#i do like dogs but i honestly wouldn’t choose to own one myself

[anxietyfrappuccino]

i understand not liking cats. there are just some animals that aren't our favorites and that aren't easy to get along with. what i don't understand is the absolute revolt that people who don't like cats feel towards them. it baffles me, the way people will literally shutter at the mention of cats just because they don't like them.

i myself am not a dog person, but i don't hate dogs or dislike them enough to treat them the way people who don't like cats treat cats. my initial reaction wouldn't be to kick, shove, run over, or shoot one. i wouldn't let loose a dog on the street just because i didn't like it. it's an animal, and it's meant to be cared for. if you don't like an animal and you see it while you're out, you leave it alone. if it's in your possession for whatever reason, you take care of it until you find someone who will care and love for it.

the world gave me reasons to potentially hate dogs, but i didn't take the bait. if you can't handle owning a cat, that's perfectly fine, and if you don’t like them, that's fine too. however, treating them/their existence like they were made to haunt/disturb you is not okay. all animals are just trying to get through life like the rest of us. the things we don't like about them, especially in regards to domesticated animals who often depend on us, are not enough to treat them like trash.

[frostluvrs]

“i keep seeing people defend ray by saying he can’t control his feelings and sand can move on if he wants; that ray can’t actually stop him and he needs to take responsibility for his own feelings and walk away” I haven’t seen this take but the fucking audacity, WHEN has Sand ever not taken responsibility over his feelings?!

The times Sand has gotten hurt over Ray, he has dealt with it himself and didn’t say anything to Ray, ignore him and tried to walk away, Ray is the one who keep pestering him!! “Sand needs to take responsibility for his feelings” he has been doing that!!! repeatedly!! Ray is the one who won’t leave him alone!! And Sand likes him and sees Ray is not well, obvs he is gonna give in because he is human being with feelings and wants to help him?

Sand is not Nick!! He is not going after Ray like a lap dog, the opposite actually! And when Sand tries to ignore Ray and move on, AGAIN, Ray is not gonna let him! (per the preview) Can you imagine if Mew did to Ray what Ray is doing to Sand? Reject him and every time Ray tried to move on, go after him and gave him hope again? Oh we wouldn’t hear the end of it!!

I feel like I am in crazy town lmao sorry for this heated rant and ty for answering my ask, glad it made you see things a little differently!! <3

honestly i need you to keep sending me things (especially after episode 8 i need to know your thoughts) because you’re making me think about what’s happening with sand’s character and his actions in such different ways!!!! even as a sand defender as i keep adverting myself i think you might be his number one because i completely agree with what you’re saying.

you hit the nail on the head with saying imagine if it was mew in this situation and he would be getting more hate than ray would be. i mean there were theories upon theories for so long that mew was stringing ray along for “evil manipulator mew” reasons and even with it being disproven people still think it.

and look at how people are talking about him using ray as a rebound this episode. yes it’s true that he’s using ray a rebound. yes it’s not exactly right to choose him as a rebound knowing how weak he is for mew and how much he wants mew to love him but i also don’t think he understands ray’s attachment to him like the audience does. and people act like ray is not also wrong for taking advantage of the fact that mew is also in a vulnerable spot too. there’s no way you’re telling me that ray doesn’t understand that he’s a rebound and that mew doesn’t actually like him either (unless he’s deluded himself). he just doesn’t care and will take mew’s love in any way he can and that includes going in and taking his chance knowing that mew is only accepting it because he wants a rebound (and possibly wants to hurt top even if unconsciously even though he says he’s not looking for revenge anymore but we’ll see about that one next episode)

[chriswaddell]

BLOG 7 - November 27, 2023: “BRIDGE”

This could, perhaps, be the most important note I’ve written.

Suicide isn’t what I thought it was. I hope people start to understand it more. Understand that it’s not some crazy person who’ve reached their wit’s end and has nowhere else to turn… so they decide to end it. Hell, even suicide prevention specialists tell you to reach out and talk to someone. But in my recent experience, my only experience ever with these types of issues, that’s not what’s going on.

Is this a suicide letter? One that I hope someone might find years after I’ve left the earth? I don’t know. But I do know how I feel and how I would like to better help people understand the non-end-of-the-world sense of this feeling.

If I were to take my own life today, I wonder what people would think? Thoughts about how unhappy I was or if my mental state was in what they deem a “positive place.” Maybe more selfish thoughts from them… ���what did I do wrong?” “How could I have done something different?” Or the selfish thought that my suicide is somehow selfish itself. I mean, if we’re not entitled to leave the world how we choose, what freedoms do we really have?

My own death isn’t caused by anybody, it’s because I’m tired. Pay attention to that word, because it’s easy to make your own assumptions about what “tired” could mean. I’m not depressed, at least I don’t think I am. I’m not sure what that would feel like. I’m not tired of someone’s shit not have I been pushed in a direction of thought. No, instead, I’m just tired. Tired of fighting one day after another to make ends meet. Tired of consistently thinking about those departed. Tired of worrying about what everyone thinks about me. I’m tired of trying so hard every day to be positive and one backwards comment from someone can have me in my head for days.

Suicide isn’t a cheap or easy way out. I miss my grandma, my dad, Logan and Milo. I’ll never see them again, but I can imagine someone thinking “oh, but he did this, so I guess he won’t miss me.” That’s fair, except I won’t have to deal with it. Is that cheap or easy? Maybe. But maybe I feel like I’m owed some gratitude. The gratitude of people letting go of something I would do for myself and only myself.

People will be quick to assume that any problem I have can be simply fixed and shouldn’t have led to what could or would be inevitable. My washer doesn’t work, I’m broke and the bills continue to pile up, I live a life where I believe the only way anybody likes me is if I’m doing for them, I’m losing my memory at a rapid pace and it scares the hell out of me. I worry about losing my mom, who I often feel is the only person who doesn’t expect anything out of me.

Sometimes I think the only reason I keep going now, doing this thing we call “living,” is to try to help those I love. And honestly, the list of people I feel love for is shorter than it ever has been. I want to be there for my mom as she ages and can’t take care of herself. I want to be there for Canaan and help them anyway I can to achieve their ultimate goals of making it in the film industry. I want to be there for my friends to continue to give them a platform to live out their dreams and possibly make a big splash in the wrestling industry. I want to run this wrestling company to continue to afford an opportunity to people who otherwise wouldn’t get one. I want to never put my dogs in a position to have to wonder where I went.

So, my life now is like a bridge. These feelings I have and have had… are they potholes in my journey across troubled waters or am I reaching my destination and these feelings are the land I sink my feet into permanently?

Don’t worry, I’ll continue this in part 2 sometime down my road. 🖤

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Helloo! I Love your writing! your a amazing writter!! If you are still accepting request it could be a oneshot,maybe, if jason todd was platonic yandere with damian's twin sister (reader). Perhaps when she was a child she was deemed worthless, even by her brother and mother and ran away. And well, Jason found her and raised her as a sister (or daughter). Years later she meets her brother who lives with her father (bruce) but she doesn't want to know anything about them and Jason is not going to allow them to take her away either🤔🤷‍♀️ Thanks!!

Home

Worthless. Unwanted. Burden. That’s all you were to them. All you would ever be to them. Your own mother and brother, whom you shared your mother’s womb with, who were so supposed to love and care for you unconditionally, were the first to berate and turn their backs on you.

At least your Grandfather had been more tolerable towards you. He saw potential, something neither your mother or brother could see for themselves. He knew you would be exceptional one day; with time, consistency, and intense training, you would have a place amongst the League of Assassins.

But your Mother begged to differ. She knew her children, at least that’s what she said. She knew you wouldn’t amount to anything, not like Damian. And for that you were sure it was only a matter of time before she took matters into her own hands, so you ran.

You ran as far as you could and you never looked back. You never wanted to see the face of the people who hurt you the most ever again.

Never once did you think you would ever feel what it was like to be wanted, to be loved and cared for. To feel protected. To feel a sense of belonging. But that’s just what he ended up having to give.

He was there for you when no one else was and vice versa. He had your back and you had his.

The two of you were a team. A family. You and Jason.

You kicked ass together, taking names along the way. Tonight was like any other; an arms deal was taking place down at the pier. You and Jason were making quick work of all of them and it seemed like things were going without a hitch. That was until a stray bullet pierced through your left side.

You were down. You were bleeding. That’s all Jason needed to see red.

He didn’t hold anything back as he punched, kicked and shot his way to your side. He was quick to tend to your wound, having his own make shift first aid kit on him just in case of something like this.

Anyone who knew Jay would never in a million years imagine him to act so much like a mother hen but that’s exactly how he was with you.

You were always surprised at just how gentle he was with you. Nothing like the people you had left far behind, who would only live on in your more unsavory memories.

“I’m fine, Jay. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You tried to reassure him. You knew he wasn’t going to let you out on patrol for a few days at least. Maybe a week even. If you were lucky.

“I knew I should have had you stay home tonight. Now look at you; you’re hurt. And it’s my fault. I could have taken care of this one on my own.” He seethed, blaming himself like he always did when you got hurt.

“Really, Jay? There was no way you would have been able to take ‘em all out on your own tonight. Besides, we are a team. Remember?”

You didn’t give him the chance to respond before you continued, “I knew what I was getting myself into. I’ve been through worse. I’ve trained through worse. I’ll be just fine, Jay. Don’t go blaming yourself. Alright?”

He looked at you for a good while, staring into your eyes, seeing the life shining through them. But before he had the chance to say what he wanted to, a voice pulled both your attentions away from one another.

“Jason. Y/n. Are you alright?” It was only a matter of time before either of you would have a run in with Batman. You knew Jason had a past with the Bat but you still had yet to meet the Dark Knight. The man who was your father; Bruce Wayne.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Jason visibly tensing. It was almost like he was getting ready for a fight.

And as if things couldn’t get worse, Batman wasn’t alone either. His newest Robin was taking place at his side, much like an obedient dog would.

It was no secret who the all too familiar face belonged too; your brother, at least that’s what you once referred to him as. But now he was just Damian to you. Nothing but a stranger.

“Father, is this really necessary? Can’t we do this another time?” Damian inquired.

“No. We’re doing this now.” Bruce answered, never taking his eyes off you. Jason wasn’t liking this at all. Not one bit.

“Is your side alright, Y/n? If I could look at it, I’m sure I have something to treat it.” He said, taking a few tentative steps closer, reaching into his utility belt, but Jason wasn’t having any of that.

Stepping in between Bruce and yourself, making sure to shield you, Jason replied for you, “It’s already been taken care of. We don’t need your help.”

Pulling yourself up onto your feet, used to pain by now to easily push through it, you choose to speak for yourself, “Jay’s right. We’ve already tended to it. Thank you but your help isn’t necessary.”

It was silent for a while. Tension was filling the air, heavy and thick enough you could cut through it.

It was Bruce who spoke first, “I would like to discuss something of the utmost import-“

“Don’t bother. We’re aren’t wanting any part of whatever you have going on.” Jason interrupted.

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Like we would want you, Todd.”

“Damian.” Bruce warned. “I wanted to discuss this with Y/n, Jason.” Jason glared at both Bruce and Damian but stayed silent.

Taking a few steps closer, Bruce was directly in front of you now. Not too close for comfort but close enough to still be towering over you. “As your father, I want you to come live in the manor. We want you to be part of the family. Our family. Both Damian and I would prefer you to be with us. We can discuss patrol and everything else later, but right now there is a room already waiting for you.”

You looked from Bruce to Damian, to the hand Bruce had placed on your shoulder during his speech, to Jason’s hand tightly gripping Bruce’s wrist. You didn’t have to think twice about your decision.

“No thank you. Honestly, I don’t want anything to do with either of you. I cut ties with Damian and Talia a long time ago for a reason. Although I will admit there was a time I wanted to meet you, to see if maybe I could be a family with you but I came across Jason instead. And I couldn’t be more thankful that I did. He is my family now. And that is just where I plan on staying.”

Jason couldn’t hide the shit eating grin that had spread across his face, not that he wanted to anyway. The thought had crossed his mind that he may have to use his guns once more tonight ‘cause he sure as hell wasn’t going to just let them take you. He wasn’t going to standby and let his family be ripped away. Not now, not ever.

“Let’s get back home, Little Stunner. I think we both deserve some much needed rest after tonight.”

It was just you and him again.

Just how he preferred it.

[just-antithings]

I think the weirdest thing about antis for me, is that I simply don’t understand their morality. I’m sure they have some (given on how insistent they are about being more moral than us proshippers), but like.

My entire morality is based on “does it hurt real people”. (And further, “does it hurt animals/the earth”)

I have no idea what antis base their morality on. It isn’t “don’t hurt people” or they wouldn’t be bullying people on the internet for having different morals. It feels very much to me like their individual morality is based on squicks, which is honestly an even worse and less consistent morality system than people who base their morality on a book that may or may not be historical fiction; at least that has a specific (if interpretable) list of Things That Are Bad, and Things That Are Good.

The whole ��if fiction isn’t reality then threats aren’t real so I can threaten you” thing falls apart for either of two reasons: a) the theoretical anti who is saying this does believe that “fiction” affects reality, and so doing it would be morally bad if their own morality was consistent and option b) if their morality allows for the dehumanisation of someone to the point that their own morals no longer apply in how they treat you uh. I have nothing. This is just bigotry, rebranded. (Not like these people do anywhere near as much harm as most bigots, they’re too online - aren’t we all - but nevertheless, it’s the same principles, used on a set of people you think “deserve” it.)

“Does it hurt people”: fiction can only hurt people who consent to interact with it. It’s written by someone (who consented to writing it), and consent is actively achieved by the person reading is as they’re reading. There is no one else involved. Two parties, both consenting. Any hurt gained is masochism, and while I’m not much for masochism myself, y’all have fun with that.

