#he’s this half feral cat she picked up

[ambrosethedarling]

I think that u deserve the whole entire world, ur art is so gorgeous and awe inspiring. I would die for ur jason and kori drawing in particular. It's so 🫶🩷🤎💌💕💘🩷💝💓💖💗💟💔❤️🩷🧡🤎🩵💜🩵🖤💛🩶🤍🩶🤎

Hi I realized I said kori when I meant Artemis I am so sorry I was saying one thing and typing another. But That Art, the tender kiss jaskn and Artemis have??? That Shit Right There. I want it painted as a mural on my ceiling so I can see it every day

You’re so kind so glad you liked it 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

And to be honest I was never really a fan of Jaytemis until one of my mutuals over on twt posted a fic that centers around Jason and Artemis in a close relationship. It got me thinking and then I drew that piece and completely pavloved myself into liking the ship lmao love me some tender lovin

Anyway here’s a little doodle I had saved away

[ciceroandthelistener]

this is tater, one of the strays around my bf’s house. she’s a total sweetheart and we think she might be expecting kittens? either way we’re waiting to find out so we can take her to the humane society bc she absolutely deserves a home

[shotmrmiller]

Simon is enthralled by you, John Price's cat. Oh, how beautiful you look on all fours, rubbing your face on his jeans. How lovely the mews that spill from your lips sound— music to his ears.

He grabs you by the hips to lift you onto his lap, mindful of your tail and brushes his covered nose against your cheeks. "Aren't you just precious?" Simon lifts his mask enough to expose his lips and nips the tip of your human ear. "I wonder if this pretty kitten has a pretty pussy, too," he softly says. Your half-lidded eyes look at John, who's chosen to be just a spectator tonight.

"You heard him, kitten. Show Simon what he's asking for." The bell in your collar clinks as you lift to turn yourself around in his lap, and he grabs your waist with his large hands to assist. "Careful, I don't want you falling off and getting hurt." Simon extends his long, thick legs which gives you a bit more space to work with.

Keeping your knees together, you place your bare, dainty feet on each shoulder, and with a trembling exhale, your knees drop open.

Simon intakes a sharp breath through his teeth at the sight of your glistening cunt spread open— a flower in full bloom. The grip on your waist tightens to what should be considered pain, but to you is just acute pleasure.

"She's a fuckin' sight, sir," he admires without looking up. He drags a blazing trail with his fingers from your waist to your mons, pad of his thumb hovering over your swollen, slippery clit. "I'm curious, though, kitten," You look at him, cheeks flushed, and answer him with a tiny little mewl. "I'm curious if you'll purr for me, too," and draws agonizingly slow circles, that is exactly what you want, yet not enough. The whimpers slithering out of your throat make his cock achingly hard, and if you turned around, you'd see a sizeable tent in John's trousers too.

John's voice is thick with arousal as he says, "She likes it when you let saliva dribble from your mouth onto her pussy, isn't that right, kitten?"

You bob your head, mouth open, a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. Simon's touch is magical. You've got liquid fire in your veins, every precise circle rubbed onto your nub tightens that coil in your lower stomach, and when he spits onto your pussy, the warm glob of spit that lands directly on your clit almost has you coming from it alone.

Simon notices how your hips start moving on their own, picking up speed, forcing more friction on your clit when he stops touching you, removing all stimulation. The keen you let out is primal, a high-pitched whine. "Oh, I know, I know," he coos at you, "I just gotta ask your owner for permission, s'all."

He tips his head to the side, looking over your shoulder, and nods. John must've agreed to whatever he's thinking because Simon's dark eyes gleam as they meet yours, a feral, toothy smile on his lips.

Simon taps your hips lightly and orders, "Hips up." Your feet lower from his shoulders to flatten on the couch— thighs spread wide from how broad, how wide his body is. Your hands rest on his knees behind you, and you rest your weight on them to lift up. Simon lets out a snarl and completely hooks your knees over his shoulders forcing your arms to give way. Your head lolls on his thighs, upper body almost completely upside down, and his hands cup your arsecheeks—mindful of the tail— and raise. What—

His warm, wet tongue licks through puffy lips, and flicks at your clit. The arousal that had waned comes back, and it comes back harder, faster, more intense. He's eating you like you're his last meal, and now you definitely sound like a cat, albeit a dying one.

Simon gives your bud a suck and your neck cranes back at the sensation, and that's how you see John, upside down, leaning back, one arm on the backrest holding his drink— the other stroking his cock through his trousers. He looks—

A sharp slap to your arse has your spine curling, legs tightening around Simon's half-covered face, stubble prickling into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. "Eyes on me, kitten."

Your spine curves and you realize that you can see Simon, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and that he can see you. You wanted to care about the unflattering angle he's got you in, but it all melts away when his mouth opens wide to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit, and his lip is curled on one side, so you can see his unnecessarily pointy canine.

Once Simon realizes he's got your full attention, he eats. Unrelenting as he chases your climax like it was his own. The pulse of your heartbeat is deafening in your ears, your vision darkens as he forcibly drags you to your finish line, and with one final lap at your stiff bud, he tugs on your tail, and you burst.

Mind-numbing pleasure sweeps through your body, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing into you, prickling at your nerve endings, leaving you a shaky, slobbering mess on his thighs.

Simon doesn't even give you a moment, doesn't grant you reprieve because, within seconds, he's manhandling you and sinking you down onto his massive cock, spearing you in half, stretching your soaked channel to its absolute limit. It burns, it stings and yet the only thing that comes out of your mouth is an airy moan.

"Atta girl. Your pussy's suckin' me in like it wants to keep me in it forever," and his head tips back as he groans, "You're squeezing me so tight, m'not gonna last."

John's gruff voice comes from behind you, commanding. "Then don't, Simon. Fill her up."

Simon's answering smile is, honestly, a bit scary. He looks like the predator he becomes on the battlefield, the one who snuffs out life like a fire on a candle wick. Vicious, cruel, ruthless.

"Yes, sir."

He spreads his thighs, feet flat on the floor, and picks you up with his forearms, only to bring you back down on his cock. Impaling you. The tip of his cock is hitting so deep, you vaguely wonder if the flared head is being pinched by the tiny hole of your cervix. He's destroying you, but at no point in time does it ever turn into physical pain. Simon is using you like a pocket pussy, yet is angling your hips to hit your sweet spot. And oh so sweet it is, because it takes you exactly seven (7) thrusts of his hips to make you come around him, frothy, milky essence coating his cock.

"Fuckin' hell, pet. Fuckfuckfuckfu—" and he brings you down harshly, grinding his hips up, as he shoots rope after thick rope of cum into you.

Simon's exposed chin is dripping sweat, as he pants harshly in front of you, trying to catch his breath. Your body begins to slump tiredly when you feel your tail being caressed, beard scratching your neck as John peppers your damp neck with kisses.

"It's my turn now, isn't it." The bell on your collar chimes as John pulls you to kneel on the floor, face pressed in near Simon's softening member. Faintly, a zipper opens, and the swollen, long length of John's cock pushes into you, pushing out Simon's cum, dripping down your abused cunt to make space for him.

"Mewl for me, kitten," and grabs you by the hair, craning your neck to look up at Simon, who's gazing down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. He curls two fingers underneath your collar, restricting your breathing, and says, "Go on. Let us hear you."

what a delightful day to be John Price's cat

[emacrow]

Babysitting duty calls, Klarion

It another world threatening battle for the justice league, young justice against the league of Villains and chaos children before most of the chaos children froze as if they sense something bad was approaching and immediately dipped out.. except klarion whom was fighting with raven who immediately froze up too late in front of the portal.

