#do you think that for every punch there was once a softer touch for every place that their fists land

[jaybirdscoffee]

see everybody loves to talk about orion unnecessarily putting the megatronus decal on d-16’s shoulder, which is entirely valid. HOWEVER i see absolutely nobody talking about d-16 brushing dust and debris off of orion when he climbs out of the cart at the start of the movie. and i have been thinking about it nonstop.

[misswynters]

Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

[pedrospatch]

jealous

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You aren't together, but Joel doesn't want to see you with anyone else.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. asshole Joel, jealous Joel, he softens up a bit though. established dynamic, Joel and reader have known each other for a decade.

word count: 2k

a/n: highkey i recycled this idea from myself b/c jealous Joel is like...so hot to me. i love this trope, my favorite variant is when he gets aggressively possessive however i don't think i can top some of the amazing fics out there that have gone that direction so i took a softer, fluffier approach to it. also, happy tlou finale day everyone, we'll get through it all together 💗

Jackson, Wyoming

Winter 2024

“Before you head out for patrol, I just wanted to say that I had a great time with you last night.”

Joel’s blood boiled hot in each and every single vein in his entire body as he watched the scene that was unfolding before him just outside of the horse stables. It was late in the evening, and Tommy’s group was gearing up to head out for tonight’s patrol.

You had just finished saddling up your borrowed horse, Daisy, when Owen had sauntered up to you. Joel didn’t know the man, aside from his name. He had been placed in Owen’s patrol group once or twice in the past several months since returning to Jackson, but for the most part, he’d never spoken more than two words to him, and even when he had, it was only when he really didn’t have a choice. Though he didn’t know Owen, one thing was for damn fucking sure—he didn’t like the way that he was looking at you.

And he definitely didn’t like the way that you were looking at him, either.

In the decade that he’d known you, Joel had never seen you lay your eyes on another man before, not until this very moment.

And it was bothering the fucking shit out of him.

“Yeah, I had a really nice time too,” You replied, flashing him a warm and friendly smile. It was in your nature to be sweet and kind to just about anyone you felt you could trust, that was nothing out of the ordinary, but seeing you interact so effortlessly with him only made Joel’s anger bubble even hotter.

Owen reached out to take your hand in his and Joel angrily clenched his fists the moment he touched you. “We should do it again sometime. Maybe on a night when you’re not stuck with patrol duty?” he suggested.

You nodded, smiling once again. “Sure, I’d really like that.”

Joel couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

He was mere seconds away from losing his goddamn mind. Though he had every desire to go up to Owen, snatched his hand away from yours and give him a piece of his mind, Joel had to remind himself that the last thing he needed to do was cause any kind of trouble in the settlement—Maria wouldn’t have any of that in her community, even if he was her husband’s brother.

After taking a minute to somewhat calm himself enough to a point where he knew he wouldn’t throw a punch, he stiffly walked towards the two of you, calling your name. “Hate to interrupt,” he practically sneered, “But we’re startin’ to lose our time. Tommy’s waitin’ for us at the gate.”

Owen grinned sheepishly, squeezing your hand. “Sorry about that, Miller. I didn’t mean to keep your patrol partner, here.”

Ignoring him, Joel narrowed his dark brown eyes at you. “Get on the horse and let’s fuckin’ go. Now.”

Your smile faded, your mouth falling open slightly in shock at his tone.

Though you knew Joel had always been rough around the edges with other people, he’d never spoken to you like that before. For a brief moment, it almost felt like he’d just slapped you across the face.

Without waiting for your response, he whirled around on the heel of his leather boot in the snow and stalked off towards his waiting stallion, his rifle hanging over his shoulder.

Owen frowned, letting go of your hand. “Jeez. What’s his deal?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice wavered slightly. “But I’m certainly going to find out.”

After bidding a quick goodbye to Owen, you quickly walked over to Joel just before he could climb up into the saddle of his horse.

“Excuse me, but what the fucking hell was that?” You asked fiercely as you approached him. 

With his back still to you, he rigidly replied, “What was what?”

“Get on the horse and let’s fucking go. Now,” You mimicked him, crossing your arms over your chest. “How dare you fucking talk to me like that! What’s your fucking problem?”

He remained silent.

“Joel?” You waited for a moment, but still, he said nothing. “Hello? Joel, I’m talking to you! Answer me!”

Slowly, he turned around to face you. His eyes had gone stone cold.

You’d seen him give those eyes to others before, but he had never given them to you.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we have a lot of work to do around here. Tommy and Maria expect both of us to pull our fuckin’ weight if we want to stay here. You understand that?”

“But Joel—”

“We don’t have time for you to stand around flirtin’ with your little boyfriend over there and wastin’ time.”

Despite being angry, you could have laughed—you almost did.

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, you managed to hold it back.

“First of all, we’re not fucking teenagers, Joel, so cut that shit out,” You said, letting your arms drop back down to your sides. “I hardly know Owen. We met at the Tipsy Bison last night, we had a few drinks and we were just telling each other that we had a good time, that’s all.”

Joel snorted, rolling his eyes. “Well, ain’t that fuckin’ sweet.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, taken aback by his behavior.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, Joel Miller, I would say that you were jealous or something,” You accused him. You felt a shiver go up and down the length of your spine. It was hard to tell if it was because of the frigid, negative degree temperatures outside—or was it due to the fact that there was actually a possibility that the man you had been helplessly in love with for almost ten years now was bothered by the idea of you being with someone else?

He scoffed in response. “Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, sweetheart. I ain’t jealous.”

“Then why the hell are you so upset?”

“I ain’t upset, either.”

“Okay, then why else would you be acting like such a damn asshole towards me?” You challenged him, causing his jaw to clench tightly. “If you’re not jealous, then why do you look like you’re fucking ready to murder Owen with your bare hands?”

Joel groaned out of frustration. “Jesus, can you just fuckin’ drop it? We have to leave before Tommy—”

You reached out and grabbed his arm. “We’re not going anywhere until we talk this out, Joel. I need to know what’s going on with you. Please. Just fucking talk to me.”

He snatched his arm out of your grasp and took a step back. “What the fuck do you want me to say? That you’re absolutely right? That I’m fuckin’ jealous? That the second I saw that prick take your hand, it took every single ounce of strength I had inside me not to walk over and knock his fuckin’ head off his shoulders?”

You exhaled the shaky breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding back. “Joel, you have no fucking right to be jealous. You know how I feel about you, you have always known how I fucking feel about you. But you were the one who told me that we couldn’t be together, that we could never be together.” Your voice began to tremble, and you paused for a brief moment, trying to collect yourself. “You’re the one who said that we’d never be anything more than smuggling partners. Even after everything that’s happened with us, what we’ve been through with Ellie—you still keep me at arm’s length, now more than ever before.”

“So you finally found somebody else,” he stated, bitterly. “That it? You tryin’ to move on from me?”

“Yes. No.” You let out a small groan, knowing that if there was one thing you could not do, it was lie to Joel. “Yes, okay? I’ve been trying to fucking move on from you.”

Joel’s stomach sank at your admission. “And he’s the guy, huh?”

“Owen is a nice guy. And I really liked spending time with him—” You looked up at him, seeing the hurt flash in his eyes. “I’ve been so fucking lonely, alright?” You continued quickly before he could say anything. “You’ve been avoiding me for months now, Joel. Ever since we came back to Jackson, things have changed. Do you think I haven’t noticed that we only ever talk when we’re sent out on patrol together? That we don’t eat our meals together anymore like we used to? That whenever I even try and approach you, you make up some excuse to leave, even when we’re in our own fucking house?” Hot, frustrated tears blurred your vision. Not wanting to cry, you furiously blinked them back. “Ellie asked me the other day if something was wrong with us. Even she notices the way you’ve been treating me these last few months, Joel. How you avoid me like I’m the fucking plague.”

Joel opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut, not knowing what to say.

“You can’t be upset with me for trying to move on, not when you’re the one who’s been pushing me away—and I don’t just mean here in Jackson. For ten fucking years you’ve been pushing me away, Joel.” Your voice cracked, and a tear finally gave way and slipped down the side of your face.

His expression suddenly softened. “I had to push you away, darlin’.”

You subconsciously stepped closer to him. “But why?”

