#he almost makes me want to side with the legion

[sandycookie]

look, i hate caesar and the legion, but I would pay money just to hear him talk about every nuance and detail in his philosophy and his thoughts on other philosophies. this game's writing is great

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[lestink]

IVE GOT MORE THUNDER LEGION/RAIJINSHUU CRUMBS THAT IM GOING TO EXPLODE ABOUT

CW: FAIRY TAIL GAME 2 SPOILERS BELOW

tagging @freedjustinemywife and @selfawarecobalt (also if youre reading this come join us on the thunder legion community)

Before I get to the goods I wanted to point out something that made me laugh:

Wendy has often said in the game how much she admires Laxus’ kinder side (not her calling him the gay uncle of the guild) but whenever she does so MIRA almost always reminds her and the player that ‘nah i remember when u did this shit back in 2009’ ITS SO FUNNY

OK NOW HERES A CUTE EXCHANGE OF ELFMAN GIVING LAXUS GIFTS (i don’t understand the occasion tho, xmas during the war?? idkk) FROM THE THUNDER LEGION

my freakout thoughts:

bixlow making a mini doll???? im gonna cry thats so fucking CUTE,,, imagining bixlow sitting down to carve one out for laxus with a silly face,,ough,,bixlow is so sweet i NEED TO SEE HIM

freed knitting a sweater.....ok so the entire thunder legion are all arts and crafts oriented ok i will explode. AND A PROTECTION ENCHANTMENT TOO?? the bodyguarding never stops even if he's offscreen he's still got it FUCKK i miss my wife. and youre so right elfman WEAR IT LAXUS U DICK. also,,,,laxus recognized the sweater from the pattern itself so freed has knitted things with that similar pattern before...AUGHHHHH freed knitting the thunder legion and laxus outfits what if i suddenly combusted

EVERGREEN MAKING A STEWWWW and the elfever crumbs with chef evergreen and taste tester elfman,,,man if elfman doesnt marry her I WILL. this is quite possibly the softest and coziest little side event ever, where the hell is the thunder legion when i'm freezing in my apartment....

ALL 3 OF THEM GIVING LAXUS CASH JUST IN CASE ok this reminds me of the talks i had with @yellow-guiding-lantern about the thunder legion being the keepers/the only ones who could reign in rabid dog laxus, this just affirms whats TRUE theyre taking care of his dumb ass

moving on:

youre so right lucy the thunder legion DOES love him im so sick of them /aff (if i dont see them soon i will make it on international news)

THUNDER LEGION FORMATION CRUMBS????

i always did wanna learn how they got to be together and though i know the gaiden had its own interpretation i wondered how else it could have happened, and this is a very interesting and different approach the way FREED is the one who wants to fight laxus first (angry freed????? CAN I SEE????)

i have so many questions like?? why did he get so angry??? did laxus break a rule that enraged him?? like maybe threatening the safety of others??? did freed give laxus a good fight?? were bixlow and evergreen involved at this point??? and what does that mean freed only wanted laxus for his strength???? elaborate??????

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDD

mira is so funny the way she can quickly uncover laxus' facade of trying to stay tough and hard, in the source material + game she's always been the anchor of staying true to one's feelings. in other words, she's all "aaaaaaahhh i caught you caring"

elfman catching laxus blushing too HAHAHA his whiteness will work against him. (also- manhood????? was there no other word they could have used???)

NOT TOO MUCH ON THE THUNDER LEGION LUCY??? to be fair i also love gift giving, i love to give my friends lots of little things i know they'll love so i don't see the "obsessiveness" of this.

MY TAKEAWAYS:

Mirajane Strauss will forever be Laxus' greatest opp (undefeated streak)

the Thunder Legion are the best gift givers in the guild, they're the equivalent of the rich aunties who want to spoil you rotten

I want to see no more Freed characterization calling him a pushover or cheerleader for Laxus, he's literally the one consistently defying his arrogance ON AND OFF SCREEN🗣️

Laxus and the Thunder Legion are private people, but everyone can see their love and devotion to each other and I think that's so beautiful

If I don't see new Thunder Legion content soon WHERE I CAN ACTUALLY SEE THEM another CEO will pay for it

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Dressing Room (Human!Vox x Reader)

CW: Light cockwarming, Power dynamics, Vox's bad temper, dressing room smut, creampie Rated: Adult Summary: Vox was a charming man, the face of the channel and soon enough, the face of the station. It was just a matter of time. But he had a darker side. He was a man that was quick to anger and today, you were tasked with bringing him last minute changes to the show. It's alright though, he offers you a chance to make it up to him.

“Mr. Vox, sir?” You called out, knocking on the dressing room door. 

The producer had reworked the script for today’s show and you were the unlucky fool tasked with telling him. No one else wanted the task and you couldn’t blame them. 

Vox was well known for his explosive anger among the station employees, but his charming nature and legion of female fans had him on a fast track, promotion after promotion. 

“It’s open.” 

The door creaked as you stepped inside. “Mr. Vox. I was sent to bring you-”

“Don’t you know how to close a door?” Vox snapped, eyes focused on himself in the mirror. The curtain around his dressing space was pulled open, held in place by a cord hung on a hook. 

“Yes, sir.” The door clicked shut as you pulled it closed. It wasn’t proper for you to be alone in the dressing room with Vox, but his temper scared you. He scared you, but what was worse, you, like so many other women, were attracted to the man. 

You hesitated, standing by the door until Vox turned, eyes locking with you in the mirror. “Are you going to just stand there?” 

“No, sir,” you scurried to his side, handing him the stacks of papers. 

As you had expected, he was less than pleased with them as he flipped through each page. “What is this shit?” 

“Changes per production,” you said.

“I know that.” Vox tossed them on the counter in front of him, letting them flutter loosely. “Do you always bring shit news where ever you go?” 

“N-no, sir?” You shifted from one foot to the other, hating the way you didn’t hate how he was talking to you. There was something wrong with you. 

Vox’s eyes watched you as you shifted, rubbing your thighs together. “What can you do to make it up to me?” 

Your eyes grew wide. “Excuse me?” 

Vox motioned you forward. Hesitantly, you went closer. A large hand reached out, grabbing your waist and pulling you to stand between his spread knees. He held you so that your back was to his chest, his head almost resting on your shoulder. There was no choice but to lock eyes with his icy blue ones.

“I said, how are you going to make it up to me?” As he spoke, his hands ran down your waist, smoothing down your skirt. “You ruined my mood. A bad mood could ruin a broadcast. Do you want me to have a bad broadcast?” 

“No, Mr. Vox.” Your heart pounded in your chest, eyes watching him as his hand rubbed down your thigh. “How can I make it up to you?” 

You feared you knew what he would say. It was wrong. It was improper. It was lewd. It could get you fired. You hoped you were wrong. You hoped you were right. 

“If you let me push this pretty little skirt up,” Vox whispered in your ear, “that could help my mood, just a little.” 

“Only a little?” You asked as his fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt. “If I say yes.” 

“Only a little,” Vox agreed, sighing as his fingers rubbed at your thigh. 

“What would help more?” You couldn’t believe the question you were asking. 

“If you let me work off some steam,” Vox said, belt clinking behind you as he lazily unbuckled it. “Would you do that for me?” 

“I- I don’t know, Mr. Vox.” Your thighs rubbed together, trying to ease the ache between your legs. That ache was working hard to override your common sense and, what’s worse, it was winning. 

“You want to save the broadcast, don’t you?” Vox whispered, “Help me out?”

“Okay,” your voice shook as you nodded your head. 

Vox’s hand pushed your skirt higher, bunching it around your waist as he stood. The clinking of his belt seemed so loud as he worked his pants open. You couldn’t see him as he pulled his cock out of his pants, stroking his cock as he grew harder in his hand. 

“Do you want to bend over for me, sweet thing?” Vox asked, “Or do you want to climb into my lap?” 

“I’ve never,” you glanced over your shoulder at the chair behind Vox. 

“Oh man,” Vox laughed, settling into his chair again, “You really are going to make my day better, aren’t you?” 

“I’d like to,” You struggled to meet his eyes. 

“Take your panties off for me,” Vox said, stroking his cock as you stood back still to him. He watched the curve of your ass as you bent over, guiding the silky fabric down your legs. Fuck, you were a sweet treat. 

You turned to him slowly, blush heavy on your cheeks as you tried to avoid looking at his cock or the way he had pushed his pants down his thighs. When you hooked your thumbs on your skirt, preparing to remove it too, Vox shook his head against it. 

“Climb on,” Vox said, reaching out for you with his free hand. The lights above him reflected a warm red tint to some of his slick back black hair. He guided your knees to rest on either side of his hips. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” 

“No, Mr. Vox,” you answered softly, scared to meet his eyes. 

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he guided your hips. Your core hovered over him as he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that promised some unspoken thing. It was a kiss that spoke of affection unsaid. 

You gasped into it as he ran his cock through your folds, coating his head in your slick juices before his hand left your jaw to rest on your hip. Holding himself steady, he guided your hips down on his cock.

He was larger than you were used to and it had been a long while since you’d been with a man. Inch by inch, you sank down his length. Vox’s tongue slipped into your mouth, working between parted lips as he tasted your kiss. 

“So fucking tight,” Vox whispered in your ear as he guided your hips up again. “Brace yourself on the back of the chair, or my shoulders.” 

“O-okay,” you whispered, dazed eyes meeting his as you were lost to the delicious burning stretch of his thick cock.

“There you go,” Vox said as you moved up his shaft, using his shoulders as leverage, slowly beginning to ride him. “Good girl.” 

“Oh,” You whispered as his head pushed through your walls. Never had you been above a man during an encounter. It was a strange sensation, to be in control of the pace and the depth. “Mr. V-vox” 

“Just Vox,” He said, thrusting up into you lightly, “If I’m balls deep inside you, I think you can just call me Vox.” 

“Vox,” you whimpered, sinking down as far as you could, grinding your hips against him.

“Feels good?” He asked, running his hand up her thigh, under her skirt, seeping out the bundle of nerves between her legs that would have her clenching around him. 

“So good,” you whispered, curling in on yourself as his fingers worked you over, tightening the coil inside yourself you were only slightly aware of before. 

A knocking at the door had you and vox freezing, just when the coil felt like it couldn’t get tighter. His cock twitched inside you, begging you to move as your wide eyes met his. 

“Mr. Vox?” the producer called through the door.

Vox reached around him, unhooking the curtain that isolated his makeup and dressing area. It fell forward just as the door opened, shielding you from view. 

Vox held a finger to your lips, mouthing for you to not make a sound. You struggled to swallow the whimper as his cock twitched harshly in response to the change of positions as Vox shifted, sitting up straighter in the seat. 

“Are you in here?” The producer asked, stepping closer to the curtain. 

“I’m dressing,” Vox snapped, not meaning to but fighting to keep down a moan as your core fluttered. “What do you want?” 

Again, your core fluttered around him. Oh, you liked it when he yelled. Did you like aggressive men? Bossy men? Men who told others how it was? You certainly found yourself impaled on the right cock. 

Vox smirked, running his hand along your thigh again, seeking your clit to rub it. You gasped, breathing hard against his neck.

“Did you get the changes? I sent-” 

“Yes, I got the damn changes.” Vox’s thighs twitched, wanting nothing more than to thrust up into you as your slick ran down his balls. “Is that all you wanted?” 

“I wanted to discuss them with you.” 

“I’m fucking,” He couldn’t help thrusting up into you slightly grin spreading as you whimpered just loud enough for him to hear it, “busy.” 

“I can wait out here,” the producer said. Vox struggled to remember his name at the moment. All he could think about was the way your walls gripped his cock, the way you were all but begging him to fuck you. 