Only for a green portal to appear, as a worned out floating glowing green, but blue skinned teenage boy who turn into a man with red eyes, a clock staff in hand and a glowing white hair baby in a baby carrier.

Klarion is literally struggling like a feral cat who got wet in cold water against some invisible force speaking in some odd static like language before giving up after half a minute when the man spoke back with a short word.

The man now just shape-shifting into turn elderly just gave klarion the baby carrier before noticing how the heroes and villains have stop in mid battles looking at both klarion and him.

"All in soon time, but be warn Flashes whom break the laws of times will get their due if you keep messing with the past and future." Spoken the elderly now shape-shifted into a young boy before he turn back to klarion leaving him a note and glowing baby bag before floating back into the swirling green portal.

Klarion could only look at note with his eye twitching, Teekl meowing as she climb into the baby carrier purring around the glowing baby.

"Why do I keep getting babysitting duty, it so unfa-..." klarion grumbled as he pick up the baby carrier and bag teleporting away..

....

....

....

"What just happened?" Said Dick whom only one question would be put on hold til later in the watchtower of what just happen before the fight resuming with the young and original justice league winning since the league of Villains were distracted.

[sun-snatcher]

Hey!! Just wondering if you do headcanons? If so can we get some hcs from We Lucky Few about Deadpool and the Gang™ being a domestic happy family 🥲🥲

#WELUCKYFEW | Headcanons galore !

i. —— THE FIRST DAY IN A NEW UNIVERSE means Wade has to break it to Blind Al that there’s gonna be 3 more strays that’ll be staying over at the apartment for a while (in tragic addition to Mary Puppin’s and Logan).

The old lady agrees (very vehemently disagreed, actually, but she knows Wade already made up his mind) only because she’d hoped he meant stray cats this time, to which she’d been disappointed with: “Say hello to Logan’s hispanic feral cat-daughter, your local homeless war veteran with a PhD and a dash of PTSD, and Amateur David Blaine—! But if he was born in the South.”

Regardless. It’s only, like, for 2 weeks! As long as they don’t touch her cocaine. Anywho, Vanessa’s already pulling strings to get you and Remy an apartment; Laura’s first instinct was to seek out the Professor and Logan’s… a drifter. Vagrancy is nothing new to him. He’ll figure his things out one way or another.

ii. —— GROCERIES COST TENFOLD during the time everyone was still crammed in that little house. Dogpool is in the trolley seat having a good time. Wade and Laura stock up on junk food and Logan’s dumped an armful of canned goods that “will actually last for the fuckin’ week.”; Meanwhile Gambit’s been banished to trolley-pushing ever since he’d admitted to stealing Skittles, M&M’s and small tidbits from the candy aisle without anyone noticing.

And you— well, you were on breakfast duty, which means bread, jams, cereals; but it’s all just a tad bit overwhelming. I mean, why is there a need for this many flavours? You can’t remember the last time you had much of a choice when it came to food since the war.

(It’s Wade who finds you. He gets it; 10 years serving Canadian military/the JTF2 means he’s seen just about every other middle-eastern country that’s a battleground— And then suddenly he’s discharged and thrown into civilian life with zero assimilation and the expectation of exercising autonomy after living his whole life under orders and the threat of damn a bullet in his head. So. Yeah, he gets why you kinda just… Blank out.)

“You can roulette it,” Wade advices. “Or pick one with your favourite colour. That’s how I did it my first few years out. Just don’t even fucking think of picking Special K or I’ll prune your ass back to the Void mys—”

iii. —— MOVIE NIGHTS ARE ON FRIDAYS. That means Gambit’s on permanent popcorn duty ever since Laura accidentally destroyed the microwave (she insists it’s Logan but the 2 holes say otherwise). And by popcorn duty I mean: having Remy shake the bag and generate enough kinetic energy to heat and pop the kernels. “Mais, if it works, it works, mes amis.”

iv. —— EVERYONE ROTATES TAKING Dogpool out on a walk. Remy uses the opportunity to have you tag along and tell him about New York when really he just likes spending time with you.

Logan has to be convinced to walk her; though he usually relents because it puts his mind to work and it helps that he can map out the city again. Sometimes Laura joins him, too. If she’s lucky, she’ll hear an X-Men story or two when Logan’s feeling particularly nostalgic. (Half of them are him shitting on Scott, but hey, she’ll take what she can get.)

v. —— LOGAN DOESN’T SLEEP. Can’t is a better way to put it, and neither can you and Remy at times; you figure maybe it’s because everything feels a little too.. fine.

Almost perfect. Too good to be true. Logan always loses all that’s close to him and as much as he hates to admit it: all of you are beginning to matter. Family, dare he even think. And it terrifies the absolute shit out of him.

Meanwhile, you get night terrors, and you’ve already alarmed everybody approximately five times now (Closing your eyes now means facing an apocalyptic warzone and the weight of life and death. You don’t talk about it. Everybody knows not to ask) so sleep is just an option to you if you could help it.

Remy stays up just out of pure habit. They used to alternate shifts back in the Void (which was why he sometimes caught Laura wide awake in the kitchen at weird hours of the night, too) because the Hideout became too vulnerable with their dwindling numbers. Losing Daredevil had been the catalyst.

Fortunately, sleep still does happen: You’re curled in the loveseat with Gambit’s coat over you as a makeshift blanket— you must’ve lighted out first. Remy and Logan are dead asleep on the ratty, squeaky couch; Laura half-melted beside them, legs hanging off the pleated sofa arms with Dogpool asleep in her arms. Love Island drones from the outdated home TV.

vi. —— WADE TAKES A SELFIE when he catches the scene.

He’s used it as the icon of the groupchat he created (lovingly titled: LIMBO LOSERS CLUB!) once he made sure everyone got some means of communication for when they moved out.

Not that Logan will ever use it.

Or Blind Al— “I mean, she doesn’t even text Wade, why is she in the chat?”

[obikindred]

I hit chilchuck with harpyfication beam for 500 mana and blow him into one million pieces. Drivel below vv

I think chilchuck is some kind of likeeee wren? Chickadee maybe? Maybe even a cardinal? Some kind of small songbird, i just wanted him to have some kind of warm-colored wing with white speckles (my lazy ass did NOT use a reference for these shitty little doodles but if I ever end up making solid refs for them I’ll do more research), I thought about maybe hummingbird wings butttt idk I couldnt get the shape right and I wanted him to have more of a traditional harpy look. I combined elements from my harpies (wings and arms, jewelry/piercings, feathered tails) and canon harpies (FEATHER TIT WINDOW‼️ kind of feral, sharp teeth, etc) and kind of mashed them up. I TOTALLY FORGOT to give him jewelry on his arms and stuff but maybe I’ll go back to that laterrr idk like i said these r quick shitty doodles. So i guess hes kind of half harpy. I was like MANNNN wouldnt it be funny if he got his soul fucked up and had to navigate the rest of his life as a chimera. Lol. What if he had to relearn how to be human. What if laios had to teach him. Haha would that be fucked up or what. He could have also just been like that when they first met him and that would be cool too i think. What about the Implications??? Are his wings sensitive? What abt his tail? Are his senses even sharper?? Does this change his diet? Are his taloned hands still clever enough to pick locks? THEN i started thinking about the others…. Laios n Falin r some kind of owl. Snowy owl probably their northern asses but I also like the idea of them being some kind of seabird. Big ole albatross Touden sibs. Senshi is probably also sone kind of owl, maybe even some kind of chicken? Vulture might also be cool. Marcille is definitely a duck or swan tho (GASP unless SHES the hummingbird!! I will come back to this later). Izutsumi is already a cat, but if she had wings too shed be a corvid of some sort fo sho. Idk about yhe others because I cannot lie to u idgaf about them. ANYWAYS i love to talk about wings and harpies and how that affects team and overall social dynamics so if anyone has anything to add please do‼️

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Feral 3

Minors Do Not Interact!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, violence, murder (but it's the Baron so yay), mentions of the Baron being a pedo, mentions of Feyd being a victim of the Barons.

