#i dont know where this came from but here it is

[laswells-ashtray]

I REMEMEBRR MY BOXING AU

im certain i sent this as an ask elsewhere at some point but i dont know where to whom or when so.

essentially. nik is like, a pro boxer. upper end of the spectrum given hes in waht, his 40’s? probqbly shoulda retired, but he’s dedicated.

price is his promoter. fuckin hatee him for this, spends every match worryin over his health. tries to only find him easy fights. cue argument.

gaz is his cutman, i reckon. theres a mutual trust and respect there.

ghost and soap are probably corner men.

and laswell?

i wanna say laswells his trainer.

also nik is absolutely a southpaw. very important to me that nik is left handed it’s complicated and i cant be bithered to explain why.

Trainer Laswell oh my God...

I know the focus here is on Nikolai but you came to the Laswell blog and put a Laswell idea in my head.

This fucks completely. I don't know an awful lot about boxing but God, I can get behind boxer Nikolai. The build of that man? He'd beat fuck out somedy.

Left-handed Nikolai adds up. Odd and unrelated statement but I'm of the opinion that you can usually guess what hand someone rights with based on how they talk to you online and I'm basing it on the only three times I've guessed this and gotten it right each time.

No one ask me to guess what hand they write with because if I get it wrong them I'm blocking you to save my own ass from embarrassment.

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: Cussing

Part 25

Scotch and Screams - Part 26

The clock on the stove blinked 3:32 AM.

The days had all blurred together.

Ever since SAMCRO left for Belfast, time had lost its structure. It was just before the next call or after the last one.

You tried to focus on helping Tara, keeping things moving, keeping your hands busy so your mind wouldn’t spiral into dark places.

But the worry gnawed at you, sinking into your bones. Every time the burner phone stayed silent for too long, your stomach twisted into knots.

And when it finally did ring, it was like coming up for air.

The air was thick with the scent of coffee, laundry detergent, and something faintly metallic—probably from the dishes barely touched in the sink.

You rubbed at your tired eyes, fingers pressing into the hollow beneath as you tried to focus.

The long days, bled into longer nights. Helping Tara, keeping things moving while SAMCRO— while Filip was away—it gave you something to do, something to focus on.

You'd been staying with Tara since they'd left, Gemma's house was too big for you to shuffle around on your own, and you'd felt that odd sensation of being watched even when you knew you where alone.

But now, in the silence of the Teller house, with only the ticking clock and the hum of the fridge, there was nothing left to drown out the worry.

Then, the burner phone on the counter vibrated.

You nearly knocked the coffee over scrambling for it.

"Hello, Filip ?"

"Aye, mo chridhe."

The breath you didn’t even realize you were holding left your chest in a rush.

His name for you felt warm on, like something solid in the middle of all this chaos.

Chibs voice was low, rough around the edges, and the familiar Scottish lilt wrapped around you like a well-worn jacket. "Ye alright?"

You exhaled, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs.

"I should be asking you that, Scotsman"

A small chuckle came through the receiver, but it was tired, frayed.

"Still breathin’. Figure that counts for somethin’."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but there was something in the way he said them—something strained.

"Jesus Filip, dont say it like that" you huffed out

Then—

"How bad is it?" you asked softly.

There was a long pause. The kind that stretched between worlds, between different kinds of suffering.

"We got our work cut out for us, love" he admitted finally. "Belfast ain't changed much, SAMBEL sure as shite hasn’t."

You swallowed, curling your fingers around the edge of the counter.

"And Jax?"

A sigh.

"He’s holdin’ on, still in one piece. Barely. We got our hands full, but we’re workin’ on it."

You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself. "Tara's been keeping it together. Barely sleeping, but she's strong, I'm helping her where I can. Trying to keep busy."

"Aye. Knew ye would be." He hesitated. "And you?"

You chewed your lip. "Holding it together."

A quiet hum of acknowledgment. Then, softer—

"Wish I was there with ye."

Something about those words made your throat tighten.

"Me too, Filip"

You had to pause to keep your voice from being watery.

Then his voice came through again, quieter, rougher.

"I hate leavin’ ye in the middle of all this shite. Should be there, lookin’ after ye, keepin’ ye safe."

Your grip on the counter tightened.