“No, you won’t,” Vox snarled. “Get out of my dressing room!” He thrust harshly up into you once as he yelled, his voice covering the moan that the thrust ripped from your throat. “Now!” 

Vox waited, listening to the man’s shoes as he scurried to the door. It was cute when you scurried, but a grown man, running with his tail between his legs over a little yelling, was pathetic. As soon as the door clicked shut, Vox thrust up into you. 

You moaned at the sudden harsh movement. Vox gripped your legs, holding your thighs against his hips as he stood. The change of position had you bouncing on his cock with each step he took forward until your back hit the mirror and he set your ass on the narrow shelf. 

“Fuck, Dollface,” Vox groaned, gripping your hips to hold you steady as he thrust into you again. “Fuck, couldn’t just sit there and keep my cock warm while I talked to him, could you?”

You struggled to speak as Vox thrust up into you. Each time his hips met yours, he ground his pubic bone into your clit, winding the coil inside you tighter and tighter. 

“Vox,” you moaned his name, arms draped around his shoulders as you clung to him. “Vox!” 

“Shit,” Vox groaned out, “Made it so hard, clinching around me. Fuck, you’re so tight. You going to- you going to cum?” 

Never had you been spoken to so lewdly and yet your back arched as the coil pulled dangerously tight. You were so close to falling apart that tears were gathering in your eyes. Each breath came into your lung as a gasp and left them in a moan, hardly able to be stifled. 

“Close,” you cried out.

“Going to cum on my cock?” Vox asked, snaking a hand between your bodies to caress your clit, fingers circling the bundle of nerves. That was all it took to send you over the edge, clamping down around his cock. Your ankles locked around his waist. Fingers dug into his back as you cried out his name. 

“Fuck,” Vox groaned, your orgasm pulling him along into his own. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I’m going to, fuck- fuck, I’m-” His words were cut off with a groan. Your ankles locked behind his back made it so his attempt, late though it was to pull out, failed. The moment he met with resistance, he thrust himself deeper into you, rutting his cock as deep as it could reach. Hot ropes of seed shot into you, painting your cervix. 

Your legs grew slack, though your core still quivered around his cock. Heavy breaths mingled as Vox pulled away slowly, waiting for the feeling to return to his legs before he helped you down from your perch. 

“Have I-” you struggled to speak through gasps of air, “made up for bringing bad news?” 

Vox’s eyes traveled from your face, blissed out in the moment with the post orgasmic glow of a woman who hadn’t gotten to cum in a while, down your body and to your folds. White, creamy seed leaked from your opening, running down the swell of your ass and pooling on the papers you had brought him. 

“Yeah,” Vox said, clearing his throat, “Yes, you did.” 

“I’m glad,” you whispered as Vox helped you to your feet. 

“You should get going,” he said, spanking your ass playfully as you walked on tingling legs toward the door. 

In the state you were in, you had forgotten to collect your panties from the ground. You’d remember in a few minutes, Vox was sure, but by then it would be too late. The rest of the day, you’d have to deal with his seed running down your legs.

Vox’s smile grew wider as the door clicked shut behind you. Once he was sure you were on your way down the hall, he picked up the phone and called production. It was about time he got his own assistant and he knew just who he wanted for the position… and many other positions. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[nofingjustaninchident]

omg Leah tysm for doing this event ily. Hear me out, Jason proposing to gf!reader, when she's not really having a good day, and feels down (maybe the reason could be that her friends left her out on plans or something but it could be anything, really). But Jason just ironically makes it her best day ever with his secret sweetly planned proposal ahhh 🥹🩷

ᯓ★ id marry you with paper rings

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

pairing jason grace x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary worst. day. ever. or maybe not.

warnings nah, just fluff

authors note this one was so cute to write omggg

now listening to paper rings by taylor swift

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The day had been rough. Y/n was sitting on the couch, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on her. Her friends had, once again, gone out without her, leaving her feeling lonely and left out. Just to match, her whole week at work had been extremely bad, and now she felt like a good old piece of shit.  

The gloom settled over her like a heavy blanket, and no amount of distraction seemed to lift it. Her boyfriend, Jason, was also not home, as he had to spend most of his days at one of the camps – sometimes even both of them.  

To lift her mood a little bit, she heard the key turning on the front door, immediately bringing a smile to her lips. Jason walked into the room, smiling down at your slumped form on the couch. He was beaming with an enormous bouquet of her favorite flowers in hand.  

Unfortunately or not, he could read her like a book, and the sadness in her eyes was impossible to miss. His smile disappeared almost as fast as it came and he went straight to her, enveloping her in his embrace.  

Ever since the war ended, he’d been so afraid to lose another friend because he wasn’t strong or powerful enough to protect them, that he’d been training a whole lot harder, which made his hugs so so more comfortable. 

She shrugged, leaning into his embrace. “Just… feeling down. My friends went out without me again. I don’t know, it just sucks.” 

Jason’s heart ached seeing her like this. He hated knowing she was hurt, but he also knew he had the perfect way to turn her day around. He had been planning this for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Maybe today, despite its rough start, could end on the best note possible. 

“Hey, how about we go for a walk?” he suggested, his tone light. “Fresh air might help.” 

Y/n looked at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, that sounds nice.” 

They both put on their jackets and headed out, Jason holding her hand firmly in his. Maybe she was a little paranoid, sure, but his hand was a little sweaty, and she could swear that he seemed a little nervous; he kept looking around as they walked, biting down on his bottom lip and often squeezing her hand. She decided to ignore 

They ended up on the beach. He put a blanket on the sand and they sat there, holding hands as they stared out at the beautiful sea. For a moment, they chatted about their days, a few jokes and stolen kisses were shared.  

Until Jason suddenly stiffened as he stared right into y/n’s eyes. “Hey, babe, I, uh... I gotta tell you something.” He said. 

Y/n raised one eyebrow at him, suddenly afraid. She hoped that it wasn’t anything bad, but she couldn't help but think about her current luck. Her friends leaving her, her favorite coworker getting fired... Jason wouldn’t leave her, too. Right? “What is it?”  

He got up, pulling her with him. She tilted her head to the side. She had absolutely no idea what to expect with that.  

Until he smiled and reached out to his pocked. She followed his hands’ movements, until he pulled a small, velvet box from his jeans. Her breath hitched, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she saw the scene she wanted to see for god knows how long: Jason Grace, the praetor of the Twelfth Legion, getting down on one knee.  

He looked up at her with all the love in the world as he spoke, a speech that was as engraved in his mind as the words of the Prophecy of The Seven.  

“Y/n, my love. You've been making me the happiest man on earth ever since I woke up in that bus holding your hand. Every moment we’ve spent together has been the best of my life. From the laughter we share to the challenges we’ve faced, you’ve been my rock, my joy, and my reason to smile every day. You’ve shown me what love truly means - how it’s not just about the good times but also about sticking together through the tough ones. Your strength, kindness, and endless patience never cease to amaze me. You’ve made me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”  

As his words started to sink in, her heart swelled with love and affection. The tears were already falling down her cheeks, and she couldn’t wait to say the words that’d change her life.  

“Y/n, you’re the light of my day and the breeze of my nights. I can’t wait to build a family with you. Would you give me the honor of accepting me as your husband?” He finally asked, smiling as never before.  

“Gods, yes!” She said, throwing herself on his arms. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I love you so much, love you, love you so much.” She muttered into his neck, bawling her eyes out as he hugged her.  

She hadn’t seen the ring, with all the tears and the emotion that was making her mind spin. But she was sure that anything with him would be perfect.  

He pulled away to slip the ring on her ring finger. It was a tourmaline, her father’s gemstone. She looked at him with pure awe as she thought about all the times she told him how that was her favorite stone. Gods, she loved him more than she could imagine.  

And she couldn’t wait to spend her life with him.  

[pallysuune]

Summary: The twins were identical in almost all ways. But in the bedroom is where you can always tell them apart. Pairing: Alpharius Omegon/fem reader

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, could make the argument for manipulation. Not yandere, but imprisonment, I guess? Primarchs being primarchs. Uh, twins' bedroom shenanigans and sharing a partner.

A/N: Don't judge me. XD

The twins were identical. Even more so than those of the Alpha Legion who had undergone surgery to change their faces and look more like their primarchs. It was said that they were one soul split into two bodies, and you could actually believe that. They even acted perfectly alike, seemingly without any practice or trying to. They could communicate with just a glance. They made themselves interchangeable.

The Alpha Legion in general did everything possible to obfuscate all information that they could.

Which made the fact that they took you on as a rememberancer more than a little strange. Yes, you knew the Emperor was encouraging all of his sons to take ones with them, but the ease with which Alpharius agreed should have raised alarms. Now, you knew that he had agreed so easily because he had no intention of ever letting you go.

He took you on, and he let you learn things no one else could ever know.

Which, if you were honest, kind of endeared him to you. He - and his twin - were both charming, and seemingly opened themselves up to you and you alone. Perhaps they had some plan in telling you, or perhaps they simply wanted someone to know the truth of things, even if it could never be public. You doubted you'd ever know the truth. All the same, you found yourself drawn in by them and, before you knew it, you were far more than just a rememberancer to them.

You had heard from their own lips their histories, their upbringings, and it was knowing these that helped you come to recognize them better.

You see, Omegon had told you that he had grown up on an uninhabited planet and only encountered other people when he was already an adult, where as Alpharius grew up around, but unseen by, the courts on Terra. Why was this important? Because Omegon fucked you like a beast.

You were pressed face down into the massive bed, your forearms bracing you just enough to keep your face from being smothered by the sheets. His hands circled your waist, holding your hips angled perfectly for him to pound into you, filling you to the limit again and again. He was hunched over you, his huge frame shadowing you, the heat from his body almost suffocating in a way that made your head spin. He was intoxicating. Omegon peppered nips over your shoulders, teeth dragging over your skin. He bit down a little harder on the back of your neck, giving a nearly inaudible groan against your skin.

It was hard to think of anything other than him. Everything was heat and sweat and that pleasure-pain of being so very, very full.

He pulled out of you with a suddenness that left your head spinning. A soft gasp tore from your lips. A second later, the searing heat of his release painted your back in thick ropes of cum. He groaned again, deeply. Deep enough you thought you could feel it in your bones, but that may have been your imagination.

One thing that wasn't your imagination, though, was the throbbing need that still pulsed through you. You were so close to cumming, and he had so cruelly pulled away.

There was a soft chuckle from the side, and you felt the bed move at your side before there were hands on you once more. A cloth was dragged halfheartedly over your back to clean you up before those hands settled at your waist, drawing you up. "I keep telling you to be more considerate of her," Alpharius admonished, tutting. His voice was laced with amusement.

It was a game for them. Leaning into Omegon's desires and turning it into a play with their bed as the stage. You knew that, but there was still something about it that you enjoyed.

You were lifted up into Alpharius' lap, your legs stretched on either side of his, his hard cock sliding against your wet sex. But he didn't push into you. Instead, he curled an arm around your waist to hold you there while his other hand slid down, fingers tracing your slit lightly. Dazed, you lean back against him, your head tipped back against his shoulder. Omegon sat in front of the two of you, naked and smirking, very clearly enjoying the sight before him.

"And how would you be considerate, then?" he asked, his voice deep and husky still, with a little more of a growl to it than normal.

A thick, slick finger brushed oh-so-softly over your clit. Even that light of a touch pulled a gasp roughly from your lips and caused your hips to buck, grinding unintentionally against the hard cock still resting against your sex. Alpharius chuckled again.

"Watch closely and I'll show you."

You realized you were in for a long night.

[transalphabf]

Post 666

in honour of my 666th post on this blog i think you all deserve some devillish porn

Finding yourself bound to an altar, your legs and arms cuffed in cold iron, splaying your cunt to the cool air of the moonlit night, terror grasped you.