Feyd had a new issue with Friz. Ever since he had begun helping Y/N with the little beast, holding him securely while Y/N clipped his nails, frimmed the fur around his paws and butt, and held him in the bath water while Y/N scrubbed the filth and loose hair off of him, the shedding had become so much less of an issue. Feyd had even found a setting on the shower head that Friz actually enjoyed against his throat. With a lot of patience, an absurd amount of chicken liver treats, and many close calls by cat claws, Friz was… somewhat tamed. The cat didn't like getting his nails trimmed, of course, but Feyd and Friz has come to an understanding. Feyd trimmed exactly one of his claws every day, and Friz got a freshly fried chicken liver with catnip sprinkles for his troubles.

Y/N had been shocked at the improvement in her pet. "I thought he was too old to be tamed properly." She admitted.

"How old is he, exactly?" Feyd asked.

"About sixteen." She said. "I got him when he was a feral kitten, I was about five. He was passed being bottle fed, so he didn't bond with me right away. It took weeks of work for him to even eat in front of me."

Feyd hummed to himself, wondering why anyone would even put that amount of time into a cat.

"Oh, by the way, I saw the doctor today." Y/N said casually. "He ran some tests, and it turns out I'm pregnant."

Feyd felt his face go blank. "What?"

--------

Y/N's pregnancy was… rough. Her cravings were for fresh fruit and cheese, things they didn't get often on Giedi Prime. Meat made her nauseous, something his uncle made constant jokes about. The bastard even hinted that Feyd's child might come out anemic and weak.

Ah, right, speaking of his uncle. Obviously the second Feyd realized his wife was pregnant, Vladimir couldn't go on living. Other than the fact Feyd hated the man, his baby might be a boy. And the idea of the Baron being on the same planet as a son of Feyd's, with his disgusting appetite for young boys was unacceptable. The Baron had a rather unfortunate accident. His normal nightly routine of smoking spice and soaking in his tub took a rather unfortunate turn. He indulged a tad bit too much, got a bit too dizzy, and drowned in his tub. The old man's body was so large it took a half dozen slaves to pull him out of the tub, even after it was drained.

Feyd inherited the throne, and life went on. Y/N looked practically ethereal with a baby bump and a crown on her head as she sat on her throne beside Feyd. The crown was only for the initial ceremony of course, neither of them could be bothered with dressing in ceremonial clothing every day.

Especially Y/N. Her pregnancy seemed to get rougher by the day. Morning sickness from the earlier months turned into near constant aches and pains in her back and legs. Feyd wasn't sure how women without servants survived their pregnancies. Who helped them tie their shoes? Their husbands? They must. Y/N's feet swelled so much, most days she didn't even bother with shoes. He came back to their newly renovated quarters (because even if Feyd wanted the bigger set of rooms his uncle had left behind after his death, he certainly didn't want any of the man's stench hanging around. Feyd had the place gutted and new floors and walls installed. Y/N had picked out the paint, of course.) to find her sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on an ottoman. Feyd tried to comfort her as best he could, but other than having the servants draw her a bath or bring in a foot tub for her feet to soak, there wasn't much to be done.

Thankfully she just seemed to want him to be close to her. And by the stars did he want to be right next to her all the time. His hand seemed to be permanently fixed to her belly, and he'd grin excitedly anytime he felt a kick from his son. Yes, his son. The doctor had confirmed it, and Feyd was both delighted and devastated. He had secretly hoped for a girl out of some misguided belief that it would be easier. Some vague idea that if his child was a girl then he wouldn't see himself reflected in her as much. So he wouldn't have some happier version of himself taunting him about what his childhood could have been.

But when he truly sat down to think about raising his son, Feyd found the idea soothing. No one would rip his son from Y/N's arms and take them away to a house of horrors. No one would mistreat him the way Feyd had been mistreated. His son would never doubt he was loved and cared for.

Y/N had commented on it over snacks one night. Nightly snacks might be his favorite part of pregnancy if he was being honest. Y/N always seemed to have a plate of something nearby and he was always offered some.

"I think it will be healing for you." She said, munching on a few strawberries. "Raising a little mini you, with all your mannerisms. And those beautiful eyes of yours."

Feyd chuckled, his face pressed against her belly as he felt his son kicking at his face. "He has strength, that's for sure. His kicks are getting stronger every day."

"Painful, too." Y/N said, wincing after a particularly strong kick from her baby.

Feyd turned back to her belly, patting it gently. "Easy now, my boy. Don't bother your mother so. She deserves rest after a long day of making you."

A little paw swatted at his nose. Ah. Right. His new problem. Friz stared at Feyd until Feyd sat up, removing himself from Y/Ns belly. The cat immediately started his nightly routine of massaging Y/Ns belly with his little paws, kneading at the baby bump for a few minutes before curling up and purring on it.

Y/N smiled, "It's like he's trying to keep them warm."

"We have blankets." Feyd said dryly, unhappy to have been chased from his wife's belly by a cat.

"It's instinct to him." His wife said, trying to soothe him by taking his face in her hands and peppering little kisses all over his cheeks. "Now, have a snack and tell me about your day."

Feyd took the bowl of strawberries from her, laying back against the headboard and sighing. "I've had such a day."

[charnelhouse]

Thoughts on “you couldn’t care less” “oh, I could” and “once I start I can’t stop” (especially for a big guy like ghost) together or separate both wreck me

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). Trauma. Mentions of torture.

She throws it at him, spits it like a feral cat. “You couldn’t care less, Simon.”

He gapes at her, blood encrusted in the folds of his suit. Corpses littering the floor. “I couldn’t care less?” he echoes, tone stained with incredulity.

As if the evidence of his care isn’t at their feet.

She turns away from him, staggers slightly to the side before righting herself. She’s wounded and she won’t let him touch her. A pretty bird with a broken wing. His fury rages anew. It builds like a brushfire, and he wants another neck to twist. They had hurt her, and they had paid the price.

“What has two legs and bleeds?” she rasped, raising finger guns and pretending to shoot. She was slumped against the cement wall, crimson spit pooling to the floor.

“Red,” he growled, stepping forward with the keys to her cell door. The relief in his voice was muddied by his fear. Irritation was always his backup. “Not the time.”

“It’s me,” she murmured, exhausted and fragile and half out of her mind. “I think they hit a lung.”

It’s whiplash. Her joking to her shutting him out? She’s galloping toward hysterics, her fingers trembling as they loosely grasp the handle of the gun he had shoved into her hand. Fox had been ambushed and taken as a hostage. It was Ghost who had run after her, not caring that Price had firmly told him no - you're compromised in this particular situation.

“I just...” Ghost begins before trailing off.

He just what? Murdered a whole room of people that he was supposed to keep alive, but they had attacked Red, and he wasn’t capable of playing nice. Not when it came to her. “They tortured you,” he offers lamely. It’s the truth. He knows all about torture. It’s the mental shit that’s the worst, being used and shoved to the bottom of the barrel until there’s no light left.

“You jeopardized the mission,” she argues as she kicks one of the guards’ heads to the side. It’s limp, a water balloon filled with clay. She stumbles again and Ghost shoots forward, arm winding around her waist to hold her steady. “They’re all gonna blame me.” She places her palm on his tac vest, spreads her fingers. “I got caught. You killed them all. Fuck." She sounds resigned and bitter.

