine panic of someone who just lost something irreplaceable.

the second young man follows behind him, his sharp eyes darting around the room, like he’d rather be anywhere else.

the clerk stares at them, dumbfounded, as they both stand there panting. finally, he clears his throat, glancing at the baby carrier. “so… i’m guessing you’re here for the baby?”

"y-yes! the baby...we called about the baby! is she here?" zack heaves.

"...she's here"

zack and johan sigh in relief.

"is one of you the father?"

zack rubs his neck shyly. "ah...well no, but we know her very well. can we collect her?"

the older man crosses his arms. "if neither of you are, you'll need to call one of her parents, so we can confirm guardianship"

fuck.

zack looks at johan in wordless communication. it'll be awkward. it'll be difficult. but they both know what they have to do.

"w-what i meant to say was..." zack slowly wraps an arm around johan's shoulder, cursing his sudden high pitched voice. "we're actually both the fathers"

zack leans his head against johan's, trying to control his trembling lip as he smiles sweetly.

the clerk presses his own lips into a thin line, not looking convinced.

johan sighs and briefly scrunches his nose before laying his hand on top of zack's, leaning into his touch. his smile is incredibly fake and plastered. he's afraid he'll commit murder otherwise.

"mhm..." johan manages to croak out.

radio silence.

if the clerk doesn't believe them, it seems he doesn't care enough to press further. he shrugs, gesturing to the door at the back. "alright. right this way—"

that's all they need to hear before they bolt to the door, flinging it open.

yenna is sitting on a small cot, gripping her beloved baton-wand in one hand. she’s completely unbothered, her big eyes scanning the room with innocent curiosity. she gives the wand a few lazy taps against the cot, unaware of the trouble they had to go through.

the moment zack spots her, he rushes over, scooping her up without hesitation. “yenna! we’re so sorry! your uncles are so sorry” he says, his voice filled with guilt. he hugs her tightly, rocking her gently. “uncle zack won't let this happen again, okay? never, ever”

standing just behind him, johan watches silently. "...you’re so ridiculous" he mutters. but zack knows he doesn't mean it. he knows him too well to not spot the softness in his voice.

he doesn’t look back, too wrapped up in stroking yenna's back. "couldn't care less, mommy's boy"

as zack shifts yenna in his arms, her tiny hand stretches out behind him, her fingers reaching for johan. johan hesitates for a moment, glancing down at her outstretched hand, before gently taking her little fingers in his big ones. the room is quiet, the world around them seeming to pause.

johan’s lips curve into a small, genuine smile, one he doesn’t realise he’s wearing. he gently plays with her fingers, a silent exchange passing between them.

zack glances over his shoulder and freezes when he spots it.

a slow grin spreads across his face. “i knew it!” he blurts out, triumphant. “i knew you secretly felt the same way!”

johan's ears turn faintly pink but he doesn't let go of yenna’s hand. “...shut up”

zack snickers. “you don’t fool me anymore! everyone knows you’re actually a big softie”

johan grits his teeth, his grip not leaving her fingers. "whatever, man"

they don't see the clerk silently watching them through the door, his hand hovering over its knob.

he did think they were lying. they were way too jittery to be convincing.

but the sight of the scene made him stop. the broader one, cradling the baby so protectively and murmuring apologies with a guilt-stricken face.

the other, quieter one, gently holding the baby’s hand with a softness that doesn’t match his standoffish appearance.

it’s a moment so tender, so raw, that the clerk pauses, his hand lowering from the door knob. maybe he was being too narrow-minded.

he shakes his head with a bemused smile and turns away, leaving them to their privacy. as he walks back to his desk, he mutters to himself.

"what a progressive world we live in"

after parting ways with johan, who pats yenna's head for a little too long, he sits on a bench, waiting for eli's return.

"okay zami. you had a good time with uncle zack and uncle johan, alright? nothing crazy happened"

"ba!" she chirps back, as if she understands.

zack nods solemnly. "good"

"zack! hey!"

he sees eli walk over, sally with him.

zack spots eli's jaw tense a little less as he sees yenna safe and sound. she instantly reaches out, squealing at the sight of him.

