#except that he would actually start liking them

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[baepsays]

More stoner!suguru cause I said so <3

intro to stoner!suguru

tw: mentions of smoking and weed (duh), lowkey exhibitionist stuff, mentions of fem oriented biology, pronouns, and terms of endearments, usage of the term 'slut' teasingly and affectionately:p

whenever you and suguru are on your balcony your neighbors don't dare to come out to feel the night breeze. Even when those separators between each segment makes it hard to see what's going on in the neighboring apartment's balcony, it's always clear what's happening when your neighbors hear their usually inconspicuous neighbor letting out little moans and whimpers.

What's thankfully not clear to their vision, is your practically naked-except for this thin spaghetti strap tank top bunched up over your tits- body reclining on the chair you keep in your balcony, trying to lie as flat on it as the hard material allows. one leg up on one of the arm rests, absolutely high off your mind on a particularly hot ass summer night. and also maybe a little tipsy too. wine and weed, if no one discovered its wonders you might have to be the proponent.

as you space out with the blunt in between your lips, the ash teetering to fall and burn you and your boyfriend—geto suguru. who's currently high off his mind licking you up and eating you out as if he would be shot dead otherwise. if someone told him the burning blunt is more of a threat he'd laugh as if they told the biggest joke. you see, this man would let his partner burn him alive on a stake, so a small blunt is nothing to him.

except that small blunt is more than enough to make him realize, actualize even, what's really important right now. it's that he needs to eat your cunt out, lick up whatever you offer him in the form of liquid arousal or cum, finger you so well it burns. and then if, and only if you allow, to dick you down.

before the ash gathered on the blunt falls on either one of you, you take it out of your mouth with one a last drag,  and while you shake off the ash on the tray on the little table right beside the chair, your other hand slowly drags its fingers from suguru's cheeks-hollowed out, sucking you all in- to tangle itself with his gorgeous hair. again, all loose, a signature high suguru trait as it has become. your boyfriend keeps losing all his hair ties the day after he gets high with you ( most of the time he throws it off the balcony, other times if you guys are indoors he throws it across the room somewhere, once he flushed it down the toilet).

you pull his hair and yank him off your cunt, as painful as it is for you to part him from your twitching cunt, it's way more agonizing for him. he makes no effort to hide that fact, before his frown starts to morph into whines and complaints, you put the blunt between his lips and after he takes a long drag, you don't give him the time to exhale the smoke. you take the blunt off his lips, push his face back in, stuffed between your thighs. this time taking off the one leg off the arm rest and other off the ground to practically choke him with your thighs. and he'd rather not die any other way.

suguru gets a hold of your thighs and with much internal reluctance, parts them slightly to place his face a little less than 10 cm away from your pussy and blows out the smoke trapped in his lungs. as the cloud of smoke surrounds your pelvic region and flows up to melt into the air, suguru's glowing purple eyes stare back at you from the fog of smoke, threatening like a siren finalizing his target from a far on a rock in a cloud of mist. he dives back into it hungrier, and probably more high off his mind.

“Demanding as ever sweetheart.”

his tongue feels more heavy but sloppier on your clit with his licking, which does also come with the price of some hardy slaps on your thighs and ass, as a warning really. 

“Ah ah, my slutty little angel is patient, right?” he says, holding your thighs in place to keep them from curling up around his neck again.

but then he catches you off guard with straight two fingers shoving in your hole hooking up to find that familiar sweet spot like muscle memory, as he starts to suck on your clit and finger you at a matched rhythm. the blunt in between your fingers falls out of your hand on the ground forgotten and now extinguished, as you let out a strained stuttering moan while you came all over suguru's face, with your cum dripping down his chin and him making efforts to lap up every single drop of it.

after a few minutes of catching your breath and coming to your senses (well somewhat, you're still high af) you look down at your bf, who's basically licked you clean and dry, who is perching his face on your thighs and looking back at you with his sultry eyes and messed up hair—somehow in a hoarse voice he mutters;

"Light it back up pretty."

note: thank you sm for reading ^^ this is my more put together post cause it's dedicated to the beloved Damien, aka @cuntphoric <3 sorry but he was the first stoner suguru propaganda supporter ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

ALSO thank you sm @madamechrissy <3 my beloved<3 beta read and helped me edit

creds for dividers: @omi-resources

thank you to you both <3 cause I genuinely enjoy your writings sm and look forward to them wholeheartedly it was the kindest and sweetest thing that has happened to me in a fandom really.

also my finals start today and it's my bday 👎 sucks to suck ig :( wish me luck pookies

[radiantmists]

Haven't finished my day one fic but here's my entry for @charles-rowland-week Day 2: Chorb!

I see a lot of cute orb-ghost content and love it, but for some reason when I sat down to write my brain went: that experience must be terrifying on both ends. Especially if it happens when they're pushed to the brink, a circumstance that otherwise leads to ghosts just... dissolving. Especially the first time.

So here's the first time!

***

Charles can't remember how he got here; he hasn't really got any idea where here is, except that the ground he's lying on is too hard and the light is so bright it burns his eyes whenever he opens them.

Though that might actually be something wrong with his eyes, judging by how much the rest of him hurts. He must have pissed someone off real bad, to be in this much pain, but he can't remember who or why. He hopes it was worth it.

"Charles," says a voice, a voice he knows. Edwin's here, and he sounds upset, and like he's trying to hide it. Charles manages to pry his eyes open for half a moment before the searing pain forces them shut again, but in that brief second he gets a glimpse of Edwin-- just his neck and the bottom of his face, the harsh press of his mouth.

Charles has seen that expression before, knows it comes along with wide eyes that give away what might look like frustration otherwise; this is the face Edwin makes when he's terrified.

Edwin shouldn't be terrified. Charles tries to reach for where he thinks he was, to comfort him, but just the idea of moving his arm reminds him of how much his shoulders hurt, and he half-screams before he can swallow the sound.

"Charles, just-- just lie still a moment," Edwin says beyond the roaring of his ears, and it shouldn't be a hard request with how much moving hurts, but Charles doesn't think he can bear to lie here like this much longer, the ground digging into him and the pain burning through his bones.

There's something wrong about that. Charles shouldn't be able to feel the ground, however hard it is; he doesn't actually have bones to burn.

He's dead, but he's still hurting, somehow, and that doesn't seem fair, does it? He'd sort of thought he'd escaped it, for a while. Maybe a little pain was the cost of being alive, but now-- unable to feel any good thing-- it just feels cruel.

He's so tired of hurting.

"Charles," Edwin's voice breaks through again, only this time the tone is different, somewhere beyond fear. "Charles, please, don't-- please just stay--"

His voice breaks on the plea. Because he is pleading, which is all kinds of wrong. Edwin doesn't beg when he's terrified; he goes silent and still like a hunted rabbit, which Charles hates with all his being but he hates this too. Edwin shouldn't beg. He shouldn't have to, not with Charles, who has embarked on the afterlife-long project of making him as happy as possible.

Not going anywhere, he tries to say, but his mouth doesn't want to obey him and instead he just sort of groans. He can't move his fingers-- he's not sure he has fingers, right now. They don't hurt anymore, but he can't really feel them either.

He remembers that: losing his fingers first, then his toes, then more and more. Edwin had been there then, too, strange and funny and unbelievably kind, and Charles hadn't had the chance to worry about his toes. Edwin had given him that gift, the gift of not being scared, and then he'd tried to run off like it was nothing, like after all that he'd thought Charles would just leave Edwin to the lingering terror in his eyes when he spoke of Hell.

That terror has never left completely, despite Charles' best efforts. He's started to think it never will, and the thought hurts, but at least he'd thought it was getting better; except now Edwin is terrified, and he's the one begging Charles to stay. He's still talking, somewhere beyond the pain, and though Charles can't make out the words, that heartbreaking tone is still there.

Charles isn't leaving him. He refuses. But he can't bear this either, the pain making it so hard to think, to remember. Edwin's voice is a lifeline, but it's getting more and more difficult to hear it, and he's not sure it's just the ringing anymore.

He's a ghost. He doesn't have ears to ring, not really, or bones to ache or eyes to burn when he opens them. Piece by piece, half on purpose and half unable to hold on, he lets it all slip away, until all that's left is the conviction: whatever happens, he wants to stay.

It feels a little like changing his hair, the way Edwin had taught him, just holding on to what he wants until that's what he is.

Mostly, though, it feels like dying.

***

He knows less and more, like this. He doesn't know where he is, and there's no feeling to help him guess, no pain or light or voice in the ears he doesn't have anymore. He doesn't know how he got here, doesn't know how long he's been here, doesn't even know who he is, really.

But he's not confused, because what he knows is this: he's dead, and it's not fucking fair, because he had so much left to do. He knows he was going to do better, that he was going to fix things, and now he'll never have the chance. Part of him seethes at that, and part of him just wants to take the hint and stop trying.

Except he also knows, somehow, that he does have another chance. That he's still here, even if he can't feel or taste or smell-- or even see or hear. That he can move things, somehow, change them, sometimes even fix them. He can solve crimes and save lives and on very good days he can make Edwin laugh.

He remembers that, the last time he'd made Edwin laugh-- just a little chuckle, really, but helplessly sincere, and the smile had stayed on his lips when he'd said, really, Charles--

The world unfolds around that voice speaking his name, first just memory into sound and then the awareness of ears to hear it, of a head to turn toward it and arms to push himself up, of something soft and forgiving under his palms, and of eyes he can open to see Edwin's face, remarkably close and blinking with surprise that, as Charles watches, collapses into relief.

"You came back," Edwin breathes. From this close, Charles can see the tears well in his eyes. Edwin, who he's seen burn half his hand off without even noticing, is crying over Charles.

It's not really a choice, to reach out with hands that still look a little misty and pull Edwin close. Edwin clutches him back, curling his hands in the back of Charles' shirt and tucking his chin over Charles's shoulder like if he just holds Charles close enough, he can hold him together.

Maybe he can. Charles curls his own fingers into Edwin's coat, breathes deep just to feel his ribs expand into Edwin's grip, ghost-cool but firm and real, real, real.