"I’m safe, Scotsman—Tig is here so is Kozik"

"Aye, I know. But still." His voice dipped lower. "Had to leave ye with a goddamn burner phone like some daft wee secret."

You let out a small, tired laugh. "I understand why, honestly its fine, I'm lucky too get these calls"

Silence again. Not uncomfortable, but weighted.

You pulled a blanket tighter around yourself, trying to ignore how cold the kitchen suddenly felt.

"Filip—I miss you."

The words left your lips before you could stop them, quiet, hesitant—like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to say them out loud.

But then—

"Jesus, lass," he exhaled, voice heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. "Miss ye too. More then I can say."

You swallowed, fingers twisting into the blanket.

Another beat of silence.

"I worry about you."

The words came out, quiet, fragile.

Chibs exhaled, something heavy shifting in his voice.

"I know, mo chridhe."

His voice was lower now, quieter, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

"Ye don’t need to be wastin’ yer worry on me."

"I’ll waste it where I want Scotsman."

He let out a breath, and you could almost picture him—rubbing a hand down his face, the tired lines around his eyes deepening.

Silence stretched between you, the weight of it pressing against your ribs.

"I need you home, come back in one piece, please"

"I’ll do me' best."

You exhaled sharply, sinking deeper into the couch.

It wasn’t a promise, but it was enough.

For now.

The Teller house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

You sat at the kitchen table, fingers curled around a lukewarm mug of tea, staring at the faint steam that still rose from it.

It had been sitting there for almost an hour—forgotten in the chaos of the day.

Tara was in the next room, pacing, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she muttered under her breath.

She hadn’t slept much. Neither of you had.

The morning had started early, before the sun had even risen, with Tara in the kitchen flipping through medical journals, searching for anything—anything—to keep her mind occupied.

"You should try to eat something," you’d said, setting a plate of toast in front of her.

She barely looked up, shaking her head. "Not hungry."

You didn’t push. Instead, you poured her a fresh cup of coffee and slid it across the table, sitting down across from her.

"Anything I can do?"

Tara let out a tired sigh, rubbing at her temple. "I just need to keep moving."

And that’s what the two of you had done all day—kept moving.

Laundry, cleaning, errands—little things that might’ve seemed meaningless, but in times like this, they were everything.

You’d gone with her to TM in the morning, checking in with Piney and Tig. There wasn’t much they could do either, but the weight of uncertainty sat heavy on all of you.

Tig had looked at you both, his usual teasing glint gone from his eyes, replaced by something close to worry.

"How you girls holding up?"

Tara had just nodded, jaw tight. You had answered instead.

"Trying."

Piney had studied you both for a long moment before just nodding and moving to pour himself another cup of coffee.

By the afternoon, you and Tara had ended up back at the house, folding tiny clothes in Abel’s room.

The silence had stretched between you, the weight of his absence sitting thick in the air.

"He’s coming home,"

You said softly, trying to reassure her, even as you felt your own doubt creeping in.

Tara nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Just smoothed her fingers over one of Abel’s shirts, her lips pressing together as she swallowed hard.

You reached out, covering her hand with yours.

"They won’t stop until they find him."

Her throat worked as she swallowed again. Finally, she nodded.

"I know."

But the unspoken words lingered.

At what cost?

The rest of the day had passed in a blur.

You’d cooked dinner for the both of you—not that either of you ate much.

You’d made sure Tara got at least a couple hours of sleep, promising to wake her if anything changed.

Now, the house was still.

Back to the creeping quiet. Too quiet.

The burner phone sat on the armrest beside you, your fingers twitching toward it every few minutes.

It had been more then two days since you’d heard from Chibs. You knew things were dangerous over there, but that didn’t make it easier.

Your mind kept playing worst-case scenarios, but you didn't know what those worst-cases where not really—

Gunfire. Blood. Silence.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a shaky breath.

You curled into the couch, the burner phone resting on the armrest beside you.

The weight of everything pressed down on you.

Abel was still gone and SAMCRO were across the ocean, caught in a storm of blood and old ghosts.

And Filip—

You hadn’t heard from him, since that first call ... fifty-two hours ago.

You weren't counting but the clock on the stove blinked at you like it was mocking you.

Your fingers hovered over the phone.