The chanting around you was enough to make you feel fear, but the air seemed to extinguish for a moment, after their voices reached a fever pitch. You realised you were no longer alone in the summoning circle you had awoken in.

Before you stood a monstrous figure. Goat headed, large scaled wings rising behind it, you clamped your mouth shut, not wanting to scream and force its attention on you.

Your head whipped to the side when you heard gurgling noises around you, and the robed figures dropped down one by one, until the only sound that remained was your own breath coming in quick puffs, and the low, heavy breathing of the demon before you.

With a huff, the metal dropped away from your wrists and ankles, and you hesitantly sat up. The creature watched you, scarlet eyes gleaming in the light of the full moon, before offering you a hand.

“Come with me, and you shall wear a crown. Come with me, and be the bearer of my spawn, you shall live a life of luxury, that which you had not imagined.” It- no, he said. You swallowed. “You shall wish for nothing, and I am bound to this mortal plane for as long as you are, so no harm shall fall upon you.”

Your hand shakily reached out, and he took it in his own, warm, large hand. A spike of arousal ran down to your cunt just from that touch.

“We shall consummate here, and then depart for our new home.” He informed you. Your eyes ran down, unsure what awaited you, but his enormous cock throbbed before you, and you had an idea of what it would be.

He knelt down, and a long, dextrous tongue left his snout, toying with your clit, before pressing into your cunt, lapping at your tight hole, pressing deeper, licking places that you could never have imagined being touched by anything but the largest of cocks. You came pretty quickly, shaking, gripping his large curved horns as you felt the tip of his tongue run against your cervix, and press into your g-spot simultaneously.

It was almost too much, so when he lay you back on the cold stone altar, resting his cock over your stomach, so you could see how deeply filled you’d be, your mind was too stricken with lust to realise that it would end up directly in your womb.

But perhaps that’s what his tongue had been preparing you for.

He pressed in, corrupting your formerly pure body with his hellishly hot cock, inch after thick agonising inch searing you from the inside, forcing you to cum just from the flared head bumping against your g-spot on its way to batter your cervix.

When finally the tip pressed insistently on your cervix, you were mewling and making the most unholy noises.

His goatlike nostrils flared, and with a rough, hard thrust, his enormous cock breached your cervix and began fucking your womb right away, his clawed hands gripping your hips, drawing blood a little from how hard he held you.

Not that you minded.

Your mind was filled only with the pleasure, and the idea of him filling your womb with his corrupting seed, becoming his infernal broodmare, giving him a legion of demonic children, being his pleasure toy day and night.

You came again, and again, as he fucked you for what seemed to be hours, and as the sun began to rise, when your womb could take no more and your body on the verge of giving out from pleasure, you felt his cum pour into your womb, his enormous cock pulsing the thick rivulets into your womb, knowing that without a doubt he was impregnating you.

Which just served to make you cum once more.

After that point, you lost consciousness, but awoke in a fine bed, with black silk sheets and a soreness that you couldn’t place.

Was it a dream?

The figure lying beside you was a handsome man, dark hair, a goatee which should have looked out of place, but seemed to suit his slumbering face.

There was no denying it though, this was the more human form of the demon that corrupted you.

With a smirk, you sought to touch his cock, and it began to harden as you lined it up to ride your demonic master.

https://ko-fi.com/sigtryggr if this post made you cum, please consider supporting or tipping me via ko fi

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 1

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: This is an 18+ series, angst, canon-type violence, murder, torture, smut, fluff, etc.

Note: Please be kind. This is my first time writing in a really long time, but I'm always open to constructive criticism. Also, if anyone wants to be an editor, send me a message!

Word Count: 2.3k

Next

»»————-　✼　————-««

Astrid loved this view of Cretea. Lately, it had become her favorite place on the island. She’d often spend her nights atop the Brightwater Palace, the home of Prince Drakon and Lady Miryam. The palace sat atop the most prominent hill on the island, the stone pillars tall enough that they seemed to touch the stars. She loved this view and how she could observe her home below in almost its entirety. Astrid watched as a half-fae left a tavern with flushed cheeks, their human partner struggling to hold them up. The young seraphim wondered how the couple met. Was it stolen looks in a tavern, or did they find comfort in one another after the war? Astrid sighed as her eyes continued to scan the city below her. She missed the nights when she was red-cheeked and giggling with Lucy and Kendra while they stumbled home. But sitting up here and making up stories of those she observed seemed interesting enough. Her eyes drifted through the island streets to the glittering Erythrian sea surrounding them. A small smile crept onto her rosy lips. She really did love this view. The sound of a person landing was what tour her eyes away from it. 

“They really should put a plaque here.” 

“Whatever for, Kendra?” Astrid drawled, looking at her sister-in-arms. Kendra, with sharp green eyes and auburn hair, was the captain of the Seraphim aerial legion. 

“So they can cement this as your spot, obviously. Your ass has made an imprint in the stone. That, at least, deserves a plaque,” Kendra was also a smart ass.

“I’ll make sure to tell Drakon and Miryam that you think my ass deserves such an honor,” she quipped before turning her gaze back to the city. Kendra moved to sit beside her, her feet dangling over the edge. 

“I’m heading to the taverns tonight. Would you like to join me?”

There would be so many people, so many thoughts, so many memories, and so many emotions. Astrid's chest tightened at the thought. She sighed, “Not tonight.” She could feel Kendra’s disappointment wash over her. The captain stared at her for a while, her face contemplative. “Have you told Miryam and Drakon that you’re struggling? If anyone could help, it would be them.”

Astrid, hearing the question, sucked in a breath. There was no real point in trying to lie to Kendra. Astrid may have the daemati power, but Kendra always knew what she was thinking. A small part of Astrid wished she could go back in time and take back that drunk confession from a few moons ago. The moment she told Kendra that this new daemati ability controlled her more than she could control it, Astrid knew Kendra would be on top of her to fix it. 

“No,” Astrid confessed. “Miryam suspects something is going on, though. I’m staying at the palace tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll ask.”

Astrid’s eyes lingered on the Cretea for another moment; she loved this island. But her eyes drifted to the other side of the palace, which looked out across a dark sea. Her mind often wondered what was happening across those blue waves. She had only left Cretea once, and it was to fight in the war against Hybern. No one on the island knew what was happening in Pyrthian for the past 52 years. Astrid felt that growing pain in her chest again, the warm air suddenly feeling like a small fire in her throat. The war had a cost, and the carnage still plagued her nightmares. But she still wondered what was happening in those faraway courts.

“I wonder what she’s doing, too,” whispered Kendra. She meant Lucy, the missing piece of their trio. The pain in Astrid's chest deepened, her heart aching. Lucy had lost her wings during the battle. Astrid was there when it happened,  saw the Hybern soldier shoot her out of the sky, and heard Lucy’s screams as she fell. The memory played in her mind on a loop, and her guilt festered somewhere deep within her. After the battle, Lucy decided to stay in Prythian and start a new life. Neither Astrid nor Kendra had heard from her since. Remembering Kendra’s comment, Astrid only replied with a slight nod. 

“Maybe the High Lord will know,” Kendra added. 

“I do hear that he has eyes everywhere,” Astrid noted. The High Lord of the Night Court would be coming to the palace tomorrow for what she didn’t know. Kendra stood up slowly, wiping her pants lightly. 

“If you aren’t joining me at the taverns tonight, at least get some sleep. You look positively dead,” the captain quipped. 

“You really do know how to flatter me,” Astrid replied, a smirk spread across her face. 

Kendra flew off with a wave over her shoulder. She watched as her friend flew above the streets and disappeared from view. Astrid’s eyes swept across Cretea, the rolling seas, and then settled on the stars above her. On clear nights, she used to sit on the roof of her family's home with her father, counting the stars, finding constellations, and listening to her father tell the stories behind them. She wondered if he was up there, along with her mother and sisters, watching over her. She wondered if they were proud of the female she had become. She felt the fissure deepen in her chest, full of ice and unyielding. She sharply swallowed the feeling, pushing it down, down, down. She couldn’t afford that cracking, the breaking. With a sigh, Astrid reached her arms to the sky as she stretched her back, her white wings fluttering behind her with relief. The hours spent sitting on the stone edge of the palace did nothing for her sore back. Astrid took one last longing look at the sea and the stars as she stood before gazing at Cretea below and flying home. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

The nightmares had plagued Astrid again that night. She awoke struggling to breathe, and ice covered her room, the temperature far below normal. She almost flung herself off the balcony in her room while trying to gulp down fresh air. Her dreams were full of the deaths of her family, and of her fellow soldiers she lost in the war. Their cries still felt like they were still echoing in her ears. The young seraphim stood examining her reflection. Her moon-white hair was pulled back high on her head, with intricate braids starting at her temples. Her midnight-blue eyes were stark against her hair and milk-colored skin. Her eyes drifted to her leathers. She probably should have worn a dress for the meeting with the High Lord, but her nightmares had left her feeling uneasy, the grip on her power slippery. The supple grey leather provided her a comfort that no court dress would. A knock on her door made her tear her eyes from the mirror.

“Come in, Dalia,” she said, turning toward the door. Dalia was a half-fae, half-seraphim like herself, who was well over half a century old but would never confirm her age. She was also positively senile.

“Astrid, you couldn’t have deigned to wear a dress today!” The old female exclaimed as she set down a tray of pastries. Most would take Dalia’s tone toward Astrid as rude. But the seraphim knew how the old hag felt about her. Astrid loved her; she was like an overbearing grandmother, with her braided grey hair and small, frail body. 

“You know I just like being prepared for anything,” Astrid winked at her as she continued, “I’m guessing the bat is about to land on our shores.” 

Dalia rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly, “You should mind your tongue. He should be arriving soon, and I pray to the mother that you don’t converse this way with the High Lord.” 

 Astrid smiled at the old female, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, Dalia, I only reserve this way of conversation with you.” 

“You are going to send me to an early grave,” Dalia quipped as she sat before the fireplace.

“I keep you young, old hag.” Another knock sounded on her door. The smell of sea and hydrangea wafted in Astrid’s nose, “Come in, Miryam.” 

The dark-haired lady slipped through the door, her sage green eyes immediately falling on Astrid.

“I’ll have to tell Drakon he owes me thirty gold marks. I knew you would wear your leathers today.” She smirked as she crossed the room to sit across from Dalia, picking up a pastry as she sat. 

“I told her she should have worn a dress today,” replied the ancient female as she stood. “Now, I will see you later, and please remember to watch your tongue around the High Lord." With that, Dalia slipped from the room. Astrid could feel Miryam's emotions shift from ease to concern. With a small sigh, she sat beside the princess, her palms sweating. 

“I brought you something,” Miryam said as she pulled a rectangular jewelry box from behind her back. Astrid took it from her before resting it on her lap. The red velvet was smooth beneath her fingertips. Lifting the lid, a lump formed in her throat. In the box was a silver warrior’s diadem; it had carvings of feathers and wings sprouted near where it would meet her ears and a large sapphire shaped like a teardrop in the middle. The lump seemed to grow in her throat, an ache beginning to form in her chest, her eyes burning. 

“This was my mother's,” Astrid croaked. 

“It was always going to go to one of you,” Miryam paused while Astrid tried to shove this feeling of despair down till she couldn’t feel anymore. This diadem was going to go to one of her sisters, not her, if they hadn’t been murdered. If she hadn’t- “your mother would want you to have it.” Miryam finished as she delicately picked up the finery and placed it on Astrid’s head. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; the circlet was the most ornate thing she had ever worn. 