"I was afraid you were gone," Edwin says.

I was too, Charles doesn't say.

"Told you," he murmurs instead, "you're stuck with me."

[armysantiny]

Straight from where? – Sylus

P: Sylus x female reader | G: fluff, oneshot | Inc: mc!reader, those dreadful dark romance booktok books, office work, Mephisto being a glorified camera, a domestic morning, Sylus being compared to those shitty booktok male reads, mentioned Tara, mentioned Luka and Keiran, small mention of blood on Sylus| Wc: 1.9k | W: mentions of blood | R: G

Summary: After work, y/n’s gifted a few…interesting romance novels from a colleague at work, under the premise that Skye is just like the male love interests. The white hair, red eyes and slick motorbike? A perfect match, if Sylus actually was like the men in those dark romance books. Except he’s not, and the man in question is just as mortified to learn what y/n’s colleagues think he would do to her.

Min's notes: Remember when Sylus was intially released and people started wrongfully comparing him to those really shit male leads?? Yeah so do I which is why I wrote this out of spite. I started writing this a while ago, but it got sidetracked for my Wooyoung fic. Anyway~ enjoy almost 2k words of Sylus not being a shitty dark romance stereotype

It’s the sound of several books hitting her desk at the end of a gruelling workday that brings y/n out of her focus, fingers coming to a pause on the desktop’s keyboard. There are still the mission reports on her screen that need to be filled out, yet the new additions to her desk and her coworker’s eager expression spark curiosity. Taking a quick break to indulge in said sparked curiosities, as per a certain crow’s encouragement, shouldn’t be too bad. She’s been at this for hours anyway, safe to say she’s earned it.

So, she bites.

“What are these?” Y/n chuckles, then takes a proper look at the titles. “Romance…novels?” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate a good book, but the titles she’s looking at are…fascinating, to say the least.

“Mhm! After Skye accompanied us on our outing last time, and since he’s been here to pick you up a few times, I figured I’d lend these for you to read!” Her fellow hunter answers, al bright-eyed and genuine. They go on a little longer, comparing Sylus—Skye, as far as her coworkers know—to the kind of dark romance male leads that are going viral online. A Zade Meadows kind of man, is the consensus y/n gets once her coworker is done explaining and bids her a good night before getting ready to head home themselves.

And while Sylus is… the way that he is, y/n’s having a hard time believing the very same leader of Onychinus would be capable of doing any of the things she’s heard these male leads do. To other people, sure, y/n’s seen Sylus exert his authority in a myriad of violent ways, but the Sylus Qin she knows is a man weak to her affections, amongst other things.

“Thanks for letting me read them,” she chooses to say after a beat, “I’ll try and get him to read them with me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the comparison.” Moments after her coworker heads out of the office and is out of earshot, y/n snorts a laugh behind her palm.

As if he’d appreciate it. Which is exactly why y/n plans on taking these books with her to Sylus’ house—castle—tonight.

Driving into the N109 Zone after a long day, a long week in fact, is comforting, the never-ending darkness surrounding y/n as she rides her bike to her destination. The broach is fastened to her coat, a silent badge of protection in the place where shadows exist even in the dark. But it’s not long until she arrives outside the front door of her home away from home, and the home of her favourite crow.

“Pretty bird..?” Y/n calls out, helmet tucked under arm as she wanders around the oddly quiet walls of Sylus’ home. Sure, her bike is parked out front, and the hunter very clearly recalls hearing distinct caws as she left work, but the sprawling expanse of a home is pin-drop silent. Even by N109 standards, it’s quiet. Slipping her shoes off in favour of comfortable slippers, y/n continues her search, her helmet discarded on a side-cabinet.

An endless swath of doors, that’s what y/n decides Sylus’ home is after she opens the nth door to no success. Just where is this man?

Familiar hands wrap around her waist.

“Hello, sweetie.” Sylus smiles, cradling his hunter close against his chest. There are traces of blood on his clothes, a smear or two across his cheek, but that doesn’t matter. Not when his y/n has come all this way to see him. What an honour he’s been bestowed. “A pretty kitten decided to come all this way just to see me. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Do you enjoy scaring the hell out of me?” Y/n complains, trailing her words off with warm laughter that he could drown himself in. “Anyway, where have you been? The house was dead silent, it was weird. Thought you weren’t doing anything today.”

“I had to take care of some… last-minute business with the twins, it kept me longer than I’d have liked.” He admits, unfurling his arms from around y/n’s delectable waist when she wriggles around to go do something. There’s a pep in her step, an excitement that Sylus knows very well means she’s up to something. Or she has something to show him. Either is good.

But there’s still the pressing matter of blood on him and his clothes.

“I’ll head into the shower, sweetie.”

Heading out of the shower a full thirty minutes later and noticeably blood-free, Sylus is met with a stack of books on his dresser as he reaches for his robe, y/n watching him from her spot on the edge of his bed. It doesn’t take long, just a couple of glances between the literature and y/n, for him to come to his conclusion.

“I didn’t know we were expanding our library,” he purrs, sneaking in a forehead kiss and bringing some of the books with his Evol. “Did you buy these? Pardon the assumption, kitten, but I know your taste and… this isn’t exactly it.”

She snickers and oh, he’s not wrong. He’s being set up, lovingly, of course.

“Well, if these aren’t your taste,” he says, “enlighten me with your plans, since we’re evidently going to be reading these for the next few days.”

And, well. The next few days are interesting, to say the least.

He peruses the novels in between meetings, digesting chapter after somewhat delusional chapter, disbelief nearly a permanent expression on his face each time one of these novels are in his hands. How anyone finds any of this… literature, something of actual substance is a mystery and the sooner he can give these sorry excuses for published books back to y/n to return to her colleague, the better. Everything about the ‘romance’ stories he’s been reading leaves a rotten taste in his mouth, worsened further by the fact that this is how y/n’s colleagues think Sylus treats his beloved.

All accusations that couldn’t be further from the truth. Frankly, he’s a little insulted.

He should go and correct this mistake.

“Boss! We’ve got a lead on the group peddling fraudulent weapons out of the old warehouse!” Kieran announces, Luke already heading off to the armoury to gear up. “Shall we get the jump on them?”

So much for seeing his pretty hunter tonight. He’ll just have Mephisto watch her instead.

Just what is so good about these anyway? It’s the only thing that’s been on y/n’s mind all night, tucked in bed with one of the dark romance novels out of the set she’d given to Sylus. A flask of jasmine tea sits on her bedside drawer, the drink and her several plushies around her bed much more interesting than the book in her hand.

If she’s having such a hard time right now, sure her favourite crow isn’t faring any better. She can almost see it now; the displeased hum, his lips curled into a frown and the distinct furrow of his brows.

And of course, the only thing better than thinking about a grumbling Sylus, is to see it in person. Obviously.

Humming along to her playlist early on in the morning as she goes about preparing breakfast, y/n startles at the knock on her door. It’s god-awfully early today, ruling out anyone she could think of off the top of her head. Her hunting partner doesn’t get up for a few more hours at the very least, and there’s no delivery to pick up…

“Morning to you too, sweetie. Off to work?” Sylus grins as she opens the front door, bending down to greet her and with a familiar looking stack of books tucked away under his arm. “Why don’t I drop you off? You can take these back with you as well.”

“How did you know I had to get to work early today?” Y/n certainly doesn’t remember texting Sylus anything other than good morning and a series of happy crow emojis, so she watches him step inside and look towards her balcony. Locking the door behind her before following his line of sight, y/n deadpans.

The crow is there. What a surprise.

“So, would you like that lift to work, kitten?”

Sylus’ motorcycle comes to a stop outside the doors of the Hunter’s Association, the hum of the engine replaced by a fresh dawn breeze as y/n removes her helmet. Her bag is several times heavier, courtesy of Sylus’ effective persuasion during breakfast. Persuasion she couldn’t exactly say no to.

“Sweetie, you can’t possibly believe any of this is good reading material,” Sylus groans, leaning against y/n’s kitchen counter while she eats breakfast. It’s probably the most offended she’s seen him in a while, and out of everything that could annoy Sylus this much, it’s the borrowed book in his hand. “This is frankly a waste of paper and the publisher’s expertise, who allowed this to be released to the public?”

Trying not to laugh through a mouthful of food is proving quite the challenge.

“Some really stubborn people, I imagine. Safe to say you don’t agree with the author’s version, then?” Y/n replies, finishing the rest of her breakfast, pure satisfaction on her face at Sylus’ indignant grumblings. It certainly makes up for Mephisto watching her from the balcony like a glorified spy camera. “Here I was think you didn’t care much for romance. Silly me~”

“The only silly thing here, sweetheart,” his voice echoes out, in time with large, warm hands wrapping around y/n’s waist. “Is the ridiculous notion your colleagues have that I’d be anything like the bastards in those books. Where did that idea come from, hm?”

Surely he’s just messing with her.

“You know exactly why, c’mon.”

“No, enlighten me.”

Her desk is just as tidy as it was when she left it, except for a croissant and her favourite morning coffee from Tara. Setting herself up doesn’t take too long, and all y/n’s left with are the books she needs to return. Books she’d rather never have to look at or read again, thanks very much. Though, there’s nothing she can do about it just yet, when the book’s owner has yet to show up.

With remarkably little callouts, there’s nothing much else for y/n to do but catch up on her remaining reports. Her hands fly across the keyboard, filling out line after line with practically no interruption.

“Y/n!” The same voice from last time calls out, breaking her out of her concentration as her colleague bounds over with enthusiasm. “How were those books I lent you? Any good?”

…is there a polite way to say absolutely horrifying and utterly dreadful?

“Definitely pretty interesting,” Y/n nods, pushing her chair away from her desk to reach for her bag. Might as well return the affronts to literature to their proper owner while she’s at it. “Skye had a read of a few as well, don’t think he’ll be reading anymore now.”

The books exchange hands, finally out of her possession, and y/n’s phone buzzes. Of course it does. Of course he’s watching.