“Because, what I felt—what I’ve been feelin’ for you, it’s somethin’ that I didn’t think I could feel for someone ever again. It’s so strong and runs so fuckin’ deep that it scares the shit out of me,” Joel confessed, a trembling edge to his tone. “Before Wyoming, it was so fuckin’ easy not to think about it. We were too busy fightin’ to survive, to protect Ellie—now that we’re here and every goddamn day isn’t a fight for survival, things changed, alright? What I feel for you runs through my mind all fuckin’ day. There ain’t no avoidin’ it.”

“Joel—”

He cut you off. “I never meant to hurt you. When we got here, I thought it’d be best to put some distance between us. I thought that maybe if I spent less time with you, what I feel would just go away somehow. But I was wrong. Wrong and stupid to think that what I’ve been feelin’ for ten fuckin’ years would just disappear.”

“What do you feel for me, Joel?” You whispered, looking up at him.

Your eyes widened in a slight surprise as Joel reached up and gently cupped your cheek in the palm of his gloved hand. He put his other hand on your hip and pulled you as close as he possibly could to him. He looked deeply into your eyes as your arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck. Joel leaned down into you, and the both of you stood absolutely still, each waiting for the other to make the final move. 

Finally, it was Joel who closed the remaining distance between you and him.

He softly pressed his lips to yours. Any and all hesitation that he might have had before vanished completely as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

“That,” he said breathlessly once he’d pulled away, “Is what I feel for you.”

“Never thought I’d see the fucking day,” You murmured against his lips, a tiny, joking smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Joel leaned his forehead against yours and sighed, his warm breath tickling your nose. “Look darlin’, m’real sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It’s just that seein’ you with that prick, the thought of you with him, or with any other man that ain’t me, I just couldn’t fuckin’ handle it.” He paused briefly, taking a look around. Part of him hoped Owen was still around and watching his every move. “I’m gonna have to find a way to make sure every man in Jackson knows you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” You assured him, gently. “Believe me. You are the only man that I could ever want. I’m all yours, Joel.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

tags for pegging, fem + afab!reader, bottom toji + bisexual toji, sex work, 18+

in my mind... i think toji has probably bottomed before at least once in his life. he's only been with men in that sense though, and even then - given his appearance, he's still more used to topping. shiu joked to him once that women can tell his dick is all he's good for and it makes toji laugh since it's not entirely untrue. he's experiment, had a few freaks who wanted him on bottom and not the other way around.

but when that's the occasion, it's still mostly just some guy trying to get their rocks off. what it feels like to toji is of no importance, not really. it's just something to get their dicks wet and well, whatever. toji can respect that

you probably meet toji in some bar where he's trying to pick up a woman to take him home so he's not out on the streets. he finds you beautiful so he chats you up like always. he's good at it. and you seem a little smug, a little amused but you flirt back. he can tell you've got money so he makes sure to pull out all the stops.

you work something out, but you warn toji that you've got pretty nasty tastes. in his head he's whatever about it. he's done a lot more than most, and all kinds of kinky play both in his personal life and not. he's thinking you want what most business want which is choking or some slapping - something to take the edge off.

that ends up being very far from the truth. you tell him flat what you want to do to him which is fuck him. like... actually fuck him. you show him the collecting of toys and everything. it's nothing he's never done before so he doesn't think anything of it. and admittedly the thought is...weirdly exciting even if it confuses him. it's not like you get anything out of it, right?

still though - he does as told. gets clean in your shower and comes out. you're the same as you were in the bar. maybe softer, really. your way of speech is warmer as you guide him into your bed.

weirdly enough - you're strict. you bind his wrists at the start and only unbind them when you go to fuck him. and you do a lot of the legwork. and it's very different to any other experience he's ever had in his life. it's a little embarrassing, a little shameful - but he's so fucking hard seeing it. such a beautiful woman treating him like that - it's fuckin' embarrassing. it's crazy how good it feels. he doesn't know how you do it, but you do it well and it feels good.

but it's different from every other kind of pleasure. you help get him open on your fingers and you're rubbing a spot that makes his stomach feel like it's burning from the inside. he's panting, drooling in your bed - and you coo at him the entire time like a tamed dog. he can only think to describe it as affectionate and it has a powerful effect on his dick.

you don't touch his dick at all no matter how much he asks. not once after you secure it tight behind him so rings. so he's cumming from the inside for the first time and it's ridiculous.

by the time it's fine for you to fuck him - he's not just going with the flow. he's shamefully eager, shamefully desperate. he's kinda self-aware about the whole matter but his dick hurts and you promise to let him cum at least after. so he wants to get to it as fast as he can.

he's taken stuff in before, knows how it feels - but his insides have never been all that sensitive and they've never been so big. you've been abusing them for the last hour. stretching, touching, rubbing. fucking torture. so when you finally do slip your cock in - it feels like getting a punch to the lungs.

it's so deep. so stupidly deep it makes him go fucking limp in your bed. you put a hand on his stomach when you bottom out and he can feel you from the inside. he cums faster from the inside. it's the stretch and swell and buck of your hips so mean into the fucking spot that makes him spray all over his chest.

you fuck better than he could've guessed. the motion is rhythmic and precise. pretty, sharp nails digging into his hips in missionary before getting him on his knees and taking from behind. you make it clear he's not allowed to touch his dick. treating him like a sleeve for your cock instead of a person.

he knows about stuff like this on the other end, but damn does it feel different this way. and it effects him, makes him drunk in a weird way that a woman as beautiful as you is making him cum so filthy. and he's exposing all that to you with no regard at all.

you're merciless but you give in eventually his dick is practically bursting when you take the ring off and let him cum one time proper - barely a stroke of hands before it spills between your fingers and you wipe it back onto his skin.

"you're fun to play with," is the only thing you say at the end. and he doesn't know if he should laugh or not so he smiles and says.

"wanna play with me again, then?"

he's pleased when you agree. he thinks it'd suck if that was the last time. just once was all it took to get him there. get him hooked

but given how fast you've learned to yank his leash, you probably knew that'd be the case beforehand. he's more than happy to give into you since that's the case.

[fallenbutterfly-nemesis]

Love & Hate, Part 2

Grimmjow x reader

---

Weeks passed without a trace of him, and while you swore it was a relief, a strange sense of irritation gnawed at you. Every rustle, every hollow lurking in the shadows, every shift in the air—your first thought was Grimmjow. You told yourself it was because he was a threat, not because of… anything else. Still, no amount of convincing could shake the feeling that something was missing.

Then, one evening, just as you were wrapping up a mission, you felt that unmistakable, wild spiritual pressure flood the air. Grimmjow. And like clockwork, your pulse quickened, that familiar blend of frustration and thrill surging through you. You’d barely turned around before he appeared right in front of you, arms crossed, smirk locked and loaded.

“Miss me?” he asked, sounding all too pleased with himself.

You sighed dramatically, giving him a deadpan look. “I forgot you even existed.”

“Really?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing, testing. “'Cause from the way you’re glaring at me right now, I’d say you missed me a lot.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. “In your dreams. But sure, Grimmjow, if it helps your fragile ego, go ahead and think that.”

He laughed, the kind of laugh that was equal parts genuine and infuriating. “You talk a big game for someone who’s clearly happy to see me.”

You scoffed, your cheeks heating up in betrayal. “What are you even doing here?”

He shrugged, casual as always. “Just passing through. Thought I’d check on my favorite punching bag.” He leaned in, his voice lowering, that smirk daring you to react. “Wouldn’t want you getting soft without me around to keep you sharp.”

“Please. You’re the one who’s gonna get soft if you keep spending all your time lurking in shadows,” you shot back, but your pulse betrayed you, racing as he closed the distance, a touch too close for comfort. “Why don’t you find some other idiot to annoy?”

Grimmjow chuckled, looking at you with an intense, almost unreadable expression. “Nah. None of them are as fun as you.”

For a split second, the air between you shifted, the tension stretching so thick you could practically feel it. You hated how he always had that effect on you, how he knew exactly which buttons to press, how he made it impossible to think straight. But before you could respond, Grimmjow’s expression darkened, his gaze shifting past you.

“Get down,” he muttered, pushing you aside as a blast of energy whizzed by, leaving a scorched mark on the ground. You barely had time to react before a swarm of hollows closed in around you both, their claws and teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Without missing a beat, the two of you fell into a brutal rhythm, fending off the attackers side-by-side. For all his arrogance, Grimmjow fought like no one you’d ever seen—raw, ruthless, and fierce. You found yourself matching his intensity, both of you moving in sync like you’d trained together for years.