"there you are..." eli beams, gently carrying her. "did you have a good time with uncle zack?" he says softly.

yenna aggresively shakes the wand in response.

he laughs and then looks up at zack. "so, how was it? did she give you much trouble?"

he waves a hand dismissively. "of course not! cool as a breeze. no problems at all"

"wow" sally grins. "eli, you should have him babysit more often!"

eli smiles, his gaze shifting back to yenna. "yeah...thanks a lot zack. i was worried because you hung up suddenly...i guess i was just being paranoid"

i'm off the hook! zack tries not to appear too excited.

he sighs, looking pleased with himself. "psh. don't worry. just had to focus all my attention on her. i'd never leave her out of my sight"

he nods, removing some lint from her clothes. "yeah, i get it. seriously, thanks a—"

he pauses, his smile suddenly dropping.

"hey zack?"

"...yes?" he looks up in anticipation.

is he gonna promote me as official babysitter?

eli turns yenna around, lifting her dress up slightly to reveal a big, bold PROPERTY OF HUMAN SERVICES stamp.

"what's this?" he asks, his voice a little too sweet.

zack's face drops. he can feel comical sweat beads appearing on his forehead.

"w-well that's uh..." he begins, but the words don't form.

eli silently hands yenna to sally, the grin now wiped clean from her face, being replaced with awkwardness instead.

eli smiles at him as he walks closer, pulling his sleeves up and cracking his knuckles.

"sally? please cover her eyes" he says quietly, his stare never leaving zack.

"wait eli !" he splutters. "let's just talk about this! it was—"

PUNCH

"owww! fuck! okay fine! just watch the hair—"

PUNCH

A/N: posted this on boxing day because zack is a BOXER 💜

[imagrindylow]

Secret Santa

Percy Weasley / Marcus Flint 2.5k Words Content Warnings: None, it's just fluff. Summary: Oliver signs up Marcus for the Hogwarts gift exchange as a prank, but things end up going better than expected for Marcus and his secret Santa. A/N: 🎅🎄 Merry Christmas! 🎅🎄

~~~~~

“Did you sign up for the gift exchange?” Percy asked Oliver, raising a brow and glancing up over his transfiguration textbook at the other boy as he took a seat across from him at their usual table in the library.

Did Percy honestly think that Oliver would be one to sign up for some silly gift exchange ? He had more important things to think about, like Quidditch, revising, and just… literally anything else…

Oliver shook his head, letting out a huff that would answer the question before his words ever did. “Absolutely not. Can’t be arsed to go Christmas shopping for some random sod,” he said, pulling out class notes from his bag that needed another once over before an upcoming quiz.

Percy’s lips pulled into a thoughtful line and he eyed the boy across from him, almost disbelieving. “I could have sworn I saw you dropping a slip into the box in the Great Hall. Perhaps I was mistaken?”

“Oh, that you did. Wasn’t my name, though,” Oliver admitted, stifling a snicker with his hand. He didn’t care to elaborate just yet, giving Percy room for the lecture he knew was imminent. 

Percy groaned at Oliver’s admission, his forehead hitting his palm as his elbow moved to rest on the table. “You wrote someone else's name down? You know that isn’t allowed,” he said with a sigh. “Now, what if this person – who might not have planned on participating – doesn’t follow through with getting a gift for who they’re assigned? You’re going to ruin someone’s Christmas.” 

“Oh Merlin . As though the professors would let anyone go without a gift after having signed up. It’ll work out just fine, just you watch,” Oliver assured him, appearing unbothered and still quite smug about what he’d done, while also being thoroughly amused with Percy’s dramatic take on what was little more than a silly little prank.

“Who’s name did you even put down?” Percy wondered, staring across the table at Oliver, not even trying to hide the judgment on his face. 

“Flint’s,” Oliver said, a boyish giggle escaping his lips, one that made him glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t caught the attention of the librarian.

Percy gaped at Oliver, staring at him disapprovingly over the rim of his glasses as they slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Did you really need to add fuel to the fire?” He asked, adjusting his glasses back into place before closing his textbook. “Why would you do that?”

“He’ll never know it’s me, for one, and for two, it’s all just strategy,” Oliver said, tapping a finger to his temple and smirking at Percy, before continuing on explaining his thoroughly devised plan. 

“Picture it, he’ll get a letter with the name of the person he's assigned to get a gift for, and he’ll be so confused – because let's face it – there was no way he was going to sign up to participate. Maybe he’ll stress about it, try to tell Snape there was a mistake or something, that he didn’t actually sign up, but by then it’ll be too late. He’ll be on the hook because he won’t want to look like more of an arsehole than he already does. He’ll be distracted, and the less he’s thinking about quidditch, the better it is for me. For Gryffindor.”

Percy had to admit, Oliver was great at planning, and as it were, scheming. Percy’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit as he tried to hide the grin threatening to split his face, but he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “That isn’t funny, Oliver.”

“Whatever you say, Perce. I just feel sorry for the poor soul who has to buy something for him,” Oliver said, quite pleased with himself for managing to make Percy crack a bit with his antics.