Pretty Bird: Finally, took you long enough sweetie. Good riddance [12:54]

Pretty Bird: Let’s agree to never punish our eyes with that garbage ever again. Deal? [12:54]

Miss Hunter: As long as you agree to pick me up after work, Sy [12:56]

Pretty Bird: Then I guess we have a deal. See you after work, my love [13:00]

© copyright work of armysantiny 2025-2026

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[fuck-customers]

This happened a few months ago. I'm like Spare Manager

They let me play Responsibility when the 3 actual managers somehow leave a gap in coverage between them.

I got called in on my day off, which normally isn't a problem because I'm a broke bitch and need the overtime. But this particular day, I was at the vet with my cat. The vet office is twice as far from my house as work is, so I would have had to drive 45 minutes home and then turn around and drive another 20-30 minutes back this way in what would, at that time, be rush hour traffic.

I explained this and said I could come in, but I will have to have my cat with me. Otherwise, it would be close to 3 hours before I could get there. Store manager said that was fine, just get there, they need me until 8. So, I did. My cat is well behaved and leash trained and we're not food or medical related so having him shouldn't be a problem. And they begged me to come in, right?

So why then did the other manager get there at 8 PM and start throwing the biggest fucking fit over my cat? Everyone testified that he didn't leave my shoulders except once when I left him on the couch with some kids who wanted to pet him and show him videos while I helped their parents. He didn't make a mess and barely made a noise louder than a purr. He was zero problem and most people didn't even realize he was here.

"WHY COULDN'T YOU LEAVE HIM IN THE CAR?" Because it's 108 outside???

"LEAVE THE CAR RUNNING" For 4 hours? Are you nuts?

She suspended me for three days without pay but store manager threw it out and told me I could either come back on as scheduled or take the long weekend, PTO approved. I came back and the manager acted like nothing happened.

Posted by admin Rodney

[punkrockmlchael]

Imagine rockstar!eddie and popstar!reader and the media has pit these two against each other, saying how they hate each other when in reality it's not true at all. And during one of reader's concerts or a live stream someone tries to start something against Eddie and & reader is like "Hold on babygirl, we love Eddie here"

Omg, your mind. (While I agree with this I have a bit of a different take; hear me out)

No because like, imagine being in a band yourself with your closest friends, and you're touring with Corroded Coffin, opening for them. Being in the spot light means rumors flying left and right, it was inevitable. About you, your friends, Corroded Coffin, you and corroded coffin; it felt like there was always something being brought up whether it was true or not.

And you were nervous to tour with them because the media always paints Corroded Coffin to be these big mean and scary guys because, hello, they have this really heavy and deep metal sound (and they’re kinda tall, except for Gareth) but, just because they play metal music doesn't mean they themselves are these big scary guys; in fact they were the opposite.

No, Corroded Coffin are actually sweethearts. The sweetest, to be honest. They would hold doors for you, always make sure you and your bandmates are okay in the public eye; they basically took you and your bandmates under their wings because they wanted to show you the ropes and make sure you’re all living the dream as well.

And after that tour, you kept close ties with them, you were friends with them after all. And somehow you were always the closest to Eddie, he just had the biggest personality in corroded coffin, followed closely by Gareth. Grant and Jeff tended to keep to themselves, but that didn't change the fact that they too were the sweetest boys you had ever met; always always checking in on you. Random texts from Corroded Coffin’s members were something that happened daily it felt like; a meme, a video, a congratulations text on a new song or video coming out. It was always something with those boys, not that you or your friends were complaining.

Anyways, sometime after that tour you and your band were blowing up, becoming bigger and bigger; more songs, more tours, more livestreams to keep your fans up to date!

And one livestream Corroded Coffin got brought up, your band members laughing and recounting the memories of those boys and spending time with them.

Talking about how your first time in California you all went to the beach and Eddie forgot sunscreen and literally was so burnt to a crisp he couldn’t even play his guitar that night because wearing the strap hurt; he stood there and sang while Grant and Jeff did all the work. Talking about how the best part of tour was when Gareth broke his drum set and had to use your bands for a couple shows. Talking about how Jeff and Grant are actually the funniest people you would meet, like they’re always cracking jokes about something whether it be the time or not. (Literally, like remember when Eddie was burnt to a crisp and couldn’t play the guitar? Yeah; they said he looked like a singing and dancing lobster because his bright red shoulders, arms and face were on full display for everyone as he winced into every step he took. As they called it; “the Amanda Show called, they want their dancing lobster back!”)

That was just the start; the fans of Corroded Coffin themselves knew these boys were actually idiots and the funniest people to walk the earth, and you didn’t quite believe it until you witnessed it first hand. (But, come on, they’re idiots and nerds who play metal music; what’s not to love about them?!)

And suddenly while reminiscing on the good old days of tour while on livestream, your friend reads a comment about how Eddie is a dick, and how it appears that everyone’s hates him.

“I heard that Eddie is a dick, he’s such an arrogant asshole who only seems to think about himself and what will benefit him.”

And you whip your head around and look at the screen, raising an eyebrow; ready to defend your friend at any moment. “Oh, no, he's actually quite the opposite. He’s the funniest, sweetest, most caring person we’ve ever met; we love Eddie here. In fact, he actually texted me this morning congratulating us on our new single being out. He said it sounds so awesome, and he can’t wait to hear us play it live.”

Your friend nodded, agreeing with you. “He might look scary with that mullet and those tattoos but I promise you he is actually a giant teddy bear,” they said, nodding along to your words. “He’s a dork, let me tell you.”

“The biggest dork,” you giggled. “But, we love him just the same.”

[enemywasp]

I didn't think I'd care for season 2 of black butler when I started watching it but it did get me thinking about the way the demon/master ships work and how it makes sense for them to lack boundaries or be romantically/sexually charged

Alois is more direct as the anime went for a far more clear route at showing his backstory and trauma. He is clingy and throws himself at people, often seeming to deliberately trying to rile them up or get close with them even tho they are way older, cause that's the only kind of love he ever got in the end.

After his brother died he was without love for ages, until his new "father" took him in who "loved" him, but used him as a sex toy.

So now he sort of clings onto that dynamic, uses his looks, and often makes almost advances at Claude like that's the only way he knows to gain love and approval.

Wheras Ciel is the opposite. He had a loving family for longer than Alois and was not brought into his trauma through any pretence of love. He was caged and sold to the highest bidder. Defiled and laughed at in groups as they wanted to make him impure and the perfect sacrifice for their cult.

So now he avoids touch, he backs away from closeness, and almost every time we see him have breakdowns or flashbacks, he hides away from people's hands. Often only ever leaning on younger people or Sebastian. His saviour.

He has learnt not to trust or let anyone close, but Sebastian is his exception cause he can't hurt him. He hides himself away from affection, and other than the incident with master sullivan, Sebastian is the only one who can push those boundaries to an extent. As Ciel sees him as a lifeline.

It actually makes a lot of sense the way Ciel and Alois cling to their respective butlers. And given those butlers are demons and not bound by human morals, it would be no surprise if they encouraged that dependency.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

hii, can I request a yandere shadow who grows to be obsessed with y/n?

A/n: meant to post this sooner

Yandere!Shadow x reader

It started subtly, almost innocently. Shadow wasn’t the kind to dwell on others. He preferred solitude. Yet, you weren’t like everyone else. You didn’t except him to change, or provoke him, unlike certain hedgehogs, you actually respected him.

One day he was injured, badly he ended uo infrint of you. He was about to leave before you insisted on helping him, despite him trying to decline.

"Its okay to ask for help every once in a while you know." You said while wrappibg bandage over his injury.

He had scoffed at the time, muttering something about being fine on his own. But the warmth of your hand on his arm lingered long after you let go.

Shadow’s curiosity about you grew steadily. He didn’t understand why, but he found himself watching you from afar. The way you carried yourself, the way you interacted with others, it fascinated him. You had a spark, a light that he couldn’t look away from.

At first, he told himself it was harmless. After all, he was just... observing. It wasn’t as if you’d notice him lurking in the shadows, his eyes tracking your every movement.

But then, he started seeking you out intentionally. If he knew you were going to be somewhere, he made sure to be there too. If you were talking to someone, he’d position himself close enough to overhear. He didn’t need to interact, just being near you was enough.

For now.

It didn’t take long for Shadow’s feelings to evolve. The idea of you being with anyone else, laughing with them, trusting them the way you trusted him, filled him with a rage he didn’t fully understand. You were kind to everyone, but the thought of your kindness being shared made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He started interfering in subtle ways. If someone asked you out, they’d mysteriously back out at the last moment, their enthusiasm gone. If you planned to meet friends, sudden circumstances would force them to cancel. He wanted you all to himself, and he was willing to ensure it happened.

The first time you noticed something was off, you brushed it aside. It was completely reasonable none of your friends could pick you up, forcing you to walk, and run into Shadow on your way home.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night, ill walk you home"

And while you appreciated his concern, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence wasn’t entirely accidental.

As the weeks went by, more "coincidences" occurred. You started seeing Shadow everywhere. If you mentioned needing help with something, he’d show up before you even had a chance to ask. If you stayed out late, he’d somehow be waiting for you when you got home.

Shadow’s obsession with you consumed him. His thoughts were dominated by you, your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel. He didn’t recognize himself anymore.

The once controlled, shut off, independent, supposed "ultimate life form" had been replaced by someone who couldn’t function without you.

He started collecting things, small things of you. A scarf you left behind, a note you scribbled, even a strand of your hair caught in your comb. He kept them hidden, locked away in a box that he’d never let anyone else see.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

The day Shadow’s control slipped was the day you tried to pull away. You’d started to notice more and more how he changed, and he Slowly became too much. When you told him you needed space, his reaction was immediate and terrifying.

"Space?" he repeated. "Why would you need space from me? I’ve done everything for you."

You tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He onlystepped closer.

"You don’t understand," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "You belong with me. No one else can protect you like I can. No one else deserves you."

When you tried to step back, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that made you wince.