“Watch your left!” he shouted, blocking a hollow from blindsiding you.

“I had it covered,” you shot back, slashing through the creature with ease.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he replied with a grin, tearing through another with his bare hands. Blood spattered across his face, and he looked back at you with a wild, almost feral look in his eyes. “Try to keep up.”

When the last hollow fell, you were both left breathing hard, surrounded by the aftermath of the fight. Grimmjow stood there, looking completely in his element, a hint of admiration mixed into his usual cocky stare.

“Not bad, Y/N,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “You might actually be getting stronger.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat in your chest. “I’ve always been strong, Grimmjow. Maybe it’s you who needs to keep up.”

For once, he didn’t fire back. Instead, he looked at you with a curious expression, almost like he was seeing you for the first time. The usual smirk was gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

And then, before you knew what was happening, he stepped forward, closing the space between you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t say a word, just looked at you with that intense, piercing gaze that had always driven you crazy. There was no snide remark, no mocking laugh. Just a silence that seemed to pull you in, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite name.

You were about to say something—anything to break the tension—when he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both fierce and soft, as if he was testing the waters but daring you to pull away. You should have pushed him back, should have told him off, but somehow, you found yourself kissing him back, caught up in the heat and fire of it all.

When he finally pulled away, he looked down at you with that infuriating smirk back in place, but there was something different behind it this time, a softness that surprised you.

“Guess I missed you after all,” he murmured, before stepping back, that cocky grin once again firmly in place.

You glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Don’t get used to it.”

But as you both walked away from the battlefield, side-by-side, you knew you were both tangled up in something neither of you could quite escape. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate it as much as you pretended to.

I wrote these last night ✋🏻😔

[yoursdeadlynightshade]

Under the stars | Words 1.4k

The night air is cool against Regulus's skin, biting into his exposed cheeks and neck though it isn’t cold enough to drive him back indoors.

The silence between them is comfortable, easy, broken only by occasional rustling of grass as James shifts beside him, lying flat on his back, eyes heavily focused on the endless night sky.

The stars above twinkle lazily, making the dark sky seem like a blanket full of shiny things. Instead of their usual place—the Astronomy tower—James has insisted they come out here—has dragged Regulus by the arm wearing the same maddening grin. 

There’s something magnetic about James, something that makes it hard to say no, even when Regulus wants to.

Now they lay side by side, arms touching gently, stretched out on the damp grass right in the middle of the quidditch pitch. 

But for once, James is unbelievably quiet. 

And Regulus likes him this way. Not that James’s talking was entirely unbearable—no, that isn’t it. But there is something about the silence that makes Regulus feel… less alone.

“There.” James breaks the stillness, lifting an arm to point toward the sky, his voice barely above a whisper. “That one. It looks like a broomstick, doesn’t it?”

Regulus follows the direction of James’s outstretched hand, squinting at the constellation James is referring to. He tilts his head, trying to make sense of it, but all he sees is a jumble of stars.

He snorts. “That’s not even close to a broomstick, James.” 

James laughs softly, not the loud, boisterous sound Regulus is used to hearing, but a quieter, more intimate chuckle. “Yeah, well… maybe I just see things differently.”

There’s something in his tone that makes Regulus pause, something beneath the usual playful teasing. He turns his head slightly to glance at James, but James is still looking up, his expression softer than Regulus has ever seen it.

“You know,” James continues, voice lower now, like he’s confessing something he isn’t meaning to. “Every time I look up at the stars… I think of you.”

Regulus’s heart dances in his chest. “What?”

“Yeah.” James finally turns his head to meet Regulus’s gaze, brown eyes shining with something soft. “You’re like that, you know? Always there. Quiet. Distant. But… kind of beautiful.”

The words hit Regulus like a punch to the chest. Beautiful. No one has ever called him that, not in a way that feels real, not in a way that matters. And yet, hearing it from James Potter of all people makes something inside him break loose.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words stick in his throat.

“You’re messing with me,” he finally chokes out, voice full of accusation. 

James’s smile doesn’t falter. “I don’t lie when it comes to you, Regulus.’’

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes Regulus’s heart race, a sincerity that terrifies him. He’s used to people wanting things from him—affection, loyalty, obedience—but James doesn’t seem to want anything. Just this moment. Just the stars and the quiet and Regulus by his side.

“Are you alright?’’

“Why wouldn’t I be?’’

“James,’’ Regulus murmurs, his fingers gently covering James’ hand. “Please, just tell me.”

“I think… I think—I’m not in love with Evans anymore.’’

Regulus’ mouth hangs agape at the same time his heart skips a beat. He’s ready to embrace hurt. Of course, James might be hurt over it. 

“Oh,’’ he whispers, barely audible. “You… wanna talk about it?’’

“I don’t know. Not really. I feel like,’’ James chokes, eyes squeezing shut. “I feel like I’ve been chasing an idea not a— not a person. And I hate myself for it.”

“James. James, don’t be. It’s alright to mess up our lives a bit you know?’’ Regulus mutters, “No one hands us a guideline to live our lives. It’s in our hands to do so. It’s normal and accepted to be flawed and to be filled with some mistakes.”

“I know. That’s not all to it either.”

“Oh.”

James hesitates, his breath hitching like he’s on the verge of death. “I’m in love with this person,” he whispers, his voice shaking but determined. “I’m so in love with them. When they smile—god, when they smile, I can’t breathe. It’s like everything in me stops. And when their eyes catch the light, when they look at me and there’s that spark…” He lets out a strangled laugh. “It’s everything. They’re everything. I want to hold them, protect them, and love them. And it’s driving me mad because I don’t know what to do with it.”

Regulus feels his stomach drop, the words sinking in with the force of a tidal wave. His mind spins with the realisation, with the crushing weight of what James is saying. James is in love. Deeply, irrevocably in love with someone else.

Not him, again. But with someone else, again.

“So… does she not feel the same way? Is that why you’re upset?” 

James blinks, his brow furrowing. “She?”

“Huh?” 

“Not a she,” James murmurs quietly, as if the truth is finally slipping from his grasp.

Oh, a boy then. 

Regulus swallows hard. “That’s alright, too. I mean, I’m literally gay, James. I—”

“I’m in love with you,” James interrupts, his voice trembling but unyielding, “It’s you, Reg. You are the person I’m in love with”

The world falls silent.

Regulus’s mouth hangs open, his mind struggling to catch up with what he has just heard. His heart pounds  so loudly in his ears that it drowns out the rest of the world, leaving nothing but the echo of James’s words. 

“What?” 

James’s eyes are desperate now, searching Regulus’s face for any sign.

“It’s you, Regulus,” he repeats, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “You make me feel all those things. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

James Potter is in love with him. Not with someone else this time.

He tries to process it, trying to make sense of the rapid, frantic beating of his heart, the way his chest aches with the force of it all. 

James’s face is pale, his eyes wide and filled with something raw—fear, maybe, or hope. “I’m sorry,” James whispers, the words trembling in the night air. “I didn’t mean to— I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to tell you.”

Regulus’s breath hitches, his throat tight with the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing through him. He wants to speak, wants to say something—anything—that’ll make this easier, but the words were stuck, lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

“James…” His voice is barely audible, a whisper in the wind.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I needed you to know.” 

Suddenly, everything clicks into place. The late nights spent together, the way James’s smile always seemed softer when it was just the two of them, the way his eyes lingered on Regulus a little too long, the way his jokes had always seemed a little more tender, a little more meaningful.

Regulus’s hands tremble as he moves, his fingers brushing against James’s arm, tentative, unsure. James’s head snaps up, his wide eyes locking onto Regulus’s, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the world around them fading away.

“You love me?” Regulus asks, his voice barely more than a breath.

James swallows hard, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah, Reg. I love you.”

And at that moment, Regulus knew. He knew because his heart feels lighter, like it’s finally free after being caged for so long. He knows because he wants to reach out and pull James into his arms, to feel the warmth of him, the solidity of him, and never let go.

“I think…” Regulus’s voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath, “I think I might love you, too.”

James eyes go wide, breath catching. “You think?’’

“No, I—” Regulus shakes his head. Not think, no. He knows. “I know.”

Before Regulus can second-guess himself, he closes the distance between them, his lips crashing against James’s in a kiss that was all at once fierce and tender, desperate and gentle.

James kisses him back with the same intensity, his hands finding their way to Regulus’s face, holding him like he was something precious, something he can’t bear to lose. 