As for propaganda: that is much the same. It can’t change your mind unless you allow it to and/or don’t know enough to consent to allowing it to. The second part: you’ve reached the age of consent (presumably. Some of you reading this might be kids, idk, and if you are I think maybe propaganda should be kept away from kids spaces. If you specifically seek it out, it’s your own problem; equally so it is your problem if you seek out smut). 16-18 is perfectly old enough to understand what’s going on (which is why it’s the common legal age of consent), or to know you need to ask if you don’t.

(Some things that hurt some people don’t hurt other people. These things are bad to put upon those they hurt, and are fine for everyone else. This includes, but is not limited to: peanuts, cotton, dogs, literal water, loud noises, fictional Bad Things… the closest thing I personally have to a trigger is probably stickers, of all things, which if I see one stuck on human skin makes me feel like vomiting. I’m not kidding. I also understand that other people don’t, generally, have such a visceral reaction to stickers. Having stickers be made illegal would certainly make my life more comfortable. It is also an insane idea. Some people, gods forgive them, actually like stickers. So I do my best to avoid them.)

If seeing some things in fiction is triggering for you, block it. Blacklist it. Unfollow people. Block them. Try out whitelists, if blacklisting isn’t enough. Make sure you’re using a media platform that actually works for you. Use rec lists, and doesthedogdie (and equivalents), and ask for personal recommendations from friends instead of charging in blind. As long as people have freedom, people will choose things and like things that you don’t. As an adult, it’s up to you to monitor where you go and keep yourself safe. As a minor, if you can’t do it for yourself, you should get your parents to do it (and if your immediate reaction to that is ��no my parents wouldn’t let me watch/read/whatever thing I like” then well. ??? Stop complaining about needing things to be censored and start being an adult and censoring your own things maybe. I should hope that your parents are good enough parents and that you’re just being the rebellious child that teens are, but if they’re not and you’re parenting yourself, learning how to censor things appropriately for yourself is a very important adult skill that you need to learn asap. I’m sorry your parents aren’t parenting, but that doesn’t make me your parent).

👆👆👆👆

[asset35-maya]

CALYPSO 🐚 ☕️

Part 1/3

Part 2/3:

“You call this shit an espresso machine?”

“I wouldn’t, but Fowler does. The department’s on a tight budget.”

“Hmmpff.”

Gavin watched Nines tinker with the cheap coffee maker in the break room. The whole thing was so absurd it felt like an out of body experience. He hadn’t had a partner in years and was now suddenly stuck with a military-grade android who bitterly resented every second spent by his side. It was also the first time he’d met someone as temperamental, as foul-mouthed and as coffee-loving as him.

Nines smacked the machine. It produced a pitiful whine and a stream of muddy brown liquid. Gavin cleared his throat.

“We should head to the scene now. Two victims in a warehouse. One human, one android. Battered beyond recognition. I’d go by myself but I need you to scan their identities for me.”

Nines turned around with disgust and something that looked a lot like fear written across his features.

“That sounds awful. Why would I want to come see such a thing?”

“It’s… your job…?”

“No. I’m not a detective. I’m a café owner. Markus and Connor might have forced me to sign a contract with the DPD but they can’t force me to do things I don’t want to.”

“And what am I supposed to do with an uncooperative partner?”

“That is not my problem.”

Gavin was stumped. He wasn’t used to people talking back to him, especially not civilians… not that Nines was really one any more.

“Come on, man. I don’t wanna tell on you. Let’s just make this work. Getting you in trouble is only gonna push you and all your fellow tincans into more hot water. Then you’d have lost your little café for nothing.”

Strangely, he found himself appealing to reason and logic. Nines’ aggressive demeanour was so similar to his own that Gavin had been forced to switch alignment entirely. His colleagues were pleasantly surprised by the change… though now there was a new rabid dog in the station they had to avoid angering.

“Fine. But tell me where exactly to scan. I don’t wanna be looking at those poor bastards any longer than I have to.

And don’t expect me to lick any blood like Connor the great. That’s fucking disgusting.”

“Of course.”

//

\\

“Oh god. Oh RA9. Oh my…”

Nines took a shaky sip of his blue latte and dropped the cup back onto its saucer. Ralph hovered anxiously above him.

“How on earth do you look at things like that everyday? You barely batted an eye. And they call us androids inhuman.”

“Fifteen years on the job will dull your senses.”

“When did you stop getting queasy?”

Gavin lifted his own cup to his lips, not answering until he finally got a taste of the specialty coffee Nines kept raving about. He sipped and sighed in satisfaction. Calypso was everything it was talked up by the press to be.

“Right after a triple homicide by this dude I went to school with. He grew up exactly the same way I did. He had a nice family, nice job. There was nothing wrong with him. He could have been me, I could have been him. But how did the universe decide who’d be the cop and who’d be the killer? No phcking clue. No rhyme or reason for the way things turned out. And that realisation chilled me to the phcking bone, dude. There’s things scarier than blood and guts and that’s the workings of our own minds.”

Nines considered that for a moment and shuddered. Ralph hastily walked away, muttering to himself.

“Ralph does not like these talks. Murders and killings and bloody, bloody things. It reminds Ralph of the old days.”

Gavin watched him retreat behind the store counter with a raised eyebrow.

“Where on earth did you find that specimen?”

“In a haunted house.”

Gavin blinked uncertainly, not sure if he was being serious. Nines barked a laugh.

“Both of us were living rough after the Revolution. He’d been squatting in different buildings since he deviated and I was one of the new units Connor brought onto the streets from Cyberlife Tower. Didn’t have any clothes on. Didn’t have anywhere to go. I just ducked into the first abandoned building I saw. Needless to say I got the scare of my life, just as the poster outside promised.”

Nines’ eyes flicked over fondly to Ralph. The WR600 was now dealing rather enthusiastically with a customer. Gavin followed Nines’ gaze, sipping the heavenly coffee while his perception of the world went through another sea change.

//

\\

“I’m proud of you, son. You didn’t want to join us at first but you went above and beyond for this mission.”

Captain Fowler pinned a medal of honour to the front of Nines’ dress uniform as the audience clapped. Nines inclined his head but remained expressionless. He glanced sideways and Gavin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, scarcely noticing the matching medal that joined the other ribbons and distinguished service awards on his chest.

Connor and Markus were waiting for them as they got off the stage. Nines shoved past both of them, ignoring Markus’ outstretched hand and the camera flashes from the media.

Irony of ironies, Gavin felt the need to save face. He stopped to shake hands and pose for pictures with the leader of Jericho and new Mayor of Detroit.

“He’s served well. He’s done his part. When can he go back to his little café?”

Markus smiled wistfully.

“Securing Nines’ public service was not just a bargaining chip in passing the Android Equality bill, Detective. It was a key instrument.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t just need to guarantee public safety from advanced androids, we need to recuperate the development costs. Cyberlife received countless government grants for RK R&D activities. I need to show tax payers that their money didn’t go down the drain.”

“What the hell kind of freedom is this?”

Markus dipped his head and Connor swiftly motioned for a journalist to join them.

//

\\

“Turn the car around! Turn the fuck around!”

“Okay okay! Hang on!”

Gavin was used to Nines’ temper but he was now seeing it accompanied by anxiety for the first time. His hands were splayed out across the dashboard and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. The LED on his temple sparked red in between its rapid cycles of yellow.

Weaving expertly through the traffic, Gavin pulled up outside Calypso Café. Nines leapt out of the police car before it fully stopped.

Gavin saw the source of trouble instantly. Two burly men tossing chairs and kicking tables. A third was berating terrified patrons and a fourth jeered at Ralph, plucking at his apron and smacking his damaged cheek. Gavin knew that anti-android sentiment still simmered beneath the surface of their society, but it had been a while since he’d seen it rear its ugly head… and so violently at that.

Nines barged into his beloved café and bodily flung the men out. They flew through the air and hit the pavement as if they weighed nothing. Gavin watched with muted horror, realising why exactly anyone would want the government to keep an eye on the RK900.

There was a sickening crunch as Nines broke the nose of the man who’d been bullying Ralph. But it didn’t end there. He kicked him down the entrance steps and leapt onto the man’s torso, pummelling his brutish face into the concrete.

Gavin could barely hear himself yelling for Nines to stop above the cacophony of screams from the vicinity. Seconds flew by and spatters of blood turned into veritable rivulets running down the pavement.

Not daring to intervene physically, Gavin pulled out his service revolver.

“Nines, get off him! Nines, it’s not worth it! If you kill him, everything ends! Nines! Stop! I’ll shoot if you don’t let go! Don’t make me do this, man! Please!”

He counted down and cursed when Nines showed no indication of having heard him. He fired a warning shot. Then two more. And then he pointed his weapon directly at Nines.

One bullet to the android’s midsection.

A burst of blue.

A staticky cry of surprise.

And Nines dropped to the side.

The other aggressors scrambled to scrape their unconscious ringleader off the ground and hurried away. Gavin made no effort to stop them. He flipped Nines onto his back and looked into the angry blue eyes.

“Wipe all the security cameras on the street.”

“Already did.”

Ralph helped him carry Nines into the vandalised café. Gavin ripped open the stained shirt and felt up the chassis for the embedded bullet. He took the toolbox from Ralph and began to work, guided by a lifesaving instinct that somehow applied to androids too.

“I should have been there.”

“What?”

“Ralph. I should have been there with you. I’d have never let those bastards into the store. I’d have never let them put their hands on you.”

“Ralph is okay. Completely fine! There is no need to worry about Ralph. Ralph is worried about you. So much thirium…”

“This should have never happened. You were there for me when I didn’t even have a stitch of clothing on my chassis, but I abandoned you to run Calypso on your own. You could have gotten hurt badly today. I’m so sorry, Ralph.”

Gavin plucked the bullet out and began working to stem the flow of blue blood. His hands shook with empathetic rage, and Nines noticed.

//

\\

“I honestly think falling back on your core programming is the right thing to do. It’s the same thing as humans playing to their strengths. It doesn’t mean we’re still trapped by our software instructions. It doesn’t mean we’re not deviant. It just means that we’re choosing to do something we’re indisputably good at.”

Nines’ grip on his thirium beer was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. The synth skin was stretched to breaking point, exposing the plastic chassis beneath. Gavin swallowed uncomfortably. He found himself wishing that he was an android too and could telepathically ask Connor to shut the phck up.

As usual, he was the only one who noticed Nines’ tension. Hank and Fowler and all their other insensitive colleagues were nodding sagely at the bullshit the RK800 was spewing.

“I mean, sure, there’s plenty of androids who choose alternative career paths, but I think that’s just an unnecessary hill to climb. If you’re up for the challenge, go for it by all means, but why? It’s never made sense to me. I can’t imagine being anything other than a detective.”

Gavin’s eyes flitted between both ends of Hank’s backyard as if he were watching a tennis match. Connor continued to babble and Nines grip on his drink became increasingly vice-like.

Then there was a splintering sound.

A spray of blue beer.

A scatter of broken glass.

Time seemed to slow down as Nines pushed himself off the fence he was leaning on and made his way across the yard.

And then Gavin had a fleeting vision of Connor being tackled to the ground and having his jaw ripped off. He’d heard plenty about preconstructions but he’d never expected to have one himself as a human. Or was that just what they called a premonition?

Gavin moved quickly.

He actually ran.

He paid no heed to the irritated murmurs and cries of alarm.

He pushed a hapless colleague out of the way and inserted himself directly in Nines’ path…

deftly avoided the attempt to shove him aside…

wrapped his arms around Nines’ neck…

and kissed him.

//

Part 3/3

[thefanficmonster]

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear  📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go. 

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

[dogwatch05]

The Good Villain

Happy New Years and Space Dog is not forgotten about, just put on a back burner. Need to work out some plot issues.

Edit: I forgot a paragraph…sorry lol

The villain glanced back at the "hero" as they struggled in their restraints. Sighing, the villain turned to fully face the hero. "Here we are again, and again you struggle in the same way. Why should this time be any different?” The hero looked up from his struggles to look the villain in the eyes. "It won't be any different this time. You will monologue, I will escape, we will fight, I will win. It will always be this way for the rest of time or until one of us gives in.” Villain shook his head sadly.

"How many times have we fought?”

"What?"

"How many times have we fought?"

Hero tilted his head to the side, thinking. "I don't know” he finally admitted.

“465 times. 465 times I have captured you and you have escaped.”

“ and every time I have foiled your plans, what of it?”

“ You have never foiled my plans. In fact you have only ever followed them. Do you really think me that dumb? Every time you have ever escaped there was always something within reach to help you escape. A shard of glass here, a screw there or a coin just within foot reach. Do you think me that careless? Had I truly wanted to restrain you… actually, tell me how you would escape.”

Hero again thought about what Villain had said. “ why would I do that?” Villain grinned,” humor me.”

Rolling his eyes, hero looked around for items he could use."Well I assume that you found my tracker so I can't use that-“

“Yes, I found one in both pockets.”

“Okay, well what about my pocket knife?”

“In the same pocket as the tracker.”

“Boot heel knife?”

“Long gone.”

“Explosive hair pin?”

“Ye-wait what?”

“My explosive hair pin. When I tap it, it sends a message to missiles to target my location.”

Villain stepped forward and carefully removed the pin. “ Do you mean this pin? Yes, you do. Do you know how dangerous that thing is? What should happen to you if you should forget that it is there and run your hand through your hair. You careless fool, you'd have targeted missiles coming at you before you could even realize it. Honestly, I take this for your own protection as much as mine.”