~~~

“This is all your fault!” Percy said harshly, sliding onto the bench beside Oliver in the Great Hall for lunch one afternoon, a week before Christmas holiday. There was a slip of parchment clutched in his hand, which he slammed on the table in front of Oliver, making the other boy’s teacup clink against its saucer.

“What are you on about?” Oliver asked, looking to Percy then to the paper he’d been so aggressively presented with. Oliver nearly choked on his bread when he saw Flint’s name scrawled on the parchment in his very own handwriting, along with the very short and made-up list of gift ideas for the Slytherin that he’d come up with. “Oh… Well, that is… Hmm. I didn’t think you’d–”

“No, you didn’t think, did you? Now I have to get him a gift. I’m making you shop with me, you bloody nitwit,” Percy spat, his face flushed both from annoyance and some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place. 

“I didn’t know you’d even signed up,” Oliver said, as though this would help. He watched as Percy stabbed at a piece of meat on the serving platter and brought it to his plate and he couldn’t help but wonder if Percy had been picturing stabbing something else just then. “I’ll shop with you.”

“Of course I signed up, I’m Head Boy . I wanted to set a good example for the prefects – to get participation up across all of the houses,” he scolded, then dug into his lunch, keeping his eyes on his plate for fear that his eyes would reveal a bit too much of what he was thinking – that he wasn’t actually upset with who he’d gotten assigned to.

“I just can’t believe out of everyone, you got assigned to him,” Oliver muttered. “I wonder who he got.”