And in that moment, under the stars and the cool night breeze, everything finally made sense.

James pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against Regulus’s, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. “You really mean it?” he asks, his voice full of hope and disbelief.

Regulus smiles, something soft and real. “Yeah, I really mean it.”

And for the first time in quite a long time, James Potter looks like he isn’t lost anymore. He looks like he’s home.

[manicpixiedreamjop]

oooohhhh 28 - "I know your friends" with either solittle or armitozer please! <333

(Putting this one under a cut bc it got a bit long!)

“What the fuck happened to you?”

It’s not as if Edward has any say in where Sol goes or what he does, as Sol had been kind enough to remind him on his way out the door earlier when Edward had asked where he was going (“None of your fuckin’ business Neddie, you’re not my boyfriend and you’re not my mum, so fuck off, yeah?”). He feels justified in asking now though, as Sol stumbles through the door just past one in the morning, lip split, brilliant black eye blooming on the right side of his face.

“Got in a fight, didn’t I?” says Sol, tugging open the fridge and leaning into it, pulling out a beer and immediately holding it up to the bruise on his eye. His eyes look slightly out of focus, and Edward doesn’t know if it’s from the injury or if he’s been drinking already too.

“With who?”

“Does it matter?”

“Your face is bleeding, Sol,” says Edward, shoving himself to his feet and walking across the kitchen towards him. “So yeah, I’d say it fucking matters.”

“A friend,” snaps Sol.

“What friend?”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know your friends.”

“Can we not with the third degree, right now?” asks Sol, and this time Edward is sure he’s drunk. Better that than concussed, he supposes. “My fuckin’ head is killing me.”

“Do you think it’s because you got punched in the face?” asks Edward, but he softens his voice, taking the beer out of Sol’s hand with one hand and turning his chin towards the light with the other. The bruise is nasty, but the cut on his lip isn’t as bad as it had looked when he’d walked in, only crusted with old blood, already mostly closed. “Come on, Sol,” he continues, even softer this time. “What’s going on with you?”

Sol lets out a long, slow breath through his nose, and finally looks at Edward properly, eyes big and far softer than Edward ever gets to see them when Sol’s sober. “Was seeing someone,” Sol says finally. “Didn’t work out.”

“They did—” Edward says, forcing himself to stay calm, to push down the anger rising in him, sure it’s the last thing Sol needs right now.

“I thought—” Sol starts, but he cuts himself off too, shrugging awkwardly. Edward realises all at once that his hand is still on Sol’s chin, but can’t bring himself to move it, especially not when Sol leans into the touch. “I don’t know what I thought,” he continues after a moment, and then, before Edward can say anything else, Sol leans forward and kisses him.

He tastes like blood and whiskey, his several days of stubble scratching against Edward’s chin, and Edward is already opening his mouth and leaning back into the kiss before he quite processes what he’s doing. Because they don’t do this, him and Sol. They’re flatmates, they’re old friends, and maybe they’ve gotten off together a few times when they were drunk, and maybe Edward fantasises about getting down on his knees and sucking Sol off every time Sol comes home from the gym all flushed and sweaty and grinning, but they don’t do this. Edward has never even dared allow himself to want this.

“Sol,” he says, pulling away, forcing himself not to react to the small, disappointed noise that Sol makes. “You’re drunk.”

“And?” asks Sol. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you. That I haven’t wanted you for… for fuckin’ ever.”

“You’re drunk,” Edward says again, as much to himself as to Sol. “And bleeding, and… Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright? We can talk about this in the morning.”

Sol stares at him a moment longer, eyes still wide, before his face hardens again and he steps back, holding the beer can back up to his eye.

“I can deal with it,” he says tersely. “I’ve had worse.” Edward doesn’t know if he’s still talking about the black eye or not.

“Sure,” says Edward, taking a step back as well. “Yeah. I’ll just… leave you to it then.”

“Cheers,” says Sol, and then he’s stepping away, out of Edward’s orbit, and down the hall towards the bathroom.

[recitedemise]

asked by @enrhysmion:

He was not warned about the damn punch. He tastes nothing like booze, really. He can't get enough of it; if anything, it's sweet. He wants to join the rest of his friends in celebrating since it's such a beautiful occasion. He continues to sip on this fruity beverage without realizing how much alcohol he is really consuming. The world around him eventually gets… brighter. All appears feasible, and all his surroundings are dazzling like a dream. His never-ending remorse momentarily escapes his thoughts when this unwavering wall surrounding his reality collapses. Finally --- freedom to do as he pleases and to spend time with whoever he pleases. It must be a dream, after all, if it feels like one... Like many nights prior to this one, he sees him in his dreams, ambling around as though he owns the place. This one man, the source of both his anguish and yearning. Even if Rhys has a unique bond with the wizard, he typically lacks the courage to give in to his desires. For him, every day is a source of both joy and agony as he longs for his companionship yet is terrified to hear more about his supposed goddess. Mystra, Mystra, damn you! --- she has no right to call him her 'chosen one' and yet treat him so poorly. How dare she! He will also choose him and treat him far better than she ever could. 

With a voice softer than silk and warmer than the sun, Gale addresses him once more. But this name, this damned disgusting name, is all he can hear. Mystra, Mystra, Mystra—he's sure that there are a gazillion more lovely things that his friend's mouth is capable of. Like groaning, or perhaps moaning. He can't help but wonder how the other man sounds when he moans as his thoughts begin to race with ideas of how to make him shudder with utter pleasure. Yes, exactly — that sounds incredibly delicious but might not be achievable for the time being. He doesn't dare cross this boundary just yet, even if it's only a dream. But what about sharing a kiss? Rhys bets he's a good kisser because his tongue is always so swift. Maybe this dream may provide the best chance to verify his theory. Rhys touches Gale's torso without thinking twice, right over his orb. His fingernails sink in just a little bit, like he's attempting to pull the orb from his chest or cover Mystra's scar with his own. His other hand reaches for Gale's nape, and he hesitates a moment before pulling him in for a kiss. However, it's not a charming, innocent kiss—rather, it's passionate, ravenous, and bordering on beastly. With a fervor that is unlike him, the devout and consistently kind preacher is devouring up the other man's mouth. He is biting Gale's bottom lip, and he quickly deepens the kiss by putting his tongue into his mouth. He holds on until they both run out of breath, sticking his tongue out to taste the dripping saliva on his partner's chin and bottom lip. "You deserve to be kissed every day and every night." As he finally releases the other man from his hold, he just whispers those sincere words to him. So far, this dream has been incredibly vivid and quite… well, exquisite.

He can feel the weight of that gaze. About the bare of his neck, back turned toward their watchful cleric, Gale notes the simmer of his coiling nerves. Wordless, he looks to his manual, but the words don't meet him.

This is... different. Novel, he confesses. Their healer has, and to perhaps the awareness of most everyone else, fancied his glances toward this Waterdeep son. Gale's sensed it on many of their far-gone sunsets, even in those nights where their shadows were long, and each time, he admits, it'd stirred in him a maelstrom--anxiety like butterflies, like bees in a field. He likes him, he had realized. Their companions slip away for their slumber, their sherry bottles left about the logs of their seats, and it is moments later when he hears purposeful footsteps. Gale, turning, looks on up.

"Rhys," Gale starts. Your eyes. The way want flashes in them--! Oh. "What are you--"

He is upon him. Gloriously. Gale makes a noise, embarrassingly undignified, that spills handsomely, prettily, and startled off his lips. His heart swallows it with haste, his great hands strong against the curve of Gale's neck, but sat about that chest, his other palm lays, and that orb, thundering, ripples a-glow. I'm yearning, it sings. Like storm. Like thunder. The way he tastes--it is lavish vineyards. A color spills past that hand, something cross between violets and amethyst jewels as Gale, mortifyingly, knows he is had. He's only being grabbed. Gosh, only being kissed. But to be kissed and grappled is a delicious feeling, and it's been long, an eternity since he's last whined. He has never been touched. Never by Mystra, there in her planes. Now, it's as though he's an adolescent once more, quivering to hands both strong and greedy. He hungers, he knows, but not like this. Gale feels teeth, tongue, and he startles on a gasp. He pulls away, face red, and his exhale harried.

You deserve to be kissed every day and every night.

Something in his ribcage growls and wails.