"You don’t get to leave me, Not after everything"

[ernmark]

Okay, so:

When I was little, my mom would pop me and my brothers into a little wagon and walk us over to the public library, and she'd come back with a bunch of VHS tapes of pretty much anything that looked kid-friendly that didn't make her lose her mind. It kept us occupied, but also helped us to learn English outside of school (for my older brother) and before we started school (for my younger brother and myself).

Two of these tapes were the Rankin Bass Hobbit and Return of the King.

Now keep in mind, I was also watching home-recorded VHS tapes that we brought over from Germany, and I remembered a lot of those more clearly than the American tapes that got cycled out every time my mom took us to the library.

Fast forward a decade or so, 2001, when the Fellowship of the Ring hit theaters. But we didn't have a ton of money, so seeing a film in theaters wasn't a priority. But everybody was talking about it, so I started reading the book. And it seems familiar, but... not. And I can't put my finger on why.

Later that year, my middle school English class read the Hobbit-- and again, weirdly familiar. Like, really weirdly so. And then at the end of the unit, we watched the Rankin/Bass Hobbit film, and I thought oh! That's why! I've seen this film before!

(Except there were songs I kept remembering that obviously weren't in the film, so maybe I saw a different cut? Maybe I dreamed it? And clearly Bilbo had all ten fingers to the end credits, so that was a weird thing to misremember.)

Then the DVD of the Fellowship of the Ring comes out, and one of my friends has me come over to watch it. And same as with the book (I hadn't yet made it past the Two Towers), and still these little details kept popping into my head that were wrong, but in ways I couldn't articulate. Maybe they were details from the book that got cut? Didn't Gollum, like, jump on somebody's shoulders at one point? Weird how he didn't actually confront them. And I kept remembering that Frodo had Nine Fingers, but he clearly didn't, we kept getting very clear shots of Elijah Wood's hands, so that didn't make any sense at all.

But I really enjoyed the movie, and I was really hyped for the next one, and so I started digging deeper into it. And my friend discovered that there WAS, in fact, an old cartoon that dealt with Frodo et al: the 1978 Lord of the Rings (which, weirdly, cut off during the Two Towers), and that was just frustrating-- nothing looked like I remembered, and nobody was singing, and everything was rotoscoped, and Frodo still had all his fingers???

I cannot describe to you the surreality of spending more than a year chasing a half-remembered film that simultaneously is and is not all of these other iterations and being unable to articulate why-- or the giddy vindication I felt when I finally got my hands on another copy of The Return of the King and finally proved that I hadn't hallucinated the entire thing.

All of which is to say:

The poll is missing an option.

[klunkcat]

dialogue prompts for ~injury~

11. “I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

with maybe portal duo my beloved :3 💙🧡

(I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I read this and immediately thought about how cold it was outside the other day, so this got away from me a little bit <3 if you live in upstate new york and know geographically that this is impossible, know that I looked up exactly enough for this to not be nonsense and that's it so sorry in advance lmao)

tw: mild injury, some mentions of potential suffocation (does not happen), avalanches

Maybe it’s a cliche to say that ‘everything happened so fast’, but in Mikey’s defense, it was freezing and he was thinking about the hot cocoa he was going to make when he got home (with mousse, and sprinkles. Maybe the cherries April had sneakily bought him the other day), and frankly it was freezing. 

The opportunity to hang out at April’s cabin with his brothers upstate had been a dream come true. Donnie kept the train carts from getting too cold regularly, but there was a power outage issue that made things draftier than even their mounds of blankets seemed to be able to drive out these days. When it had been suggested they spend a few weeks away until the grid could come back on, it sounded like a vacation. 

Complete access to an open acre of land in the mountains complete with a two story log cabin home, with full wifi? And a full kitchen? Paradise. Easy trade. Every single one of them had yes and’ed that bit. 

Of course, it didn’t mean they’d left the winter behind. 

One second, they’d been playing ‘Free Willy-Raph’, which is to say competing over who could launch themselves high enough off a snow hill to make it fully over Raph’s head – kind of like a pole vault but with a sled and a lot more crashing limbs– and the next. Well. Mikey isn’t entirely sure what happened next.  

He’d been up the slope, maybe a bit farther than his brothers had gone just to prove a point, spiced up on the barest bit of playful spite after Leo had beat him the last four times in a row, and sure he could get it this time. His brother’s and April looked like stickmen down the ways as he’d started settling down his bright orange sled. 

Suddenly, a shout, or a rush of noise. He wasn’t sure what came first. A roll of white, and he was flying. Swimming, maybe. Then: darkness.

Mikey’s not sure if he blacks out for a second, or when he blinks himself awake it’s just fallen instantly silent, but it’s muffled all the way up to his eyes. Oh, he thinks distantly. There is stuff on my eyes. It’s really unfortunate that his arms are too tired to move anywhere at all near his face. He wiggles his hands anyways. 

It’s cold, too— his thoughts are hard to order. It’s an all over cold like Donnie had stuffed snow down his jacket again. He hopes Raph caught him doing it this time. 

“Not funny, Dee,” he mumbles, and hey. Actually, it’s hard to move his lips, too. He knows something about that— Leo had drilled it into all of their heads after he’d read through one of the big medical textbooks April ‘borrowed’ for him. 

We don’t regulate temperature like people do, Leo’d said. Which means, if you lie around in the tunnels all day or take a funky trip up to skate around without a scarf. Bam, turtle pop. 

Does that mean we can’t go up top at all? Mikey’d whined. It would be horrendous if they couldn’t visit April for a good few months; they had a tradition on Christmas eve of watching the absolute worst Christmas rom coms they could for the entire afternoon before her parents got home from work. They’d never gotten that cold before. 

Leo’d poked Mikey and leaned forwards with a sideways smile. Nah, just gotta stay warm is all, Angie. If you feel sleepy, let me know okay?

“I think I’m sleepy,” Mikey tells Leo. Except Leo isn’t actually here, he doesn’t think. It’s cold, but it’s packed all in at him like there’s something warm under the center of it. He can’t really feel his toes, he thinks one of his boots might have fallen off. April had tried really hard to find some in his size, she’d probably be sad. 

Fuck, Leo thinks. Imagines a Raph who isn’t just as mortified as he is scolding him for it, and swears again just for emphasis.

In theory, he’d known that avalanches were a thing. He’d even made a joke about it as they were driving up and noticed exactly how nestled into the mountainside April’s parents place was. He’d thought it was more for skiers, or freak accidents in ice storms, or dramatic beginnings to a meet cute made by someone who had absolutely no understanding of gravitas. 

Not for little brothers. Definitely not for his. 

The notice that the snow was giving way had been almost nothing— a faint drum sound maybe. He’d hesitated, for a second while goofing around with Don and gotten a handful of snow to the face as a result. Mikey trudging stubbornly up the marker that Leo’d set to try to get even more airtime, bright orange sled bobbing with him as he went. 

He’d looked so tiny. For all his little brother was an absolute powerhouse of a maniac when he needed to be, sometimes it hit him funny just to remember that he was little. 

Then, a cracking noise. Something rumbling— a white hill appearing behind Mikey, farther up the slope, April’s gasp of sudden realization and— 

He couldn’t find Mikey. 

“Maybe he followed it out,” April said, panic making her voice sound thready to Leo’s ears. “If he— in an avalanche, you’re supposed to swim with it.” 

Leo shook his head. Numb down to his finger tips. “He wasn’t even looking at it.” Mikey hadn’t even seen it. His baby brother was a fluid instinctive wave of thunder in motion on his worst days, but it hit him from behind. They’d never been anywhere that had so much snow. 

Donnie made a faint noise to his left, the kind of exasperated hiss that meant he was overwhelmed and shutting down. He typed even more frantically on his wrist guard. 

“He’s here,” Raph said, swallowing roughly. “We just— we just have to find him. Right?” 

Leo nodded back. “Maybe we should, um. If we split up, we can cover more area. Don, can you lend Raph your staff?”

It was a testament to how far deep into shut down mode his twin was that he didn’t even argue, passing it over without a word. Leo tried to center himself. 

“It’s. If you poke first, gently. You can find more under the snow, so it doesn’t get more compact.” Raph’s weight would be a problem in terms of accidentally standing on Mikey, if he was under him. He tried to will his brain away from the mental image and failed. “You go left, I’ll start where we saw him and work down.” 

Raph nodded, mouth set in a wobbly line. Find him Leo, he imagined Raph saying. Please.

It was a tiny one, April’d said, which was the craziest part. They’d had enough time to back up out of the way, and it hadn’t reached the house. Just a top layer shifting with the snowfall from last week, probably. Just bad timing. 

There could be another one, if they weren’t careful. Leo was the fastest, he could portal himself down the mountain if he triggered anything, but it would mean Mike potentially buried under another layer. Shit. And it was cold. He’d almost told Mikey to come back down at first, because he was the most susceptible as the smallest to bone chill and they’d been out for a good hour already, but Mike had looked so determined—

He set out up the mountain. 

“Mike? Angelo?” He called, gingerly plodding through the snow, one careful foot at a time. “Buddy, you’re scaring us a little here. Can you make a noise? Reach a hand up? Come on, I’ll even let you tell everyone you won the jump if you want. Once in a lifetime offer!” 

The wind whistled emptily back at him. He shivered. The chill was already starting to bite further through his layers, or maybe it was the shock of seeing his baby brother’s orange hat swallowed up like it was being erased in front of him. This was supposed to be fun, was the thing. A big relaxation party time after barely surviving the end of the world, again. 

Dad had stayed home to keep the lights on, and April was off school for winter break, and it was supposed to be the best time ever so that dad didn’t get a heart attack and ground them all from ever doing anything until they were forty. Fuck, he thought again, which really put a finer point on things. 

What if Mike was hurt? What if he’d hit his head, or crashed into a tree– what if he couldn’t breathe, and Leo was walking around slowly above him all the while, oblivious. What if this nice holiday trip was the last time he ever saw his baby brother, and the last thing he’d ever said was a teasing insult about being last. 