Percy wondered too.

~~~

Percy hadn’t paid much mind to Marcus before this week… Sure, he was familiar enough with the Slytherin, he’d often hear Oliver ranting about the other boy, especially post quidditch matches. And yes, Percy had seen him fly and had thought about that a good deal. But appreciating one’s form while flying was hardly the same as sitting and wondering about one’s inner workings, likes, and dislikes. 

But because of his dorm mate, now Percy was forced to think about the other boy much more than he’d wanted to. How do you pick a Christmas gift for someone who’s family is so wealthy and could already buy him whatever he wanted, especially when there wasn’t a relationship there to draw personal or sentimental ideas from? Hell, there wasn’t a friendship there at all , which was making this whole thing feel awkward and weird . 

But perhaps the most awkward and weird thing was currently happening inside of Percy’s own head. He truly wanted to get the other boy a gift he’d enjoy, he wanted to see Marcus smile while opening the gift. He wanted to be the reason behind it. 

Weird, weird, weird.

Percy meandered around Hogsmeade with Oliver, who begrudgingly came along for the shopping trip, a mixture of being true to his word and feeling absolutely guilty for Percy inadvertently becoming the butt of this little prank.

“Do you think he’d want quidditch things?” Percy wondered, stopping to window shop outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies. 

“I don’t care if he would or not, you’re not getting him anything that could put him at an advantage in the matches,” Oliver warned, shooting a glare at the taller boy. The audacity of even suggesting such a thing. For someone so brilliant, Percy could really be stupid at times, Oliver thought to himself.

“You could get him a beautification potion. See if it does anything for those gnashers of his,” Oliver suggested with a smirk as they resumed walking the cobbled streets together.

Percy scrunched his nose at the idea, failing to find it amusing. He’d never admit it, but generally speaking, he found prominent facial features attractive and quite endearing. GENERALLY SPEAKING. He absolutely didn’t find Marcus or his teeth attractive in any way. What a silly fleeting thought. He shook his head, as though it would manually remove the idea from his brain.

“I wonder what his favorite sweets are?” Percy wondered out loud, not dignifying Oliver’s previous comment with a remark. He led the way towards Honeydukes and grabbed a small shopping basket as he passed through the doors. 

“Bloody hell mate, you’re picking out a Secret Santa gift for Marcus Flint of all people. Not a gift for someone you actually fancy. Just grab something. Could be anything,” Oliver advised and grabbed a basket of his own. He wouldn’t pass up the chance to grab some chocolate frogs and jelly slugs for stocking stuffers for his family, planning to bring them back home with him over Christmas hols. 

Perusing the shop's aisles, Percy added a few things to his basket – a variety of chocolates and candies – hoping that at least something would hit the mark for Marcus. He didn’t want to spend too much of the recommended budget on sweets, though, that was too easy of an out, he thought. 

The boys checked out of Honeydukes with their goodies, and after far too much mulling around the village, Percy finally decided on some Self Correcting Ink – something he found quite useful for quick yet accurate note taking in his classes – and a pair of dueling gloves, in addition to the sweets, to gift to Marcus. These were all things he’d thought Marcus would both use and enjoy. Without personal knowledge of the other boy’s likes and hobbies (besides quidditch, of course) Percy defaulted to practical gifts. Things he’d use, himself.

~~~

Participants in the gift exchange met in the Great Hall following dinner the evening before students were permitted to head back home for the holidays. The head table was littered with wrapped gifts of all sizes, and the heads of houses were gathered round to pass out gifts to their recipients.

Percy sat with the other Gryffindors as one by one, the gifts were handed out, keeping a close eye on packages that were carried to the Slytherin table, not wanting to miss Marcus opening what he’d got him. 

Percy was pleasantly surprised, actually, to see that Marcus seemed to be in good spirits as he waited to receive his gift. He was chatting with a girl beside him who’s name Percy didn’t know, and watching with everyone else as various other classmates of theirs opened their gifts.

It wasn’t too long before Percy watched Snape pick up Marcus’ gift and carry it over to him. Percy had wrapped the package with plain brown paper and finished it off with a green bow.  Why was he so anxious seeing Marcus tug loose the ribbon? It wasn’t often that his stomach felt fluttery yet here he was, his insides squirming as he watched from across the room Marcus ripping the paper from the box and pawing through the sweets inside. 

Marcus was smiling, and it looked good on him. The Slytherin read the label on the Self Correcting Ink bottle and gave a subtle nod, then showed the bottle to the girl beside him. Unsurprisingly, he looked most pleased when he pulled the dueling gloves from the box. He tried them on right away and splayed his fingers in the leather before closing his fist. The action made Percy shiver, and he learned something about himself just then.

Percy immediately looked away when Marcus looked up and started scanning the Great Hall, clearly trying to catch eyes with whoever had bought him the gifts. He knew he’d have to approach the other boy once all of the gifts had been opened, but for now, his stomach was far too fluttery to look at him.

Percy was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice when his own gift was placed down in front of him on the table. His gift was neatly wrapped in red paper and was quite weighty. It was a book, he knew as soon as he picked it up, and tearing back the wrapping paper would only prove him right. It was a hardback copy of a muggle fiction novel that Percy had read many times, but this one was nicer than the copy the library had, the copy that he was used to. The cover had golden inlaying and smelled of real leather. Who the hell was this from? 

Percy looked up, scanning the room and tuning out the chatter of his classmates around him, who were busy opening their own gifts and speculating with their friends. He first checked the Ravenclaw table, catching eyes with Penelope Clearwater, who only shook her head and shrugged when Percy gave her questioning brows. 