"That's enough." His pulse hammers. There is something wicked bellowing in his bones, unearthing yearning and desire in frightening droves. Gale feels ninety ways uprooted, a thousand ways relieved, but despite the joy of knowing he is clearly desired, there is a million more ways that he feels wrought. He wants to kiss him. Gods know he does... but looking at the color smoldering those cheeks, Gale, swallowing, grabs those wrists. No more. "Not now. Not like this." His fingers are warm against that skin, and Rhys' is crushingly handsome.

Please. "I'm afraid you drank far too much. Do not misunderstand me. I have imagined your hands on many nights," he starts, "more than my pride will allow me to ever confess, and they are eager, always kind, but more than that besides, they are sure."

"Another night, perhaps, if you'd still desire me." He backs away, yearning. "But when you are there in mind and only then. Your body is not enough, not for me."

[balkanradfem]

hey i dont think i would actually be able to help that much and you probably have already looked into this before, but just in case you havent, if you try to describe your neck pain in detail i could see if i can figure out what might be able to help relieve it? i get neck pain due to work and its reduced through weird exercises most people dont ever think to do. i sit at weird angles a lot so i have to do exercises that compensate for that

Oh I'd be happy to! If you can figure anything out that would be great, even though at this point two physio specialists and a physiotherapist have looked at it and decided that the symptoms just make no sense, and a mri shows that everything is fine with my bones, disks and muscles.

The most troubling symptoms are that I'm unable to carry anything over 2kg, and honestly my left side is way worse, I can't carry more than 1kg with my left hand, I can carry 2 with my right. (I also have back pain on my left side).

Other really upsetting symptom is that I feel every impact in my neck, for example I can't run or jump, any harsh contact with the floor feels like I've been hit directly inside of my neck, or like the bones of my neck are hitting into my skull. I feel every step as I walk as an impact in my neck, and because of that I can rarely walk for more than 10 minutes. It has helped a little since a friend suggested I put an implant in my shoes, to make them softer, so the impact is lessened. I also can walk longer on very soft surfaces, like a forest after rain, when the soil is soft.

I also can't use tools like a hammer, hoe, anything involving hitting. I can't punch a bag anymore. Whatever impact is made, it feels like the impact is inside of my neck, or between my head and my neck. The first vertebrae of the neck is where the pain is most intense. I've been told since that this is impossible because these don't even touch, and the neck goes inside of my skull instead, but I have no other language to describe it, feels like my skull is taking damage from either being hit or brutally rubbed against the bones of my neck. Or like there's some nerves inbetween getting crushed. (but that would show on the mri)

Other symptoms that are just annoying: I can't lean my neck forward too much, I can't sit for long periods of time, I can't sit leaning back at all, it will start hurting after 1 minute of that, I have to either sit straight or lean slightly forward. I can't sleep with a pillow, I need a completely flat surface.

Once the neck pain gets irritated (if I accidentally carry something heavy of walk for too long) it will hurt so much I will no longer be able to sit or stand, I'll have to lie down on a completely flat surface for several days for it to recover. I also have to sleep on my back. It also gets irritated if I go to the dentist and have to sit on that chair leaned back for 15 minutes, the entire appointment is incredibly painful.

If the neck is not irritated, then I can sleep on my side curled up in a ball, but still without a pillow.

I noticed lately that it hurts if I try to turn my head to the left, it used to not hurt just from that motion, unless I would try to keep the position. It generally hurts if I try to turn my head to any side for too long, I have to keep looking forward or slightly down.

My neck will also hurt if I put anything on my head, like a towel, or a hood, anything that's giving it extra weight or putting any pressure on it.

There are things I still can't do with manageable or minimal pain! I can do some gardening, if I take breaks and accept that generally crouching and looking down will be mildly painful. I can ride a bike with next to no pain, I can do cleaning where I don't have to walk much, and it doesn't bother me. I can do foraging as long as I don't look too much down and move the rest of my body more than I move my neck. And doing normal stuff in the kitchen like cooking, kneading dough, washing dishes, doesn't bother me at all.

I have tried a few exercises in the past, found on youtube, but every and each of those was painful to do, and I didn't know if it would do extra damage, so I stopped. I think now I can try doing any exercises since there's nothing physically wrong with me, I'm unlikely to do actual damage (but I'm still scared of irritating the pain).

I appreciate being given a chance to just talk about the pain because usually I just try to not talk about it, because I don't want everyone around me to feel bad about it all the time, and nothing really helps. I've been prescribed a muscle-relaxant to take for a week, and while I was taking it, it was better, and less painful, but as soon as I stopped taking it, the pain came right back.

[ex-textura]

Thank you for all of the art of your boys, you're really talented! Calec and Rehgar are both very hot. I get really happy whenever I see them on my dash!! (Gay-For-Rehgar Anon, I think you named me Gay-gar) Also, if you're still doing the questions: "1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?" "10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?" "30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?" "41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?"

Gay-gar! Happy to hear from you! (Sorry I’ve taken so long to respond to this, these disabilities have got hands)

I am still doing the questions, even if it’s late now lol. I typed this up almost completely once already and then lost it… so sorry if this is rambly.

1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

Calec does! Kinda. Calec had 4 siblings but the one he was closest with, his eldest brother, passed away fairly recently. He was a fighter like Calec, brave and strong and all the things Calec wanted to be and so modelled himself after. They were only 4 years apart so when he died it rocked Calec pretty hard. He has two older sisters left now (twins) but while they’re close it’s not quiet the same. His closest living sibling now is his youngest brother Milo though, at 20 years apart, they’re not exactly in the same age group lol.

Rehgar…. Technically has siblings. None of them were ever close though. If anything, they all considered each other rivals and even enemies. They were connected by blood and nothing else.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

Hmm. Both are very happy to be naked so I’d probably say less lol. In every day situations Calec is usually showing a lot of skin. He wears loose tank tops and he tends to work shirtless (for safety? Maybe lol), he loves to show his arms and his legs are furred past the knees so he usually wears shorter pants. When he’s fighting though, he’s completely covered head to toe in heavy armour.

Rehgar likes to wear clothes that are nice, to try and soften his intimidating appearance, Elven styles that are softer colours and when he’s fighting he has a little armour but he likes his clothes to flow. He also tends to cover his body a bit more to hide the scars and such but for comfort? He moves better when he’s wearing less and when he’s alone or in appropriate company he’s probably gonna be naked lol.

30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

So, funny story about Rehgar. There’s not much that really “disgusts” him in the physical sense as he tends to get his hands dirty digging through archeological sites, but there are character traits that definitely repulse him. Rehgar hates people who punch down. He finds bullies to be repulsive and won’t hesitate to crack heads about it. (Having said that, one time our Druid licked a gelatinous cube and that was pretty upsetting… but they also shared some rancid turtle meat over a campfire so. Eh)

For Calec, he’ll try anything once. Absolutely loathes tomatoes though. They have the wrongest texture ever created and he’ll gag the second it touches his tongue. Also, surprise spiderwebs….. toes are kinda weird too(he doesn’t have any) but he’s getting used to them.

41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

Rehgar has to earn things. He has to work and grind and study and push himself to get anything because he truly doesn’t feel he deserves it. He doesn’t think that’s true for anyone else, of course. He’d give his friends the world and they wouldn’t have to ask. Generally he feels like people deserve to have what they want and he kinda puts the onus on himself to make that happen for those close to him but…for himself it’s different. He still needs to work for it.

Calec on the other hand. As far as he’s concerned he HAS earned it. He works hard. He raises his brother. He deserves to get what he wants, and usually he does.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Shivers (part Il)

Here for part I.

Azir wakes up all of a sudden, sweat dripping down his beak and shivers choking his words. Through blurry eyes he sees Nasus push the rest of his retinue aside and grab his hand in a stone-hard grasp.

“My lord?”

“I’m… so cold.”

It’s more a whine to himself than a notification to Nasus, as Xerath would punish him cruelly if he dared to request comfort of any kind. “You deserve nothing, Azir. This is but a morsel of the life we lived because of you.” So it catches the ex-Emperor by surprise to see Nasus bring him to his chest, grab the ulterior blankets passed upon him by Akshan and cover him with these as if he was afraid he’d slip away if he didn’t.

Now, as absolutely not imperial as it is, Azir wants to be held and comforted. He stays still and welcomes every touch as Nasus wraps his upper body into a shawl, including the back of his head – it’s much softer than… that other thing, and it’s white silk. It’s like a cocoon of warmth, and even the shivers feel less intense. He rests his head on the Curator’s shoulder and winces as he massages his feathers, shivering endlessly onto his tunic.