Hero looked at Villain curiously. "Why do you care so much about me? I'd have figured that if I accidentally blew myself up it would have been good for you?"

"I only became Villain because it kept you from becoming a villain. When I first took notice of you, you were about to make a serious mistake, so I provoked our first fight. You became Hero and I became Villain. You might say that you wouldn’t have gone through with the act, but that wasn’t a risk I want willing to take. You had too much to live for to go to jail at such a young age. As I said earlier, you never foiled my plans but simply played into them. By keeping you occupied with fighting me, I made sure that you never fell back to your old ways, but instead learned values and morals by watching what I portrayed a villain as and now a year and a hundred days later, I finally feel like I can step down and let you choose your own path without me there to guide you. Are you still clueless, naive, and idealistic? Yes, but you can only loose those qualities with experience. Just do me a favor and stay the man you are at your core all right?”

Villain walked over to the door, paused, and called back over his shoulder before striding out of the room…and Hero’s life “But since you're so confident in your abilities to escape, you can get out without my help.”

[simp4reggie]

Can you do a Luke x reader where the reader is Luke’s best friend and Luke is telling her about his developing crush on Julie. But unbeknownst to Luke, Y/N (the reader) had been harboring a crush on Luke, but she has to deal with seeing Luke and Julie being playful with each other, constantly feeling jealous but wanting Luke to be happy. This leads the reader to get distant and starts avoiding Luke. The bad notices this and tries to contact her, at this time Luke realizes that he has feelings for Y/N. Then they make up and have a happy ending!! Make it fluffy, good luck!!

Only Took 25 Years

Luke x Reader

Word Count: 3014 Words

A/N: @mggpleasedontlookhere I did it a slight bit different but I hope you like it! 

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Back in 1995, we all died. The boys were rehearsing for their gig at the Orpheum. I was in the “audience” watching them perform their hearts out, specifically Luke. He’s been my best friend since we were very young but for years I’ve always felt a little more about him. He’s the sweetest, most energetic person I know. He’s like a puppy dog. It kills me to know he doesn’t feel the same way. 

I heard the final strum of ‘Now or Never’ pulling me from my thoughts. I saw Luke waving me over to the stage. Behind me, a waitress clapped and cheered for them. “Thank you. We’re Sunset Curve,” Reggie said and winked at her . 

“Good job guys! This might be the best one yet,” I cheered walking on the stage.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Bobby said, still on the high from performing. “Too bad we wasted that on sound check!”

I gave them each a hug but when I got to Luke it felt like it lingered longer than the rest of them. It was probably just in my head. 

“Wait until tonight, man, when this place gets packed with record execs,” Luke said with his arm around my shoulders. 

“Alex, you were smoking,” I heard Reggie say. 

“Oh no. I was just warming up. You guys were the ones on fire,” Alex shrugged off the compliment. 

I rolled my eyes. “Could you just own your awesomeness for once?” He smiled back at me and said, “All right, I was killing it.” We all laughed before Luke suggested getting street dogs before the show to fuel up. Reggie, Alex, and I all agreed while Bobby got sidetracked and started walking towards the waitress from before.

“Hey Bobby! Where you going?” Luke removed his arm from my shoulder to go catch up with him. All of a sudden I felt cold like my skin missed the feeling of his touch. I shook the feeling off and went to stand next to the guys.

“You guys are really good. I see a lot of bands. Been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.” The waitress said to the guys.

“Thanks. That's what we do this for. I’m Luke by the way.” “Hi! I’m Reggie.” “Alex.” “Bobby,” The guys went down the line and stared at me. “Oh well, I’m (Y/N). I’m just a friend of the band.”

“She’s more than a friend,” Luke starts to say. My heart starts to race. “She’s the one who makes sure everything is set. Our instruments, the club dates, everything. Without her we’re just four boys without a clue.” I give him a little nudge. 

“Give yourself some credit. Without me you could get on any stage and become rock stars.” He gave me a side hug.

“Anyway, it was nice meeting all of you. I’m Rose.”

“Uh here’s our demo and a t-shirt. Size: beautiful.” Reggie hands her a CD and a shirt he must have grabbed from the stage before walking over. 

“I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one.” Rose says putting it on her shoulder. 

“Oh good call. Whenever they get wet, they kinda just fall apart in your hands.” I say to her. The guys stare at me unamused. “What?”

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby says obviously trying to get some alone with Rose. 

“Yeah he had a hamburger for lunch,” Luke says while walking away. We all follow him until we're outside the theatre. 

We decide to go get street dogs a couple blocks away. After making our hot dogs off the back of the oldsmobile, we choose to sit on the couch available squishing together so we fit. 

“You guys, this is awesome! You’re playing the Orpheum!” I exclaimed. “I can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge! You’re going to be legends.”

Luke wrapped his arm that wasn’t holding a hot dog around me. “And you’ll be there every step of the way. You’re just as a part of the band as each of us.” I smile at him. “Eat up. ‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.” 

We all took a bite of our hot dogs. There was something off about my hot dog. I couldn’t find a word to describe it. And not in a good way. Alex voiced my thoughts, “That’s a new flavor.” I looked at him and he looked back at me like “Should we really be eating this?”

“Chill man. Street dogs haven’t killed just yet.” And then they did.

After we died, we ended up going into this black room where Alex ended up crying, a lot. Then after an hour ended up in their old studio. We found out it's 2020 and a lot has changed. After a lot of screaming and pleading, the girl who lives there now, Julie, ended up letting us stay there. Now here we are a couple days later, about to watch her perform for her teacher for the first time since her mom died. 

Luke gave her an old Sunset Curve that they never got a chance to record. I know it hasn't been long but I feel like Luke has started growing infatuated with her. After we heard her sing for the first time, he hasn’t stopped talking about how talented she is. I know he doesn’t want him to know but I saw him in the studio looking through lyrics using different handwriting. I’m surprised he’s not talking about that yet. 

The pop group that is performing ends and the principal goes on stage. Julie’s friend says to her “Now’s your chance. Go talk to her. I’ll see you in music class.”

“What are you waiting for? This is your time.” Reggie looks at Julie who might “yak in a bowl” if she waits any longer. 

“I just don’t think I had enough time to work on the song.” Julie says worried. 

“I wouldn’t have given you the song if I didn’t think you were gonna rock it. Now there’s a piano on that stage with your name on it.” Luke convinces her. Julie goes backstage and walks on looking nervous. 

“Oh I can’t watch.” I go to turn around but Luke puts his arm around to keep me in place. When Julie looks at us we all give her a thumbs up, mine not as enthusiastic as the others. 

Everyone in the auditorium starts to leave, she starts to play. The piano sounds beautiful with her voice. The occasional student walks over to watch but most of them already have their feet out the door. Then there are lights put on her. The song starts to reach the chorus and all of a sudden I don’t feel Luke’s arm around me and I don’t see the guys. That’s when I notice that I hear cheering and look up to see them on stage with her. After putting two and two together I realize that they are visible to the audience. How is that even possible?

I go run up to the front of the stage. “How is this even happening?” I yell up to them. Reggie looks at me and shrugs. They look so happy. They never thought this was even possible. I look over at Luke and see Julie singing with him. I get a twinge of jealousy wishing I could have this connection with him but I never will. They have so much chemistry on stage I don’t even want to watch. I spend the rest of the time watching Alex and Reggie. 

At the end of the song, they bow and the boys disappear with their instruments. I go out into the hallway to find them pacing around. “Did that just happen?’’ They turn around and give me a massive hug.

“I can’t believe that just happened! Everyone could see us. Please tell me I”m not the only one freaking out!” Alex starts panicking so I walk over and rub his back to calm him down. 

“Bro, I think we’re all freaking out!” Luke eagerly says. “People can see us play. How cool is that?”

“So cool.” Reggie smiles at Luke and they do a little handshake.

They start talking about the performance but my mind keeps going back to Julie and Luke together on that stage. 

“Guys i'm gonna go home.”

“What why?” They say together.

“I’m just not feeling too well. Talk to Julie and see what’s causing this. I’m happy for you.” I see Luke step forward but I poof out before he can say anything.

Back at the studio, I start to spiral downward. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely pick something up. I realize being at the studio is doing nothing to help me so I go for a walk on the beach. It made me realize how much I missed being alive and feeling the sand between my toes when the guys and I needed to get away from our families. The nights we would spend here watching the sunset, which inspired the band name. 

Before I know it the sunset comes and goes. The guys are definitely home at this point. I poof back to see them pacing around. “(Y/N)!” Luke runs up to me. “Where have you been? We were getting worried. 

“Just went for a walk to clear my head. A lot has been changing recently.” I walk past him to sit on the couch. I need to talk to someone about this. “Alex, can I talk to you for a minute, alone.”

Alex looks over at Luke and Reggie as if telling them to go. Luke looks a little offended that I don’t want to talk to him but he poofs out first. Reggie follows after him. After they’re both gone, he checks behind the door to make sure they’re not spying and then walks over to the couch and sits down. 

“What’s going on (Y/N)?” 

“A lot, honestly.”

“Well it must be if you don’t want to talk to Luke about it.” He looks at me knowingly. “Is it about him?”

“How do I say I’ve been in love with him for over 25 years?” Alex just stares at me like it wasn’t brand new information. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me but Reggie is oblivious to everything. Why did you disappear after the performance though?”

“Did you not see him and Julie on stage together? They totally had chemistry. I can’t compete with that.” I see him look at me with pity. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I-I’m not looking at you in any way. I’m just paying attention.” I roll my eyes. “But in all seriousness, are you going to talk to him about this?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t like me back. He’s my best friend and I wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way if he actually said to my face.” I can’t picture my life without Luke in it and I don’t ever want to experience it. 

“Well, ignoring him isn’t going to help either. He was worried about you when you left and even more when we came back and you were gone. He needs you, too. He needs someone to be there to boost his ego.” He nudges me. I chuckle.

“You’re right,” I nudge him back. “Thank you for talking to me. I needed to get it off my chest.

“No problem. I’m always here for you.” I give him a big hug. We may be ghosts but I at least get to have these moments with the boys. 

“Oh. By the way, we asked Julie to join the band and she said yes. That’s okay, right?” Alex said quickly.

“Yeah. It’s your band, you don’t need my permission.”

Weeks go by and it’s getting harder to watch Julie and Luke sing together. I can see from the way Luke looks at her that he likes her. I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Alex about how much he needs me but he’s been going to Julie more often that it doesn’t feel like he does. Because of this I’ve been spending more and more time at the beach. Only Alex knows where I’m going in case of emergencies. 

“Hey.” I hear to the left of me. I look to see Luke standing there. 

“Hey. How did you know I was here?”

“I asked Alex. You’ve only been talking to him recently. I didn’t know I would have to find out what’s going on with my best friend from someone besides her,” He sits down in the sand next to me. “But of course, even Alex won’t tell me because he’s too good a friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I turn away from him.

“You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been dismissive. You’ve been acting weird ever since we performed at the spirit rally. You’re never around anymore.” He tries to get me to look at him but I refuse. “Fine. If you’re going to ignore me, I don’t even know why I’m going to try.” He poofs out. I start crying right there. I know that I said it would be hard to not have him in my life but now I don’t know because I don’t know which one feels worse. 

I hear another noise and I turn, hoping Luke came back but  of course not. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that.” Alex takes the spot where Luke was not too long ago. “Look, I know it’s difficult but try not to be too hard on the guy. He doesn’t know how you feel.”

“It’s not just about that. I know that we’re dead. Okay? I’m not dumb but it still hurts that I can’t help in the ways I used to. I was the one in charge of booking clubs and managing the tour dates. Now, I can’t do that because nobody can see me. I know its bullshit and there’s other things to be upset about. I just miss being an important part of this band,” I stop for a second but he doesn’t say anything so I keep going. “Too much is changing and I can’t handle it. I love you Alex, I do. And I am so thankful that you’re here right now but Luke was the one I was going to about this stuff. I can’t now, not only because I am gut wrenchingly , painstakingly, heartbreakingly IN LOVE with him, but because he’s spending every waking moment with Julie. I just, I don't know what to do.” Once I’m done I just let my back hit the sand. 

“Yes, you do.” I hear a voice that’s not Alex and I’m really hoping it doesn't belong to Luke. However, as soon as I open my eyes I see him looking over me. “You always know what to do.” 

I stand up to look at him and notice that Alex left us alone. “Luke... what are you doing back here?”

“After I went back home, I realized something. I couldn’t leave you alone. Obviously, you had something going on. It shouldn’t have mattered if you told me anyway. Just that you weren’t alone.” 

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. I didn’t know you felt that way. About any of it. I know it’s hard that you can’t help like you used to. It’s not bullshit, okay? You helped us so much and now it may feel like we don’t need you but we most definitely do. Who’s going to keep us sane? Alex? Seriously, he cried for 25 years with no hug and he won’t let us forget it! No, you will. You have been there since the beginning and you are a massive part of this band. You always will be.” Tears are streaming down his face.

“What about Julie?”

“What about her?”

“You’ve been spending so much time with her. Outside of the band and song writing. All you do now is hang out with her. I miss you so much, Luke. You have no idea.” I turn away from him like before.

“Nope. No.” He pulls me back to face him. “You’re not shutting me out again. You’ve spent more time here than you have at home. You can’t do that and then talk about me not seeing you more.”

“Luke you know that’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” He stops.

“What do you mean?” I stare at him, waiting for the words to come but won’t be prepared to hear.

“All of the time I spent writing and singing on stage, whenever I was hanging out with Julie, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time I was singing I looked at you in the audience but you weren’t looking at me. You were looking at someone else.”

“I couldn’t look at you. You were looking at Julie. You have a connection with her.”