“Mikey!” He called out more urgently. It echoed back, just on the side of too loud, and he froze. Waited. One one thousand, two one thousand. 

No drum sound, no cracking. Just the potential of his brother suffocating three feet to his left. 

Dad was going to lose it. 

He scanned around, white snow and wind blurring at his vision in every direction. Panic had already settled its grip in his chest so hard it hurt, his hands thrumming with adrenaline. It seemed all dead here, frozen still life portraits of something lost years ago. Grey and white and— there! 

A peek of bright orange, barely poking out of the snow. His sled. 

Leo collapsed beside it, digging immediately, heart in his throat. “Mike! Mikey, can you hear me, buddy? Are you— can you say something?” 

He wiggled the sled free after a long frantic moment, using it like a shovel. What if Mikey wasn’t even under it, what if the sled had flung itself the opposite direction, and Leo was wasting time— 

A gloved hand reached up through the layer of snow, weakly. “Oh thank fuck,” Leo breathed, and dropped the sled to grab at it with both hands. “You okay? Can you— is anything broken?” 

Mikey’s face appeared, paler than usual. Bunches of snow tucked against his eyelids. The most wonderful sight he’d ever seen. 

“C’n get it off,” he said, barely a mumble. Leo leaned in. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” 

Mikey’s face scrunched, a barely there motion but something that shot right through Leo’s heart with every big brother instinct he owned. “Snow. M’ eyes.”

“Oh,” Leo chucked, nervous and rabbit quick with fear. “I got you, shush. Hold on, Sunshine.” He pulled his glove off with a thumb, wiping at Mikey’s eyes as careful as anything. His hands shook violently.

Mikey cautiously blinked up at him, eyes dazed. “Leo, I’m sleepy.” 

Leo shoved his glove back on, pushed the remainder of the snow off Mikey’s legs. Unburying him as much as he could. “I bet, big day for you, huh? How’s about we get you down the hill–”

“No,” Mikey’s voice got a little clearer. “I’m. You said to say. If we’re cold and sleepy. I remembered.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Leo made himself smile. “That’s right, I did say that. Great job for telling me. We’ll get you warmed up right away, okay? But I— I need you to stay awake before that, okay? Can you do that?” 

Mikey’s eyes fluttered. “Try.” 

The whiplash of fear and relief was making Leo dizzy. He nodded frantically, made himself stop. Mikey’d landed the right way up under the snow, had almost certainly hit his head from how his pupils looked, but he didn’t know if anything was broken. He shouldn’t move Mikey until he was sure, but— there was blue, just there ever so slightly. The edges of Mikey’s lips. Shit. Shit. 

“I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.” 

“‘Mm.” Mikey’s head flopped back into the snow. His hat was missing, Leo realized. He didn’t know where Mikey’s hat went. 

“Okay, that’s– that’s good. Hey, you were saying something about hot chocolate earlier. Can you remind me? You always make it the best.” He slid his arms under Mikey’s shell, one under his legs. Mikey rolled his head towards him as he pulled him towards himself like a limp doll– Leo made himself stop noticing. 

“Mousse,” Mikey said, simply. “And sprinkles.” He added, more crossly. 

Leo chuckled, then grimaced as he carefully moved to stand. “Yum, that sounds great. Hey, nothing hurts, right? You’re not being brave on me, are you?” 

Mikey let out a vague mumble, then frowned. “Raph was. He was gunna eat all my cherries, for the hot chocolate.” 

Fifteen years of growing up with Michelangelo was the only thing that prevented Leo from freezing in sheer confusion. The best way through was with him. “Oh? I’ll tell him not to.” 

“Good,” Mikey said, with a tiny head not he seemed to regret. “You can have one, though.” 

The trek back down was going to be slow, Leo thought. He smiled vaguely at Mike, listening carefully for any angry mountain noises around them. April and Donnie seemed to have noticed him already, at least. April was sprinting back to the house. 

“I’m special? Didn’t know you liked me carrying you so much.”  

Mikey huffed, sounding more like a sniff. “Didn’t put snow d’wn my. Down my jacket.” 

“Hm. Think that might have been the mountain, Miguelito. Are you feeling sleepy still?” 

“Head hurts,” Mikey said after a moment. “Oh. We were sledding.” 

Okay, good. Leo breathed out. “Yep. You got surprise attacked a little bit there, so we’re done for the day I think.” 

“Aw,” Mikey whined. Looked up at Leo with big eyes. “I lost my boot.”

His little brother, Leo thought with a wave of fondness so loud it felt like a heart attack. He nodded seriously. “April will forgive you.” 

He hefted Mikey up higher, making sure his arms are tucked in and his face pressed to the warmest parts of Leo's jacket. Hot baths and big blankets aside, he was going to make Mikey the biggest, sweetest hot chocolate the world had ever seen.

"Big shitty rom-com marathon in your future, Angie."

Mike sighs, just there against his pocket, looking smaller than anything without his mask. "Can we play the mustache game?"

He'll tape as many fake mustaches all over the screen as the kid wants, he thinks. "Mhmm. I won't even cheat."

"Yay," Mikey said tiredly. "Thanks f'r not letting me be a turtle pop."

"You got it, sunshine." His heart right between his hands. "Anytime."

[megsdoodletag]

Oops second ask related to your au. What do fulgrim and ferrus get up too in their down time? Hehehe.

Im imagining konrad falling from a hole in the ceiling mouth stuffed full of gigantic rats landing right in the middle some celebratory luncheon that malcador has tried to organise.

never apologize for oc/personal au asks this is like me catnip.

going to do these backwards:

this sounds completely plausible (konrad does pop up in places he is absolutely not supposed to be frequently and with great enthusiasm)

except malc isn’t around (yet). however, there is another hooded perpetual with weirdly strong psychic powers wandering the palace. this isn’t great for emp’s mental state but who said any of this was great for emp’s mental state.

now that first question. the short answer is ferrus and fulgrim at least start the au by being firmly On Vacation

ferrus and fulgrim, once they’ve spent some time working things out between themselves generally just kinda. hang around? they’re slowly working on undoing the damage they did to their respective legions, kind of leading the charge for emotional rehab here like ‘ok there’s got to be a way to learn these lessons without Dying Horribly. right.’ they are preoccupied with this for much of the plot, in part because unlike most of the other Primarchs, Fulgrim in particular (and Ferrus by virtue of sticking close by to him) is Not Allowed to interact with Juno. At All.* (*until she’s older). In fact he’s top of The List (which is a thing that does exist). (this could be the subject of a whole nother post however, so i digress)

Fulgrim is actually quite upset by this; he’s put some degree of effort into repairing his relationship with Ferrus, and wishes gman would afford him the same opportunity. gman said i don’t owe u shit, which he’s right about, and though fulgrim understands this that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. especially when it means he’s effectively out of the running for ‘baby niece’s favoritestest coolest most spoil you rotten uncle’ like forever (don’t feel too bad fulgrim. you’ll never guess who juno’s favorite is. none of you ever stood a chance.)

luckily fulgrim has other children to occupy his time.

N’kari was really important to fulgrim post-fall, as a touchstone and companion. The two were still very close even though they had not seen each other for some time at the start of this au, so when N’kari has an unsanctioned hybrid clutch with a khornate daemon and is panicking about it he goes straight to his bestie who uses his imperial-green-card-by-marriage to shelter him from the two angered deities.

So aside from their legions, Fulgrim and Ferrus’ downtime is largely occupied with assisting N’kari and Skarbrand raise their menace twin girls: Deimos and Phobos! They are somewhere between 7-10 years younger than Juno, and idolize her greatly, though she mostly knows them as these annoying kids who follow her around while she’s exploring the warp in her early twenties. Anyway that’s where all of Fulgrim’s ‘childless lesbian double income auntie at christmas’ energy goes; he spoils those brats rotten.

[percabethsong]

I just read your warrior Penelope au post and I love how you explained why Penelope would go in his place because Odysseus is missing his leg, genius

Does it still take Penelope ten years to get back home after the Trojan war or is the timeframe shorter/longer? Is her journey back home similar to what happened in the Odyssey? And if so, does Odysseus get suitors at his door wanting his hand in marriage? How would he hold them off while he waits for his wife to get back home?

Sorry for the questions, late night thoughts go brrrrr

Unfortunately, the ten years journey home still happened, although some changes would be made. I think Circe's would be far more trusting of Penelope since she's a woman, although she would still have turned Penelope's crew into pigs, once Circe saw their captain was a woman and they respected her, she let them go easier and doesn't try to seduce her.

Calypso stays pretty much the same, though, it's Greek Mythology, pretty common to feel attraction to more than one gender.

I imagine Penelope, being Ares champion in this AU, may face things a little more upfront than Odysseus would, even though she's also smart and uses cunning sometimes.

The suitors is an interesting questions! I actually thought about this a lot. It depends how accurate things are with Greek Mythology/history. I often see in this AU Odysseus having suitors, which is a fun concept, but since I'm trying to make a version of this AU that would be more possible in universe (hence Penelope having to use her status as an Amazon to convince people she can fight as a woman, since they were some fem warriors in greek myths or general history, but it was difficult for them to gain people's respect), I would say not exactly. Odysseus already has a heir, and Greek Kings can rule without Queens. However, Odysseus is disabled in this concept, and Ancient Greece was a very ableist society. The exception often made were for war wounds, which Odysseus's wouldn't be considered. Odysseus is still very much capable to rule even if he can't fight, he has a sharp mind and Athena stays by his side helping him, which makes Odysseus a great king. However, it's a very hard thing to be respected as a disabled person in this time, even if it was a bit easier if you were nobility. Because he was the king and had a Amazon ruling by his side, people how doubted him kept their complaints to themselves in the beginning. But without Penelope people starting to question him more, especially after she doesn't return with the crew that left for war, making people more relentless. Then a group of men started to appear at the palaces, demanding Odysseus to choose one of them as an advisor and protector, since the queen had not return to fullfil this role. Odyssey not only very much does not need an advisor and protector, but is also aware of the men true intentions: once he chooses one, he'll be killed in a way that looks like an accident and the man he chose will claim the throne, since Telemachus is still too young to be king.