“I did,” he replies flatly. “My decision.”

Her lip trembles, her teeth clicking in her mouth as they start to chatter. A box of jumbled bones. She’s going cold and Ghost realizes that she’s in shock and perhaps that is why she’s making zero sense.

“You couldn’t care less because-because you shouldn’t care like this,” she tries to explain. “They’re gonna say you did it for me and I was weak and caught and forced your hand-”

“I did do it for you,” he replies simply, picking her up into his arms. Price is barking something into his earpiece and Ghost knows he’s going to get hell; he may even be put on leave for what he did. “They can say whatever they want.”

“No,” she protests, pushing away from him, but she’s so frail that it barely registers. A butterfly landing on his shoulder. She chokes on a sob and starts to cry and if that doesn’t kill Ghost, he’s not sure what will.

He bites his tongue, attempting to control himself from reacting. Her frustration, her tears, distress him and if she could see the expression behind his mask, she’d understand. Of course, I bloody did it for you.

However, she needs his kindness now. She needs to bash herself against him until she can no longer hold her weight. Douse her anger. Douse her resentment at herself because surely this is about her. She's mad at him for risking his own reputation to save her life.

"Simon," she sputters, and his name plops out wet. Helpless. Her breasts hitch, her heart thumping fast - too fast.

“Hey...hey...easy there, duchess,” he soothes, dropping his brow until it’s fastened against her own. “Breathe with me. We got Evac coming.”

“But...it's not...”

“No more of that,” he hums before inhaling and exhaling at a slow, even rhythm. Her ear is firmly planted on his chest, and she curls her finger around one of the straps of his tac vest. She clings to it. Her hairline is beaded in cool sweat. Blood in the air. He swallows thickly as he feels her attempt to follow his pace. “That’s a girl. Just like that. Breathe. You’re safe.”

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men Fic (Rogue/Gambit) : Toys

A/N: Yes, this was inspired by that clip that's been going around of Gambit's VA for XM97 playing with action figures. I cannot believe this is what I'm writing for my first real fic for this fandom. Dear lord, forgive me for the shenanigans... also, unbeta'd. I just wanted to get it out into the world and be done with it.

I'll post this tomorrow on Ao3

Rated: T for suggestiveness

Summary: Rogue catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 comic verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97

****

Toys

Upon arriving home, Rogue comes in through the open kitchen window because why bother with stairs when you can fly? It’s been a long day, a long week, a long life… All she wants to do is curl up on the couch with the cats and a trashy book and hopefully Remy’s home so she can get a back massage.  Hell, forget the book, she’ll gamble for the massage first.  Save the trashy for later.  

She grins, thinking about her husband’s warm hands on her skin.  

Remy is, indeed, home; standing at the kitchen island, his back turned towards the window, so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear her come in.  And what he’s doing takes her by surprise.  

The kitchen counter is covered in half open boxes, plastic containers, cardboard, and little zip ties.  There are a good, half-dozen or so action figures all lined up in a semicircle; each one of them a well detailed, classically designed replica of, well… the X-Men.  Oh, dear god, what did she walk into? 

“I’ll take ya down in one slice, bub,” Remy says, holding the Wolverine figurine in one hand, his voice low as he attempts Logan’s gruff voice.  Remy LeBeau is good at a lot of things, Rogue would be first to give you a list, but doing impressions is not one of them.  She bites her lip, fascinated to see how this plays out.  Remy grabs the Magento figurine as his voice shifts to imitate Erik.  “You incels!” Remy screams; loud, exaggerated, and carefully enunciated.  “How dare you try to take down me; the questionably dressed, ego too big for my helmet, Master of Magnetism?” 

Rogue puts a hand up to her lips, holding back an amused snort.  Oh, Remy… 

Remy loses the impression as he lunges the Wolverine figurine at the Magneto one.  The Magneto one floats away.  “You fools! Don’ you remember I control the metal?”  Shaking the Wolverine figurine violently, Remy lets out a feral scream and the figure is flung to the side, landing with a clatter in the sink.  

Magneto is discarded for a moment as Remy picks up the Scott and Jean figurines.  Scott has his hand to his visor while Jean has both her hands on the sides of her head.  “Jean! I seem to have made a tactical error,” Remy cries in Scott’s no-nonsense voice.  His voice then slides higher as he mimics Jean.  “Scott, my telepathy.  It out o’ whack!  Oh, Scott!... Jean!… SCOTT!.... JEAN!!”

Rogue is dying inside.  She holds herself tightly, trying as hard as she can not to burst out laughing.  

Scott and Jean are shuffled into one hand as Remy picks up the Magneto figurine again.  “Enough of this!” Remy says, back in the Magneto voice.  He then lets out another dramatic scream as he tosses the Scott and Jean figurines onto the pile of boxes, scaring Oliver, who had been inspecting one of the twist ties.  

He picks up the Storm figurine next, raising her arms to the ceiling.  “An’ now you deal with Stormy, who will smite you with her lightning blasts.” He jolts the Storm hands into Magneto, making little sound effect lightning blasts as he does so.  “Fool, I am impervious to lightning…  How dat possible? Lightning an’ magnetism are not the same thing!... I can control static electricity!... Dat…still don’ make any sense!... Begone, weather witch!”  

Rogue has tears in her eyes. She’s biting her lip so hard, it’s beginning to hurt.  Thankfully, Remy is so lost in his make believe world that he can’t hear her snickering.  

The Storm figurine is placed gently face down on the counter as Remy picks up the Gambit figurine.  Rogue’s eyes grow wide, intensely waiting to see how this will play out… 

“Ohh, you goin’ down now, mon ami,” Remy’s voice grows low and serious.  He starts making explosion sound effects, as if the Gambit figurine is throwing little playing cards at the Magneto one.  Remy then throws his head back in a villainous laugh as he goes back to the Magneto voice.  “You seriously think a few mild explosions could ever touch me?”  

Remy stops, and grins that cocky, beautiful grin of his.  “Non, but it enough to keep you distracted.”  He starts turning the Magneto figurine around, as if it’s confused.  “See, I always gotta ace up my sleeve.”  

In a quick second, he drops the Gambit figurine, and grabs the Rogue one.  Her arm is out, one leg up, poised to fly.  Remy slams the fist of the Rogue figurine into the Magneto one’s head.  “Howdy, sugah.” 

Rogue tilts her head, amused.  Remy’s imitation of her own voice is so comically off, and yet incredibly endearing.  

“How ‘bout you leave my family alone!” The Rogue figurine crashes into the Magneto one again.  This time, Remy charges the Magneto figurine, causing it to glow purple.  He tosses the charged Magneto figurine up, letting it explode in mid-air with a bang.  The charred remains drop to the counter with a clang before it bounces into the trash next to the counter.  

Remy then picks up the Gambit figurine and brings it in close to the Rogue one.  “Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re punching people, chere?...Why don’t you shut up and kiss me, Remy…” Remy starts clicking the faces of the two figurines together, making little kiss-y noises and ‘mwa’ sounds as the action figures ‘make out’.  

Rogue grins wildly, expecting nothing less.  She crosses her arms across her chest, casually walking forward to let her presence be known. “Whatcha doing, sugah?” 

Remy gives a startled jump, the figurines dropping out of his hand with a clatter.  He’s not the least bit sorry he’s been caught, however, a devilish grin quickly sliding onto his lips.  “Jus’ havin’ a bit of fun testing some of these toys that show sent us.”  Rogue picks the destroyed Magneto figurine out of the trash.  “Some of dem defective,” he says slyly. 

“Defective huh?” She drops the figurine unceremoniously back into the trash and comes in close, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She knows the show is a sore spot, no matter how much free merch they’ve gotten from it lately.   “You still salty about all that?”