“I have a connection with everybody I sing with. Hell, I have a connection with Reggie when I sing with him. But neither of them are you, (Y/N). I love you.”

“You what?” I walk closer to him.

“You heard me.” 

“Say it again.” I demand.

“I love you.” Luke was right. I do know what to do. I threw my arms around him and put my lips on his. Our mouths molded together like a perfect fit. I felt alive again.

“I love you too.” I said against his lips. He let me go. 

“Good or else that would’ve been awkward.” I laughed. I can’t help but hug him again. He hugs me back harder than before, resting his chin on my head. “God, I love you. It feels so good to say that.” 

 I look up at him. It feels so good to be in his arms. It feels so good to be able to hold him the way I wanted to. It only took 25 years and a hot dog.

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Requests are still open! Feel free to send some my way

- Maddie xxx

[vidalinav]

A Kinder Sea: Prologue

Summary:  After the IC give Nesta an ultimatum Nesta chooses instead to support herself, cutting herself off from them completely and so begins Nesta’s journey of finding a job and falling in love with everyday life (Slice of Life/Fix-it Fic) 

Masterlist, Chapter List 

“I no longer know if I wish to drown myself in love, vodka, or the sea.” Franz Kafka

~

Nesta walked away from the estate with little more than her pride and her ale sodden shoes. Gods knew she didn’t leave with her sanity. In fact, sanity had not been present as she told her sister to sod off. Her youngest sister, who said she’d cared, but who wasn’t exactly convincing. To her other sister who Nesta supposed was supposed to be there but wasn’t even there in the room. To the others who judged so… blatantly for people who claimed to not be judging at all.

Nesta laughed.

Hypocrites! She wanted to call them—probably did though she couldn’t remember the exact words she’d said. Her anger had roared louder than her thoughts and Nesta thought she might have covered her ears. Her rage like a mother comforting her child, yelling the bullies and the bold adults away. The one’s who’d forgotten who they’d been speaking to.

Nesta had not forgotten who she was.

So, she had given them an ultimatum.

They could keep their money and they’d leave her alone, or… they would never see her again. That was the other option, wasn’t it? The human lands. Well, she preferred to be hated in closer proximity, she’d told them. What did it matter if she was here or there? Without their money she was free.

They were under no obligation to give it to her, and she was under no obligation to sit there and endure the conversation. And it wasn’t hard to negotiate that when they were empty threats at best. They were counting on her approval, her agreement because she’d been drunk the night before, wasted and wasting a life, and there were four of them who sat so tall and powerful talking down to her, deciding for her what she could and could not do—what she could or could not feel.

Well, Nesta felt it all and she felt it clearly and most days she hoped to feel it again, because some nights she couldn’t feel anything at all. But somewhere in that heart of hers, she’d felt betrayed. Exposed. And a heart exposed was an easy target. She’d learn that when she was young and learned it well.

Maybe they wanted to never see her again. She often felt that way too.

Either way, she’d had enough of them… tired of them and of so many things, and she wasn’t going to be a dog on a leash, happily submitting to its owner after she was finished being trained and broken in. They should’ve known she wouldn’t submit.

But Nesta supposed they didn’t know her at all and now… they wouldn’t have the chance.  

Good riddance, she told herself as she walked back to her apartment on the other side of town. She cursed them all for bringing her here as she laid a hand above her eyes, the sun shining too brightly. Her body already hurt from the trek, and Nesta cursed the cauldron for making her without wings among other things. But Nesta cursed life, itself, for the headache already beginning to form.

She’d have to… clean her apartment, probably. Look presentable. Look for a job. Try to stay upright and moving. Nesta doubted she’d have much of a chance when she was already exhausted, and she’d only made it down a few winding streets.

But she was on her own, and Nesta clung to that thought, as if she might hug the words enough to bring her comfort.  

She was on her own and…

What else could she do?

~ 

Permanent Taglist:

@my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk,

~

I don’t know I just prefer Nesta angrier and more stubborn, and I suppose Nesta being angry would have actually made sense if she’d not been already at rock, rock bottom, where she’d stopped fighting. Because that’s what made the difference, one would think. But honestly, Nesta lost a lot of agency in her weakened mind frame in this book that I started thinking that wow her anger must have been a protection. A seemingly good one for how often she was used without it. I didn’t like that and I didn’t like acosf as you all know. So I’m keeping the aspects I like and dumping the rest. 

This is my comfort fic now. 

This eventually will get happier but I had to get this ugly part out of the way, which is why it’s super short and maybe not the most complicated thing I’ve ever written. Alas. I almost re-read the first six chapters, and omg I got angry like it was the first time. Had to stop that shit immediately. Never doing that again. So I wrote this and we move. 

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 4: IN THE REIGN OF TERROR: THE ADVENTURES OF A WESTMINSTER BOY(1888)

1. The Introduction

Well hello there again, dearest readers! I’m back at it again and this time I brought you something more obscure.

Honestly, I would’ve never found out about this book had I not seen the category for books set in the French Revolution era on Wikipedia after a deliberate google search.

“In the Reign of Terror” is an adventure novel aimed at young boys that was published in 1888 by one G. A. Henty, an English novelist who has other adventure novels to his name too, but today we’ll only take a look at this one.

It’s available on Project Gutenberg in the ebook format and is in public domain so it’s free to download, which is how I obtained the book.

2. The Summary

The book takes place in the French Revolution era, specifically from 1790 to about 1792. It tells the story of Harry Sandwith, a boy whose physician father sends him from London to Burgundy to live with Marquis de St. Caux and his family.

As the brother of the Marquis had been cured by Harry’s father during his stay in London, the entire arrangement was his idea. The Marquis himself also believes that by having an English companion, his sons can learn a lot about English customs while Harry learns the language and the traditions of France.

But as the Revolution is drawing nearer than ever, clouds gather above the heads of Harry’s host family and Harry himself...

This is the basic premise of the story, but how did the finished product turn out? Let’s find that out for ourselves, Citizens!

3. The Story

Now, at first the story itself seems a bit implausible on the level of the premise. The Marquis believes that his sons should learn a thing or two about masculinity and sports from Harry, as English boys are supposedly more manly than their “feminine” French peers.

I find it hard to believe that a French nobleman would think this way but I was still willing to suspend my disbelief somewhat because Anglophiles do exist and despite the rivalry between France and the UK, the two countries did borrow bits and pieces of culture from each other.

Here’s the part that gave me pause and kind of ruined the experience for me. The entire book reeks of a sense of English superiority. Harry, the main character, is English and is portrayed as the bravest, strongest and most masculine member of the cast, while his French companions, Ernest and Jules, the sons of the Marquis, are basically treated like feminine “sissies”.

(Spoiler alert!)

For example, in the beginning of Harry’s adventures, the daughters of the Marquis are attacked by a rabid dog and who saves them? Harry, of course. This is one of the instances where the author demonstrates how strong English boys are and this is the moment after which Harry is finally seen as an equal by the noble siblings.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for patriotism and taking pride in your country. I’m Russian and proud of it. However, too much pride and you get this obnoxious sense of superiority. If you need a prime example of how that usually plays out, look at the Axis during WW2.

What Henty chooses to portray is specifically a sense of superiority. Characters like Harry’s father take pride in the fact that England has less strict class divisions, that apparently English commoners have already obtained more liberties while the French peasants are merely a mob of bloodthirsty savages, etc.

Don’t know about you, Citizens, but I really don’t like such narratives shoved in my face and considering how often this nationalism shows up, I had a lot of trouble getting through the story.

I’m all for healthy patriotism that acknowledges the good and the bad in one’s country but this is just too much nationalism for me and I believe that the book would’ve been more enjoyable without this narrative showing up every couple of pages or so like jumpscares in a bad horror movie.

4. The Characters

I know this was the 19th century so the audiences were probably not pampered with complex stories and characters as much yet, but honestly I didn’t find Harry a truly likable and relatable protagonist.

(Spoiler alert!)

He starts out as a pretty average school student but while in France he proves to be heroic - killing a rabid dog, slaying a man eating wolf (not completely by himself) and generally always proving himself to be the manly hero that Ernest and Jules can never be. Basically it was easy to predict that he will emerge from any trouble victorious so I didn’t have many reasons to be worried about him.

The sons and the daughters of the Marquis all end up liking him. Too much may I add.

In short, I personally got a bit of Harry Stu vibe. 😉

He does have one glaring flaw that unfortunately doesn’t do him any favors in my eyes. The English superiority complex that the author expresses in the story shines in Harry brighter than the Sun. He doesn’t express much empathy either.

(Spoiler alert!)

When Harry saves a man from getting attacked by an assassin and sees that the man is scared out of his mind, the first thing Harry feels towards him is disdain for apparently being a “pussy”. Um, hello, Harry?! How would you react if you got attacked out of the blue! Not everyone is as “strong and manly” as you are!

Then Harry also regrets saving the man when it turns out to be Robespierre. Our protagonist, dear Citizens!

Speaking of Robespierre, here (and this goes for most French characters) he is portrayed as a weak feeble “sissy”, thirsty for blood but neat and frugal in outfit and lifestyle, someone who won’t hesitate to have half of France slaughtered. Of course. 🙄

The female characters are bland helpless ingénues. Also typical of the literature of the time period.

By the way, Robespierre is the only revolutionary who is actually featured in the story. Marat and Danton are mentioned but it’s all negative in their department too, especially when it comes to Marat.

The Parisian crowd is little more than a bloodthirsty mob of savage uneducated peasants ready to slaughter all nobles just because they’re well, nobles.

Honestly, nothing new here.

5. The Setting

Honestly, I feel like there weren’t that many descriptions and those that were present simply weren’t vivid enough to immerse myself into the story. Too many descriptions are bad too, of course, but here the opposite happens - too little descriptions so sometimes the surroundings feel like vacuum and there’s not enough world building to imagine yourself in that era, beside the characters.

It’s all just bland caricatured setting one would expect from an amateur puppet show at daycare.

Remember, dear Citizens. Even if you write about your own era and country, world building is extremely important so please don’t underestimate the power of good and vivid descriptions, just use them in moderation.

Anyway, onto the final point.

6. The Conclusion

Despite all the drawbacks, I didn’t quite hate the book. I simply think it could’ve been written a lot better, without shoving the supposed superiority of England in our faces, without bland characters, without the unlikeable protagonist, without cardboard settings and definitely without machismo and layers upon layers of Thermidorian propaganda.

I wouldn’t recommend this story unless you really want to kill time and have nothing else to do.

With that in mind, allow me to conclude the fourth meeting of our Convention. Stay tuned for the announcement of the topic of the next meeting and have a good day, Citizens.

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

[twistedtummies2]

Adeuce, You Say!

Yeah, I couldn’t come up with a good title for this one, sorry. XD This is a birthday gift for a dear friend of mine, @belliesandburps. He mentioned he wanted to see Ace Trappola drinking a LOT of soda. I couldn’t think of a concept that featured JUST Ace, so I decided to throw Deuce Spade in for good measure. Hopefully he won’t mind this. ;) Happy Birthday, BNB! You’re one of the best friends a twisted whacko like myself could ever ask for. <3

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

“I can’t believe you talked me into this…” “Aww, come on, don’t be a spoilsport!” You couldn’t help but blush a bit...and cursed yourself for doing so. The “fun” hadn’t even begun, and already you could feel your heartbeat with anticipation. “Don’t worry, Deuce,” you muttered. “The feeling is mutual, on my end…” Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade turned to look at you. The three of you were gathered in Ace’s room in Heartslabyul; you had cleared a table he kept in the room - which was designed to resemble a carefully-arranged house of cards - and now both he and Deuce sat at opposite ends of the short furnishing. On the floor directly in front of the table one of them had placed a recycling bin - litter was not allowed, per the Rules of the Queen of Hearts - and on the table itself were four large boxes. Two of the boxes, which sat nearest Deuce, contained twelve packs of Vanilla Cola. In contrast, the two boxes closest to Ace contained Cherry Cola. Ace smirked, tossing some of his carrot-colored hair out of his face, and winked his tattooed eye, the crimson heart shape around it flickering as his one visible cherry-toned iris twinkled with mischief-making glee. “Well, we all know why YOU agreed to this,” he teased. “C’mon, you can’t deny you’re a little...EXCITED, huh, Prefect?” “I hate you,” you droned, grumbling as you squirmed where you stood. “I hate you so much…” “Is this the reason you decided to have this contest?” frowned Deuce, his own turquoise eyes narrowing, the black spade tattoo over one of them crinkling slightly behind his dark blue bangs. “To make the Prefect a blushing mess? I think you could have waited till the next lunch hour for that.” “You are NOT helping,” you grumped, glaring at Deuce half-heartedly.