Regarding how Odysseus would hold them off... Hum, that's a interesting questions. I like to imagine he would invent a lot of little challenges for them, claiming he needs to test the skills of his future advisor, both physical and mental. He would come with a new game ever month. I can also picture him saying he would choose a advisor as soon as he finishes an marble sculpture of Penelope himself, without any help to honour his wife. Every night, though, he breaks a little peace of the stone, having to fix it and buying Penelope time. Or at least hold them down enough until Telemachus is ready to be king.

Don't apologise! I've actually never received these kind questions about a post and it made me really happy!

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

@ghost-type-eevee

I can't believe somebody's actually asking for more of my rambling. That's so nice of you to say, though! Have a picture of Alistair with a lamppost I made in the DAO Toolset years ago, just because.

(Except, I don't think there are metal lampposts in Origins, so this one had to do, haha.)

As for Alistair and the Wardens, he definitely also thinks they're the good guys. Though with him, I think his beliefs come from a different dimension than Blackwall's and Wynne's.

Alistair is very young in Origins. He's 20 at best. Most importantly, though, the game gets extensively into how lonely his whole childhood was. How because he was a bastard child, he was given away to Arl Eamon as a little boy. How that was the only family he truly had back then, yet he wasn't even allowed to build a proper connection with him, because Eamon's wife didn't want him around. She was too worried he might make her look bad, and that was more important than the little boy's wellbeing. The old fool Eamon caved and gave him away. Yet again, he was abandoned. But even before that, he spent his time lonely, with Eamon's dogs for company. So, he ended up in the Chantry, undergoing training to be a templar, effectively trapped in an organization that he didn't like (And which he saw for what it was! How scary is that?), training for a job he didn't want to do. Awful place for a child. Even more awful when you know you might have to spend your whole life there. And you'd think he'd find friends there - surely there must have been other kids around his age? But coming from Arl Eamon, the other kids thought he was putting on airs, he said, so he was alone yet again. He grew up like this. Saying that it must have been absolutely miserable, probably doesn't even begin to cover it, I think.

And then... Duncan came and got him out. Impossible to imagine what that must have been like. Alistair makes it clear he genuinely believes that Duncan saved him, that he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Not only that, but Duncan also became his father figure. Among the other Wardens, he found friends, brothers. Finally, probably for the first time in his life, he had a social circle, he had company, friends. Duncan is the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. Finally, he wasn't alone.

And, in the end, what's more worthwhile than killing monsters, anyway? It sure beats decapitating terrified young mages.

But you know all that! However, I'm saying all this because... I think his opinions of the Wardens are heavily influenced by that. Especially that. The Wardens are the good guys, because that's how he's experienced them. The Wardens are friends and family. The Wardens make good things happen.

In comparison with Blackwall, though, Alistair is an actual Warden. He lives the reality of it. He saw Duncan kill Jory during the Joining ritual. He watched as the new recruits drank what's basically poison with a high chance of killing them. I don't think his ideas of the Wardens are as knightly as Blackwall's, but he still does have a high opinion of them. He would probably agree with Wynne, anyway. In part, I suppose, also simply because Alistair himself is a goody-two-shoes. And with him and the Warden being the only surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden, who's going to be there to argue proper methods anyway?

Funnily enough, if you have Alistair as the Warden for Inquisition, it is his strong moral compass and common sense, his refusal to follow the principle that the Blight must be defeated by any means necessary, that helps put an end to Corypheus' plans and save whatever is left of the order at Adamant. He was the only one who protested agaist the Wardens making rather dubious allies, to say the least, to the point that the order started hunting him. Which led the Inquisitor to join forces with him, in the end. (Of course, the order also ends up hunting Stroud and Loghain, but I haven't had them in my game yet, so I can't speak for them.)

And yet! Despite all that, he still defends the Wardens in all the arguments they have with Hawke. He just wants the Wardens to be the good guys so much. And all things considered, I guess I can't blame him.

I'm kind of obsessed with Blackwall's idealized ideas about the Wardens. He was once picked up by a Warden and lulled by the promise of atoning for his crimes and turning his life around, only for that opportunity to slip away when the Warden not only saved him, but sacrificed his own life to do it. This whole experience makes our Blackwall become a Warden in heart, if not in blood, but with his own ideas of what a Grey Warden should be - noble, brave, inspiring, heroic, self-sacrificial. Everything he now wants to embody. He knows well that he's not there, but he wants nothing more than to start from scratch and be that.

In his beliefs, he reminds me a bit of Wynne in Origins who tells the Warden at some point that the Grey Wardens are supposed to be more than killing machines and weapons against the blight.

“There’s more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight. Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether elves or dwarves or men. As a Grey Warden, you are a guardian of men. And you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are.”

However, we know that's not exactly how it works. That's what they want the Wardens to be. The light against darkness. The shield against monsters.

Although it's not entirely wrong, either, I suppose, all things considered. The more darkspawn they obliterate and push back, the more people are protected from them. Of course, sacrificing their lives to fight literal monsters, which means those same monsters don't eat everybody's kids, ultimately is heroic, and it's something that must have been born out of the need to protect the world and its inhabitants (from the Blight). But to have idealized opinions of the Wardens to this degree, you have to ignore all the other shady stuff and the mentality we, as players, also know the Wardens for. The fact that the Wardens are primarily weapons to slay darkspawn, prevent and end Blights, by any means necessary. The last part is important. After all, they are the Grey Wardens, not the White Wardens. They recruit from all walks of life and are famous for taking in criminals. Not to redeem themselves and get a second chance at life, but because they usually have nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. It's not a coincidence that each of the Origins gets chosen by Duncan, not only because he sees them as capable, but also because they are in a situation they can't escape from. Either they join the Wardens, or they're done for.

We know the Wardens from a few games now, but does the public in the setting even know? Does the average person have any idea how far the Wardens are willing to go? Besides grand stories of slaying monsters in the dark and preventing the end of the world? Probably not. The order is very secretive. And it explains a lot. The Wardens end up sounding almost romantic, when being a Warden is anything but. Is it ignorance talking out of these characters? Perhaps.

It once again shows us this aspect of Dragon Age where you can't take everything a character says as a fact, because the setting is full of people who have no idea what they're talking about, but who are absolutely convinced that they do.

And yet, I can't help but also like Wynne's and Blackwall's romantic ideas about what the Wardens are or should be, almost knights in shining armour and all that. They're fairy tales, but they're beautiful fairy tales. And I can't fault the characters for wanting to believe it or even live it. Especially in case of Blackwall, who sees it as a way to make up for the crimes he committed, somewhat. In the end, this might actually be a bigger draw to join the Wardens than, "Got nowhere to go? Come suffer horribly and probably die gruesomely with us!" It all sounds great on paper, though. I can't fault Davrin for trying to find purpose in life by becoming a monster hunter, either.

And maybe a little bit of idealism doesn't hurt. Not only it's good motivation, but in the end, doing things by "any means necessary" doesn't always pay off, either. It led the Wardens into all kinds of trouble, like getting tricked into employing dangerous forms of blood magic and demon summoning, basically into doing their enemy's work for them. In their determination to win at any cost, they helped trigger a cataclysmic event. Maybe having some principles isn't so bad after all.

In the end, I can appreciate that we get to see the clash of the old and new blood in Veilguard, where there's hope for the order to transform into an organization that's less secretive, less exclusive, and hopefully less prone to letting corruption spread through its ranks and make other devastating mistakes. Duncan once said that letting people join the Wardens isn't an "act of charity", and I like how Evka and Antoine go, "Yeah, you know what? Fuck that." And that likely inspires more loyalty. I imagine Blackwall would like that.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade waiting for a package so when there's a knock at the door, he jumps up all excited.

Before he can even open the door, Logan's nose is scrunching, petting their naked rat dog in his lap. Snfsnf..

Scott?

Coming out of the bedroom, he leaves the puppy on the bed.

It's not Scott. It's worse than that.

There, standing in his door frame is Nathan. He's holding a bag and gave Wade a type of flowers He's never seen before. They smell like warm melted sugar and perfume. Big, and almost resembled a tiger lilly except the coloring is off. Red and black instead of orange and a brown shade.

Wade is standing here, looking up at him with a frown, playing with his sleeves, grabbing his own hand, biting his tongue enough to bleed. Logan could smell it.

Wade was staring at him, silent, his eyes glistening like glitter in oil.

He can hear Mary barking in their bedroom. She didn't like men very much. Esspecially when they smelled like Scott.

"...."

"You don't have to say anything right now, Wade.." Nathan starts, lifting up the bag. "Just...came to give your clothes back... they don't smell like you anymore.."

Tears start to form in his eyes, not blinking. Still staring. As if in disbelief of what he just said before Logan came out.

Logan appears by his side, looking up at Cable with a soft, possesive glare, like a dog whos unfriendly to men and might bite.

"What the fuck did you say to him?"

When Wade didn't take the bag of clothes, Nathan's arm dropped, looking away from him.

"Hello, Logan.."

By now, Wade still hasn't said anything, but the tears rushing down his face were enough to trigger Logan's protection mode.

"What. Did. You. Say!?"

"I don't believe I was talking to you.." Cable mutters, this time their eyes connecting in that stare offish sort of way.

"Does it look like I care!?"

Word's ring through Wade's head. Words that might sound innocent but held a whole new meaning behind them. The flowers, the clothes, These meant nothing compared to them.

'My daughter is all grown up.'

Why would anyone walk through a door with even a hello and say these words as if to quickly establish the intention of his visit.

Yeah, Nathan visited like twice a year, ussually once at Christmas with his father and to visit his new little sister Rachel, but once not. Once, alone, and in his new apartment.

Wade had purposly moved to get away from the memories (and mildew) of him. The little life that they built together for a few months.

Got a new mattress even. One softer. Less springy. Used, yes, but so much comfier. You know what they say about those new matresses. Too hard. No one to wear them in. So, at least now, when he slept, he could feel the warm, soft embrace instead of a hold hard metal one.