“You look so much like her,” Miryam smiled at her. “She and your father would be proud to see that on you.” She supposed they would. The circlet had been her mother's, but instead of a stone of sapphire, her mother's was emerald green. Her mother was a high fae from the Winter Court before the war, where she met her father. After coming to Cretea, her mother was Miryam's hand, which meant she was officially part of the royal court. Her parents would be proud if they were still alive. The burning in her chest only seemed to grow at the idea. She shouldn’t be the one wearing it; her parents should still be here, and her sisters should be too, and it was her fault they weren’t. Her skin began to tingle, her throat dry and hot. Astrid quickly took the circlet off her head, its weight feeling too much. 

“Astrid?” She looked at the princess. Miryam’s eyes were wide, and her feeling of worry was closing in on her. “We might not be blood, but you are part of this family. Whatever is going on in that mind of yours…let me help.” Her voice was soft and empathetic as if she were speaking to a skittish deer.

Astrid gulped. The knot in her throat slid down to her stomach, heavily nestling itself there. “I’ve been…struggling.” She couldn’t meet Miryam's eyes as she said it, the dread of admitting she didn’t have a handle on her power. She didn’t know how the princess would even be able to help, but she continued, “I can handle getting into other's minds and shutting them out, most of the time, but” she paused, trying to find the words, “I can feel everyone's emotions all the time, I can’t escape them. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shut them out. It’s honestly…suffocating. And it sometimes just becomes too much to control at once.” 

Miryam didn’t say anything at first, just grabbing the circlet from Astrid's hands and placing it back on her head. Light green eyes stared at her as a wave of reassurance and determination washed over her. 

“The High Lord, Rhysand, you know he is a close friend. One of the few who knew this island existed before Hybern. He’s a very powerful daemati, and so is his mate. If you're comfortable, we can ask him for some assistance during dinner.” 

Astrid sucked in a deep breath. It would be embarrassing to admit to a High Lord that she couldn’t master this dumb power, and not many were privy to the knowledge of Astrid’s powers. It was unusual for fae to gain new powers as they aged. The seraphim was young in fae terms, only seventy-six, but her power was growing and expanding to levels even the oldest fae on Cretea weren’t familiar with. She had spent hours in Cretea’s library with their oldest scholars, trying to find answers. Still, because her people found refuge here, their libraries were considerably less dense than those in Prythian. Since the war, her daemati abilities have grown to feel others' emotions. And after the war, none of the feelings were good. These past months, she had found herself drowning in it, the sorrows of those around her suffocating her. After a while, she stayed in her townhouse, never leaving unless going to the palace. She knew she couldn’t live like this forever; Astrid only nodded in response before she felt a slight panic snake around her chest, a foreign feeling, not her own or Miryam’s. 

           “I believe the High Lord is here,” Astrid replied, knowing the time for this conversation was over. Miryam only gave her a soft smile of reassurance before taking hold of her hand. Together, they walked down Brightwater Palace halls, the seafoam-marbled floors and tall white pillars surrounding them. Standing at the home entrance was one of the most handsome man Astrid had ever seen. 

[0vereasy]

Life’s Creation and Love’s Manifestation (Dr ratio x reader)- Chapter 4: Late Appraisal

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143 @tseleven @rains-mae @comet-kun @thatanimewriter @lowlucifer @snailsposts @earthtooz @delightfuldragoncollection @soobinsgirlfriend @lvfel

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A/N: You can probably tell I’m pretty tired by the writing + shorter chapter, but I wanted to get something out. The original draft was longer but I wasn’t happy with the later half, so I thought I would just for with a smaller chapter this time and keep working at the later half for a better finished produce. This mainly serves as a transitional chapter anyway, with more action expected in the next one.

You know that stereotype where fanfic authors literally go through the craziest shit when they’re writing? Well the last few weeks I won my first trial as a law student, got a few good resolution for other clients all at once, ans started getting closer with my crush. So… I’ve been pretty busy as you can see lol. I have a term break in a few weeks, which is likely when the next chapter will come out, and where I will try to pre-write another chapter or two. Thank you all for being patient with the delay!

Chapter 4: Late Appraisal (3.8k+ words)

“I just don’t understand how this even happened!” you watched the short white-haired man pace around Herta’s office, his forehead crinkled in concentration and mouth twisted into a worried frown. You felt your head pulse with each of his footsteps, thumping in beat with the heavy taps of his feet on the tile floor, the ache getting worse with each motion he made. Aeons, you wish they never found you napping in the Seclusion Zone. At least then you could’ve dealt with your hangover in peace and quiet, “How could multiple researchers and a Herta puppet all go missing in one afternoon? Especially with our upgraded security! It just makes no sense.”

“If you let me go look at the security system, I could tell you,” you deadpanned, eyes trailing over to the office door briefly, as if contemplating some way to escape, before flickering back to your boss, “I don’t even get why you called me here, aren���t we wasting time with this meeting when we could be trying to fix things?”

“Wasting time?” Arlan rebutted, stopping his pacing and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you, giving you little hope of making your escape from the office, “You know what’s a waste of time? Trying to track you down just to find out you were passed out drunk in the Seclusion Zone! Do you know how much time we wasted just trying to find you?”

“It was literally my day off, Arlan,” you huffed in reply, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms over your chest, “I don’t have to tell you where I am all the time. Not anymore at least.” You let the implication of the words hang in the air, something that didn’t go over well with your usually mellow boss, who seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. But hey, if he was gonna push your buttons, you weren’t just gonna sit there and take it. 

“We’re in an emergency, Y/N!” he practically shouted at you, “It doesn’t matter if it's your day off! What would’ve you done if it was your day off when the Legion attacked? Stayed in your room and brushed it off?” You felt your body stiffen at his words, arms moving from their crossed state to hang loosely at your sides. You hated this; when you argued, when he used his knowledge of you and what would set you off for his own advantage. It was almost downright cruel. 

“Don’t talk about the Legion attack,” your reply was quick, emotionless as if you were trying to avoid thinking of it yourself, “You know that’s different. A lot different.” At this point, you were willing to run out of the Herta’s Office, meeting be damned. The ache in your head paused for a moment replaced by a dull pain in your chest, mind swirling with thoughts you’d rather forget. You were almost afraid of how you appeared to your boss right now. 

You watched Arlan’s eyes for the shift in emotion, hoping, praying that he was able to see where you were coming from. You saw it for a moment, like a flicker of hope burning within his purple orbs, before he blinked, sending the sympathy away from wherever it came from, “Is it though? For all we know, all of those researchers are dead! Adler could be dead!” You clenched your fist at the mention of the boy, the pounding in your head seeming to grow again. 

“I get it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “Which is why I wanna look at the security system to see how this happened! But instead were here arguing about stupid shit that doesn’t matter right now!” You watched as he began to pace around Herta’s office again, Herta’s holographic image of herself staring at the both of you, along with the other genius society portraits, as if they all were looking down on this conversation too. You couldn’t blame them. 

“You know why were having this conversation,” Arlan was quieter now, but still stern, “We needed you, and you there was no way to contact you!” He let out a shaky sigh before talking again, “We even started to think you were taken too!” You took a deep breath, attempting to let the anger inside of you simmer down at the genuine tone of his voice. 

“I already know that,” you sighed, “ Screwllum told me it all when he came to wake me up,” you raised an eyebrow, “You should’ve asked him sooner, I mean,” you tugged on your button-down shirt, holding back a wince at how the sudden action made your head pound harder, “You already know our relationship. If anyone knew where I was, it would be him” You released the shirt, begrudgingly moving a hand to hold your head now, unable to pretend that you didn’t feel like shit any longer. Arlan looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read; disgust? Pity? You’d honestly rather not know. 

“How much did you drink yesterday?” Arlan asked you, pausing his pacing again to change the subject, his expression still holding anger, but voice quiet, as if he was preparing to hear bad news. You thought about putting up a fuss for a moment, but sighed, preparing yourself to relent on this point, as if the alcohol was holding you back from hiding the extent of your poor state. 

“A bottle of wine,” you said simply, crossing your arms across your chest again. You almost looked stupid, standing in the office in your sweatpants and Screwllum’s shirt, confessing your problems, while Arlan stared back at you in proper uniform, leaving the power imbalance between you two evident visually and audibly,  “And a bit of Vodka,” you left the part about the vodka being in your water bottle unspoken, not prepared to deal his rant on that topic that the two of you had gone through hundreds of times before, though the pitying look on his face told you that he already knew.

“You really have to stop this,” Arlan said, voice losing the anger now, holding nothing but pity. Honestly, you preferred him angry. When Arlan became sentimental and looked at you like you were a lost cause or some sort of fuck up, for some reason nothing in the world felt worse. You didn’t know what it was; the way his lips curved into a frown like no other he ever displayed, or how his big eyes became downturned, a flicker of pain etched onto them and the rest of his features, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself…”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you stared into his pitying eyes, hand from your head moving back to your side as you forced both your features and stance into neutrality as if that would fight off the emotions that threatened to spill from you.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said firmly, though not unkindly, “You know what I think about your drinking… what Asta thinks,” he let that name hang in the air for a moment, sending a shiver down your spine that made you wince, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. Arlan sighed, the sternness from before fading away into his usual kind demeanour, “You know I can’t control what you do; you’re an adult. But when your drinking gets in the way of your job; when you pass out somewhere where we can’t find you when we need you, thats when it becomes an issue.”

“Arlan,” you spoke his name, whether in warning for him to stop, or in frustration at the change in track of conversation, you couldn’t say.

“You know the Station is vulnerable after the attack… you know it better than anyone,” he said softly, “So we need you to be at 100% all the time… I know I already extended your hours after the whole incident from a few days ago,” you gritted your teeth at the previous punishment you had received due to your actions on the night that the stupid alcaster face bastard arrived, “but I don’t think that’s enough for what we need from you right now.”

“What are you suggesting?” you huffed, tapping a finger against your thigh impatiently. It clearly wasn’t the first time you received punishment and definitely wouldn’t be the last. At least that was something familiar in your life, you mused - at least something in your life could follow a steady routine. 

“... You can’t drink any alcohol for the rest of the month,” he said firmly, quickly speaking again when he saw you open your mouth in protest, “Okay, maybe not the month… but at least until we get the researchers back and solve the confidence issues… I need you sober right now, Y/N.”

“You know its not that easy to just… stop,” you muttered, eyes moving to look at your feet. Even now, early in the morning, probably a bit over 12 hours from your last drink, you felt jittery, like you needed something to quell your nerves. Without the alcohol, and even with the pounding head, things were too… vivid, real. It was overwhelming to experience the sensations in the world how they were meant to be seen without the dull drag of a foggy blanket taking over your mind. How were you supposed to go a few days like this? 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching your glance as you looked back at him, “I don’t have a choice right now… let's talk more later, go, try to figure out why the security system went down last night.”

You opened your mouth, as if to respond, but allowed it to close again, turning your back to the man, “Whatever… talk to you later… Brother Arlan,” you left Herta’s office before he could respond to your use of his common teasing nickname around the station, not being in the mood to deal with another yelling match today. You unceremoniously slam the door behind you before you practically drag your body towards the elevator. Around you, you could hear the panicked gossip of various researchers, a sound that did nothing to calm the pounded headache that continued to make every movement a hassle. Part of you thought about talking to them - telling them that everything was under control. 

The other part of you recognized that you probably looked like a hot mess right now, and didn’t bother. They already didn’t trust you anyway - you weren’t stupid. If anything, approaching them would probably make things worse than it already was. So, you dragged your body down the stairs, onto the main floor of the master control zone and to the elevator, fully intent on not acknowledging anyone’s existence. 