Neither of the Heartslabyul duo seemed to notice. Ace snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, that’s just a nice bonus,” he chuckled, and grinned roguishly. “Cater just told me this kinda thing is trending right now. I figure, with my talents, I’ve got a shot at getting some preeeetty good views. That’s why I asked the Prefect to film this.” He jabbed his thumb towards you; you fiddled with the cell phone in your hands, biting your lip and saying nothing. “And why choose ME to be your competitor in this?” Deuce droned. “Does humiliating me just make you feel better about yourself?” “It does. Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent,” grinned Ace. Deuce glared. He looked to the sodas, then back at Ace...then huffed and turned away. “No,” he stated. “I’m not doing it.” “Awww, come on, you’re already here!” Ace whined. “This won’t take long!” “He does have a point,” you spoke up. “Speaking with as little obvious bias as possible…” “I already mistrust your judgment,” Deuce muttered, while Ace snickered. “...You agreed to this and came here, so you might as well see it through to the end.” “And I don’t expect you to go easy on me!” snapped Ace, lifting a finger rather dramatically. “I want a challenge!” “Then you should have asked somebody else!” Deuce exclaimed. “Why not try someone from Savanaclaw, or one of the Leech Twins?” “I said I wanted a challenge, not a suicide mission,” Ace said, bluntly. You couldn’t repress a snort of laughter. You apologized under your breath as both frowned at you before looking back to each other. “Forget it,” Deuce said firmly. “I’m not engaging in something as infantile as a soda-drinking-” “Soda-CHUGGING, Spade. Get with the times, Mr. Delinquent.” Deuce glared violently. Ace lifted his hands and mouthed a quick apology. Deuce calmed down...but only VERY slightly. “...Soda...Chugging...Contest,” Deuce corrected, grinding his teeth and turning faintly red in the face at Ace’s taunt. “I’m not doing it for you, and you can’t make me.” Ace narrowed his eyes, frowning, looking Deuce up and down for a moment...then grinned anew. “Okay,” he said, slyly. “Then don’t do it for me. There’s other reasons to try.” Deuce looked suspicious and skeptical at the same time. “Such as?” Ace responded by opening one of his cases of cherry cola and pulling a single can free. He waggled it in one hand indicatively, raising an eyebrow in Deuce’s direction. Before either yourself or Deuce could comment on the actions and ask what he was doing - he popped the can open. It hissed and crackled as the pressure was released...then, without a hint of hesitation, he tipped his head back and quickly slugged down the contents of the first can. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… You felt those familiar stirrings start within you, as your eyes immediately zeroed in on Ace’s strong but slender throat. You watched his Adam’s Apple bounce like a rubber ball with each gulp of soda. Internally, you couldn’t help but put yourself in the drink’s place...cascading down his throat, rushing down his gullet towards the ever-hungry black hole that was his belly… You shivered at the same time he finished the can. He crushed it in one hand with relish and pitched it into the recycling bin. It clattered loudly, making Deuce jump slightly. He opened his mouth to question what all this was about, and perhaps to protest again… ...And looked up just in time to find Ace leaning over the table, mouth wide open...burping four words out. Right in his face. “YYYOOOUUU...AAAARRRRE...AAAAAA...CHIIIIIC-KEEEENNNN-UUUUURRRRRP!” Ace smirked smugly, eyes half lidded as he rested his chin in one hand and licked his lips, eyeing Deuce expectantly. Deuce blinked fast several times, his expression stunned, face speckled with spittle after the messy, wet blast...then glared. “Alright, Trappola,” he almost growled. “Now…” He opened a box. “...You’re…” He pulled out a can of his own. “...On.” SNAP-CRACKLE-POP. The first can of vanilla cola was opened, and Deuce began to chug it down with relish. Ace laughed, and quickly pulled out a second can of his own. “I knew it would work!” he sang out, and popped his own can open, and began to drink down some more cherry cola as fast as he could, eager to catch up with Deuce. You sighed; you were a captive audience to this display. Not that you minded too much, you had to admit...especially given your current position. You decided to sit down rather than stand, but there was no third chair for you to use...so you simply crossed your legs and sat on the floor. This inevitably meant looking up at the pair, and some mean, self-shaming fraction of your submissive little brain couldn’t help but mock you as you watched Deuce hurl his first can into the recycling bin carelessly before moving onto another...imagining your own self being treated with the same nonchalance. Just fuel for a greater being. “I hate my life,” you muttered to yourself. “What - HIC-URP! - what was that?” Ace chirruped. “Never mind. Keep going. First to finish all 24 cans wins.” Keep going the pair did. Gulping and slurping echoed out almost non-stop, interrupted only briefly by the crushing of cans and the sound of them falling into the bin. GLUG-CRUNCH! GULP-SCRUNCH! GOLLOP-GRUNCH! Ace frowned as he hurriedly downed his sodas; his goading of Deuce had seemingly backfired, for Spade had quickly taken a surprising lead. He was only a can ahead of Ace, but one can was all it would take. He kept glancing to Deuce to gauge his progress, eyes burning hotly like crimson flames as he gulped down soda pop after soda pop. Deuce, for his part, remained focused on the sodas themselves, chugging them down as rapidly as he could; you could actually hear the fizzing and sizzling of the carbonation as it raced down their gullets at record-breaking speed. Naturally, all that air being ingested meant pockets of gas were building up inside of both students’ guts. Ace had no problem letting those pockets burst. “BRRRRAAAAAAP! Oof...oh - UUUURRRRRRP! Ha Ha...that was a good one wasn’t it...mph...PRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEFFFFEEEEEECT?” You had to fight yourself NOT to squeak, as Ace laughed and slugged down more and more soda, burping and belching like a crass pig between every single can, clearly delighting in showing off. You wanted to tell him that this wasn’t going to get him the lead back...but you were a little too loopy from the sickly-sweet smell of soda-scented stomach gas filling the air to care much. Deuce, meanwhile, handled things differently. He didn’t burp at all. Honestly, that was actually getting you even more excited; by now, he had finished six cans and was working on a seventh. (Ace was just starting his sixth can, in contrast.) The effect of so much bubbling cola pooling in his belly was starting to become obvious; he looked slightly green as his stomach audibly ROARED with all the gas building up inside...and he breathed heavily, panting almost like a huge dog in-between each can, starting with the fourth. Something had to give, and it wouldn’t be long till something did. Sure enough, after polishing off his eighth can, Deuce couldn’t hold it all in anymore. His stomach let out a lurching GRORBLE noise, and he grunted...before his eyes widened and his cheeks ballooned. He lifted a fist in a vain attempt to stifled the blast...but it was no good. His lips flapped as it bellowed forth with tinnitus-inducing volume. “GUUUUUYYYYYUUUUUHHHHHUUUUURRRRRLLLLLUUUUURRRRRP!” The explosive burp seemed to rock the room. Ace yelped, jumping in his seat just as he had finished his seventh can. He blinked with some alarm as Deuce covered his mouth. Spade hiccuped sharply and blinked, flushing red in the face as his other hand clutched his belly. The look of ripe embarrassment on his face was priceless, and you found yourself starting to giggle. “Good one,” you complimented, with a blush of your own. Deuce glared at you reproachfully. Ace began to laugh, slapping his knee. “HA HA HA HA! Wow, you’ve been holding back on us!” he cackled. “I bet even the lion would have a hard time matching that ‘roar,’ ha!” “Sh-sh-shut up!” Deuce stuttered, turning redder than ever. Ace was still sniggering as he grabbed his next can of cola and quickly swallowed it down. Deuce paused for just a few moments more, seemingly to catch his breath after that enormous eructation, but soon got back to drinking. Now the two were neck and neck. And as they drew nearer and nearer to the end of their first boxes, you realized that gas was not the only thing starting to swell and fester inside their guts. Each of the two were dressed in their Heartslabyul dorm outfits: black and white jackets lined with gold, white undershirts under color-coordinated vests - Ace wore strawberry red, and Deuce wore jet black. As they swallowed up more and more of the soft drinks, you could hear the fabric and buttons creak. The fluid and the carbonation it carried were causing both of their bellies to start to swell and stretch, growing rounder and more bloated...you bit your lip and fidgeted in place. It was so hard to stay focused on the video you were taking when real life was right before you...and ooooohhhhhh, how appealing it looked… Speaking of the video, you checked the time...and couldn’t help but whistle, impressed. “You guys work faster than I realized,” you said, with a slightly nervous chuckle. Deuce smiled almost sheepishly. Ace beamed proudly. Both cracked another can open at the exact same time. Nine cans, ten cans, eleven cans...it was no time at all before each reached the last can in their first twelve packs. You could actually hear their stomachs: their bowels growled and their guts “gulunked” as all that thick, fizzy, sugary stuff bubbled inside of them like a cauldron full of good ol’ fashioned witch’s brew. The difference was you didn’t have to worry about Mr. Crewel yapping at you about how you forgot a tablespoon of some ingredient...or the room exploding into frog zombies as a result… ...Potions class was hard… “BEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLLLCH!” Two blasts of gas - simultaneously synchronized - sonorously blew forth, sounding out like a foghorn and causing the table legs to rattle. You blushed bright red as the abrasive sound caught your attention, and you found yourself looking up at the pair as they paused in their drinking. They had each polished off their first twelve pack, and were lounging back in their seats. Deuce grunted as he began to fiddle with the buttons of his vest, grumbling under his breath about how they had “shrunk in the wash” recently… ...Bless his heart… Ace, meanwhile, let out another crass, shameless belch out of the corner of his mouth - “BRRRRAAAACK!” - and sighed as he drummed his fingers over his swollen stomach. He winced with discomfort at the tightness of his clothes on his belly...but made no move to loosen anything. Instead he looked down at you...and smirked cockily, holding his head high. “Heh heh...havin’ fun down there? Enjoying the show?” he teased. “You know, if Riddle found you both like this, he’d have you both beheaded,” you answered. Deuce froze. Ace gulped nervously. “You wouldn’t,” both said at once. “If Ace here doesn’t stop kink-teasing me, I might,” you smiled oh-so-innocently. Deuce sighed with relief; that was a sure sign to him you weren’t serious. Ace, meanwhile, frowned and grumbled, looking off to the side with a pout. “If I was that lion, you’d be melting like ice cream,” he grumbled. You were about to respond to that when suddenly, Deuce let out a deep sound - somehow groaning and burping at the same time. “Grrrrooooouuuurrrrrrllllllph...mmmaaahhh…” You almost swore your heart skipped a beat as you looked towards him. He had undone his vest and his trouser buttons, and his eyes were fluttering. From under his plain white undershirt, his pale-skinned belly spilled into his lap, his shallow navel winking into view as it sloshed into place, freed of most restraints and sloshing full of soda. “Ohhhh...that feels so much better,” he sighed out...then blinked...and blushed bright red as he realized both you and Ace were staring at him. “Er...uh...I just...um…” “Well,” smirked Ace. “So much for the stuffed shirt Honors Student, huh?” ‘I-I am not a stuffed shirt!” exclaimed Deuce. “Nope. Just a very stuffed Spade,” you couldn’t help but quip. Deuce gave you a look that was best described as “Et tu, Prefect?” Ace cackled; his gut sloshed and bounced with his mirth. Then, a lightbulb seemed to go over his head, and he began to fiddle with his own buttons… GUBLORSH. “BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOORRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIP! Whew...MAN, that feels good…” You were internally squeeing, and biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood (almost) as you saw Ace’s belly spill into his lap. He sighed, eyes fluttering with relief...then gave a grin to Deuce, who was staring as if he didn’t know how to react. “There. Now we’re even,” Ace sing-songed. Deuce looked somewhat dubious. “Is that why you did that? Or just to try and make the Prefect’s ears steam?” Now it was YOUR turn to give Deuce the “Et tu?” look. Ace shrugged cheerfully, and patted his belly with pride. “Neither! Just wanted to relieve the pressure. But come on, even if I HAD been, would it be right to hide this perfection away?” “Do you ever think of anything but yourself?” “If you looked like this, would you?” Both you and Deuce shared a look as Ace grunted, stifling a burp with one fist before opening up his second twelve pack. “HHHRRRLLLMMMPH...well, twelve more to go...game’s not over yet. Unless you wanna throw in the towel…” “Not a chance!” declared Deuce, opening his next twelve pack up. “I’m getting you back for that belch in the face!” Ace just guffawed as he pulled another can free, popped it open, and began to drink again. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… Deuce was quick to follow suit; once again, they were consuming soda almost at the same speed and time. The first can for each vanished within three seconds flat...then came the second...then the third...and then the fourth… It was as they began to guzzle down the fifth can each - which, really, meant the seventeenth - that you started to notice a few things. The first was that you could hear the soda pooling inside their bodies. You could actually detect the sound of it pouring down their gullets and into their massively swollen tankers, like twin waterfalls dropping down into huge basins. You felt your toes curl in your shoes; the heavy saturation of sugar was making them sound aggressively “grumbly,” gurgling and sloshing with the might of ocean waves. These sounds only seemed further amplified by the second thing you noticed, which was the view. Again, you were seated before the two, looking up at them...which meant those giant bellies looked even bigger and more looming than usual. You were NOT going to give either of them (especially Ace) the satisfaction of acting like a mouse, but it was so hard not to FEEL like one...especially as those massively rounded guts continued to swell and grow as they drank more and more. By the time they had begun their second round, their midsections looked as if each had swallowed a football whole. Now, they were inching out further and further, rolling into their laps and making their shirts ride up further and further, exposing more and more of their soft, tender skin… Forget the soda chugging; the real contest in YOUR mind was which belly you wanted to just bury your face and fingers in the most! You somehow held back, though your fingers twitched around the phone you held. The mixture of the noises and the continuing growth, however, led to a third realization: as the pair plucked up their sixth cans each, you abruptly noticed both were starting to slow down. They were huffing and puffing from the weight in their bellies, and once in a while would flinch as their guts “blurgled” sloppily around their hyper-saccharine contents. “Oooof,” groaned out Ace, as he cracked his can open. “I’m...mph...g-gettin’ kinda heavy…”