He lets out a grumble, but still wraps himself around her, just the way she likes.  “Don’ act like you wouldn’t be, too, if they killed you off like dat.   Middle of the first season, too.  What’d I do to deserve dat?” 

“They just knew you were the best one.” She runs her fingers through his hair.  “Who else gonna go out in a fiery blaze of heroism like that?” 

He smirks, though she can still see a hint of sadness in his eyes.  “It was pretty epic, non?” 

“The best…”  She draws him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and comforting.  “Forget that show, Remy.  That ain’t our life.  This is.” She kisses him again, a little bit harder, grounding herself in his embrace.  He had tortured himself wanting to keep watching that show, but she couldn’t.  She wouldn’t.  She didn’t want to imagine herself going down a path she would never recover from.  “Besides…” she says, trying to keep it light.  “I’m sure season two will have me pulling your pretty ass back from the dead one way or the other.  And if it doesn’t, you best bet I’ll get those writers fired and write it myself.”  

“I ever tell you how sexy you are when pulling me back from the dead?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Remy.”  He does and they do.  Forget the massage tonight, they’re going straight to the trashy.  She’s hungry to feel him everywhere tonight.  

They break apart once again, breathing heavily as Rogue leans her forehead against his.  “Hey, Remy?” 

“Oui?” 

“Why don’t we leave this mess for later and go play with some of the toys we’ve already got.”

He laughs into another kiss.  “You always have de best ideas, chere…” 

****

Later… 

In the stillness of the night, long after Remy’s fallen asleep, Rogue gets up for a glass of water.  

The kitchen is how they left it hours ago, a mess of trash and action figures scattered around the room.  The cats had gotten into some of it.  Poor Scott had fallen to the ground.  She picks him up, placing him next to Jean, giving him a little pat as she does so.  

She wants to ignore the others.  Wants to ignore the strange sensation it is to have your likeness in toy form.  Still, she’s drawn to the little action figure her. She picks it up, inspecting it.  It’s her old green and yellow uniform, one she hasn’t worn in years. She doesn’t even know where it is, probably having been trashed in some long ago fight.  Unsurprisingly, the boobs are a little too big, the waist a little too small, and the hair a bit ridiculous.  But it’s oddly still her.  A little version her.  

She looks down to the Gambit figurine and smiles.  The trench coat, the staff, the ridiculously abbed pink breast plate.  The cocky little grin.  They got his likeness perfectly.  And yet it doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.  

“Love ya, Remy,” she says softly, as she takes the Rogue figurine and gives the Gambit figurine a kiss with it.  She laughs at her own silliness, but still takes a moment to place the figurines together, resting against each other, as they should be.  

She grabs her water and turns off the light and heads back to the bedroom, where she’ll soon curl up against her husband and fall asleep.  

[big-ass-magnet]

Bill would have made a great old-school Heterodyne, apparently.

Can you imagine if Teodora had failed? If Bill was the very good Heterodyne he was always meant to be?

(He did try, really he did, out of affection for his mother if nothing else, but then Father would always come striding in and shout first one to the torture room gets to throw the knife switch! and what kind of ten year old would be able to sit and listen to lectures on compassion in the face of such temptation?)

The Heterodyne Boys are the terrors of Europa, riding into battle side-by-side. The last thing many a terrified innocent sees is the boys giving their victorious thumbs up, just as the fire comes raining down.

Bill would still fall for Lucrezia, but instead of trying to turn her to the side of Good, he is enthralled by her evil and she by his strength and power. Love is as blinding to the Evil as it is to the Good, and he doesn't see her for what she is, even when the rest of the town does.

(Not that anyone is more likely to tell an Evil Bill his wife is the bad kind of crazy, not when he'd react with less "quiet disapproval" and more "catapult you into the sun".)

Lucrezia is still Lucrezia and she craves control and power and dominance and she would probably be driven up the wall by her darling ruthless William allowing the Castle and the Jägers and the seneschal to snark and argue and this town is supposed to be slavishly loyal; where is the blind obedience, where is the trembling deference?

The "Other" attack still happens. Bill is still driven half-mad by grief. (Or perhaps half-sane.) Bill swears bloody revenge, Bill is going to find the Spark who did this and wipe them from existence.

And then the strangest thing happens.

Suddenly, the Heterodyne riding in at the head of a Jäger horde means a rescue. It means an unstoppable army beating back against the revenants, and while they're hardly going to help you pick up the pieces and rebuild afterwards, you know you're going to live.

(The first time they arrive at a besieged town to cheers instead of screams, the Heterodynes and Jägers react like feral cats being offered bowls of wet food--they don't not like it, but they're skittish and wary and will maybe hide under a dumpster for a few minutes until you go away.)

And then one day the Jägers come home, sans Heterodynes. The masters have gone where they cannot follow, and no one is sure when or even if they will be coming back.

Their work during the Other War has won Mechanicsburg enough good will that no one immediately went steamrolling over them when the boys vanished, but they've all spent the last few years since Bill and Barry disappeared holding very very still and being very very quiet, hoping no one remembers that they're still there. Sooner or later, they're going to have to go to this new Wulfenbach Empire for help.

AND HOO BOY DOES KLAUS HAVE HIS WORK CUT OUT FOR HIM. At least in canon, Bill and Barry had done the big stuff already and Klaus was (correctly or not) only concerned with rehabilitating the Jägers.

To reuse the metaphor, Klaus has to take an abandoned building housing an entire colony of feral cats and turn it into a cat cafe.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker the Blood (Part 60)

All she could see was the blurry grey of the bunker walls, her arms and legs moving without her input in a four limbed gallop across the floor of the bunker, all attempts to stop herself lead to such agonizing pain that she'd had to give up the fight for control.

Her tail cracked like a whip behind her, extending her spines as it looked around behind her and ahead of her. It was still early… people were still in their homes asleep, or getting ready to go to work.

Drool pooled out of her mouth as she stopped for a moment, the solver symbol across the whole of her visor, her audio receptors tuned to catch the smallest noise a drone could make.

Need food, can't stop, need food.

Disjointed thoughts entered her head while her consciousness took a back seat, only being able to watch from behind her visor as her body lept up into the ventilation system like a cat into a tree.

She sniffed, picking up the scent of dust that caused her to sneeze before shaking her head, she moved through the vents quickly, until she was able to hear a noise.

“And like… he was being so stupid I just had to tell him!” It was Lizzy’s voice, muffled slightly by how high up she was, and she growled softly before another voice graced her ears.

“I dunno Liz, Thad was just trying to be helpful… in his own dumb way.” It was V, and Uzi peered down from the vents with her head cocked.

Lizzy was laying on the bed, V was behind her, braiding her long hair, her tail coiled around Lizzy’s leg. Uzi sniffed.

Oil and old parchment, that was V. Marked as a packmate in her systems. The accompanied scent of cherries and coolant had to be Lizzy… also marked as a packmate, affiliated as V's mate. She huffed and moved on.

It was strange, being a passenger in your own body, even stranger was registering thoughts that didn't seem to come from her, she wasn't even aware of a ‘packmate’ system until her… body? solver possessed self? went through and checked it.

There were definitely thought processes happening though, a method. Not just a feral, all consuming killing spree.

More voices…

“Sorry… I'm not interested.”

“Aww come on…”

“No. Chloe.”

Thad, that was a voice she recognized, checking through her system again, she was half-surprised to find he was listed as a packmate as well. But the other one… the other one definitely wasn't.

“You assaulted one of my freinds, I'm not going with you to a party.” Thad's voice was firm and slightly irritated, a scent of fresh grass and machine grease hit her, yup… definitely Thad, he even had to smell athletic.