He glanced next at Marcus, mostly just to check that he was still enjoying his presents and caught the boy sinking his teeth into a chocolate frog. They made eye contact and Marcus smiled again , this time definitely at Percy. Weird. 

Percy sat quietly with his book until finally all of the gifts in the exchange had been opened, and it was time to reveal himself to Marcus. His stomach still felt lighter than the rest of his insides, and this was doing odd things to his heartbeat. Why was Marcus coming over here? Percy was supposed to be going towards him.

“Like it?” Marcus asked, standing beside where Percy sat, one hand on his hip, and his gift box tucked under his other arm. He had a smug grin on his face that said he knew he’d done well.

“This is from you?” Percy asked, looking up at the other boy before finally getting to his feet. Sitting down while Marcus was standing just felt funny. Percy wasn't used to feeling small.

“It was. So?” Marcus asked again, now having to look up at Percy. 

“I love it. How’d you know?”

Marcus let out a proud little huff. “Asked Pince what your most checked out book was. Figured you’d need your own copy. You’re too easy to buy for.” 

Percy was completely shocked with this information, and he could feel his cheeks going red. Had it really been that simple? Oliver would be upset to hear that signing Marcus up for the gift exchange hadn't been a distraction for him after all, it would seem.

“Thats– I mean–” Percy shook his head. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Marcus said. The Slytherin looked around, noticing that no one else had approached the pair, leading him to the conclusion that Percy must have been his secret Santa as well. He raised his brow at Percy expectantly.

“Oh, yeah. Yours are from me, too, actually,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, I hope you like everything?”

“I do, you did good, Weasley, I’m impressed,” Marcus said, the faintest blush gracing his cheeks as he glanced at the box tucked under his arm. He looked Percy over, seeming to be sizing him up. “Happy Christmas, Percy.”

Hearing his first name on Marcus’ lips did something funny to Percy’s stomach, which was already unsettled as it was. And the boys blush? Bloody hell. He was done for. This whole gift exchange thing had gone even better than he’d expected. He’d need to make it a point to find out Marcus’ birthday, as well.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus."

[fanofstuff01]

(Here it is! Hope you enjoy part one! 😉)

They hadn’t meant to get caught. 

It just happened, one minute him and Lilith were busy making sweet love to one another, the next Adam was screaming,

Adam: There they are! I told you! 

And suddenly he and Lilith were surrounded by all of Lucifer’s elder brothers and sisters. Their sharp eyes glowing in rage at the sight of their union. However, what truly caught his attention was Adam. He wasn’t looking at either of them in anger or disgust, but of genuine sorrow. Tears shone through the first man's eyes as he tried to look away from the scene of betrayal but couldn’t. 

 Which confused the angel deeply. He thought he'd be angry at them. He’d curse them, shout at them, tell Lucifer that Lilith was his wife, not his. However none of what he predicted happened. It made no sense, Lilith told him that Adam was possessive and tried to control her interactions with Lucifer whenever the Angel was away. His reaction, plain and simple, didn't make any sense. 

He didn’t have to think about it for long as soon someone much more powerful than all the angels descended upon the mortal plane in all his glory. 

His Father

Lucifer tried not to let his fear slip through and tried to get himself and Lilith to bow. However, Lilith did not move an inch, no matter how hard he pulled on her arms and begged in whispers. She simply stared at her creator as if he was nothing. 

“LILITH, LUCIFER YOU HAVE BOTH COMMITTED A GREAT CRIME. THE CRIME OF ADULTERY.  LUCIFER YOU HAVE TEMPTED THE FIRST WOMAN WITH THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT OF YOUR LOINS AND IT HAD ALREADY AFFECTED HER. SHE, LIKE YOU, IS NO LONGER PURE. FOR SHE HAS SINNED. YOU BOTH HAVE. FOR THAT PUNISHMENT SHALL HE BROUGHT UPON THE BOTH OF YOU. THAT PUNISHMENT WILL BE OF COURSE, BANISHMENT YOU ARE TO NEVER SET FOOT IN THE PLACE THAT YOU CALLED HOME AGAIN. 

Lucifer: NO! Please understand Father. Lilith and I, we are in love! Adam wished to control her! But I saved her. In turn She saved me. She understands me like no one else. We simply wish to.