“Is it helping anyhow?”

“Yes… don’t go, my friend. Keep holding me tight. I’ll make sure you’re repaid f-for…”

“Shush, little bird.” What would Azir even repay him with? He’s just reciting old formulas of imperial pomp at this point. “What matters now is your welfare. You’ll have a serene rest and spread your wings once more onto the world.”

Even in the state he’s in, Azir can’t help but notice Taliyah’s face at those words. She looks as if she’d rather see him burn to a crisp, or – the sky help him – lock him back inside that coffin.

I must talk to her at once. But not now... sickness makes you foolish, Xerath has taught him over and over in his punishments. "Even more foolish than old foolish Azir. A monument of stupidity for the annals"

"Now, my lord... hold still"

"NO!"

Silence breaks into the tent as Azir realizes what has occurred. He's backed into the fabric walls of the tent, blankets falling off him, covering his face with his crossed arms – and Nasus watches him in dismay, holding a damp cloth in his fist which is now dripping onto the sandy floor of the tent.

Did he honestly think he'd...

As the rest of the retinue backs off, partly to avoid whatever vagary may be coming through his mind, partly to give him space to breathe and compose himself, Azir blinks his way back onto the earth. What am I doing? Nasus is not Xerath, he wouldn't... but all he saw was a fist coming towards him, and he's received so many fists to the face – and slaps, and kicks, and even canes for Shurima's sake – they end up blending onto each other.

"Ugh... I'm utterly ashamed of my behavior, Nasus." Yes, by his behavior, because being scared you'd get punched in the face after more than a year where they treated you like dirt is oh so very shameful mr. Azir Omah. "I misconstrued. I just... I saw your fist and..."

Nasus looks as if he's seen a ghost. "You thought I wanted to hit you?"

"...I saw something that wasn't there. My mind is playing games on me... Oh..."

Azir is shivering once again, even more than before. He doesn't call for help – you don't get that, Xerath hisses in his feverish mind, you don't get anything you don't deserve – but he's too weak and cold to keep Nasus from holding him into his arms, wrapping him back up in a cocoon of silk and wool and, this time, dabbing his face with the damp cloth, heaving in faint pleasure as the water trails between his feathers.

"Listen to me, my lord, my sweet little bird." Taliyah's face could freeze Hell itself. "If a time ever comes that I strike you, may I suffer like Renekton and twice over. I've failed you enough. I should have been there, but..."

"Just... hold me", Azir huffs. He doesn't have time for Nasus' self pity. He just wants everything to stop hurting for three seconds.

[talesofourworlds]

He noticed the way Flynn's hand hovered over his shoulder. It made sense, Guy thought. All Flynn knew was that Guy had reacted that way when he had been touched. It was easy to forget that he'd been able to take that punch from earlier without reacting that way, but Guy didn't think it wise to point it out. It wasn't really related to what had just happened anyway. So, Guy moved so that he wasn't standing in the doorway anymore.

"I'd be surprised if it didn't," he confessed. "It... startled my friends back home when I had a similar reaction once." Back at Choral Castle, when Anise had clung to him from behind. His phobia had been a lot worse back then.

It's still bad, Guy reminded himself with a small wince. Thankfully, he was able to shake himself away from that particular line of thought as Flynn continued to speak. There was a gratitude in his eyes and the way his posture relaxed a bit. At the very least, Flynn wasn't going to push him into going into every detail of what was going on. He followed Flynn's lead, moving even further from being in the inn's doorway.

"I appreciate that, Flynn. I do. This is actually pretty personal, so... I hope you don't mind if I don't go into as much detail about it as I could. But I feel like I at least owe you something about what just happened, so I don't mind sharing a little." It didn't look like anyone was paying attention to them. Still, Guy felt like he should speak a little softer.

"I wouldn't blame you if you think this sounds weird. The reason I reacted that way is... I have this phobia of being touched by women." He was prepared for any potential reaction to admitting to that much. Some people felt like they could poke fun at him for it. After all, how often did one come across someone with that specific of a fear? Even his own friends had teased him about it before they'd known the root cause. So how would Flynn react?

"Recently, I'd felt like I'd finally started making some strides in recovering since I was able to figure out what caused the fear in the first place. But..." Well, Flynn had just seen what happened. For a suave, cool, and collected as Guy was, he still had this problem.

"I guess it still really gets to me if it happens suddenly like that." Despite the smile he tried to put on, it was apparent this fear wasn't anything he felt like he could really laugh about. Even when he tried to play it off like he did sometimes at home. Not when the reaction had been as bad as it was.

Flynn could tell that Guy was attempting to push past whatever it was that had happened just now. To try and ignore his outburst? No, not quite… but it was clear that he wasn’t trying to put a lot of focus on his actions. Flynn understood, of course. A stranger freaking out in the middle of the street wasn’t exactly something that would seem ideal for most people. Still, Flynn still worked to piece together what exactly had scared Guy so badly. Just so it could be prevented in the future.

“It was… hard not to notice, to be quite honest.” There was no sugar coating it. Not really. Guy had successfully startled everyone in the surrounding area, Flynn included. “Not to make the situation worse than it already is but…”

There was no judgment in Flynn’s tone, thankfully, as his hand hovers over the other’s shoulder, not quite touching him but to offer some sort of comfort as he tilts his head questioningly. He had been relatively okay all the way to the tavern and for a moment, some defensive part of Flynn’s brain suggested that Guy may be on edge because, to him, the Lower Quarter may seem like the ‘Shady’ part of the capital.

He refused to give in to his own paranoia though, and instead took note of just how… upset Guy looked? This wasn’t the look of a man who was paranoid about the area surrounding him. No, there was definitely something deeper going on.

“If you need a minute… that’s fine. They’ll hold our table for us.” Flynn explained slowly, moving to step out of Guy’s space so the poor man could breathe.

“You’re right, though… I wasn’t really expecting such a reaction like that. It startled me, I won’t lie to you.” Trying to lie to Guy wouldn’t do anyone any good, after all. If anything, he’d just come off as if he were coddling the man. And it wouldn’t get Flynn any closer to finding out what had caused this to begin with.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable with the idea but…” Flynn stepped to the side, urging Guy to follow so they could at least get out of the way of the door to the inn. Just in case this happened again. “... I’d like to help make you more comfortable with your stay in Zaphias. If something is making you uneasy, I’d like to help remedy that, if it’s within my power. Or at least make things easier.”

[yandereloversblog]

Can I get a clingy s/o with fnaf crew (2)

{ like the last one with a fnaf 1 ?} :D

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐅𝐍𝐀𝐅 2

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚢 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐅��𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: 𝙵𝙽𝙰𝙵 2

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚢, 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎, 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚊, 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚝

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 , 𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝, 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛.

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

My dumbass might've realized a little too late you probably also meant the withered bots... But I only wrote these guys 💀 AZOAJAI I'm sorry-

-> 𝐓𝐨𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲

This man is the clingy one.

Handsy motherfu-

He's delusional so he definitely would expect you to love him back -if not he'd make you-

But when you actually started clinging to him on your own free will, it's like fireworks went off in his head.

"Huh? You... You love me right? Yup! You definitely do."

You hold his hand once on your own and he instantly decides that you must love him back just as much as he loves you-

Gives you lots of kisses and gets all delusional.

The type to punch or kill rivals with a smile cuz he's too happy that you love him back.

Thinks it's okay to get rid of everyone because you love him and you'd agree.

"Just knowing how they love me like that makes me so happy~"

-> 𝐓𝐨𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

If you are clingy to him when you're in the public he's gonna be so cocky.

Likes to show you off, especially show off how much you love him.

Gets a little embarrassed if you hang off him for too long but won't back down.

"Yeah that's right! They love me soooo much, don't you star?~"

In private he's a little softer, appreciating your touch more than just boasting about it after every little caress.

You being clingy = Toy Bonnie teasing and bullying you more since he believes you won't leave him.

The second someone gets close to you he has his sight on the person within 0.5 seconds and gets jealous.

Unknowingly because of the attention you give him you have him on the palm of your hand, Toy Bonnie doesn't want you to stop so he'll either end up threatening you to be even more affectionate or kill whoever he views as a threat.

"It's fine, it's fine, I can kill everyone and they'll only love me."

-> 𝐓𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚

Oh of course you are. Who wouldn't be?