“Ugh. Fine… you're no fun.”

“Not sure we have the same definition of fun.” He replied harshly, they were right outside Thad's apartment, peering down out of the vent, he had a backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly about to head to school.

Chloe just scoffed and began to walk away, throwing her head back in a classic, mean girl fashion, Thad just rolled his eyes and started to walk in another direction, grumbling something about “not getting enough sleep for this.”

Uzi crept through the vents, following Chloe as she walked through the halls, she had school too though… so where was she going?

Her body didn't seem to care though, [Target Found] displayed on her screen and she gave a manic grin as she stalked her prey, waiting for the perfect moment…

Finally, she stopped in a section of poorly lit bunker, leaning on a section of wall while looking down at her phone, tapping away.

And that's when she dropped from the ceiling, landing silently to the left of her, in the darkest area of the hall, Chloe didn't even look up, just continued to look down at her phone.

Then, in the next second, with a flick of her tail. Chloe was pinned to the wall by a dozen sharp spines, a screech leaving her as the phone tumbled out of her hands and she was slammed into the steel wall with a resounding bang.

Her breath picked up as she looked at her attacker, a tail coming up to wrap around her wrists and trap her arms above her head, Uzi's breath was hot, coming out in puffs of steam that brushed Chloe's face, her mouth open and saliva dripping off her glistening fangs and onto the floor.

“Oh shit-oh shit! Uzi?! Fuck- I, I'll leave N alone! Is that what this is about?” She thrashed a bit, the spines digging her clothing into the wall, but she was completely trapped.

“L-let me go!” Uzi grew closer, a twisted smile on her face as a long, grey tongue exited her mouth, Chloe's eyes went hollow at she caught a good look at her open maw, gulping.

Within, Uzi was cackling, of all the drones to get in her way when she wasn't in control, it was this bitch. Part of her didn't even really feel bad about it either… another part didn't actually want to kill her, but if it had to be anyone…

Her maw went in closer to her neck, causing her chosen victim to squirm in fear, she was so close now, another swift movement and-

Something big and heavy grabbed her from behind, causing an animalistic yelp to escape her as she was pulled off her prey. She growled and kicked as Chloe ripped herself off the wall and got away. She whipped around, ready to sink her teeth into whoever had interrupted her hunt.

She came face to face with gold.

‘Serial Destination N; Mate, Packmate, Leader.’ came up in her systems and her body immediately retracted her claws and snapped her mouth shut, it whimpered, curling in on itself.

“It's okay, it's okay… here.” He pushed something in her direction, and a breif sniff reveled it was an entire roll of pure titanium, her body lept for it, taking a huge chunk out of it and purring softly.

N stroked her back in the middle of the hallway as she took more bites of it, tearing into it like some wild dog, he moved more things in her direction, a brick of silicone, and a ball of rubber.

As she ate, the solver symbol flickered out and replaced with her purple eyelights, though she didn't stop eating… she was too hungry for that.

She didn't know where N had gotten these, and she didn't know how he knew this was what she needed, but as she put the last peice of rubber in her mouth she sighed, the hunger satiated for the first time since it had started

She looked up at N after there wasn't a speck of raw material left, processing what the hell just happened.

She'd lost control… again. And this time she had nearly killed someone. Sure, it was Chloe, but it could have easily been someone else.

“N…” She started, but he stopped her by scooping her up and placing a kiss on the side of her head.

“Don't… you're okay. You didn't kill anyone, and I can go get more if you get hungry again.” He nuzzled her cheek and she found herself too tired to argue, a mixture of her bodies physical activity and the sudden intake of material.

“I'll take us home. And I think we need to do another scan, I have… a theory.”

“You have a theory? Did we switch places?” She teased, unable to help herself, he hummed, smiling slightly.

“I do have moments.”

When they got back to the apartment, N laid her on the bed gently, and Uzi was beginning to get used to being carried around…

N cleared the data on the scanner and held it over her midsection, letting it re-map the area over several minutes, and with it, what he was looking for.

The small ball of mass that had been there before was now slightly larger, and now the shape of a bean. The scanner was able to pick up what it was made of.

Silicone and rubber, trace amounts of titanium. There was a forth substance marked with a ‘???’, but that was less important. He gave Uzi a wary smile as he showed her the image.

“I think… that's why you're so hungry.”

[sad-scarred-sassy]

“Do you love him?” The question would play in her mind while holding her husband’s hand.

“Do you love him?” It would plague her thoughts while weakly smiling at him when he “gifted” her yet another piece of land she had no use for.

“Do you love him?” She would ask herself while making love to him, mumbling his name in the throes of passion.

“Do you love him?” When she would catch him picking up their baby, smiling down at him.

“Do you love him?” When crimes against females in the Hewn City escalated to inconceivable heights, and she begged him to let her try to help until he finally gave in.

“Do you love him?” When he yet again disrespected her sisters, and she had to try to talk some sense into him.

“Do you love him?” When she caught herself getting swayed by his words again.

Do you love him?

________________

“I went to Spring” She blurted out in the middle of their quiet dinner.

Rhys’ temper was usually controlled and calculated. Usually.

He dropped the silver fork onto the plate and the sound echoed through the empty halls of their home, violently breaking the sepulchral silence of their too big of a mansion. Even bigger and lonelier now that Elain had left.

His violet eyes studied her, other than the small tick on his perfect eyebrows, his face gave nothing away.

He picked up his glass of wine and looked at it before taking a sip. Feyre had decided to tell him, not because she felt guilty, even though she did, but because she wanted things to be better. She was tired of living a half life, she was tired of hearing the same old thing.

“All I do is for you and our son”

“I already told you why I made the decisions I made, do you think I’m a monster? Is that it?”

“What else do I have to give so that you finally see all I do is because I love you?”

She realized with no little amount of dread, that if she wanted him to finally speak frankly to her, then she would also have to do that. She would tell him, show him through her mind if she had to, but for the love of all that was right, she needed him to talk to her like she was a person, like he actually respected her.

She placed her fork and knife on the table, raised her napkin to her mouth, then took her glass of wine, one of the best wines in the Night Court, and drank. All the while Rhys’ eyes were fixed on her, no words coming from him still.

“Well?” He finally asked. “What could you possibly have to do in the Spring Court, may I ask?”

“I went to see Tamlin” She said as a matter of fact.

Rhys gave a short laugh, his eyes roving her face like a cat fixed on its prey. “Is this a pattern for you, Feyre darling? Did my time with you run out so you need to go back to the spare? Send me a raven when his time is up again so I can pick you up” He threw the napkin he had on his lap and stood up from the table, death and shadows emanating from him, engulfing him as he began to leave.

“I did not go there for that” She stood as well. He swirled and began striding towards her.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I went there because I needed answers. Answers you were not giving me” She stood tall as he reached her, cold darkness engulfing her, daring her to succumb to him. She refused.

“How cute. Did you get your blessed answers from the Spring imbecile? Did he satisfy you, my love?” His eyes were vicious, almost feral. She had seen Rhys mad before, but never like this.

“He was honest with me” She said, not flinching at his dark energy.

“Oh?” He cocked his head, eyes digging into hers. “Is that a way of suggesting I haven’t been?” Already she felt the strain of trying to read him, the mental labour of having to analyze everything he said, to be on the lookout for hidden ways he could be trying to sway her.

“You know you haven’t Rhys” She fisted her hands, nails digging into the pads of her palm painfully. “Stop treating me like I’m stupid” She felt her jaw tremble slightly.

“When have I treated you like that, Feyre?” He snapped. “When I made you High Lady?” A sneer appeared on his face. “When I trusted you with the wellbeing of my court?”