“Same - HIC! - ugh, same here,” hiccuped Deuce, and gave a determined glare. “But...b-but I’m not quitting yet.” His words were ruined by his stomach ROARING, and he winced, clutching it with his free hand. Ace just smirked, saying nothing, and the two clinked their cans together as if in toast before downing their sixth drinks. Eighteen down now, and only six more to go. GRORLP...BLLLRRRG...RRRRRAAAAAWWWWWRRRRRLLLLLB…! The sounds of gastric effort resounded through Ace’s room as he and Deuce continued to consume their sodas. Deuce was no longer holding back his gas; Ace certainly hadn’t started doing so. They hiccuped more than once, each letting out a BELCH or BURP freely in-between drinks as they downed their nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first sodas. The recycling bin, by now, was overflowing; you glanced back over your shoulder, grateful you had locked the door. With cans now just dropping to the floor in crumpled heaps, if Riddle Rosehearts were to walk in, it would be off with all your heads, you had no doubt. You were also glad Grim was out practicing his fire magic with Ortho; the loudmouthed imp might have caused problems there. It was a miracle all the gassy eruptions hadn’t roused much attention beyond the room, to begin with. Each of the competitors reached for their twenty-second cans; your eyes widened as you looked towards Deuce. Ace was panting and grunting, but his general motions hadn’t slowed down much. However, Deuce had clearly grown more sluggish: he had a lot more inner capacity than most folks realized (though certainly no match for the likes of some aforementioned students), but he was “out of training” on that front. It was obvious that he hadn’t consumed this much soda at once in a long time (if ever at all), and he looked both tired and a little queasy. He drank more slowly, and it looked like he was trying hard just to get it all down… Ace had pulled ahead at the very last minute: he was now on his twenty-third can of soda, and Deuce had just finished the twenty-second. By the time Deuce had started on his twenty-third, Ace was about to begin his final drink! Deuce let out a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a whimper - a difficult noise to describe, indicating sickly desperation - and tried to chug down his twenty-third cola as fast as he could… It wasn’t fast enough. Ace cracked open his twenty-fourth can - the last one in his box - and swilled it down so swiftly, you could have sworn he just inhaled it all in a single swallow. “Guh!” gasped out Ace, and hiccuped loudly - he bounced in his seat from the force of it, his gut sloshing like a water balloon against his thighs - and let the can drop from his grip. “Oooooh...ohhhhh, soooooo full...UUUURRRRP! Ah...haaaah, I f-feel like I’m gonna - HIC! - ohhhh, gonna burst…” He shivered; his expression still bore a smile - though it was slightly forced. You couldn’t help but imagine the phrase “hurts so good” applied to how he had to be feeling right about now. Lazily, languidly, he turned his head to look at Deuce as Deuce moaned with discomfort and tossed his second-to-last can of Vanilla Cola aside. “I win,” Ace grinned. Deuce looked at him in a slow, bleary way, as if he were struggling to stay awake. He hiccuped and groaned; his cheeks swelled, as if he were trying to keep his stomach’s contents in place. He didn’t say a word, just glared at Ace, sullenly. “Awww, don’t be...mph...like that,” Ace said, shifting his posture in his seat. “There’s...ngh...still one can left...g-go ahead. Finish it off.” “What’s the point?” huffed Deuce, and clutched his bare belly tightly as it “glarbled” in a nauseous way. “You already...ow...beat me..” “Well,” Ace cooed, “If you don’t think you can handle...just...one...more…” He started to subtly reach towards Deuce’s box. Something seemed to flare up, and Deuce’s aquamarine eyes flashed with newfound fire. He snatched up his final can of cola before Ace could grab hold of it. Ace smirked triumphantly as he watched his friend down the last of the sodas with gusto. “Gets ‘im every time,” he muttered to himself. You just rolled your eyes. Deuce threw his final can aside and groaned louder than before. He hiccuped and once again looked as if he had to struggle to avoid feeling sick as his breath became shallow and shaky. “Grrrrooooohhhhhh...wh-why...why did I...UUUUUURRRRRRK...agree to this…?” “Wimp,” mumbled Ace, only to quiver and let out a raspy breath of his own, as his stomach rumbled so loudly it visibly vibrated. “Hhhnnnaaaaahhhhhh...Chernabog’s horns, I’m - BRRRUUUOOORRRLLLK - soooooo STUFFED now...haven’t - URP - drank that much in my...m-my life…” You quickly turned off the video, stopping the recording...mostly because you did NOT want it to pick the inevitable “meep” sound you made as you openly ogled your two friends and their bloated bodies. It looked as if they had swallowed a couple of prize-worthy pumpkins whole, their sagging, sloshing stomachs as round and heavy as a pair of medicine balls. “I don’t feel so good,” moaned Deuce. “Speak for yourself,” Ace sighed. “This is AMAZING…” “You can say that again,” you gulped to yourself. “Huh?” both slurred out. “Nothing, guys, nothing,” you said, shaking your head. You got up onto your knees and shuffled towards them. Ace gave you a slothful smirk. “Hey, kneeling before my superior awesomeness?” he teased. “I always knew you would.” You gave him a bored look and responded by lifting a hand and jabbing at his stomach. His belly wobbled with a sound like a water bed. He hissed through gritted teeth before belching messily like a total pig. “BLLLLLLUUUUUURRRRRYYYYAAAAAOOOORRRRRRLLLLLLGP! Oof...okay, okay, sorry...ow, that one kinda hurt,” grunted Ace, thumping his chest with a fist and working up a shorter, softer after burp which you could barely hear. Considering how much your ears were ringing, that wasn’t necessarily a bad point. “You won the match,” you said to Ace. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start treating you like some kinda overlord or whatever.” Ace grumbled unintelligibly. Deuce smirked with satisfaction, tainted only slightly by his clearly ill state. It vanished as his belly burbled noisily however, and he had to fight back a whimper. You smiled sympathetically. “Maybe next time you’ll beat him,” you suggested. “You’re insinuating there may BE a next time,” Deuce groused. “Never. Again.” You had a feeling Ace would find a way to push the not-so-stoic student’s buttons in another direction, but you didn’t say so. Instead, you started to stand. “I’ll get you something to settle your stomach,” you offered Deuce. “Uh...c-could you get me somethin’, too?” Ace asked, and let out an embarrassed, soft laugh as he winced courtesy of a loud gut rumble of his own. “I, uh...mph...I think maybe I’m gonna need it sooner or later...ouch…” You rolled your eyes, but said you would, and started to stand up, patting your knees… ...Only to freeze up short as, suddenly, Deuce grabbed hold of your arm. “Wait...um...maybe you...don’t have to go anywhere?” he suggested. You blinked at him, confused, and cocked your head to one side questioningly. Deuce bit his lip...took a breath...and then tried to elaborate. “You, uh...we both know you have those… ‘Magic Fingers’ of yours, so...maybe...maybe a little bit of that m-might help?” You blinked again, more slowly than before, trying to process what Deuce was asking. “...Are you saying you...want a...a belly rub?” you checked, cautiously. “Only if you don’t mind!” Deuce insisted. “Heeeey, you can’t hog the belly rubs!” Ace cried out. “Besides, we all know mine is a lot softer and smoother than yours!” “Is not.” “Is too!” “Is not.” “Is too!” “Is...this REALLY an argument we’re having?” “Yep. Seems that way.” You were blushing too much to remember how to laugh. “I mean...if you’re...SURE you want it,” you said, in a quiet, quavering voice. Deuce nodded, an almost pleading look in his eyes. Ace grinned and nodded as well, more enthusiastically. You took a deep breath to steady yourself - it was hard to believe you were this lucky - and directed the pair to move closer together. They did, pulling their chairs forward and sideways...and you scurried between them, biting your lip as you looked between their twin bellies, almost identical in shape, size, and apparent texture. Then...unable to repress a little happy shiver of your own...you placed one hand on each of their stomachs, and began to work them over. Your fingers kneaded into the flesh, feeling the soft, supple surface of each titanic tummy. You trailed your fingertips over the plumpened sides and across the curve of their silky-smooth underbellies. You patted them, making both guts bounce and jiggle, and even drew figure-eights around their navel areas. Both of your friends sighed deeply and all but melted at your touch, their arms going limp, heads lolling back, jaws agape as they savored the sensations. “Oohhhhh...oh, no wonder you like doing this,” Ace drawled out. “This is...mmmm, this is AMAZING…” “That’s...ahhhh...mmmmm, that’s soothing,” Deuce crooned. “Thank you, Prefect…” “My pleasure, guys,” you blushed, giving their guts a couple of smacks. “My pleasure.” The pair just grinned and made happy humming sounds as they were pampered and spoiled. You couldn’t help but smile wider as you gave their greedy guts a couple of jiggles, hearing the thick soda-fueled stew slosh and splash and swirl about inside their bodies, so close to you… You were unaware of the fact that, as you worked on both bellies, the two opened one eye each, and looked to each other. Ace grinned wickedly...and Deuce smirked with faint impishness as well… ...And then… WHURLMPH. You let out a muffled yelp as, without warning, the pair shifted their postures...and now, both bellies were smushing agaisnt you, the warm curves of each swollen stomach heating up your already nearly-steaming cheeks. You blinked up shyly as you pushed against both guts to try and find some wiggle room...and your friends smiled down at you with almost identical expressions of mischievous affection. “Beter enjoy it while you can,” whispered Deuce. “Yeah,” chuckled Ace, and winked. “It’ll only be a week till we have our eating contest!” “Eating contest?” Deuce scowled. “Who said anything about that?” “Well...if you don’t think you have a chance at winning…” “I can eat you under a table any day!” “I dare you to prove it!” You sighed and shook your head, the soft flesh sliding across your own as you kneaded and caressed the bellies of your best friends. “Friends with benefits,” you were discovering, was a phrase with more than one definition… ...You hoped their argument wouldn’t go too quickly, though...right now, there was nowhere else you wanted to be, as you nuzzled against Ace’s stomach and patted Deuce’s with a smile. One of these days, you figured, you’d need to see a psychiatrist. But it was not this day.

The End

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part THIRTY

Previous Post Is HERE

This is the last outline post!  But like I said before I’m probably gonna take a run at NaNo with this story this year because of how thoroughly it got out of hand lmao and probably will keep doing smaller art posts and shit at this point.

And again there’s already ideas for a sequel in the works, although that’ll probably trickle in MUCH more slowly for the time being.

Next week I’m probably going to take a break from Tumblr altogether bc of Real Life Stuff and the fact that this project turned So Big.  Maybe.  Possibly.  Don’t take me at my word lmao

This is a text heavy post and I apologize but there was a lot to cover; each section is separated by headers.

Content warning for mention of hanging used as a metaphor.  

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Astramorus’s Sentencing 

Astramorus is stripped of his rank within Hylia's Church, although he's allowed to keep his home at the sky commune since he and Catena had shared it since before her death and Zelda isn't cruel. She assigns him a Shiekah escort-and-therapist on Impa's recommendation, someone he's not allowed to leave the Sky Temple Commune without until further notice, and Astramorus tells her it's generally much more generous than he expected even considering the help he'd offered.

Link doesn’t go home with him, at Astramorus's insistence.

"Listen to me, Link," he says, touching Link's face gently. "For all that I'd LIKE to undo the last twelve years of our lives, do it better, you're still healing from everything I did wrong."

"Uncle Seren was-" Link starts.

"Giving me the rope with which to hang myself," Astramorus finishes. "I still took it in hand, son. We both need a little distance to start, you to heal and me to sort my own head."

Link frowns at him. "You need to heal too," he says. "You wouldn't have taken that rope if Mama had been here to stop you."

"Probably not," Astramorus agrees. "But that's why her Majesty is assigning someone to follow me around, isn't it?"

[Image Description: Link throws his arms around Astramorus, to his father’s surprise.  When Astramorus hugs him back, looking like he’s ready to collapse into the hug, Link opens one eye and tells him sternly, “Take CARE of yourself, Father, or we’re gonna have WORDS.”  “Mhm,” Astramorus mumbles. End ID.]

(Hilda, it should be noted, tells Astramorus and Link that they’re both welcome to visit Lorule Castle at any time, trying to hide her eagerness until finally admitting; “You both know what having Serenumbra in your head is like.”  And Astramorus and Link agree with that and promise to meet there in a few months, once they’ve had that time to sort themselves out.)

As for Serenumbra, for now Eltani decides to let him “enjoy” some solitude in the Gerudo City prison while she deliberates more thoroughly on what to do with him.  He did quite a lot, after all.

What to do About Ghirahim

Eltani and Zelda Sr discuss what to do about Ghirahim more privately, with Aldway, Impa, and Vaba (Eltani's oldest advisor) there to offer input.

"You say he froze upon being presented with the mere image of his old master," Aldway says. "I'm not sure I trust that."

"It wasn't like-" Zelda starts, then starts over. "He was like a frightened child, darling." She pauses, reevaluates. "Or like a dog expecting to be beaten."

"Like Link?" Aldway asks mildly.

She shakes her head. "Much worse than even that, my dear."

"Even knowing he's half mortal he has trouble stilling his tongue towards me," Eltani notes. "Faced with his former master, he was struck silent."

Vaba speaks up. "You say that Serenumbra called the thing he summoned a god's nightmare, correct?"

"The boy Link saw a figure he couldn't hope to live up to. Your Majesty saw a figure from history you've tried to avoid being since you were her age. Whose nightmare was Demise? Dinravi didn't know his face, and you tell us Ghirahim stepped in the way. Dinravi only faced a copy of Ghirahim's master because he was reflected from Ghirahim's half human heart."

They decide to let him stay.

What Dinravi Would Like to do About Ghirahim

And in the meantime Dinravi and Ghirahim are having their own discussion somewhere else in the castle, partly because Eltani asked Dinravi to keep Ghirahim away from where they're discussing and partly because of course they are, it's been a lot, the last day and a half or so, between Ghirahim saving Dinravi from assassination and Dinravi punching Nightmare Demise in the face. And finding out that Ghirahim is definitely around half human now, there's also that.

There's a bit of an awkward silence, at first. It's so, so much. Ghirahim is stealing a lot of glances and Dinravi seems to be collecting himself.