It was only the sniffles of one specific person that made you do a double-take before you could press the button to call the elevator. Wen Shiling was a few feet behind you, trying to hide her sobs in her sleeve, but failing to do so, her small body physically shaking, evident even from your distance away from her. It was times like these when you wondered how children were even allowed to be researchers on this Station in the first place - it made you wonder how they could handle the stress that even you struggled to deal with. You paused, mind flickering between Wen Shiling and the elevator, sighing when you ultimately decided on the former, trudging your quiet body towards hers.

“Wen Shiling?” you spoke softly, bending down to be closer to her height, the action paining your head. Honestly, with your hangover and usual tone of conversation, you really had no idea how to approach comforting her… or anyone really, “What’s wrong sweetie, are you okay?” you hesitated before reaching a hand out, touching her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes seemed to water as she took in your form, a long sob escaping her lips. She looked from your hand to you, as if contemplated whether she wanted to move away, though she kept herself firmly planted in place. 

“No, I’m mad!” she cried, wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve. She offered you know no other words, too focused on stifling her sobs, which were still obnoxiously loud. You resisted the urge to cover your ears to block out the noise despite her cries doing nothing to soothe your headache. You gently rubbed your hand up and down her back, hoping that it offered some form of comfort to the girl. 

Though she wasn’t clear about the source of her anger, it was clear enough to guess, “You don’t have to worry about Adler, we’ll definitely bring him back soon.” Of course you left out the part where you had no idea where the little boy was or if he was even alive… but you really didn’t want to get into discussing the philosophy of life and death with a eight year old. Your mind flickered to Adler’s stupid book you had borrowed, the one you hadn’t cracked open since the night your… enjoyable evening with Screwllum was interrupted by the damned doctor you had been forced to accommodate. What if you never saw him again… what if he never got to talk to you about the book? You internally shook your head, focusing again on Wen Shiling in front of you. Aeons, if only you could have a drink to take the edge off…

“I don’t want him back… he’s stupid!” she sobbed again. You tried not to cringe at the snot covering the sleeves of her dress, forcing yourself to focus on her words, “He doesn’t talk to me and then disappears…! I don’t even want him here!”

“I’m sure he was just busy,” you attempt to soothe the girl, cursing the Aeons for failing to give you skills in soothing children. Deciding your ability to comfort children was lacking, you decided to only logically thing you could do was change your tone to match your usual personality, “You know, once we get him back I’m sure he’ll be sorry for how he treated you. That’ll serve him right, huh?.”

“He’ll be sorry?” she echoed your words, blinking dumbly up at you. You nodded in encouragement, hoping that you finally found some method to calm her crying. You forced yourself to plaster the a smile on your face, as if everything was fine and you weren’t currently feeling like death from a hangover and dealing with the aftermath of another invasion and your alcohol problem all at the same time. 

“Of course! Im sure we can even make him take an afternoon off his stupid ecology research,” you said with smirk, happy to at least let your genuine thoughts shine through for a moment before the inevitable hours of seriousness ahead, “I heard he’s horrible at board games, we could force him to play one beat him to a pulp.”

Wen Shiling smiled a bit, though her frown returned soon after, “Big sis… Can I ask you something? But you have to tell me the truth.”

Feeling like you were getting the farthest using your typical personality, you let your genuine thoughts ring through in your answer “Sure, I’m not a liar,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, “what’s up?”

“…” she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Do you really think Adler is okay? … You think we’ll find him?” You stared at her for a moment, taking in her big brown tearful eyes and the snotty sleeves on her dress, an expression mixed with hopefulness and worry plastered all over her features. You forced a confident smirk on your face, placing your hands on your hips in mock confidence.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 