“You’re doing it again!” She raged. “Stop shoving that on my face. I did not ask to be High Lady! I did not ask for any of this!”

“Oh but you did. You begged me to save you, you were so grateful when I did, you thrived in your power. Now you resent me for giving you what you asked for?”

“You- you made me want these things” She said more weakly. She had thought about this, why did it sound stupid coming out of her mouth now?

“I did no such thing” He lowered his voice. “You’re not stupid, Feyre. You know I did no such thing” He ran his hands through his short hair.

“Why did you go to him?” He looked at her now, devastation in his eyes. She felt the unstoppable urge to reassure him, to promise him it wasn’t what he thought it was. Something in her gut stopped her.

“I just needed to hear him out” She conceded.

“Why?” He asked again. “Is this life not enough for you?” He craddled her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. She saw her mate, the sadness and despair in his eyes, but somehow something was missing. “Am I not enough? Are we not enough?” He looked up for a second, towards the baby sleeping in his room.

“Why didn’t you give me the choice, Rhys?” She felt the tears forming around her eyes.

“I always gave you-“

“You didn’t tell me I would die” She choked.

He let go of her and turned to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This again, Feyre. We already discussed this to exhaustion”

“You never told me the truth” She was full on crying, arms around herself, shaking.

“What truth? What truth do you want? Huh?” He turned to her again. “Do you think I wanted you dead?”

“You wanted the child more than anything” She said. “I could have shifted but you didn’t give me the choice!”

“If you are not remembering correctly, I would have died with you! How would I want that?”

“It isn’t beyond you to put yourself at risk over your own objectives” She snapped. Something in his eyes shifted.

“Is that what you think of me?” He frowned, looking at her like she was a monster he had never noticed before. “Is that why you ran away to Spring in the middle of the night the first chance you had?”

His eyes were set on her, knowing.

That was it, in his eyes she had seen his sadness, his anger, his despair. Only one thing had been missing—surprise, shock. Looking at him then, the realization hit her like a slap in the face.

“You knew” She said softly, almost to herself. There was a flicker in his star flecked eyes. “You knew” she repeated, more strongly.

And just like that, Rhys’ whole expression changed in a second, a cold gaze falling on its place, one she had only seen directed at members of the Court of Nightmares, the one he had called his mask. She felt a chill run up her spine.

“I did” He admitted.

“H-how?” She stuttered.

“Azriel followed you that night, to his cottage” He glanced at his arm, picking at a speck of dust on his otherwise impeccable suit. “I had him watch you, since you weren’t trusting me inside your mind anymore”

She was so shocked she couldn’t even cry anymore. She only stared at him, agape.

He sighed. “You wanted me to speak frankly, didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you do anything?” She found herself asking.

“There was nothing to be done, my darling” He frowned his brows slightly. “All you needed was a bit more work to distract you from your escapades, since our own child wouldn’t do it”

Another blow to her world. “The Hewn City crimes” She snapped her eyes back towards him in disgust.

“Now before you jump to conclusions, no, I didn’t somehow orchestrate the crimes just for my lovely wife to have something to fixate on instead of galavanting in an enemy court with her ex” He looked down his nose at her. He smiled at her, a demonic smile. “The crimes are a natural occurrence I just made you aware of them”

She searched his face, but could not find the male she thought she loved anywhere.

“Who are you?” She croaked.

“I’m your mate, I’m your equal”

“We are nothing alike” Her fists trembled.

“Oh, but we are, Feyre darling” He placed his finger on her chin and lifted her face. “Go, run to your ruined golden prince, tell him all the oh-so-awful things your evil mate has ever done to you, then come back to me and keep on enjoying the grand life I gave you”

“I will leave you” Her voice cracked.

“Be my guest” He said, a cold energy emanated from him, blasting the door of the mansion open. Her breath trembled.

He stared at her, waiting. Waiting for something they both knew would not come.

“You won’t” He said so softly, so confidently. “Stop deluding yourself thinking you had no part in the consequences of your life. You chose me” He said sharply, his cold breath hitting her face harshly. “You knew who I was, you always knew. You love me. I gave you everything” His fingers dug onto her chin, violet eyes still pinned on hers, as if trying to get inside her mind and control her thoughts. She wondered now if he had ever dared to do that.

With a sickening, oily feeling, she realized he was right. He had given her everything, while destroying everything she had been, reducing her to this adherence to his life, his world.

“Do you love me?” She asked him at last, silent tears streaming down her face.

His face was impassive for a moment, staring at her. He breathed a soft laugh through his nose.

“Did you ask him the same question?” He let go of her face.

“Answer me”

“He probably said he does, didn’t he?” He laughed humorlessly. “Of course that pathetic fuck would still be crawling for you, even after you dragged him through the mud”

“Answer the fucking question Rhys!” She felt the fire inside of her roar, the flames on the candles and chimneys lifting as she shouted at him.

“Of course I love you, is it not fucking obvious, Feyre?” He roared back. “You wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t!”

The room was quiet except for their raging breaths. Rhysand had finally showed her what he truly was, she had wanted him to, so why did she feel even more trapped and lonely than before?

“You’re right I won’t leave you” She swiped her wet cheeks, in an attempt to regain the last scraps of dignity she had left. “I won’t ever leave you” She slumped her shoulders.

“No, you won’t” He said, sounding defeated as well.

She left him standing there that night, feeling how her whole world crumbled beneath her feet. She spent the next weeks crying herself to sleep, until she didn’t have any more crying inside of her. She let him hold her still, even if part of her could not stand it, she needed the comfort.

So she stayed, and she faced her reality, and she accepted it. Accepted him and his cruel love. He was right, they were mates, they were equal, even if she didn’t feel it most of the time. It was all she had left, even if a small part of her still wanted her to fight, to riot. She focused on the good.

On the feel of his hand when she held it.

On the heat of his touch when he pleasured her.

On the work that he had allowed her to lose herself in.

On the sound of her baby’s laugh when he held him.

On the warmth of the family she had chosen.

She told herself it was enough until it was.

She did not go to Spring again.

———————————-

Read the previous parts on AO3

[viviseawrites]

you know those words you read but never hear so you make up the way they sound based on how you read them? (for instance, stobin, apparently.) have a pre-season 4 pre-relationship steddie thread about one such word:

steve and eddie don’t exactly hang out, but they get along for the kids’ sake. steve waves from his car when he picks the boys up after hellfire; eddie gives steve a nod when he passes in front of family video to meet dustin at the arcade.

slowly, they graduate to the bare bones of conversation:

“hey.”

“how’s it going?”

“can’t complain. you?”

“same here.”

“yeah. alright, see ya around.”

it changes when dustin invites both of them to his birthday party. steve shows up with robin, and eddie shows up alone, intending to say his hellos and bail. but they get trapped at the snack table by mrs. henderson.

claudia thanks them both profusely for watching out for the kids. they side-eye each other, both embarrassed and simultaneously proud, both a little skeptical even as they try to placate her.

“it’s nothing, mrs. henderson. he’s a good kid.”

“yeah, of course, claudia. it’s not a big deal.”

“no, no, you’ve both done so much!” she insists, pulling them each into a warm hug.

she toddles off after a while to take pictures, and they awkwardly glance at each other until finally eddie breaks the silence. “so, what’s she so grateful to you for?”

steve shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “dustin’s been through some stuff. honestly, i was just kinda there for most of it, but she refuses to believe that.”

“hmm,” eddie says. they fall quiet again, but eddie’s still thinking about it, his plans for leaving forgotten in favor of curiosity. because that feels like a half-truth. “i mean,” he says, catching steve’s eye, “henderson talks you up a lot himself.”

steve looks startled, a flush rising in his cheeks. he scrubs his fingers through his hair, glancing away. “oh.”