Unlike Toy Freddy and Toy Bonnie, who just melt onto your affection and cuddle, -With Bonne in private- Toy Chica just soaks it up and gives you praise for being good instead.

"Awww that's so adorable~ you're being such a good pet today [Y/N]~"

Usually she acts like it's nothing and let's you do whatever you want, but the way she returns her affection begins to change.

It's a lot more needy, a lot of time you'll be left with scratches and bruises all over you but Toy Chica looked just so happy when placing you on her lap and doing everything.

You can never give Toy Chica too much attention, so if you even just as much as look at another person for too long she'll notice. She's shooing everyone away when the two of you cuddle, it's your personal time after all.

Holding you even tighter and dragging you around, it's strange to watch her usual calm and sadistic composure break into something akin to need and jealousy.

Obviously whoever has gained your interest will be dead but you'll get a punishment too, how dare you get her so worked up!

"Looks like I need to tie you up whenever I leave so you don't go to someone else huh..."

-> 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞

Y'all they're tired- so do expect them to just come to you when they feel drained out, no matter if you're kidnapped or just doing your job.

Completely melts when you start clinging to them or doing anything at all, please just touch them -simp-

"Is it really alright?... Okay, I'll try not to hurt you then..."

They are scared to hurt you but as soon as they notice you don't really give a fuck and still cling to them they're about to do a 180

No you have bitemarks all over you, Mangle's a deranged bot if someone let's them loose, they'll cuddle you happily while scratching and biting.

Watch his insanity just go down the more you let go of the leash, the second someone approaches you he's biting their limbs off, whenever someone talks to you the person is dead the next morning.

"[Y/N]!~ Ah don't worry it's not my blood, give me a hug!"

-> 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭

Man's so tired, so when you go out of your way to hug or squeeze at him he lowkey metls.

Buts it's that soft melting where he doesn't say anything and just enjoys it.

His mood will go from "tired babysitter" to "happy tired babysitter", likes nuzzling your hair especially.

"Your touch is really soothing, [Y/N]... Don't stop, I like it."

Really sweet, probably likes humming softly while the two of you hug and maybe make you go to sleep.

For every hug or time you cling to him he gets you a present, some of it it's stolen and some he made himself but the puppet hopes you like them.

He's a really calculative bot though, don't go too long without giving him a hug or he's gonna start manipulating you...

You see- the thing is, the puppet wants you to be a certain way and if you're not to his liking he's going to break you down and build you up like how he prefers you to be.

"What's wrong darling, why do you look so scared? Ah- that person? Yeah I do wonder who left them for dead like that, but let's go back and cuddle."

So for you to be clinging to other people too? He really needs to do something about it.

[djbeatz]

Love Languages (Soukoku)

Chuuya’s love languages would probably be Physical affection and gift giving, while Dazai’s would be Physical affection and Words of affirmation. I think that these two sharing the physical affection love language is both really cute and oddly appropriate.

When they were both in the mafia, they always insulted and mocked each other and never genuinely admitted to even caring for each other, saying out loud was not something they were good at or likely even known how to do. So instead of speaking with words, they spoke with actions.

It was mostly the little things like how whenever Chuuya seems to be distant or looking distracted, Dazai would always know it’s Arahabaki and make frequent excuses to touch him; and when Dazai would disassociate or just look a little gloomier than usual, Chuuya may bump their shoulders a little more or punch him a little softer. If either of them knew about it, neither of them ever acknowledged it.

For the other two though? They struggle a little sometimes, but once they worked it out, it was very cute.

Chuuya definitely likes to give people gifts, he believes that the people he cares for deserve all the things he could give them, this also isn’t restricted to material things. He does seem like the kind of person who would enjoy giving more than receiving, but it’s actually the opposite, he just won’t admit because he doesn’t want to bother people like that or seem like something he isn’t because his image is very important to him. This probably explains why he sometimes spoils himself in quite a few different luxuries, it feels nice to have something for himself. If someone were to ever give him something? He’d remember it extremely vividly, it wouldn’t matter how much time would pass, it probably be one of his favorite memories.

For Dazai. I don’t even know how to begin to explain this but, words of affirmation. This is strongly inspired by the Wan actually; that scene where Dazai was completely knocked out by Atsushi just saying a few nice things, I imagined that Dazai had enjoyed it to a concerning amount, but he had never really experienced that feeling and never to that extent, so he had no idea how to react, he was mostly dazed by the situation. Also, in his mafia days, I’m sure he was praised by Mori for his skills and effective use, occasionally by other Executives and such as well, but he never truly cared for it. To him, he wasn’t doing anything really amazing or praiseworthy, he was simply doing his job and yes, he is aware of his own genius, but even if you’re aware that you are smart, it just feels normal to you does it not?

The way these two meet in the middle is actually a lot simpler than you’d think. Dazai knows Chuuya very well, so it wouldn’t take much for him to realize that Chuuya enjoys receiving gifts, the hard part to him was finding something to give to a man who could basically buy himself anything. The first gift he ever gave Chuuya was a lot simpler than he’d wanted it to be, it was a pair of ruby cufflinks (bought with Chuuya’s card of course). Chuuya was definitely shocked, and confused, but once he understood he was just...happy. He wore them every day, with every outfit, he’d always find a way to make them work. Eventually though, once Chuuya found out how much thought Dazai actually put into choosing them, he said (not directly) that it didn’t matter what he got him, anything would make him happy.

Chuuya also knows Dazai very well, he doesn’t go bragging about it, but he does. He’s seen the way that Dazai has no reaction to praise towards his skills and he knows why, so he also knows that Dazai can’t handle being praised or complimented for anything else because it’s both something he hasn’t experienced and something personal to him. Chuuya isn’t afraid to admit that Dazai is smart, it’s a fact that everyone knows; but you will never hear him say anything positive towards Dazai in public. In private though? He is even more blunt when it comes to just complimenting Dazai in general. Once he even wrote a short poem about Dazai for Dazai. The poor mackerel couldn’t function right for the whole rest of the week. (He even framed it in his room for himself only).

Also, the reason why Chuuya isn’t afraid to admit his affections now, is for 2 reasons. 1, He’s older now, he has more experience in life, and his mind has matured so eventually he had come clean to himself about his feelings for Dazai. 2. He’s aware of how Dazai feels about him. The mutual affection makes it easier for him to feel comfortable in showing it.

A combination of all three of these though? It’d probably look something like the two of them cuddling on the couch, bickering of course, but Chuuya would be asking Dazai what kind of headband he believes would look good with the brunette’s eyes and hair, this would obviously fluster Dazai, but he’d be doing his best to refrain from just throwing the new choker he got for Chuuya in his face and escaping.

Wow this is long.

[kaeyas-beloved]

And I Fall Again

Character: Childe

Genre: Hurt/Comfort + Fic

Summary: It’s okay to break for one reason or more… but it doesn’t hurt any less

Warnings: Crying, unedited, gn!reader (you/your), one use of the word ‘damn’, reason for reader crying is unspecified, I wrote this at two in the morning I’m very sorry

a/n: For the times when you’re doing fine one moment only for the next to feel like the world’s crashing. Sooner or later you’ll bounce back. You might fall again, but you’ll climb back up once more.

The clock ticks 1:30 in the morning by time Ajax walks through the door. More often than not you’re already sound asleep, a space left for him to crawl into and cuddle with you once he’s ready. Tonight is a little different however, for the harsh but quiet sniffles alerts the male that you are the furthest thing from asleep.

Wasting no time, he rushes to your shared bedroom. When the door fully creaks open he’s met with darkness, the sole light being the moon strung high outside. Childe strains his eyes to find you and the second he does he’s on his knees beside you.

Some far off part of your mind acknowledges the arrival of your boyfriend but the other bit of you can’t be bothered to lift your head. All you want right now is to cry. So cry you do.

“Hey hey, why are you crying?” You feel the warmth of a hand on your shoulder as it gently rubs soothing strokes yet it does little to quench the newly formed onslaught of tears at the ginger’s query. Ocean eyes widen as Ajax momentarily remains helpless, stuck watching you ball your eyes out.

Childe is no stranger to breakdowns like these. He’s seen them in both his siblings and himself. As an elder brother he’s mastered ways to calm the lost souls of his siblings; for himself he’s found few ways to take his mind off of his troubles. For you though? You are a playing field the mighty Tartaglia has never stepped foot on - and never wanted to.