“I AM WELL AWARE OF WHAT YOU AND LILITH WISH FOR. INDIVIDUALLY. HOWEVER, MY PUNISHMENT WAS NOT JUST FOR HER LUCIFER THE MORNINGSTAR. OR AS THE PROPER TERM NOW WOULD BE FORMER MORNINGSTAR. 

He then reached down and placed a gentle hand on his son’s head. Lucifer started to feel tingly all over as he felt all his energy drain from him. 

“LUCIFER, HEAVEN’S ONCE SHINING STAR AND ANGEL OF MUSIC. I HEREBY EVICT YOU FROM YOUR POWERS AND PLACE IN PARADISE. FROM NOW ON YOU SHALL WALK ON EARTH AS A MORTAL SINCE YOU ARE SO KEEN TO FALL FOR ONE.” 

With one last breath all of Lucifer’s magic was gone. Not only that but his wings and markings of a holy being. In its wake lay a pale blue eyed man. Much to the shock and horror to everyone around him. When Lucifer finally managed to lift his eyes to meet Lilith’s gaze. He was beyond belief when instead of the sympathetic look in her eyes he’d expected there was nothing but disgust. 

“BUT DO NOT FRET LUCIFER FOR THIS MORTAL SHELL YOU ARE CONFINED IN IS ONLY TEMPORARY. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS VERY EASY. YOU MUST START HUMANITY WITH LILITH IN ORDER TO EARN BACK YOUR WINGS. I WISH FOR YOU TO BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY. EVEN LILITH CAN EARN HER WAY TO HEAVEN THIS WAY. TO PAY BACK IN FULL FOR WHAT SHE HAS DONE. NOW WITH ALL THIS POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE OUT OF THE WAY…”

Lucifer and Lilith suddenly found themselves on the outside of the gates of Eden. Lilith is no longer naked and Lucifer no longer in his garbs. They both had on the skin of an animal. He looked back up at his Father in confusion but he simply turned his head away and pointed out into the distance.

“THERE JUST A FEW MILES FROM HERE LAYS WHAT YOU NEED. I SHALL TAKE MY LEAVE NOW. GOOD LUCK TO THE BOTH OF YOU. FOR YOU WILL NEED IT FOR THE LONG JOURNEY AHEAD.”

In a blink of an eye he was gone leaving just the first woman and the now second man alone with each other.

((YES!!!

Also I feel like Lilith wouldn’t be an openly bitch at the start, still a bitch but more of a manipulative one, because she knows Lucifer can still leave her alone. However when Charlie is born she isn’t going to keep up her act))

Lucifer’s legs trembled as he struggled to keep himself on his feet. He felt like he could pass out any second, his new body was so weak in ways he’s never felt before. He had never noticed due to his powerful magic flowing inside his veins, but his figure was too fragile when given to a human.

He felt a semi gentle hand on his shoulder and let himself relax. Lilith. Lilith was there. They were in this together.

Lilith: Come on. We can’t just stand here if we want to survive. Can you walk?

Her tone was fakely sweet, but Lucifer couldn’t even tell that it was. All he heard was his so called lover caring for him.

Lucifer: I-I think so.

-

After what felt like a forever, just when Lucifer felt like all his energy was finally gone and he was going to collapse, Lilith stopped.

Lilith: I think here would be fine, yeah?

Lucifer: Mhm…

He couldn’t even think as he went and hugged Lilith from behind, falling to sleep immediately. He had to rest.

Lilith’s face went from determined to pure disgust again in seconds. She would push him off her but she didn’t want to risk the baby waking up, so she “gently” left him to the floor and went to search for things to eat.

Better someone does it in this pathetic excuse for a group.