And then Dinravi asks: "Can I kiss you?"

Ghirahim stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, mouth small in surprise, bright red, and then he smiles a little and looks away and says "You still don't... my prince, you don't need to ask PERMISSION to do whatever you PLEASE with me."

Dinravi goes quiet. "... Is that how it was with him? Demise?" he asks. His face is gentle and open, nonjudgmental, but Ghirahim sputters.

"Of course it was," he says, "is there a problem with that?"

Dinravi studies him. "Apparently there is," he says. "Because you're shaking."

Ghirahim jolts in horror and stares at his hands, which are indeed trembling, almost as badly as at the sight of Nightmare Demise, and he screams: "DAMN this frail useless human body!!"

Dinravi takes a step backwards, watching him, and says, "Ghirahim." And at getting his attention, he asks, "Does this mean that you came to me, tried to seduce me into conquest... Knowing that might mean you, too?"

Ghirahim stares at him for a breath, vulnerable, then looks away, frowning. "Of course I did," he says.

Dinravi sighs. "Of course you did," he echoes.

"I was FORGED for this," Ghirahim says helplessly. "To serve Master Demise, or the one who inherits from Him. Whatever that might mean."

"Ghirahim," Dinravi says gently. "You're almost half human now. I believed in your choice before, when we were thinking you entirely demon, but... Being human means getting to choose."

Ghirahim is adrift and he looks at the floor, the ceiling, out the window, and finally back at Dinravi, trying to find solid ground.

His voice is small. "Please kiss me?" he asks. Dinravi smiles and steps forward, leaning into him, brushing his lips tenderly with his own. Ghirahim whimpers and surges forward, and Dinravi puts his arms around him and steadies his stance, chuckling, soothing him, kisses him again. Ghirahim gasps as his knees buckle and he slides downward, almost ragdoll as Dinravi catches him again.

"Are you okay?!" Dinravi asks, holding him against his chest.

"I'm fine," Ghirahim whispers, hanging on for dear life. "C-can- Can we take this somewhere your MOM won't stumble on us, or worse one of the BRATS running around the castle? I'm about to become very embarrassing if we keep this up." He gives Dinravi a significant stare, face crimson. "Maybe with a bed?"

Dinravi's eyebrows shoot up. ".... Would you like me to carry you?" he finally asks.

"I think you're going to have to," Ghirahim admits.

We're going to give them some privacy. XD

[Image Description: Dinravi is tilting Ghirahim into a kiss, the sun setting through the window behind them.  Ghirahim’s eyes are open but he’s pliant in Dinravi’s arms, one hand curled against his chest.  Dinravi is smiling, eyes closed and his grip gentle but rather thoroughly in control of the situation.  End ID.]

Back At the Sky Commune

Maurice and the other priests/monks at the Sky Temple Commune had some word of what was going on by the time Astramorus returns, and Maurice has more or less been put in charge now, in recognition of his years of service and care of the commune’s day to day.

He’s a bit annoyed at Astramorus about the whole thing, if he’s honest, which he is, but he also does care about his former superior, and once Astramorus has settled back in and the Sheikah escort is being shown around he approaches him in his quarters, finding him by the window thrown open, chin resting in his hand, looking out of place in the kind of civilian clothing Astramorus has barely worn his entire life.

“So what are you going to do with yourself, Astramorus, once the Queen’s man has decided you’ve moped around here enough?” he asks.  Maurice is kind but he’s also gruff.  Birds don’t tend to care about your word choices, and Maurice spends much more time with pigeons and cuccos and loftwings than with people.

Astramorus shrugs, not turning from the view of the blue sky.  “Honestly Maurice, I was raised by Hylia’s Church.  Mayhap I’ll find something else, but.  Well, it was kind of the Queen to let me keep these quarters for more reasons than memory of my wife.”

Maurice bristles his mustache, and then he says, “You know... she stripped your rank.  There’s nothing about your sentence as I read it that says you can’t start over from the beginning.”

Astramorus finally turns to him, and Maurice is struck by how... well, how much happier the other man looks.  He’s lost nearly everything, and yet it’s like a great millstone’s off his neck.  And Astramorus smiles:

[Image Description: “Maybe,” Astramorus says, smiling against his hand.  He looks relaxed and happy, and maybe like he’s considering it seriously.  The sun shines on him gently.  End ID.]

What Now, Link?

And perhaps at the same time, now that he’s said his goodbyes and everything’s settled down, Marla finds Link sitting on a balcony rail of Hyrule Castle, looking out at Castle Town and looking pretty peaceful himself.

She comes up behind him and folds her arms against the rail, smiling up at him.

“So, Link, we finally got your father to listen to you,” she says, and she’s thinking of that conversation at the Shrine of the Furious God when she says it.  “What now?”

Link shrugs.  “I suppose I’ll stay here for a little while,” he says.  He wants to see Gray recovered, and to spend more time with the Royal Family, and it’d be nice, if he’s honest, to rest a while himself.  “The Queen says my mother’s family are probably still running around the continent somewhere, so I might look for them after that.”  Adventuring runs in the family, apparently, because Zelda Sr. only has some idea of where his grandparents have gotten off to, only some idea of where to find his mother’s younger siblings.

“Sounds like a plan,” Marla says.  She looks out at Hyrule Castle Town for a quiet moment, enjoying the sound of Link breathing.

“Do you think,” she says, “That we could take a few weeks to check back at Windfish Isle?  I have this horrible suspicion that the Mayor has filled Tonbo and my house with fishing nets and I’d like to let him know to find someone else to live there before the walls take on a permanent stink.”

We’re staying with you so we should let them know goes unspoken, but Marla has known for a while she’s tying herself to Link for the rest of his life the same way she’s tied herself to Tonbo for the rest of his life, and the world’s a bit wider than it was when she and Tonbo left with Link, and if Link’s going to be in the wide world, Marla and Tonbo should be too.

And Link knows what she means.  Because family means the people you don’t need so much courage around.

He smiles.  “Yeah,” he says.  “We can do that.”

[Image Description: Link and Marla.  Link is sitting on the balcony rail while Marla is leaning on it.  They’re giving one another fond smiles.  The sun shines on them gently, giving the image a slightly faded look.  End ID.]

[starglow-xx]

having your period

tanizaki junichiro x f!reader

fandom: bungou stray dogs 

content: fluff

warning?: im not sure if this is a trigger, but mentions of wanting to “rip out your uterus” - if this is too sensitive, comment or message me and i’ll remove it from the head canons, and uh suggestive content?? sorta?? no sure but marking it as a warning anyways

type of work: head canons

synopsis: being a female is especially hard at a certain time of the month, but he will always take care of you

author’s note: he’s so underrated and there’s a lack of content for him so if i have to single handedly write everything for him i will

and im on my period and my stomach hurts so here you can have this

also, in these hcs, naomi lives on her own in the dorms :)

okay so he has a sister so you think he’d know what he’s doing right?

well sort of

like he does know what to do, it’s just that he’ll probably panic bit first

come on

the girl he loves is in pain and he doesn’t know why

he’d see you all bundled in blankets in pain and panic and then he’d just be like oh

it’d click and then he’d relax a little

but then in his head, he’d be like “oh no now you’re crying where are tHE TISSUES—”

with all the shit he’s gone through working for the agency i feel like fukuzawa would let him take a day off or two cause he’s just that kind of guy yk

and seeing as junichiro is one of yosano’s more uh frequent patients, he probably would

tanizaki does the same sweet things every single time, but depending on how you’re feeling, the order changes

with his day off he’d just be your personal servant basically

he’d cook for you, he’d clean up your shared apartment, he’ll do the laundry, etc. just so that you wouldn’t have to get up

if your emotions are all over the place he’d listen no matter how mad, sad, or ridiculous you’re being at the moment

you’re sad and crying over smth? he’ll find the tissues and leave soft kisses all over your face bc “please don’t be sad, im here for you”

god he’s so cute

if you’re mad and need someone to listen to your rants? he’s right there with an pillow nearby just in case you need to hit something

you just had a crazy idea and want to do it? he’ll be like “okay sure, but not right now, you’re pain” while internally hoping you don’t remember the next day

if your pain level at the moment is “please just rip out my uterus” (i quote my best friend),  then he’d just stay and cuddle in bed with you holding you close to him

every time you’d whimper, he’d hold you tighter whispering comforting words while rubbing soft circles underneath your shirt on your lower abdomen

he just makes the pain so much more bearable

who needs a heating pad when you have your angel of a boyfriend with you?

but if you’d still like the heating pad, he’d still get it for you :)

eventually, you’d drift off to sleep mumbling or whispering to him that you love him

it never fails to make a goofy grin and light blush appear on his face

once he’s sure you’re asleep, he’ll ever so gently get out of bed then arranges all the pillows and blankets the best and comfiest way possible all while making sure you don’t wake up

he’d kiss your forehead then goes out to buy you your favorite flowers and chocolate as well as your favorite takeout for whatever time of day it is, whether it be time for breakfast, lunch, snack, or dinner

also gets more pain meds if you need them; he’ll either buy them or go get some from naomi

after eating time, it’s bath time !!

he’ll run a warm bath for you and adds bubbles and bath salts; the nice scented kind

he’ll even dig through the closet and find that one scented candle you really  like

he’d carry you to the bathroom and help you undress and wash your hair

if you ask, he’ll get into the bath with you and you’ll each take turns washing each other’s hair

when you’re done, he’ll give you one of his shirts and sweaters to wear, dry your hair and even style it (he has experience with his sister)

he honestly just likes running his finger through your hair no matter how short or long

he’ll make pigtails, ponytails, braids, but he especially loves it when you’re wearing his hair clips

that’s both his and your go to

if it isn’t the end of the day by then, it definitely is now

so that means more cuddles !! <3

he’ll big spoon you, or you’ll be facing each other, but it doesn’t really matter because you guys switch between them

during cuddle time, the two of you would just quietly talk, or whisper loving words to one another

the occasional tickle fight would happen too

it just makes him so happy hearing you squeal and burst out in a fit of laughter

literal music to his ears

i feel like he’d be one of those guys who would say that thing that’s along the lines of “i could stop your period for nine months if you’d like” as a joke to see you get worked up bc he thinks it cute when you get flustered

i mean he is a teenage boy (he’s 18!)

what do you expect 🤷‍♀️

he’d say it when things start to get settled and quiet, so you won’t expect it

“hey (y/n)?”

“yes?”

“i could stop your period for nine months if you’d like” 

“?!”

he thinks it’s adorable when you start to stammer and cover your face with your hands

but ohoho if the tables turn, well his face is just as red as yours if not more

it can go either two ways

one, you say yes without all the flusteredness, but he doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not making him panic a bit (read: a lot)

“hey (y/n)?”

“yes?”

“i could stop your period for nine months if you’d like” 

“...okay, just don’t be too rough alright?”

“wait huh?!”

“isn’t that what you wanted?”

“i-i didn’t really mean—”

“so, you don’t wanna have a baby with me?” :(

“NO! I-I MEAN! I-I mean I do, but—”

yeah a lot of panicking but he’s still cute 😖💗

or

it would go with you still getting flustered, but you would also still say yes, making him also flustered

“hey (y/n)?”

“yes?”

“i could stop your period for nine months if you’d like”

“?! I-I y-you huh?!”

“you’re adorable”

“junichiro stop it” >:(

“sorry, i can’t help myself” >:)

“but...*mumbles*”

“what was that (y/n)? i didn’t catch that”

“err uhh, i mean, if that’s what you want, im okay with it... i’d be lying if i haven’t thought about it, but i think it’d be better to get married first don’t you think?”

“...”

“junichiro...??”

im sorry your boyfriend has short circuited

make him work again by kissing him on his nose and holding his face in your hands

actually, that might break him more, but you never know

this scenario makes him the most flustered bc a: you were acting so cute it makes his heart happy and b: ohmygod you want start a family with him and get married and—

yeah that’s how that would go

depending on how you act, you can pick how it would go if you do end up choosing to throw his words back in his face or not

overall, he’d just be the sweetest boyfriend

10000+/10 would recommend

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

[ammocharis]

OC Interview: Vatna

Thanks for the tag @cleverblackcat, @mageofholyandraste, @darethshirl! It sounds fun!

Introduction

This event was organized a few weeks prior to the Winter Palace ball. Ambassador Josephine Montilyet had invited a few Orlesian journalists to Skyhold to interview the newly appointed Inquisitor.

Can you introduce yourself?

Vatna Einarsdotten Selkesdotten of Two Falcon Hold. (a moment of silence) In the Frostback Mountains. (another moment of silence as the interviewers wait for her to say something else) Inquisitor of the Second Inquisition. (it seems that she won’t say anything more, so one of the journalists asks the next question)

What are your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

Is that what you ask every Lowlander? (grumbles) Alright. I see myself a woman. Who I invite or don’t invite to my bed is my very own matter. I am unmarried and have never been before. If you’re curious, yes, the Avvar may marry multiple times in their life if they wish so. Does this answer satisfy you?

Where and when were you born?

I was born in Two Falcon Hold, eighteen... no, nineteen winters ago. (she corrects herself as she remembers that winter came and went when she was away from home, making her one winter older than when she left)

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

I am a mage. Unlike most spellweavers in your Circles, we in the mountains train with all sort of weapons, just like any other warrior. I prefer fighting in close quarters. When I came of age, I chose an axe as my preferred weapon. It was commissioned from the dwarves of Orzammar. The blade is engraved with runes and the handle has lyrium core that I can easily channel my magic through. It has been... misplaced for the first few months that I spent with the Inquisition, but it was recovered. Fortunately, the gods blessed me with another weapon in the meantime - the fire-staff that belonged to the Avvar-Mother. I’ve been told this topic is a source of confusion, but I’m not sure how to explain it better. Yes, I do use both an axe and a staff now. I had a battleaxe when I arrived into the Lowlands. Then I lost it. Then I claimed the staff of Tyrdda Bright-Axe. Tyrdda was called Bright-Axe because she had a staff with a fire-focusing crystal. But the word ‘axe’ used to mean every hafted weapon. Then I got back my axe, my regular axe... Let’s go to the next question.