The smiles and laughs you so readily shared with him take root in his mind. Perhaps he had taken your happiness for granted, foolishly believing you’d remain content forever. That’s how he desired it after all, for you to be happy, always. Right now, you’re the furthest thing from it and it feels like a punch in the throat.

Childe is well tuned in emotions, so why hadn’t he picked up anything in you?

It feels like he’s failed you.

Ajax tries again, tries to sound softer, less pressuring. Though when it once more yields no results he moves on to the next best thing.

Encircling his arms around you, your lover pulls you onto his lap, back resting flush against the bed while you nuzzle into his shoulder. It’s not the most comfortable on the floor but it’ll have to do.

Words are replaced by firm kisses to your temple, silent I’m here’s. Never once did he stop running his hand along your back and ever chance he had he pulled you impossibly closer in hopes to drown you in loving warmth. Even as your tears stands his shirt, even as a mix of snot and spit would run into his slightly exposed skin, Ajax held you. And he refused to let go.

For you, everything felt muddled and clear at the same time. You’re below water yet have the perfect seat to experience everything. You sense every loving touch, every quiet, sweet sayings being spoken into your ear. But right now coherent words are off the table, both because your voice is too choked up but also because you know the moment you try to speak you’ll default into a blubbering mess again.

You want to answer his pleas for you to tell him what’s wrong. You really do, but you just can’t, not with how you are now. Even when you’re not trapped by emotion you weren’t the best at properly putting your feelings into spoken words. And it’s this revelation that sparks an idea.

Reluctantly your boyfriend losses his grip as you being to squirm. By now your full blown dibs have died to mere sniffles and ragged, hitched breaths, and every time either sound escapes you it’s another stab to Childe’s heart. But, he thinks, at least your no longer rooted to one spot, curled into a tiny ball in hopes to hide from the world.

Confusion mixes into his blue eyes as the male watches you grab a piece of paper and pen from the nearby desk. Plopping back in front of his you get to writing. It’s quick, frantic, nothing like how you’d usually compose anything you write. After about two minutes you finish, pretty much thrusting the paper into Childe’s hands.

It takes him just as long to read it as you took to write it and by the end his eyes are misty, lips downturned into a frown. Your letter - which is the closest thing he can call it - details how you got to now. From what you were doing before to what set you off, majority of the story is there. In his eyes, embracing you once more was the most appropriate response.

“It’s alright. I promise you it’s alright,” he repeats, gently nudging you to lean back so he can cup your tear tainted cheeks. “What you’re going through is the furthest thing from a straight shot. There are going to be ups and downs, but the fact that you’ve made it this far speaks volumes. If nothing else, know that I’m very proud of where you stand today. Very proud.” There was a seriousness in his gaze that he only got when he wanted to make sure you understood he meant every word he said.

Fresh tears roll down your face, “‘m sorry Ajax…”

“You have not a damn thing to be sorry for. I swear to be here for you every step of the way,” I’m the light of the moon you can spot Ajax lift up his pinky finger, the hint of a smile on his face, “pinky promise.”

The tiny laugh you let out couldn’t be helped as you raise your own baby finger before linking it with his, “you make a pinky promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinky promise, I throw you on ice.”

“The cold will kill the pinky that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.”

Giggling once more at the mildly childish way of promising (yet it’s the way so true to your beloved) you seal your promise with a kiss, a tinge of saltiness blending in with the usual sweetness. When you pull away a yawn rips through you, eyes beginning to droop and Childe takes this as his cue to guide you up to bed.

As you wrap yourself around him once more, Ajax replays that small smile you gave him minutes ago. For him, it symbolizes bright, solidifying hope that you will overcome this. You may not see it now but there is strength that rivals his own deep within you.

This is merely the first step to getting back on your feet, and he fully intends to walk with you every step of the way. He never breaks a promise after all and he’s not about to start.

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @psycho-nightrose // @kaerui-kaisen // @stage-lucida

…

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[taleswritten]

The carrots.

Out of context, it sounds utterly ridiculous. Laughable even. However, that means something to the Rosfield brothers. The mere mention of carrots is enough to make Clive freeze.

Suspicion still settles on his features. After all, carrots could easily be pulled out of nowhere. It is what comes next that has Clive physically releasing a shaking gasping breath and staggering back away from Joshua as if he had gut-punched the air out of him.

The red flickering gaze is gone, replaced by still terrified wide eyes but they're softer now. His expression shifts and this time, there is no hiding the tears that pools into his eyes. Like a dam had been broken, they flood his eyes and make his vision blurry.

Only Joshua would know about that. Every single dinner they had, Clive would sneak the carrots onto his plate even if it meant getting caught by their mother and Clive was punished for it.

He'd tried giving them to Torgal once too and even the wolf would not touch them. It was always Clive who ended up riding Joshua of the carrots.

".....Mother would get so mad but I didn't care. Even when she punished me.....You hated them and I was always more than willing to eat them for you." When Clive speaks, his voice has lost it's sharp angry edge and it is instead a near broken whisper.

Founder, what has he done? Had he nearly killed his brother?

So many emotions go through Clive's mind and he doesn't know how to handle them. Confusion, fear, sadness, relief, guilt. There is a huge sense of guilt for both attacking Joshua and the man that seemed to help him.

Clive wants to reach out and help Joshua back to his feet but he does no such thing - he doesn't deserve to touch his brother, doesn't think he'd ever allow him to right now so all he can do is let the tears flow.

He tries to stifle the sob but he fails, the sound comes out choked but it's there. This is not the time or place but all Clive wants to do is drop to his knees in front of Joshua and beg over and over for his forgiveness. For what he'd just done and for Phoenix Gate and everything in between.

"J-Joshua....?" It doesn't make any sense but there's no mistaking it, this is his brother. "I'm......I'm sorry." For so many things. "Forgive me, brother."

He lowers his hand, sword dragging on the ground now but he doesn't let it go - still so hyperaware, in case more soldiers come.

He owes the other man an apology too. Whoever he is, it is clear that he has only been protecting Joshua. He glances at Cid for a second to speak to him, "I must ask for your forgiveness, too. I'm sorry."

A slow cautious step is taken towards Joshua but he does not make any further movements. He does not give into the urge to throw his arms around Joshua and hug him until neither of them can breathe from the intensity of it. His entire body language speaks of his uncertainty - it comes across clearly that he's not sure he's allowed or that it will be welcome.

Adrenaline is narrowly aiding in Joshua's ability to continue standing. It prickles under his skin like the crackle in the wind from Clive's anger. His fury radiates a heat so heavy his knees threaten to give out. They've not lost each other's gaze since the slide of metal from leather—one nowhere close to kind—it makes him feel sick.

Joshua can't find it in him to laugh at the insult, but Cid snorts like he saw it coming. They're so alike. Not completely suspecting; both men are caught off guard when Clive draws an arm back and punches it forwards with a force that knocks Cid off his feet.

The call for him gets cut short—cringing at the reverberating echo of Clive's voice and aggressive handle on his body. Joshua is but a rag-doll, tugged and thrown about as his brother pleases. Blade still stuck to his throat; it's a welcome sensation, cooling the scalding fist near his chest. His breaths rasp violently in his sternum, but he makes no move to fight back. It's almost fitting, to be used like this.

All Joshua's ever done was pretend to be someone he's not. Masking in robes and bunkers, posing as the Phoenix's apostle. Fuck—he still is. He hides behind Cid, pretending he isn't the Joshua that disappeared at the gate. He's so tired of playing this game, he doesn't want to hide anymore.

Joshua doesn't bother catching himself. Lets himself be thrown, hears Cid shout his name, and covers the charred collar of his shirt with a hand.

It hurts.

❝ Joshua— ❞ Cid says again, racing to his aid.

❝ The carrots. ❞

Cid stops, hands freezing at his shoulders.

❝ Wh—Sorry ? ❞

❝ The carrots. ❞ Joshua repeats, louder, then stares up at Clive.

Such a familiar sight, a memory older than he's comfortable with. He knows if he stood now, Clive would be the one looking up.

❝ Father wouldn't let me leave the table until they were all gone, so you would sneak them from my plate. ❞

Dense silence settles between the men. Cid has a million questions he wants to ask because, first—what the hell does Joshua think he's doing? He can't tell if the kid is just naive or if he has a reason behind all this, and it's a little frightening if he's being honest. Coupled with the fact his older brother is about three seconds away from pounding them into the dirt.

If he wasn't so intrigued, he might feel regret for meddling in all of this.