[mirensiart]

hi it's me

Ya boye (/reference)

So you know how Fi burns sky when he points her at one of the other links in like warning or combat-like contexts?(seen in the bunny legend section of cannon LU)

I know burns hurt like hell but like

Even post-initial-burn they hurrttttttttt more of a dull hurt unless its BAD bad but HURTTT

just imagining sky accidentally gets burned, waves it off, and everyone else is just like "dude, YOU'RE NOT OK WE CAN STILL FEEL IT"(maybe besides twi but like still, they can still feel that it hurts despite the fact he acts like he can't feel it,)

Maybe the flame barer earrings might help? But idk if they cover "magic ancient sword fire" over "FIRE fire"

...he is so lucky only one other link(wild I think) is right handed because if he wasn't they'd be (temporarily) screwed

- 🦦🐾(who hasn't slept, so he is sorry if this is complete nonsense)

Have a wind for the road

(Sorry for replying so late!!!)

I don't think heat/fire resistance gear would work with the master sword burning sky when he accidentally uses it against someone with the hero's spirit

I don't see the master sword burn to be fire related though, like it's not like she bursts into flames when it burns sky, I feel like it's more like how iron burns fae or sunlight burns vampire kinda deal

Not fire related but it hurts like a burn and it physically burns you, but it's no like the sword gets warm/is on fire 🤔

ANYWAY, yes!

Also if you go with the "wind doesn't have the hero's spirit" headcanon, then I can imagine sky accidentally attacking him during battle cause the monsters are everywhere and he got confused, and everyone expecting to feel the burn but it never comes and that's how everyone finds out lol

Also YAY WINDY BOY thank you I will take care of him 🤲🏻💖

[nientedal]

All I said was I wish my friend would shut up forever about their headcanons because they were getting on my nerves. It doesn’t matter now because my friend found out I was ranting about them and we are no longer friends well I got my wish they shut up forever like I wanted. Yeah someone in the server told my friend I was ranting about them.

You ignored my ask. I am getting sick of people not listening to me! I already apologized to someone twice they ignored me even though I told them everything they wanted to hear. What more do you people want! I told you what you wanted to hear!

WHY IS EVERYONE IGNORING ME ! I just want people to listen me! Please!!! T been apologizing to this person and they keep ignoring me! Why can’t people see how sorry I am! I told them everything they wanted to hear! SOMEONE TALK TO ME PLEASE!!!

I considered just deleting these, but hey, this is maybe some kind of teachable moment??? Also I'm not sure if you'll be back to yell more later, so fuck it, I'll answer. But I'm going to be blunt. Three things.

One. I didn't see these until just now. But even if I had seen them, I don't owe you an immediate response on this website. It's hard, but you need to learn to process your own feelings WITHOUT relying on someone to reply. Also, it's my right to ignore you, but in this case? That is not what's happening, and accusing me of ignoring you as if you're entitled to my time and attention will only piss me off. I am literally a stranger. Fuck off or do better.

Two. It sucks that your friend told your other friend you were frustrated with them. You have my sympathy there. Very charitably, I assume you were simply venting and "shut up forever" was hyperbole, but if it WASN'T hyperbole...idk, maybe hang out with people who do not piss you off this way? I don't stay friends with people I don't like talking to. Perhaps consider modifying your approach to friendship in the future?

(Also, hold up, you "told them everything they want to hear" like you expect them to just get over it and forgive you and everything will be fine? Dude, that's not how feelings work. It does not fucking matter how "sorry you are"; people process shit at their own speed regardless of what you say or do. You do not control how people react to you. You control your actions, not your results. If you said something and you meant it, OWN IT. Even if it hurt someone! Apologize for hurting their feelings, but don't just say what you think someone wants to hear. Saying shit you don't mean just to get the result you want is emotionally immature and manipulative. I understand you're freaking out, but you can do better. You don't control your results, so don't try. Do whatever will help you live a life you can be proud of.)

Perhaps also consider googling "healthy coping skills" and "how to handle anxiety," and seek therapy if you can. You deserve to be able to process frantic feelings without dumping your panic onto (and demanding replies from) a total stranger. Which brings me to--

Three.

I have no idea who you are.

Genuinely, I'm sitting here blinking at my inbox like, bro, I'm 33 and left this kind of drama behind back in high school because I refuse to put up with it now. I do not know what this is about. It sucks that you're having a bad time, but I cannot help you with this.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

People findinging out that antisemitism does, in fact, victimize people