Are you happy?

I’ll be happy when the Lady’s Veil is fully repaired and Corypheus lies dead. Until then, I have work to do. Would you be happy if there were world-dooming critters in your house? Because there are. There are cowards in Orlais scheming together with Corypheus, maybe even people you know. (a lady in a pale blue mask exchanges looks with the others and suggests a lighter topic)

Family and friends

What should I say? Just talk about my family and friends? Well, my father is called Einar, my mother is called Selke. In my hold, we take bynames after both our parents, so I actually already revealed their names. My father was born is Two Falcon Hold, my mother moved from another hold further south. They’ve been married for twenty three years now. They were rather mad to promise such a long marriage without extensions. Eighty-eight knots, can you imagine? I mean, they could always as the Thane to cut the rope short if they grew tired of each other... But it works well for them. I hope they’ll live together until it the last knot. (the interviewers prompt her to explain what she meant by knots and ropes) Oh, I run away with that. The number of knots is the number of years the marriage is supposed to last. Before the wedding, the bride ties a number of knots into a rope, and the groom’s task is to untie them. On the wedding day, the bride starts to sing hymns to the Lady of the Skies. The groom begins to untie the knots then. However many he’ll manage to unravel before the hymns ends, that many years they shall be married together. After the promise ends, they can get married again if they wish. But my parents vowed to get married for eighty-eight years right away. Eight is a blessed amount. Eighty-eight, doubly so. I’ve been told the ritual took all day to complete. By the end of it, my mother’s throat was sore and my father’s knuckles were raw. But they got married how they wanted, and the bond has been steadfast for many years now.

I have a younger sister, Hirka. She’s only four winters younger than me but she can be a real brat sometimes. We used to be inseparable as children. Then we both grew a bit. I got my magic and had to spent a lot of time mastering my abilities. She had other things to do too. But she’s my sister no matter what.

I have some (she pauses to rememeber the right word in Common language) aunts and uncles, but most of them and their families live in other holds, so I haven’t seen them a lot. Only a few times, never in some cases. The word still travels through the Mountains, so we do hear news from them every now and then. 

In the end, the whole hold is your kin.

Have you ever run away from home?

Once or twice, I skulked outside of the hold and refused to go back until well after nightfall. But I never really run away, I wouldn’t abandon my family like that.

Would you consider marriage or having children?

I don’t know.

Do you secretly hate any of your friends?

No, I do not. Those who I call my friends, I think as such. I make my dislikes known. Too easily, I’ve been told.

Which friend knows everything about you?

There is someone who knows my soul, but I’m not going to talk about it.

Asked by fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

Yes, I can read and write. Not everyone in the Mountains does, but more than you imagine, I think. Augurs, skalds, merchants, those who aspire to be thanes... Many are able to tell the numbers, in order to trade with dwarves, but haven’t practiced beyond that.

The augurs learn how to read so that they may study old magics. I was an apprentice to the Sky Watcher of my hold - uh, a Sky Watcher is like a... priest to the Lady of the Skies. I was supposed to become his successor. So I studied something almost every day since I was eight. One day, I would memorize the shapes of protection sigils, and then try to draw them myself. Another day, I would study the uses of all mushrooms found in caves. But we don’t have any schools like there are in the lowlands. You learn from your mentors and from the gods, and most importantly, from your own mistakes.

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

Eeriest? I’m not sure. I dreams of many things. Some come true, but not in the way I imagined them to.

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realise?

I had no idea those lap dogs your Orlesian ladies carry around are really dogs. I’d never guess they share blood with wolves. I thought they’re some sort of magic toy.

Do you have mental or physical problems?

Do you honestly expect me to reveal my weaknesses to you?

What is your current main goal?

As I said before, restore the Veil and kill Corypheus.

Drink or food?

Am I supposed to choose between the two? Food, I guess. I could live on soups and stews, maybe. Does goat milk count as drink or food?

Cats or dogs?

Birds.

Optimist or pessimist?

I learned these words only recently. I must say, I do not fully understand why your sages would divide people like that. Is there someone who truly sees everything in bright colours? And someone who sees everything in black? Isn’t everyone a little bit of this and a little bit of that? Perhaps I’m more on the pessimist side.

Sassy or sarcastic?

Eh, sarcastic.

HAVE YOU EVER:

Have you ever been caught sneaking out?

Yes, I once got so bored with my healing lessons that I decided to sneak out while Jokka wasn’t looking. She of course noticed me right away. I never tried to sneak out again.

Broken a bone?

I broke my left wrist while climbing. My mentor healed it quickly but he left a scar to serve as a reminder to not be so reckless.

Received flowers?

I... (she bits her tongue) Josephine tells me I had received several bouquets of flowers this last week. She had placed them in the guest hall where everyone can enjoy them.

Ghosted someone?

Ghosted? (a man in a green mask explains mirthfully) No, never. I wouldn’t leave someone hanging like that. I’d tell him straight in the face. (she replies sharply)

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn't get?

I have yet to learn how to pretend so well as to laugh at something I don’t understand or find funny.

~

Tagging (no pressure, of course, this is just for fun): @dreadfutures, @tejaswrites, @serenpedac, @molliehaswords, @crackinglamb, @a11sha11fade, @rakshadow, @samuraisaucefrites, @noire-pandora, @1000generations

[grovyrosegirl]

Confrontation: MCSM Fic

Author’s Note: I’ve been replaying MCSM seasons 1 and 2 recently because I got nostalgic for those blocky dorks. Then I went through some old WIPs in my docs and found this Lukas and Aiden fic from a few years ago. I really liked it, so I spruced it up a bit and finished it for old times’ sake. Enjoy!

---

“Bring him in.”

The guards wasted no time leading Lukas into the small cobblestone room. Despite confiscating everything in his inventory upon arrival, including his weapons, they kept a tight, secure grip on both of his arms. It was only when his former friend, who leaned against the wall with the most satisfied smirk on his face, gave them a small handwave that the guards released Lukas and stepped back, still blocking the only exit to the room.

“Leave us,” Aiden then ordered the two guards, much to Lukas’ surprise.

Even with the wary looks he saw on their faces, the guards obeyed and left the room, shutting the iron door behind them. Lukas faced forward once again, now noticing the oak wood table resting in the center of the room, two identical chairs stood on opposite sides of the table’s surface.

“Take a seat, Lukas,” Aiden made his way over and sat down in the chair facing the door, casually resting his arms behind his head. “Let’s chat.”

Lukas didn’t speak, eyeing the other carefully. Despite everything that had occurred in the past year, knowing what Aiden was capable of, and how low he’d sunk already, seeing that look--that smile--on his face felt unsettling to him. Lukas recalled their theater days that felt like centuries ago, the days before the Witherstorm, before they even thought to call themselves the Ocelots. Aiden was never much of an actor, his specialty had always been the set production.

But clearly, Lukas thought to himself as he felt his eyes lower into a glare, Aiden was enjoying playing the villain.

Slowly, he made his way over to the other chair, sitting down and folding his arms.

“So, is this the part where you try to get me to talk?” Lukas curtly began before Aiden could open his mouth again. “Because you’re wasting your time. Even if I did know where Jesse was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Everything had happened so fast. The guards raced towards them all, closing in fast when they were revealed as the bridge-builders, an innocent act back home, but a crime on the floating island. His own capture occurred in a matter of seconds, he didn’t even see the guard coming until the very last moment. One minute he was watching Jesse sprint away into the alley, the next he was on the ground, pinned down by the guard. But those few seconds let Jesse and Petra escape, and for that, he took some relief in. By the time Lukas and Ivor were escorted to the throne room, the Founder was already getting the report from another guard that they’d lost sight of the “remaining criminals” as they put it.

He felt relieved knowing that his two friends hadn’t been captured yet. It meant there was a sliver of hope of getting out of this place.

Aiden let out an exaggerated sigh and sat up straight in the chair, leaning forward slightly and placing his arms crossed on the table’s surface, “Man, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse. Aren’t you sick of talking about her yet? Don’t worry, I’m not going to try and get an answer out of you. Like you said, it would be a waste of time. Besides, you already got plenty of that from the Founder.” He snickered for a moment before continuing, “No. This is the part where I throw you a bone.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Lukas said.

“It means I’m giving you a chance here, buddy,” Aiden said, “to join the winning team again.”

Lukas blinked, “What?”

“You heard me.”

He eyed Aiden suspiciously before saying, “You can’t be serious.”

“No games here, friend. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ve decided to give you a second chance,” Aiden stood from his seat and began to walk around the table to stand next to Lukas. “C’mon, Lukas! It’ll be like the old days. Don’t you remember? We were the top dogs for years, and now, we can finally be on top again. But this time, it’ll be more than just winning some lame building contest.”

Aiden let out a deep chuckle, he wrapped one arm around Lukas’ shoulders and leaned in closer, a grin on his face.

“Here in this world, buddy? We can be kings.”

Lukas roughly shoved against Aiden’s chest, making the other man stumble back a few steps.

“I knew it,” Lukas said through his heated glare, “you’re planning to betray the Founder, aren’t you? It’s not enough that you want to steal the Eversource from her, you want her throne too.”

Aiden shot his own blazing glare back at Lukas, before regaining his composure and saying with that same grin, “Congrats Captain Obvious, you want a cookie?”

“Eat a slimeball, Aiden,” Lukas fired back, “do you honestly think you’ll get away with this?”

“I already am. But right now? That’s nothing you need to worry about,” He once again leaned back against the cobblestone walls. “The real question you should be asking is whether or not you’ll get to be a part of the spoils. It’s easy, Lukas. All you have to do is say yes and follow my lead. After that? Well, it’ll take a while, but I’m sure you can make up for abandoning your real team.”

At those words, Lukas’ boiling thoughts began to steam. He smashed his hands against the table’s surface and pushed himself up from the chair.

“Excuse me?!” He exclaimed. “You must’ve really lost me there, because last time I checked, it was you who abandoned me!”

At that reaction, Aiden almost seemed to shrink against the wall. However, he swiftly recovered his bravado and moved towards Lukas with gripped fists.

“We left because all you could think about was Jesse and her loser friends! It was always, ‘I’ve got to help Jesse build today!’ or ‘I’m going to visit Jesse!’” He clasped his hands together, held them close to his cheek as if he were hopelessly in love, and swung them back and forth while speaking in a mocking manner, “‘She’s my new best friend! We make cookies together! She’s sooo nice, and she’s sooo cool!’ You followed her around like a lovesick puppy. It makes me want to hurl!”

“I don’t get it all. Why?” Lukas shook his head in frustration. “Why do you hate her so much? Why have you always hated her so much? She never did anything to you! You always just got a kick out of torturing her and her friends, didn’t you? And when you couldn’t pick on her anymore, you start pushing Maya and Gill around. Anything to make yourself feel tall, is that it?!”

“Not like you ever tried to stop me,” he scoffed.

“Because back then, I thought it was all some dumb rivalry. But I was wrong. And I still kick myself everyday for not putting a stop to it. Maybe if I had,” Lukas paused, then let out a sigh that was flooded with a regretful tone, “maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Aiden scowled, “She’s a loser. And all she does is drag people down to her loser level. She did it with Petra, and she did it with you.”

“She’s a hero. And she’s my friend!”

“I was your friend!” Aiden snarled.

“Yeah, you were. Until you decided that your stupid, fragile ego mattered more than years worth of friendship!”

“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have chosen Jesse over me!”

“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have made me choose!”

At the end of his patience, Aiden lunged forward with an angry screech. He grabbed the collar of Lukas’ jacket and yanked the boy forward, dangling him slightly off the ground.

“I can do it, you know,” Aiden said through gritted teeth. His voice was low, but ever-so menacing, “I can throw you off this island right now. No one would blame me if I told them you attacked me. The people here believe whatever I tell them. You fall into the void forever, and all you’ll be remembered as is some villain who tried to attack this island’s savior.”

Lukas, amidst his struggle against Aiden’s grip, looked him directly in the eyes and said in his own low, fearsome voice, “I dare you.”

Aiden went still. All of the bravado, the threats, and the glares were drained from his face. His eyes went wide with disbelief, and in that moment, Lukas saw it. Fear. Hesitation. The thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d taken a step too far. Aiden opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. With only a sentence, Lukas was allowed to see the tiniest glimpse of the person he used to trust most in the world.

He saw the scared, insecure kid he’d met all those years ago.

Aiden’s grip on Lukas became loose, allowing the latter to easily push him away.

“That’s what I thought,” Lukas broke the silence with a sigh. He buried his hands into his jacket pockets, looking down to the floor, “You’re all talk, Aiden. Always have been.”

The anger returned as quickly as it had fled. But it wasn’t explosive. It was simmering. Aiden narrowed his eyes back into a glare, his fists, clenched so tight it looked painful, were trembling.

Another moment of silence passed before Aiden finally looked away from Lukas and exclaimed, “Guards!”

The same guards who’d brought Lukas here returned swiftly, entering the room and grabbing ahold of both of his arms once more. Lukas did little to resist their hold, only keeping a hard stare on Aiden.

“Get him out of my sight,” Aiden said in a low growl. “He’s useless.”

The guards obeyed and led Lukas out of the room. With a slam of the iron door, Aiden was left alone.