... This isn't about matresses..

And yet, after everything, he kept coming back like a stray mutt wanting fed. Haunting him of everything he wanted in his youth but couldn't have.

'I'm sorry, Wade.. But I can't abandon my daughter'

'My daughter is all grown up.'

Now, He knew he was delusional. He knew he was dilerious even, but this? Oh, No, honey. There was no way around this. Because THIS 'between the lines' notation was actually a huge bright shining flashing sign.

The olive branch of 'Let's get back together'. Painted in gold and put on a pedestal... just to tease him.

Shaking his head, Wade had blocked out the argument before but came back to "He's his own person. He can talk to who he wants."

"No the fuck he can't! Not if they're just going to hurt him!"

"Im not going to hurt him, Logan."

"What do you call this!?"

Wade's tears hadn't stopped, his eyes red from crying, and all he could do was whimper and stare, his visson blurry.

Even when Cable WAS his, he was barley home, returning at nights and leaving again before dawn. Time cop things I guess. Sometimes he wouldn't return for days.. bringing in perks, setting things right within the balance of time, killing bad dudes, visiting his daughter, etc.

And while Wade didn't blame him for this, he didn't want that anymore. He could barely handle it back then, and now? That Logan had conditioned him with morning lovings, smothering him in the sunnight that came into their room, peppering kisses all over him, whining when Wade left the house and always scooping him up to go to the bedroom when he returned.

How he made him breakfast after holding him for hours and held his head so nicely when he gave him shower head. THE shower head. My bad. To save water, you know? It's expensive in New York, sue me.

The way he cared for puppins and fell asleep during some dumb documentary. How Logan held his hand to go grocery shopping and went as far as telling the X men that they were married, and they could kick rocks if they didn't like it.

It was... nice.. to be wanted. To be loved and to settle down. Not a lot - just about as much as Deadpool COULD settle down. He's been shown the light of routine affection, and he was not about to go back to cold nights alone, wondering when he'd come back.

It's not that he didn't love Nathan. No, the oppisite, actually. But they didn't work. As much as they clicked and how much fun he had with him, He couldn't take another heartbreak.

"T-this isn't fair.." he chokes out.

Mid argument, Logan turns. "What's not fair?"

"Breathe, Wade." Cable says, having put the clothes down, pushing it up against the side of the couch.

Taking a deep breath, it's pushed out of his lungs the moment it comes in. "It's not fair!"

Backing away from the both of them, he's holding the flowers so tight that the stems are breaking. The tears become thicker, heavier, his heart beat pounding in his ears.

"I did what I was supposed to do!! I grew up! I moved on!! I-i settled down, Nathan!! I'm married!!"

Both went quiet, an obvious frown and a concerned look plastered onto their faces.

"Why'd you leave me if you just wanted to come back? I didn't do anything wrong!! I thought you liked me! You said you loved me!!" He was shouting, sobbing, and clearly stressed out.

(And all because he thought the amazon guy was here.)

"Wade, calm down. Breathe."

"Don't you tell him to calm down! He's allowed to be pissed. You up and left him."

"For my daughter! Yes, I did-"

"So shut the fuck up!"

Breathing heavily, Wade began to pace, hugging himself and the flowers, crushing them to death, a metaphor to his desire for the future man.

"I-it's not fair!! You chose what you chose, and now you have the nerve to come back and ask me to throw everything I made for myself away! For you!? But you wouldn't do that for me!"

Now that he thought about it, this was his first time fully processing and letting out his emotions since the breakup. He was angry and grieving.

Nathan nods softly "I know and I wouldn-"

"Am I fucking finished talking!? Huh? No! So shut the fuck up!" He had spent years shoving deep down, trying to burry the anger alive.

Logan has been there. He knew this feeling all too well. But seeing Wade explode like this was kind of terrifying. He always knew Wade had that fire in him, What he didn't expect was for Wade to throw the bouquet at him. Him out of the two.

Swallowing, he scrambles to pick them up, not sure if Wade simply missed or if he wanted to keep them or not. The crushed petals on the floor were the pieces of Wade that Logan couldn't glue together, but that was fine. He loved him none the less.

"And you!"

"Me?"

"I should gut you right now for ever thinking I would leave you! I'm a grown man, I can handle myself! I-i'm allowed to cry! I don't need you to fight my battles for me. Just pick me up when I fall. Got it!?"

Logan nods quickly.

"Good!! Cause I will! And you! You should have thought about this when you abandoned me. I've tried to be your friend, I will still be your friend, but I won't let you come here with your stupidly gorgeous future flowers and think I'll bend over like a fucking bitch for you. You lost that chance!" He says, throwing his hands up and pointing at him angerly.

Nathan was going to mutter how he didn't see him like this, but was too afraid Wade might stab him, so he just nodded subtly.

"Now. Get the fuck out of my house." The growl is through grit teeth.

"But I really think-"

"I don't give a rats ass what you think! This is MY life and I'm tired of people thinking I care what they think. Now, I'll talk to you about this later when I don't feel like gauging out your only good fucking eye. Got it? Good. Nice seeing you. Bye!"

Turning on his heel, Wade goes towards the bedroom, leaving Logan to glare and start to snarl.

"Logan! Come! Nathan, leave my fucking clothes and close the door on your way out! If my dog gets out im gonna be one pissed off cunt!" He screams, now holding puppins who was desperate to lick the tears and snot from his face.

Giving each other a look, Cable picks up the bag and Logan is quick to come when called, giving him a final 'Fuck you' with a claw before he left.

Mr. Space cops eye's roll, shaking his head as he headed out.

Hearing the door clicking, Logan watches as Wade snuggles up in the blankets, hugging himself tight. He was seething.

"....you wanna talk about it...?"

"...." clacking his nails together, Logan put the flowers in a tall cup, filling it half way with water and put it on the dresser before coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

He was right.. the flowers were beautiful. They still were, even now that they were all broken and crumbled... this isn't about flowers.

Wade huffs, making a whining growly sound.

Logan nods, understanding but he's rarely been on this side of the argument. Ussually its him being all growly.

"..Im proud of you, Wade.."

The words are like an instant pull of a trigger, sniffling before breaking down again, starting to sob. This time, less angry and more mournful.

Logan sighs, crawling close to him before pulling him into his arms, rubbing his back.

Puppin's whines, wagging her tail.

"..I-it's not fair...t-the one time I do the mature thing.."

"I know... you love him. It's hard."

"I-i did.." Wade whispers, his chest tight with various emotions.

Logan knew because this was the exact feeling he felt with Scott. He thought they fit, but I guess not cause he went off and married Jean instead, and still sometimes told him things that made his chest tighten with painful grief of what they could have had, and only toyed with him when he felt convenient.

Like father like son.

Even if it felt so right to be wrong, how good it felt to be given the attention, it hurt so bad when it ended.

And that kind of hurt took decades to go away...

Luckily, Wade liked this mattress more and wasn't planning on getting rid of it so long as he may live.

[lovemyromance]

"Elriel isn't a forbidden romance"

Oh I'm sorry - did Rhys haul Azriel into his office and say

"Why the hell are you sneaking around, old sport? Go make love to her right now in the garden! I'll kick Lucien out myself! Celebrate your love out in the open, fuck them consequences!"

Or did he - idk - explicitly say:

"Stay away from her" "I can and I will [order you to do that]."

And then proceed to explicitly detail exactly what the consequences would be if Lucien or his volatile, evil sire reacted poorly: A blood duel - which could rip apart any alliances they have with not just Autumn, but the Human Lands, and Spring.

Did we just gloss over that part ... or????

There's a huge misinterpretation (purposeful) that people have when they claim Elriel isn't forbidden.

Yes, Rhysand did say Elain will have their full support should she choose to reject the bond.

Keywords: "should she choose"

I have no doubt that Rhys would support Elain, Feyres dearest sister, if she decided to reject the bond. He adores Elain, no question.

But has Elain done that yet? Has Elain gone to Rhys or Feyre and told them she wants to reject the bond? Does she even KNOW it's possible?

Likely not. The way they keep inviting Lucien to things despite her clear discomfort is a huge sign they haven't told her she can reject the bond.

Obviously, anything related to HER bond would be in HER book. Whether she accepts it or rejects it - everything would be in her book, from her POV. You can't cover that entire plot line in a bonus chapter or from Nesta or Feyres POV.

The point I want to make goes back to Rhys, however. Although he would support her, I don't think he is in any way, pushing Elain to reject the bond. Rhys also considers it a sacred gift, and given he is a mated male, I'm sure he places significance on that bond.

Not to mention - that mating bond benefits Rhys politically. It keeps Lucien in line, keeps the BOE / Human lands in line, keeps their alliances to Spring and Autumn. Lucien is important to him, and the only leverage Rhysand has is that mating bond. It's the only way he can trust Lucien to not fuck them over.

Rhys, while he would support Elain in whatever she decides to do, does not particularly want her to reject this bond because it is political leverage. Nothing more, nothing less.

He does not want Elain to accept Lucien against her will. He does not want her to be unhappy with Lucien. He is hoping they will work things out - just like everyone else (except Elain and Nesta and Azriel lmao).

And he doesn't want Azriel "interfering" with that possibility. He doesn't want Azriel starting a war while Feyres pregnant, while they have a death god on the loose. He doesn't want Lucien to break all alliances. So he forbids Azriel from seeing Elain.

I have no doubt, all Azriel has to do is say the words "I love her" and all Elain has to do is echo that sentiment for Rhys to drop the order. I have no doubt he'll fully support them.

But till that day - Rhys not trying to encourage it.

And now, that day where Elain & Azriel actually confess their feelings for each other is further away, because of Rhys interfering in the first place.

It doesn't change the fact that there could still be a war with Autmn if Lucien decides to call a blood duel. Or if Beron does. There's going to be discontent.

Either way - Elriel is very much a forbidden romance. Because there are external political and societal factors keeping them apart. It's not JUST Rhys keeping them apart - it's all the consequences he listed, it's the societal significance of the mating bond, the cauldron's will and corruption.