It wasn’t your first time lying to a kid, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last either. 

~~~~

Your head continued to pound as the elevator descended, countless sounds filling your head. Arlan’s yelling… Wen Shiling’s crying… it all fluttered around your brain like snow, casting an endless stream of emotions on your already overwhelmed brain. Your mind drifted to your water bottle which you knew sat on your desk in your room… would Arlan even know if you took a sip from it… He couldn’t right? How would he? There was no way he could actually expect to accurately record your sobriety, you thought to yourself. No, you just had to be sneaky with it - a few sips here and there to quell your thoughts… thats all you would need… just something to take the edge off. Even the thought of the alcohol seemed to quiet your brain, like a blanket may drive off heat on a cold night. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would realize how worrisome your thoughts truly were… but right now you really didn’t care.

“When an elevator arrives at its destination, you are expected to dismount it,” you blinked back into focus at the familiar irritating voice, eyes falling on to the Doctor. Dressed in his usual clothes, though lacking his alabaster head, he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were some sort of unusual specimen in his lab. In all honesty, you couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t even realized your elevator had arrived at the floor with everyone’s personal quarters, too caught up in your thoughts to notice, which left you standing blankly forward despite the door already having opened. 

“And when someone doesn’t get out, you’re expected to politely address them, not be a snarky asshole,” you shot back, forcing yourself to leave the elevator. Not ready to end the conversation, but not wanting the elevator to go away, the Doctor stepped inside, pressing the door open button.

“Your insults lack creativity when you are hung over,” he deadpanned, sighing - whether in disappointment or disgust, you didn’t know, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I was looking for you, you need to come with me.”

You rose an eyebrow at the Doctor, “Uh, kinda in the middle of trying to solve a crisis right now,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure you’ve heard about it… ya know, missing researchers, faulty security system. Don’t really have time for whatever bullshit you’re up to right now.”

“You wound me,” he states, though his face shows no sign of any emotion, “Since when do I act without purpose?” He looked at you with disgust, as if he was shocked at the suggestion, “Of course I am aware of the current predicament and I wish to help you.” 

You cock an eyebrow at him, arms crossed in front of your chest, “And why would you do that exactly? What’s in it for you?” skepticism dripped from your tone, a fact that you knew was all too apparent for the Doctor, who met your gaze defiantly, “Literally all you’ve done since getting here is be a pain in the ass and then almost get me killed - your actions don’t really scream helpful.”

“I seem to recall I was helpful enough in procuring wine for you and allowing you to sleep in my presence,” he smirked cockily, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “Or do actions such as those not qualify as helpful in your dictionary?”

“The only thing that helped with is getting me chewed out by my boss, so thanks for that I guess, what a help you are,” you rolled your eyes, tempted to walk away, but for some reason forcing yourself to stay put, “I don’t know what the hell was in that wine you gave me, but I swear I’m not usually that… clingy.” You thought you should say more, but chose to stay silent deciding you already made enough of a fool of yourself, “Honestly I don’t even remember most of the shit I did last night.”

“Alcohol interferes with one’s ability to form long term memories, such a fact is really not suprising,” he said matter-of-factly, a cocky smirk coating his features. You barley knew this man, but he seemed to always revel in the ability of making people feel dumb, “Luckily for you, I retained my own memory of the evening, if you wish to recall more.”

“I’d rather not learn more things Arlan can yell at me about, thanks,” you huffed, forcing the conversation back to its original topic, “So really, why do you wanna help me? What’s in it for you?”

“Many things really,” he said casually, finger still firmly pressing the open button on the elevator door, “The satisfaction of helping idiots some a simple problem, the joy of reuniting the researchers with their companions… or the pleasure of building a diplomatic relationship between the IPC and the Space Station as I was directed.”

“Should’ve known of course it was about the diplomacy,” you smirked at him, propping an arm next to the elevator door, “You clearly wouldn’t act kindly on your own accord. Got your own boss who you’re afraid will chew you out like mine?”

The Doctor’s face soured at the mention of a boss, “I’d rather not think of my acquaintances at the IPC, they are not the most fond people to be around.” The scowl on his face made you interested in learning more, but the Doctor was quick to change the subject, “I merely offered my assistance to Miss Asta and she accepted. The mere certitude that doing so will satisfy my companions is simply a bonus.”

“Whatever, I don’t care if Asta got you to help, I have my own work to do,” you brushed him off, turning to move away from the elevator. You were startled when a firm hand grasped your arm, preventing you from leaving. The Doctor’s skin was warm, radiating heat through Screwllum’s dress shirt. His touch mass you freeze in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder at the Doctor. 

“I’m not asking you,” he said plainly, as if disgusted that you hadn’t picked up on that sooner, “You prescene has been requested.” You felt mesmerized for a moment by his presence, the scent of his cologne filling your nose due to your close proximity. His golden eyes seemed to bore into you, as if staring into your soul. It was the first time you really took in how… handsome he looked. Of course you had noticed before… you had eyes of course, but something about how he looked at you now seemed to awaken something within you, something you were desperate to push away, while at the same time wanting to cling on to it. 

Snapping into your senses, you yank your hand from his, crossing it over your chest once more, “Requasted by who?”

“Hmmm what was the word you used for it again?” The Doctor’s hand, now free from holding your wrist, went to his chin in contemplation, “Ah yes, that’s it. A situationship. Screwllum requested your prescene.” With his other hand, he let go of open door button, allowing the door to close behind him, “We’ll see you in the Seclusion Zone.”

[runawrites-blog]

But It's Not Time (Levi x Reader)

Summary: After getting injured during a scouting mission, you are trapped in a tree to await rescue. Thankfully, you're not alone because your captain, old friend and the object of your affection, Levi Ackerman is there to help you until backup arrives. But as time goes on and your state worsens, you two start to worry whether or not you will make it. (Gender-Neutral Reader) Word Count: 2,915 Warnings: Talk of Injuries and Blood. Angst. No Y/N. A/N: Guess what fandom I added to the list of stuff I write for! You'll never guess, I bet! No, but in all seriousness, I added AOT/SNK to the lists of fandoms I write for, so feel free to request something for that fandom, as well. I'll write it as long as it's for adult characters and you adhere to my 'What I Will Not Write' list. The lyrics at the beginning of this are from the song "The Gambler" by Fun which is one of my favourite songs and fits so well. I really hope this isn't OOC by the way because it is one of my first times writing for Levi.

---

You swore you’d be here ‘til we decide that it’s our time

Well it’s not time, you’ve never quit in all your life

So just take my hand, you know that I will never leave your side

---

“You’re lying to me.”

You looked up at Levi, ignoring the pain in your leg, the way your wet clothes clung to you and how cold you were from the storm around you. He looked back at you, still standing on the branch of the tree you had been hiding on for the past hour. Your pained expression and slight shivering must have alerted him to the fact that you were not as fine as you’d told him you were.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you injured?” Levi asked sternly, looking down at where you were sitting against the trunk of the tree. “Do not lie to me.”

“I told you. I think I twisted my ankle.” You lied, shaking your head dismissively. “I’ll be alright. What we need to worry about now is looking out for titans and for other Scouting Legion Members that could help us get back to base.”

“I am your squad leader and as such I would like to know the truth.” He said but when you just averted your eyes withtout answering he decided to change his tactics. “Besides being your squad leader, I am also your friend, aren’t I? You always refer to me as such. Shouldn’t you be honest with your friends?”

He was right and you knew it. You two had been friends for years, had gone through the hardest of battles together and had only grown closer as a result. And it would’ve been a lie to deny that your feelings had grown past those of friendship in the last few months. You couldn’t lie to your friends, to the man you cherished and had fallen for. Besides that, the pain in your leg was also getting worse and you decided to tell him the truth.

“I-- I think that I actually hurt my leg quite-- quite badly while falling down from my horse. And I’m sure I’ve made it worse by-- by jumping up and trying to go after my horse. The straps of my maneuver gear are pressing on it though, so-- so I should be fine.”

“And why would you not tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I don’t think the bleeding is that bad and as I said, the strap is applying pressure.”

“You not telling me is much more worrying.” He said sternly though you heard the worry seeping into his voice. “If you are injured, I’d like to know.”

“I thought that we’d be found quicker.” You sighed as you leaned your head back against the tree. “We had so much else to worry about that I didn’t want to add to that when I thought we’d be back at our base within no time.”

“Next time, don’t worry about worrying me and tell me if you’re injured.” Levi said before he knelt down in front of you. “May I have a look?”

“I guess that would be a good idea.”

You slowly reached down and tried to roll up the leg of your pants but found that with how it was sticking to you after the rain had gotten it wet it was almost impossible. So you ripped it open, flinching at the shoot of pain it sent up your whole leg. When you saw the wound for the first time you gasped. There are a huge cut stretching upwards from above your knee to just underneath the valley of your hips. Now without the added pressure of the straps, the blood was pouring out more freely.

“I’m going to bleed out, aren’t I?”

“I won’t let you.” Levi promised and looked around before shaking his head in desperation. “I need something to stop the bleeding with.”

You swallowed thickly, tears welling up in your eyes. If Levi was this concerned, things must have been more serious than you had initially thought. Fear gripped ahold of you again and you had to take several deep breaths to not cry. But Levi had noticed, observant as ever. He turned back to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat but a few tears still rolled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, it’s just that if you’re this worried I-- I must be pretty bad off, right? This situation must be more-- more hopeless than I previously thought.”

He looked at you for a few seconds as if contemplating on what to do before he knelt next to you and put a comforting hand on your arm. “I will do whatever I can to get you back to base safely.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“No formalities. I’m not your captain now. I’m your friend who’d like to get you back to base safely.” To his shock, you started crying at his words and he inched closer, looking you over in a slight panic. “What did I do wrong? Did I say somthing?”

“Thank you so much.” You sobbed out quietly, wiping at your teary eyes. “When I hid by the base of the tree I thought I was going to die but you saved me and now you’re still saving me. Thank you, Levi.”

“Of course I am.” Levi said softly, giving you a stern look. “I am your friend. Now let me think of how to stop the bleeding.”

About ten minutes later saw Levi provisionally applying a turnequette fashioned out of the straps of your gear and you trying not to make any noises while he did so. When he was finally done you looked up and gave him a thankful smile. It was getting harder and harder to not slur your speech or slump fruther down on the branch.

“Thank you.” You whispered and looked down, noticing your bleeding hand. “I must have bitten it pretty hard when-- while trying not to make any noise. But it’s-- but that’s nothing to worry about.”

“Your speech is slurring.” He pointed out and sat down next to you. “You have to stay away, alright? Help is on the way.”

“How-- how do you know that?” You slurred, trying to focus on Levi but it was getting increasingly harder to focus on anything and to keep your head clear. “I get that you’re smart and-- and a good soldier and-- but you’re not-- How do you know?”

Levi raised an eyebrow in concern and inched closer to you. “I sent out a flair earlier. Green for an injured and lost soldier. Don’t you remember?”

“Green.” You nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, green.”

“You know if Hanji was here she’d laugh at you slurring your words.” Levi remarked softly as he looked back at you. “You sound so thoughtful when you talk about the colour green.”

“It’s a pretty colour.” You retorted, pushing yourself up to sit a little straighter. “Can I-- Is it okay if I take a little-- if I just close my eyes for ten minutes?”

“No.”

“Five minutes?”

“No, you have to stay awake.” Levi urged and shook his head, fishing around in the little bag the horse had dropped earlier as it had taken off, pulling out a little flask. “Here, have a drink.”

“Is this the time for alcohol?”

“It’s water, you moron.”

You chuckled at his insult before a smile overtook your face. “I like that more. I don’t like it when you’re-- when you’re too nice and soft. Makes me wonder if-- if I’m hallucinating. Doesn’t matter that I’m injured. Just insult me.”

Levi gave a dry laugh at that and then tipped your head back, gently helping you drink some of the water. You drank half of the flask before pulling back and looking at him. Levi gave you a questioning look.

“You need to-- you need water, too.”

“It’s raining. I can just collect more water.” Levi reasoned before holding the flask to your lips again. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need to drink.”

“Alright.” You nodded and let him help you take another sip before he leaned you back against the tree trunk while you smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. How are you feeling?”

“Cold and wet and hurt.”

Levi looked at you for a few seconds before he shrugged off his cape and draped it over your shoulders. You tried to wave it off, not wanting him to be cold, but he grapped your hand, holding it to stop you from taking the cape off.

“Take it. The cold will only make you feel worse.”

It was ironic because you had longed for this sort of gesture from Levi for years, your feelings for him only getting stronger every time you spoke to him. You two were friends and you knew that yet this gesture would have delighted you had you not been in such a dire situation. Knowing that Levi would probably not feel the same either way you shoved your thoughts away, instead giving him a small smile as you pulled the cape close around your body.

“Thank you. You know, I’m really glad you’re my friend.”

“Likewise.”

A smile tore your face and you leaned back to watch Levi scout out your surroundings, then cursing under his breath as he still saw no other soldiers coming. You hoped they weren’t waiting out the storm before they came to your rescue. Levi seemed to notice your worry and sat down next to you, turning his head to face you.

“You’re going to be fine, I promise. All you have to do is be quiet and stay awake. The others will find us soon.”

“I hope so.” You whispered, tears brimming at your eyes. “My-- my little brother is in-- He’s also in the Survey Corps and I can’t leave him alone.”

“I know.” Levi said and inched closer to you. “And you won’t. I’m sure right now he is safe with the others and in due time, you will see him again. We just have to wait a little longer.”

You swallowed then and turned to Levi, pulling out a small silver locket. “My father gave it to me for-- for my sixteenth birthday all those years ago. And-- Well, should I not make it--”

“No.”

“Would you give it to my brother?” You mumbled out, tears running down your cheeks. “It’s not worth a whole lot but I’m sure he could use it-- He’ll find a use for it.”

“I won’t give it to him.” Levi said sternly. “You’ll be able to do that yourself. Because I will get you back to base safely.”

“We’re running out of time, Levi.” More tears cascaded down your face as you slowly leaned into Levi’s shoulder, exhausiton and the need for comfort overtaking any restraints you had about being so close to him. “I’m bleeding so much. I’ll never make it.”

“You will. Just keep your eyes open.”

“It’s so hard to-- I’m so exhausted and--” You paused, taking a deep breath and looking up at Levi. “Can you slap me across the face or-- or something? I need something to keep me conscious.”