“yeah. soooo… what gives? what did steeeeve harrington do to impress the dorkiest, nerdiest kid i’ve ever known?”

steve snorts, then realizes he can’t actually explain. “uh.” he scans the room for robin, hoping she can bail him out, but she and max are kicking a soccer ball at the boys while they yell about it. fuck. hopefully dustin catches onto the lie if eddie ever asks him about it. “a couple years ago, i tried to help dustin find his missing cat, and we got cornered by a… pack of… uh, feral dogs? and—”

eddie snorts and quickly covers his mouth with his hand. steve stares at him. eddie flails a little, helpless, and finally says, “sorry, it’s just. did you say FEARAL?”

steve blinks. “yeah, like wild?”

“it’s feral,” eddie says.

steve thinks about it, then shakes his head. he’s pretty sure about it. “nah, because they’re so crazy they strike fear into you, right? so it sounds like fearal?”

now eddie has to think about it, because that kind of makes sense in a weird way. but no. “yeah, dude, it’s feral, like the fair. so, feral dogs.”

“huh.” he considers this, then shakes his head and crosses his arms like he’s disappointed. “well, that’s stupid,” steve mutters. “fearal sounds better than fairal.”

eddie feels a flash of fondness, against his will. he grins and hides it behind a strand of hair. god, is steve harrington, a douchey but hot ex-jock babysitter, actually cute? the world is so unfair.

he decides then and there to start having real conversations with steve whenever he can, just to see what other adorable slip-ups he might make. because ohhh yeah. eddie is screwed.

[blaithnne]

ok i forgot that goldie isnt canonically 5'1 on a good day so i have to restructure this ask

1) thoughts on short goldie

2) is heron short also

3) (contingent on answers 1 and 2) thoughts on scrooge and beakley both falling for tiny evil women

1) & 2)

I think the toxic yuri polycule height chart is something like this—!

They all wear heels so it’s not exact (also I whipped this up in like 5 minutes lol)

Huifen is tall, she’s a black heron after all, and though they’re not the tallest birds ever they’re still pretty long! But she looks short standing next to Beakley, because everyone does (also I undersized her a little bit in my first human drawing by accident, whoops). Goldie is a short queen LMAO, she’s not minuscule, only slightly shorter than the average person, but she looks tiny next to these two (she might be slightly shorter than I drew her here, idk, I struggled to scale her LOL). Scrooge, for the record, is around the same height as Goldie!

In terms of their builds btw, Beakley is, obviously, very muscular! Though she might seem like a tank, she’s actually very soft — big ol squishy teddy bear! Heron on the other hand is a gangly mf, long, skinny, and sharp. Goldie is sort of in between them, an hourglass build like Huifen, but with more muscle on her (not half as much as Beakley, though).

3)

Heron might not be tiny but Beakley treats her like she is, picks her up like a feral cat when she’s being too much 😌 Scrooge and Goldie only have a very slight height difference, but I think he’s very smug about it lol

Also, my funniest headcanon ever is that Beakley has a thing for bad girls, and she HATES IT. She’s so embarrassed about it and fully intends to take it to her grave. This also leads to her hating the aforementioned bad girls even more, bc she’s so frustrated with herself for liking the in the first place. So Beakley can spend 24 hours a day ranting about how much she hates someone, and be blushing the entire time. All this to say, Beakley might not technically have a leg to stand on when it comes to criticising Scrooge’s relationship, but that doesn’t stop her.

I think they’re both massive hypocrites about it, bc they wanna protect eachother despite the other really not needing the help. They’re also endlessly frustrated with eachother’s toxic Yuri partners. Beakley to a much bigger degree because she definitely has a thing for Goldie, which only makes her hate her even more. Scrooge is more annoyed by Beakley and Heron than anything else bc he just does not understand what the hell is going on there, but he’ll also occasionally be all,

In conclusion, Beakley and Scrooge being a disaster sibling duo is my favourite thing ever. Scrooge is practically immortal, nothing can take him down. Beakley is a walking tank, she could walk off a bullet. They looked at eachother and went “that idiot needs me to protect them from their own love life” and they were kind of right??

[rorywritesjunk]

Listen, I can't stop thinking of Buggy's older sister who is cat coded in that as a kid, she kept her nails sharp to scratch anyone who tried to take her or her brother. When she attacks Roger and Rayleigh when they find Buggy, Roger finds this feisty child amusing and they take both of them in. Rayleigh has to make sure her nails are trimmed because he was already scratched by this feral cat child.

She gets gloves made that have claws in the finger tips. That way she isn't a sharp little weapon all the time.

She also likes stretching out in the sun whenever she gets a chance and it's amusing to watch her move after the sun. Oh, that spot on the deck no longer has the sun beaming down on it, gotta move to the next warm spot.

Loves bird watching. No, she won't pounce and eat the birds anymore.

Won't hesitate in picking Buggy up by the back of his shirt and moving him away from a situation if he's being a little shit. (once he hits a growth spurt and is taller than her, she can't do it anymore, and his Chop Chop makes it hard to grab his ear so she just grabs him by the back of his pants to drag him away (or at least half of him))

Easily amused by things like ropes and strings. If there's a loose thread on Roger's jacket, she's tugging on it while he's in the middle of talking to someone. More than once Rayleigh had to come around with scissors to snip loose threads on clothing because otherwise half the crew would be naked from their clothes unraveling due to her constant pulling on threads.

No, isn't affected by catnip but scents like rosemary and lavender calm her down. One time they were on an island and she found so many lavender bushes that she just threw herself into them. No one found her for hours because she was so out of it, lounging amongst the plants and enjoying the calming smell of lavender.

Meets Marco the Phoenix. He thinks she's great and her cat coded brain goes "oh, that's a big bird. I wonder if I can catch him."

[remidyal]

I don't normally write for the in-progress season, but have a little snippet of Adaine and Aelwyn's first in-person conversation for junior year, spoilers through episode 2 below:

"You're TEACHING? How are you teaching? You didn't even graduate from high school, Aelwyn." Adaine said, standing in the tiny kitchen of her sister's new apartment. A layer of impressive abjurative magic was keeping the smell of the litter box at bay; it turned out that Aelwyn appeared to be allowing every feral cat in all of Elmville to stay in her apartment when they wanted some food and a warm shelter.

"Yes, well, that's why I'm not teaching high school, Adaine. I graduated middle school, you know? With enough knowledge to even pass the test that comes after it, as you might recall." The barb was lessened a little bit by Aelwyn handing over a cup of tea, even with her eyebrow raised, but Adaine wasn't going to allow that to distract her.

"You need to learn how to teach in college. There are certifications you have to get, and also you were a wanted criminal like five months ago, and… how did you really get hired?" Adaine asked, worry leaking into her voice.

"…I may have told them that I studied abroad in Fallinel for the last year and a half and was certified there." Aelwyn finally admitted, waving a hand. "Don't worry so much. Jawbone didn't graduate high school either, and he's doing fine as your guidance counciler."

"You're not supposed to be doing anything like that, what about your terms for asylum?" Adaine said, and Aelwyn seemed to pick up on what Adaine didn't actually want to say.

Her voice was softer, now, what Adaine recognized as her attempt to be reassuring. She still wasn't good at it. "Oh, come on now. I'm reformed, yes, but I'm reformed from things like murder and mind control and selling drugs and the like. I just told tiny little fibs in job interviews; I'm reformed, I'm not a saint. If you want a saint, you should talk with the lesbian you still live with instead of one of the ones that moved out."

Adaine sipped at her tea, considering that for a moment, and then choked on it. "..What?"