This is what creates a compelling novel: drama, conflict, angst, and romance. I for one, cannot wait to read it.

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back pt12

Howdy hey everyone! I'm back at it agaaainn. Also, MADE IT TO 1,000 LIKES!!! WOOOOHOOOO! Thank you all SO MUCH! I never thought I'd end up like this so fast! I'm truly at a loss for how long I should make these.

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part11

-------------------------------------------------

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You gasp on the couch as Soap is texting someone important nearby, it seemed slow, as if they haven't responded yet.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You look at each other

“I…..I think that’s him”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocking was loud, incessant and insistent . A little louder and it would be followed by ‘FBI FBI OPEN UP!’

“Don’t worry bout’ nothin’ hen. I got you. Always will”

His tone showed no hint of his usual teasing playfulness, but this time, you felt safer because of it.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Aye! Aye! I’m coming!” He calls out and gets up. You get up to come with him. “Stay back hen. I got this”

“No. It’s me they’re looking for.”

“I’ll take care o’ it okay?” He insists He opens the door while you listen nearby. “How can I help you gentlemen”

Lo and behold there’s two men in professional clothing standing there. The one with the mustache looks at him like he expected him to be here and the taller one looked almost surprised to see him. Mustache man clears his throat “hello sir. I’m with the government. We wish to ask some questions about recent activities in the area. No need to be alarmed. We just wish to speak with the residents. This is just a courtesy visit. May I come in?” He says in the police version of a costumer service voice except that in this profession they can actually punch you instead of fantasizing about it.

“It’s just routine” the taller one grunts Soap laughed humorlessly “courtesy visit now eh? Would ye like some tea and biscuits then?” He jabs, clearly unafraid nor the least bit intimidated. He shook his head “show me your ID and I’ll consider it” They exchange glances, their faux friendly mask slipping away. “Agent Ross and Agent Milton” they show their IDs. Soap takes mental notes of them.

“Right….I’m not in the habit of letting strangers in the house”

“It’s just a minor follow up about inquiries made online” Soap knows what they’re talking about

“Hmm….let me ask you a question” he leans against the doorframe “didja know I’d be here?”

Ross seems calm “heard you were back” Soap huffs a humorless laugh “heard? From what? A little birdie? C’mon now. Cannae fool me.”

A silence befalls them before Soap straightens up a bit “listen…I ken what yer comin for. And I’m tellin ye now: clear her name. She’s innocent. I’ll tell her tae stop and send any suspicious activity tae my team. I’ll take it from here folks.” He says professionally

Milton, the more….insistent one clears his throat “sir…are you aware of her…ability to evade our intervention?”

Soap thinks for a while “explain”

“She’s been…..avoiding us” Ross starts

“Aye. I would too” he jabs “poor lass is scared out of her mind” Ross scoffs

“She seems to be very good at changes routes….changing grocery stores...sleeping in hotels..” Ross continues

Ah shit right……

“Ah…lass learned it from me. Nothin’ toad worry about”

They seem unconvinced

Now Milton starts talking “I managed to talk to her in a bar.”

Oh that’s why he was there….You thought he was hitting on you…you’re listening close by.

Soap directs his attention to Milton “Asked if her boyfriend told her anything about his job. She said yes”

“What did she say?”

“you blew people up”

“Aye. That’s part of the job”

“Did you tell her anything else?”

“I’m not an amateur”

They exchange looks, deciding their Ned course of actions “look…” Ross starts “it’ll just be a few questions”

He sighs “aye, aye. I ken my rights gentlemen” he thinks for a moment “I’ll have a word wit her.”

“That’ll be gre-“

SLAM

Soap closed the door with more force than necessary but not too much to be considered hostile, just enough to be rude.

“Bonny?”

You peak out the corner, nervous. Soap seems to soften at the sight. He walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist

“lassie…would ye be fine wi-“

“I know Johnny. They want to come inside”

“Ye don’t have tae let them in” he reassures

“No….its fine…” you mumble

“Are you sure lass?”

You nod “as long as you’re there…..and I have a feeling it’s even more suspicious if I don’t face them.”

“You’ll be alright love. Trust me” you rest your head on him, liking this side of him. He rubs your head and you back off.

“I’ll be on the couch”

He opens the door he oh so rudely closed, sighs and steps aside “come in lads.”

I should probably mention that he’s still shirtless…..yeah he’s been that way since he woke up. And he has no problem with this. He doesn’t respect these guys. Plus it’s intimidating and hot.

You’re on the couch as they walk in and they can’t help but notice how domestic the scene looks. Soap shirtless, you wearing someone that clearly belongs to him while holding his son in your arms as he purrs. You keep your eyes on said son and Soap takes his seat next to you like a good boy. The men sit down on the other couch. Milton takes a professional tone “thank you for agreeing to speak with us. We’re just here to have a chat”

You kept your head down on Simon, who was now death staring them.

Ross clears his throat “just a few questions ma’am and we’ll be out of your way”

“Okay…” you mumble lowly

“They’re just here to intimidate you hen. They won’t do a damn thing” Soap whispers into your ear.

“We’d like to ask about your online behavior recently” Milton says “you’ve been snooping around official government business”

You’re silent

“How much do you know?” Ross asks

“Not much” you mumble, scratching Simon’s chin

“Hmm. Did you….share anything you found with others”

You did

You look towards Soap for answers. He nods as if to say ‘tell the truth’

“I have” you brave a look towards that men

“To who?”

“My friend”

“Who is she”

You go silent

“We won’t bother them” Milton ‘assures’

“I don’t want any trouble her way.”

“There won’t be. What did you tell her”

“Just…..some nonsense from conspiracy blogs”

“Did you send her anything”

“No”

“Good. We’d just like to confirm with her then”

You shuffle closer to Soap

“She means no harm. She was just worried about me” he gently guided your face to his chest “lads, if there’s anything alarmin’, I’ll send it to Captain Price.” He says as if it’s a huge name drop. It seems to have the desired effect but they’re not done yet. “Jus’ a curious civilian gentlemen. You can stop watching her, I’ll do it” Soap assures

“Do you understand that your activity may be suspicious?” Ross asks you

“Yes sir”

“Could you tell us your friend’s name?”

You shake your head “no. She’s done nothing wrong. All I told her is that I looked into Johnny’s job after I heard he got shot”

“Did she help with any research?”

A little? She looked stuff up with you and discussed your findings but a lot of your research was alone.

“Not really. It was me who was curious.”

They seem to take note of your answers.

“Did you contact anyone who….tried to, perhaps offered access to classified information? Perhaps for a monetary benefit?”

shit

You look pleadingly at Soap for help, he presses your face into his chest more and answers for you “if there is. I’ll make sure to properly handle it. This is my field and I’ll make sure there won’t be any civilian interference” his tone spoke solider and authority. You’ve long since dismissed the trope of “sergeant” applying to soap true to how he acts around you, but seeing this side of him, how controlled and powerful he is, made you remember who you’re really dealing with. It both intimidated and comforted you. The men seemed to take Soap more seriously every time he asserts his position, but it seems that the men have a job to do and are determined to do it well

“Ma’am?” They look at you, face still smushed into Soap’s strong warm chest “if it’s not too much to ask. What are your thoughts on the military? Are you a supporter or are you interested in games, films and stories that have elements of the military? Anything that may influence you….to take part in anything of the sorts? Particularly Modern Warfare?” Milton seems to be doing the talking now. Soap seemed interested in that answer.

“Um….no? Well yes. But Nothing that would make me do anything illegal.” They look at you as if awaiting a clearer explanation

“I-I mean I’ve watched movies, read stories and played games but that doesn’t mean I’ll act on it” of course you watch military movies! Johnny's right there and he’d never pass up the opportunity to piss on them. You may have played an FPS game or two and read fanfics but that won’t make you drop a bomb on Iraq.

“Do you have any political motivations, affiliations, or ideological leanings that would drive you to seek this information?” Soap doesn’t like that question. You’re not a terrorist! You’re not an extremist! You’re not any of that! You’re his wee Bonny lass that he’d fight the world for! “No. Of course not. She was jus’ worried about me. Gentlemen I think it’s time fer ye tae leave-“

“We understand you’re protective your wife, Sergeant Soap, but we’d like to hear it from her”

Soap shuts it but isn’t happy about it. You decide that you didn’t owe them an answer and didn’t give anything too definitive or personal “I was just….curious” you hide further into Soap

“Why do you ask?” He hums and looks through some notes as if this was standard procedure to spy on someone.

.

.

.

“What?” You question. Soap looks at you curiously “what are you talking about?”

“We…. don’t know everything-”

debatable

“-but apparently you spent a substantial amount of time on certain online communities that aren’t subject to domestic oversight. This was true before and after your peak of sensitive inquiries. This could be a hotspot for foreign influences and misinformation or anti establishment narratives without the presence of government regulations and protections” pfff! Protection? Regulations? They can’t even protect and regulate themselves. And what on earth is he talking about? “-and another site you frequent that has suffered a DDos attack by foreign interests” he reads off. Like what? AO3!? You sit there with a confused look on your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Maybe if we read out your list of…questionable site names you’ll understand. Ross?”

Ross pulls out a file from his jacket, clears his throat and starts reading off ‘suspicious activities and sites’ in the somehow western accent he shares with Milton.

“Poison Breaker. Affirmative Sir. Operation: Deep Infiltration. Whispers of the Damned.”

Huh…those sound familiar?

“Undercover assets. Trapper Keeper. The Art of Subtlety. Hotline.”

Those….are just titles of sites you’ve visited? You think. You don’t memorize the hundreds of sites you visit.

“Tactical Submission. All That’s Said In Low Light. The Captain’s Private Orders. All the Sins You Never Had the Courage to Commit. Silent Weapons, Soft Target. To Drive a Man to Madness. Covert Rendezvous.”

Soap looks confused, which isn’t a good look right now. ‘What’s all this?’ He seems to say as he looks at you. You look confused as well.

You Don't remember this as being a part of your research

This Wasn't Part Of Your Research