“You want me to slap you?”

“Unless you-- you have a better idea to keep me from passing out.”

Levi was quiet for a few seconds and drew back a bit, making you raise from his shoulder. You expected him to slap you or shake you to keep you conscious. His hand came close to your face but instead of doing anything you had asked for he cupped your cheek and before you could question what he was planning he pressed his lips to yours, his eyes closing.

Your eyes grew wide in shock and you felt more awake than you had been in the past hour. But you quickly reciprocated, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned in to your best ability with you still being injured. He held your face gently, thumb rubbing your cheek as he gently leaned you back againt the tree with his free hand. A bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree and despite you trying to chase after his lips Levi pulled back from the kiss.

“I told you to keep your eyes open.”

Blinking back at him, you gave him a soft smile. “I thought you’d make an exception for me just this once.”

“Not when you’re this injured.” He said sternly, leaning closer again. “Do you feel more awake now?”

“Defintely.”

“Good because I’m going to climb a bit higher to get a better view and see if anyone is approaching, yet.” He said but before he stood he ran his hand along your cheek once more. “Hang on for me until I’m back.”

Before you could answer, he was gone, using his gear to get to a higher branch and dissapearing between the leaves. His absensce gave you a much needed chance to think. You had long since come to terms your feelings for Levi but he had never shown you any interest beyond being friends with you, so you had accepted that your feelings would remain unreciprocated. But now you wondered whether or not he felt the same way or if he’d simply kissed you to keep you from passing out.

“I see horses approaching!”

You nearly jumped out of your own skin when Levi landed in front of you, hair once again drenched from the rain as he knelt down by your side. With help approaching you wondered when you’d again get the chance to talk about what the kiss had meant, so you gathered all your courage and decided to ask him.

“Levi, may I ask you something?”

“This is not the time. We have to get you to safely first.” He said, standing and getting beside you before he grabbed you underneath the arms and helped you stand. “Whatever you want to ask it can wait.”

You quieted down at that, partially because you knew he was right to want to concentrate on getting to safety first and partially because of your pain skyrocketing at having to stand up. Despite trying to keep your pain hidden Levi once more saw right through you and hoisted your arm over his shoulders to support you. Exhausted and in pain you leaned your head against him and Levi let you.

“I will get you to safety, I promise.”

---

“How are you feeling?”

You looked away from watching the rain outside the window of the small castle this expedition had set up camp in to face Levi. He was standing in the doorway to the small medical bay you were currently staying at after you had been treated. You pushed yourself into a sitting position to get a better look at Levi and when you saw is worried expression youhave him a soft smile, hoping to reassure him.

“I’m alright. I had to get stitches on my leg but I’m alright now, still in pain but no longer in danger of bleeding to death.”

“While it’s not good that you’re in pain I’m glad you’re in a stable condition.” Levi said, coming closer to your bed and resting his hands on the board at the foot of it. “You had me worried about you.”

A surprise chuckle left your mouth at that confession. “You were worried about me?”

“You were injured, bleeding profusely and far away from basecamp. Of course, I was worried about you.” Levi said sternly, frowning at your reaction. “Is it that hard to believe that I worry about you? You are my friend, after all.”

His words made you stall because it reminded you of how you still wanted to know what the kiss you’d shared had meant and if he also felt more for you than friendship. “Levi, may I ask you something? The thing I wanted to ask you about before?”

“Does it happen to have anything to do with me kissing you?”

“Yes.” You nodded, swallowing nervously before speaking up again, gathering all your courage to confess to him. “I’m aware that you might have simply kissed me to keep me from passing out but I want to be honest about my feelings for you just on the offchance that you feel the same. I’m in love with you and I have been for a while now. You probably don’t feel the same and--”

Having apparently had enough of your rambling Levi decided to stop you and he did so by once more pressing his lips to yours. But before you could even react or let alone reciprocate he pulled back again, eyes locking with yours.

“I apologise but I had to make you stop talking before you got it all wrong.” Levi said and at your slightly confused epxression he sat down on the foot of your bed. “I was unsure of whether or not I was really in love with you but I think the prospect of losing you today made me realise what these feelings really were.”

“You feel the same?”

“I’m in love with you.” Levi said before he reached out to gently push you back against the pillow. “But now you need to rest so you won’t hurt yourself even more. Can you do that for me?”

“I can.”

Levi gave you a small smile before standing back up and nodding his head toward the door. “I have to report back to Erwin now but I will check in on you afterwards, I promise.”

“Levi, just one more thing before you leave?” “What do you need?”

“Would you kiss me again?”

“Of course.”

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men/Mutant Dynasties

Something I've always felt uneasy about is when offspring of Marvel mutants basically inherit their mutant gift 1:1. The X Gene (though I don't love that either) is supposed to be a naturally but randomly occurring thing in humans that causes them to develop a strong mutation. In many cases, a superpower as opposed to six toes. I'm sure people experience such minor mutations as well but it's not due to the X Gene.

A character that exemplifies the my dislike of this is Raze, the alternate reality/'future' child of Wolverine and Mystique. Them existing in a pretty ridiculous era with a constant nostalgia recycling is a factor too.

This idiot. He literally just has both parents gifts - shapeshifting, claws, and a healing factor. Keep in mind those are metal claws too - something Logan doesn't have biologically. Maybe it's a Mystique thing and she's like a ditto in Pokémon breeding because her kid with Xavier is this chump.

It's just Charles Xavier again! I'll admit part of the dislike is them featuring in such mediocre, unimaginative stories, and they're pretty transparent Nostalgia bait. Has it lead to good stories? I don't think so, not as a critical element. Could you honestly tell me what either of these idiots' motivation is without looking it up?

Also, I think taking the randomness out of it just leads to eugenics and bioessentialism - a place the x books should not go, or at least not have nominal heroes doing it. Leave it to Mr Sinister.

Mutant trait inheritance has been around since almost the beginning. Polaris has Magneto's powers but weaker, Siryn has *similar* powers to Banshee, Nightcrawler looks like Mystique (though that makes sense through retcon. Shit, maybe she IS a Ditto.) On the flip side, there's even more Mutants that inherited none of their parents' mutation.

IRL Mutation is supposed to be, well not random per se, but the result of damage to genes. In our universe it's neither a good thing nor bad thing. In 616 it's pretty muddled tbh. I'm not a scientist - I'm a writer, so I'm not going deep on something that doesn't have internal consistency. I'm always going to dislike thin characters trying to evoke familiarity through mashing two iconic ones together, but it's more than that. What's the source of my discomfort then?

Yeah, it's the eugenics. HoxPoX actually took it further, revealing that Moira and Charles intentionally sought to breed reality warpers, to the point of researching partners that would give the desired result. They were successful too, resulting in Proteus and Legion, two of the most powerful mutants alive. The ethics of these actions aren't editorialised but I think they're meant to be read as horrifying - especially when you consider the context of the 'pairings' and the lives these poor kids have had. Maybe it's not so surprising Xavier views David as a weapon and Moira seems to hate Kevin. It makes Chuck and Moira look terrible.

Pic unrelated, I just wanted to break up the text and what better than Beatnik Namor?

The superbaby schemes never come to light and they're not really punished for being shit parents. Certainly not socially. I'd love a book where they were, but the time has kinda passed. Maybe the fairy tale morality of big two comics doesn't have the framework or the desire to explore it, though I think that if you're going to put eugenics in your fiction you probably should.

I've been sitting on this draft for months because I feel like I don't have the knowledge or vocabulary to explore it properly. I'm probably missing something. I've decided it's been edited and rewritten enough and I'm posting it as is, so if you have any thoughts on this I'd love to hear them. Join the conversation!

[moodymisty]

May I request Vulkan taking care of his pregnant S/O and just over all being cute and fluffy?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Ahhh, it's about time someone asked for Vulkan. This is about as fluffy as I can make WH without completely losing the plot. I mean, we're in this hellpit for a reason, aren't we? Apologies for any offness for Vulkan, I'm still lore reading for him and his legion.

Relationships: Vulkan/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy/Tokophobia warning, General 40kness but overall pretty bland and fluffy

Word Count: 935

A clash of blades, the sound of a ceramite gauntlet hitting a chestplate with inhuman force- Salamanders fight one on one in the large open space. The sky high above grumbles and threatens to downpour, but it hasn't smothered the Salamanders' fire just yet. Not that it isn't trying, with the smell in the air and the cold, moist wind on your skin.

You watch them, hearing the ringing of metal on metal and blood drip onto the stone ground as you wrap your arms tighter around yourself in the chill. Your rounded stomach serves to be the perfect place to rest them.

"Mother,"

You don't respond to the title right away, head only darting to the right once you see a massive pair of dark green boots enter your downturned vision.

You don't think you'll ever get used to being called that. Particularly with the prose that the Salamanders use. Not all of them use the familial title, but enough do that it still feels almost overwhelming. You wonder if Vulkan felt the same way, at first.

"Should you not be resting?"

Your eyes travel up the massive Astartes, up to a face staring down at you stoic and neutral, head tilted with the slightest curiosity. He turns away from you however, when you both hear another voice laugh at the Astarte's inquiry.

"If she will not listen to me about rest, she will surely not listen to you either."

Vulkan comes closer, his massive hand covers your shoulder and you purse your lips while shaking your head.

"I don't want to spend months stuck in a room. Can I not watch them spar for a few moments?"

You might not have many more chances to, if your child grows any larger. It's already a pain to do tasks that were menial not long ago. Though you can't complain, given the unsurprising nature. The child's father is a Primarch that towers over you, after all.

A Salamander gets toppled over by his opponent, but quickly regains his footing as you watch him defend himself. The man that had first approached you excuses himself, taking his exit and leaving you and his Primarch largely alone. Barely anyone would be able to hear you over the sounds of metal ringing, from both weapon and armor alike.

"We only worry for you."

Vulkan's gaze is soft, hand still firmly on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. But as much as they do worry about your health, it also seems that his men get a pride in them, at their Legion Mother being here.

Vulkan could tell when you had first arrived that his sons rose just a bit higher, shoulders squared just a bit more, and even though they always fight with their all, Vulkan could tell they went just a bit farther beyond.

Taking to a kneel in front of you, the massive Primarch places the hand that was once on your shoulder on your stomach, despite him being unable to feel with the armor of his gauntlet impeding. It's the symbolism of the gesture that he desires foremost. Your body relaxes a bit.

"And how is the little one now?"

It will always strike you how incredibly gentle he can be despite his size and the sheer power contained within it. It must surely be a conscious effort to do so.

"Well, according to the apothecary." He looks towards you, and his hand once again moves to the side of your jaw. You lean into the surprisingly warm armor. His thumb brushes against your skin.

"And how are you?"

The question makes you laugh, for some odd reason. He doesn't ask why and simply waits for your answer.

"Tired. Aching. The fresh air is nice, though." Vulkan smiles.

"Your intuition was right, it seems." He's referencing your concern from a few months back, about your worry of the child of a Primarch taking a toll on your body. You grumble largely to yourself.

"One of the few times I hate being right."

The comment makes Vulkan struggle to hide a smile behind stoic expression. He worries underneath it; For your health, the health of the child, and so many more things. But you worry enough. As you should, you're the one who's health and strength is being tested every day by simply holding a such a life within you. He has never voiced these things- he wishes to be your strength whenever yours might falter.

You consider maybe returning to your private quarters, finally heeding Vulkan's advice to rest despite your complaints, until you notice a unique set of armor among the sea of deep green. It makes you perk up and curious look to see if your first inclination was correct. Vulkan follows your gaze, raising up to his full height.

"Commander Artelleus is going to join them?"

The commander of the Pyre Guard is nothing short of a violent force of nature, in stark contract to his surprisingly selfless nature. Any step you might've made to leave is taken back and idea abandoned.

"I'll stay just a bit longer then."

Vulkan laughs. Surely the commander with have his pride warmed when he tells him of your comment. But for Vulkan, casual, purehearted curiosity even in the face of such violence and brutality will always be one of his favorite things about you. Many times had you kept him company by his forge, even before he called you his beloved.

Vulkan gently moves to pick you up, sitting on his arm. Your hand grips the edge of his pauldron as you sigh at the feeling of your weight being taken off your legs.

"Very well."

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"THANK THE GODS"

Do you remember that I make a post saying that him on this outfit make me feral, and that I need him to put his fur coat on the floor and fuck me? Well, I WROTE A STORY ABOUT THAT AND HERE IT IS

I hope you like it!

That battle promised to be one of the fiercest the general had ever faced. While the men of his legion prepared for the imminent attack, he had one of his soldiers call his wife and bring her before him.

That is how Lira had ended up there, in the middle of a snowy forest with her husband. Maximus watched her for a few moments, before slowly approaching. He cupped her face in her hands, she closed her eyes feeling that in that contact she was expressing the feelings she wanted to say out loud but didn't know how.

She rested her forehead against him, both breathing the same air. Time stopped when he broke the silence.

-My lady - he whispered - I must go to the front - he announced, confessing his worst fears - I swear by the gods that I will return to your side - he smiled - death is not here

-I believe you - she answered looking into his eyes - go then and fulfill your duty to Rome

-It is possible that they will attack us during the night - he added while raising his gaze to the sky - there are still several hours until nightfall - he murmured looking at her intensely - I can think of a couple of things we can do until then

-And what are those things? -he asked, playing along-

-I want to take a good memory with me before going into combat- he began walking towards her, making her walk backwards, his back hit a tree, making her stop- if I have to die today, I want my last memory to be the softness of your skin against mine- he whispered, tracing the curve of her cheek with his fingers- and the warmth of our bodies as they melted into one

Maximu's gaze lowered to her mouth, as did hers. Her blue eyes watched him for a moment, before joining their lips in a wild, needy, almost animal way. It was clear that the general needed to calm his nerves before the battle, and that was just what she was going to give him: calm.

The kiss became more and more intense, making both of them gasp on each other's lips. Maximu's heavy armor fell against the snow-filled ground with a thud, leaving his strong torso exposed. His hands undid her dress, pulling it over her head and leaving it next to his armor.

He held her by the hips, making her wrap her legs around them. Their centers brushed for a few moments, eliciting a gasp from her. Maximus bent down to grab his fur coat and placed it against the snow. Then he leaned Lira's back against him, so she wouldn't be so cold.

"I thank the Gods every day for putting you in my path," he whispered, kissing the place where her pulse was beating. "Your beauty is comparable to that of Venus herself," he praised as her lips descended to kiss her thighs.

(Author's note: Anyone gets warm like that, right?)

Maximus' blue eyes rested on hers for a moment, before pressing his hips against hers. A cry escaped from between her lips as she felt him throbbing inside her.

She rested her forehead against him again, as they both matched their movements to the other's rhythm, Maximus' hands anchored on her hips as he guided their movements.

They both finally reached release, and when they finished, they rested on the general's furs, who tangled Lira's hair between his fingers as he watched the snow fall from the treetops with her leaning against his chest.

That was certainly a good memory he would take with him into battle.

[rootsofdread]

Autism be damned my brain can hyperfixate anyway wowowo requests >:D

Could i get reader who (before they were taken by the entity) was a professional tag player and can hide on the cellings and parkour really well? With Leon, Ghostface, Trickster romantic and platonic Legion (Any/All how you prefer)

ALSO look up professional tag on yt cuz MY LORD THEY'RE FAST AND GOOD

did actually watch a little bit and i was amazed, honestly love parkour sm and am sad it fell out of style. anyone who says parkour isn't cool is LYING

Leon S. Kennedy:

Leon feels confident having you by his side. Sure, he’s known for his cockiness, but he feels it’s warranted this time — a professional tagger could run a killer around for hours while he and the others work on generators. It’s perfect! And besides, if you end up getting caught, he always has a surplus of flashbangs ready to run and save you because you’ve bought him so much time to make them.

He gets a kick out of watching your loops from a distance, seeing you almost instantly lose a killer thanks to your prior experience. Seeing them confusedly look around for you until they decide to leave always makes his day, honestly. 

Until you decide to loop him, too, when the two of you are just running around. He laughs harder than you’ve ever heard him laugh when he realizes you’re now on top of something, or up in the ceiling.

You make trials much more tolerable for him by making him laugh with your antics, plus he appreciates your almost supernatural ability to buy him (and the other survivors) time. You aggravate the living hell out of the killers and he loves that, there's no one else he'd be more proud to call his.

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny is endlessly amused by your shenanigans. He usually hates variables and unpredictability, but he's always been charmed by your variation and unpredictability. It makes things more exciting, more fun.

You always manage to run him around for a few generators, where he's usually aware enough to know when to leave someone alone. He just gets so caught up trying to catch you and having fun doing it, he almost forgets there's more survivors to go after. 

He tries to match your skills during chases, he's not too bad at parkouring himself. He can nearly keep up with you most of the time, narrowly missing you with his knife. It just motivates him more.

After he realizes a few generators have been completed, he then realizes he should leave you alone so he can get some work done. He'll stop and get your attention, leaving you with a cute little wave and his signature 'call me' gesture.

Ji-Woon Hak / The Trickster:

Ji-Woon is exhilarated having someone fun to chase around. Someone who he sees as a performer like himself — someone who takes pride in their talents. He loves that about you, your confidence and your talent.

You're wonderful target practice for him the way you bob and weave and jump and duck, you're nearly impossible to hit. But he tries, he's always trying to nail you and get better. When he manages to hit you, you'll hear his maniacal little giggle. You know he’s having fun.

Like Danny, Ji-Woon is pretty good at matching your movements, he’s quite acrobatic himself (probably even more so than Danny). He enjoys leaping and running around with you, chasing you all over trialgrounds, all while trying to land some knives in you.

He doesn't even particularly care if he loses matches to you, if it meant you were both having fun and honing your abilities. Practice makes perfect, after all, for him and for you, and he wouldn't want anything less than perfection.

Frank Morrison / The Legion:

Frank mostly finds it comical. He especially loves hearing you tell him about other killers you ran around and tricked into losing you, he’ll usually bring it up to them later to poke fun at them. You’re his best friend and even if you’re more modest about your talents, he’ll boast about them for you. Well, maybe boast isn’t quite the right word…Brag, more like.

He’s often astonished by your ability to completely lose him. He’ll spend a few seconds looking around for you, ducking around walls he was sure he last saw you between. Then he hears you laughing above him…High up on the dilapidated wall, curled over the edge like a cat. He cracks up.

You’re one of the few people who can outrun or simply outlast his Frenzy, and that amazes him. It’s a feat he feels he has to congratulate you on at least a few times when it happens, during a trial he’ll just give you a quick nod to acknowledge your accomplishment. But afterwards, he’ll give you a slap on the back and tell you that was great. He really has fun with you.

He loves seeing the reactions from other survivors when they witness your professional skills being put to use in the realm. Meg is the most athletic of any of them, but they’ve never seen her pull stunts like you do. Sometimes he’ll quietly watch their amazement, then when they finally realize he’s standing there, give kind of a nod in your direction, signifying he knows you and he’s proud of you.

Susie Lavoie / The Legion:

Susie finds it the most fun out of everyone, really getting a giggle (more than just one, actually) out of your antics. She loves seeing you dart and jump around like crazy to outrun her, you can hear her maniacally giggling the entire time she’s chasing you. At some points, she’s laughing too much and has to take a break. But she knows you’re hiding nearby, just out of her sight, waiting for her to kick back into gear.

Sometimes she’ll get you in a chase just to see what crazy tricks you have up your sleeve. She’ll even steer you to specific areas of realms to see what you’ll do there, how you’ll use the environment to your advantage. It’s amazing to her how you can use just about anything to dodge the swings of her knife.

She absolutely asks you to teach her some moves outside of trials. She wants to use them to impress and distract other survivors during chases, and use them to cut chase time and get to them faster. She knows you’ll be a great teacher for her, and she gets so excited to try doing some stunts of her own during trials.

If you hide up in the ceiling or on top of something tall when you’re getting chased by her, she’ll actually stop and offer you help down. She knows you can do it yourself, but you’re her friend. She holds her hand out to you and stands on her tiptoes so you can actually grab it and she can pull you down.

[zahri-melitor]

Poking at timeline stuff again:

So Kon was ‘born’ in 1993, and hatched from his tube aged… 15ish? He turned 1 in Nov 1995 (Superboy Annual #2 of his series) – note Kon is STILL AGING here, and after this point he’s usually described as 16 physically. His age ‘froze’ in July 1997 (Superboy #41) and then started aging again after Sins of Youth in May 2000 (Superboy #74) Kon died in May 2006 (Infinite Crisis #6) Kon returned in June 2009 (Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds #4)

2000-2006 is about a year in Comics Time. I think it’s 100% fair to say Kon was physically 17 year old, at his youngest, as at his death, and mentally 17-18.

Kon enrolled in Smallville High on his revival – he’s almost certainly in Year 12/a Senior – and 2009ish is known as the ‘start’ of a school year by a bunch of correlating factors (Steph starting college is one). Flashpoint interrupts and this school year likely never finished. He may or may not have celebrated his 18th birthday before Flashpoint but it either happened or was due imminently.

Known timegaps – Kon lost slightly over a year between Infinite Crisis and Final Crisis. His aging stopped either for over a year (if you use Bat timelines) or more like 6 months (given it was 3 years real time). In total I want to say Kon’s ‘age’ went backwards about 18 months to two years over this period. His mental age, however, probably only lost 15 months or so.

By Flashpoint, Kon probably was due to celebrate his 18th birthday in his personal timeline.

In comparison: Jason Todd died aged 15 (if you take canon at its word) or 14 years 9 months (if you use the canonical birthday and death day dates). He was officially dead for 6 months before getting resurrected (- 6 months) and then in a coma for a year (-12 months). He then had a fun amnesiac period which does not have a defined length of time before Talia got sick of it and pushed Jason into a Pit.

Using Bat timelines, 18 months after Jason’s death is probably some time around Contagion or Legacy. Legacy in particular makes a lot of sense for Talia to see Jason in Gotham and pick him up to take home with her. He probably had to go into a Lazarus Pit during No Man’s Land, given Bane and Bruce start the ‘destroy all the Lazarus Pits’ campaign post-NML, culminating in Death and the Maidens in 2003-2004.

Either way, Jason Todd is still mentally 15 years old as of 2000.

Jason’s not in a position to return to Gotham with Talia’s urging until AFTER the rebuild for the famous bomb the Batmobile moment (realistically probably 2000-2001), and from the rebuild process IN DC comics 2001 is a better call than 2000 if you don’t still want rubble everywhere (they didn’t manage to get Ivy out of Robinson Park until Jan 2001)

He then does his world travel training trip… but is back in Gotham for September 2003 and Hush (and Tim’s 16th birthday).

Given Tim’s birthday is canonically on 19 July, the longest Jason’s world training trip can be is 6 months, and is probably more like 3-4 months given the required futzing time either side.

Jason doesn’t legally turn 18 until March 2004 (Tec #790). He’s still almost certainly mentally 16 years old here. He’s arguably physically 17.5 here.

A set of preboot timeline facts from all of this that is hilarious (to me):-

Jason and Tim are mentally about the same age, given their canonical 23 month age gap by date of birth. Depending on how long a period Talia keeps Jason around as an amnesiac, Tim may actually be mentally older.

Yes. The Titans Tower fight was essentially two 16 year olds having a spat.

Kon, despite also having fun death times, is 100% mentally older than Jason for all periods, though they’re close to drawing even after Final Crisis. He’s probably close to physically the same age as Jason for a lot of the time up to Infinite Crisis.

Tim may actually have spent a similar amount of time training in Paris (between Robin I and some time during Legacy and the summer leading up to Cataclysm) as Jason did on his Lost Days world trip.

Anyone who questions how Tim can be one of the greatest bo staff fighters in the world when he’s working off the same time frame of intense training from masters as Jason is (and has a far more substantial training time with Bruce and Dick) is honestly discounting that Tim has more extensive vigilante experience than Jason does, particularly in terms of Gotham-focused skills.

Kon and Tim end up by Flashpoint as within a few months of each other in age.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Before reading the comics, thanks to sladixk fics, i genuinely thought that dick always lost to slade, now I know that most times when he's and adult he beats slade no problem but it got me wondering how you feel about this canon-fanon difference

OHH this is a good question!!

i think sometimes fanon makes Slade a little... too badass. i think something some fanon fans don't understand about Slade in the 80s/90s is that he was like... kind of a loser? like don't get me wrong he was a main villain of the Titans for a while and he was certainly meant to be a formidable villain but this reputation he has in fanon almost supersedes him. (for example with specific plots: the fandom interpretation of the Judas Contract is Slade as the mastermind, but the writers have said that Terra was supposed to be the big villain manipulating everything. which is a ridiculous thing to put on a teenage girl getting groomed but, it does depict the intention of who was supposed to be "at fault" in that story) and don't get me wrong, i definitely love playing up the reputation and aura Slade has, but he really is a general contract killer on the level of like, Deadshot. personally, i wouldn't even put him on Lady Shiva's level, i think she far outranks him.

and to be fair to some fanon, recent comics have... tried to badass-ify Slade. some of his more recent Deathstroke runs are really trying to put him as this guy with legions of men underneath him who's this *deadly* killer who can take on Batman and Superman and all the like. and i just find that... boring? like, do i enjoy him being a smarter-than-average villain with a lot of connections? yes. but i don't think anything in his backstory really lends him to being as formidable as he appears in some fanfiction that puts him on this untouchable level. i would personally go as far to say i think *most* of the Batfamily could beat him in a fight under the right circumstances. bc Slade really is just Some Guy who got a serum from the military and went AWOL. (there's certainly more to his backstory than that, but at a glance, he's really not a trained fighter from birth like other characters are) and whilst i do enjoy Slade being formidable i have to admit, it was sort of fun when he was a loser? and i've gotten a kick out of certain comics that point out he's only a terrifying villain when he's up against teenagers. (Ghost-Maker calling him out on that is one of the funniest things, to me) like could Slade give Batman a serious fight? sure, but i don't see him ever winning unless you *really* nerf Bruce. and i really don't see him ever winning against most of the Batkids once they've got some years under their belt. Slade's scare factor was always tapered by who he was against, and he was a *Teen Titans* villain. so he's a little ridiculous and sometimes just sort of a weird loser. and i say that affectionately.

furthermore, on the flipside, i think... sometimes, we woobify Dick a bit too much to my tastes. or, really any Robin who gets shipped with Slade but of course Dick is the standout in popularity and i find it's more prominent with him. it's really a general slash problem, in which one man must be the Strong Top and then other must be the Weak Bottom. and that manifests in Slade being physically larger than Dick (which in canon, ehhh i think the size difference would be largely negligible) and him being able to beat Dick. bc it makes for more fanfic scenarios where you can put Dick at Slade's mercy for porn, for angst, for whatever you'd like. Slade is a good pick if you want to really put Dick on the weaker side, bc you can play with healing factors and strength enhancements. so on a physical level, Slade will be stronger than Dick. does that mean Slade can beat Dick in a fight? historically, no. i mean, Slade trusted Dick to train his own daughter in the Renegade storyline, so i think this is a fact even Slade is aware of.

i don't think it's a bad thing fanfiction likes its big top/small bottom tropes. if you want to make Dick a submissive, pliant bottom who is going to lose in a fight to Slade for your dead dove porn, get it. i've probably written or will write the same. it's appealing and it's a very common trope for Dick. but it becoming the fandom norm does sort of nerf Dick, occasionally. i think some fans don't fully comprehend the actual level Dick is on, where he's very close to being an equal to Bruce, if not already Bruce's equal. in fandom Dick is sort of trapped in this "post-adolescence but not full adulthood" state that does not acknowledge he has been an adult running superhero teams for years. he was filling in for Bruce in the Batman mantle all the way back in the 90s. he can defeat villains like Slade, and usually without a lot of difficulty. to me the only time you can realistically make Dick lose and it be "in character" is either 1, to have Dick *very* early on in his Robin years (i think if he's past 16, he can beat Slade) or 2, very deeply wound Dick/have him in a psychologically altered state via drugs or something. otherwise yeah, i think Dick wins 99% of the time.

but fanfiction is fanfiction, and it doesn't *have* to be canon. esp if Dick losing to Slade is just a sexy prerequisite to porn. do i wish more fanon explored Slade as kind of a loser? absolutely. do i think Slade is *too* cool in most fanon? also absolutely. but those are my tastes and i don't begrudge anyone who just wants a strong, mean man to whump the shit out of their blorbos, which usually, is the purpose of Slade. i find most fanfic with Slade tends not to be exploring Slade's character. they're simply using him as an easy stand-in for a metahuman who's morally grey and very mean but has a nuanced history with Dick, or whoever else. which, very valid. not all fanfic needs to be a character study, but i do think it'd be cool to see more Slade-centric fics that *do* want to be character studies.