Could you could call ?

Blink

What if he didn’t answer?

Blink

What if the call went straight to voicemail?

Blink

What if—

The damp chill of Belfast clung to Chibs' skin, seeping through his kutte and into his bones.

The city hadn't changed much since the last time he'd set foot on its cracked pavement, but the ghosts here felt heavier, the air thick with old debts and unfinished business.

Rain slicked the streets, turning the glow of streetlamps into hazy golden smears on the asphalt, but it wasn't enough to wash away the blood that had been spilled here over the years.

Chibs exhaled slowly, the cigarette between his fingers burning low, the embers flaring before dimming again.

The night air smelled like rain, petrol, and the distant, acrid scent of gunpowder—a constant reminder that peace was never an option in a place like this.

He stood in the shadows of an alleyway, watching as Jax and Clay spoke in hushed tones with the SAMBEL boys. His cigarette continued to smolder between his fingers, the slow burn matching the simmering rage in his chest.

They'd come here for Abel, but the deeper they dug, the more tangled this web became.

Jimmy O was at the center of it all, a snake wrapped around their throats. And Chibs knew, better than anyone, how venomous the greasey bastard could be.

The thought of that prick made his grip tighten around the burner in his pocket.

He’d kept it close, thumb brushing over the buttons like a habit, like a tether to the one thing outside this that felt real—you.

Back in Charming, in the relative safety of a world you didn’t fully understand, you were waiting. Holding things together, helping Tara, trying to be strong.

And though you never said it outright, he could hear it in your voice every time he called—the worry, the fear, the quiet longing between the words you didn’t say.

"Filip."

The sound of his name—his real name—spoke in that familiar Irish lilt sent ice down his spine. He turned slowly, cigarette still between his fingers as Jimmy O stepped out of the darkness like a specter from the past.

"Long way from home, aren’t ye?" Jimmy smirked, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his coat.

Chibs took a slow drag, exhaling smoke through his nose. His voice was steady, cold. "This is my home too, prick."

Jimmy chuckled. "Don't be like that brother. Ye left, remember?"

Chibs’ jaw ticked, but he didn’t let the bastard see the way that cut through him.

"Ye’re lookin’ a bit distracted, brother," Jimmy said, eyes sharp, calculating. "Somethin’—or someone—on yer mind?"

Chibs exhaled smoke through his nose, leveling Jimmy with a look that spoke louder than any words.

"If I was, it sure as shite wouldn’t be somethin’ I’d discuss with you."

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head. "Ach, well. Can’t blame a man for wonderin’. Heard ye’ve got someone waitin’ for ye back in Charming."

Chibs’ jaw tightened. He didn’t take the bait.

Jimmy leaned in slightly. "Ye know better than anyone how dangerous it is to love someone in this life. A weakness, that. A liability."

Chibs tapped ash off of his cigarette, before stepping forward, voice low, warning.

"Call her that again, an’ I’ll—"

"Wonder what she’d say if she saw ye now," Jimmy continued, tone light but edged with something sharper.

"Doubt she knows what kind of monster ye used to be, eh?"

Chibs flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out beneath his boot as he stepped closer, voice low and lethal. "Talk about her again, an’ I’ll slit yer fuckin’ throat"

Jimmy’s smirk widened, as if he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

"That’s the Filip I remember."

Chibs didn’t trust himself to stay any longer. Without another word, he turned and walked off, fingers twitching with the need to call you, just to hear your voice, just to remind himself that you were real—that you were safe.

Jimmy just smiled.

[grapenamjams]

Loris from the Arcane LoL X fem. Reader

Facial f.rec, Breeding kink, size difference, pet names used for reader (honey/hun/sweetheart/darling)

“H-hun wait just a-I’m gonna-mmh!” Loris groans as he comes against your face accidentally. His warm release painting your lips and chin in his color. The hand that he had threaded into your hair to slow your bobbing motions down, lets go.

So much for that tactic.

He brings his hand up to run it over bearded jaw. He huffs, his large chest lowering and rising with unsteady breathes. He looks down at you with bleary eyes, the grin that appears on your face as you lick around your mouth makes his spent cock twitch.

“Here, I’m sorry sweetheart. Did I get it in your eye?” loris pulls off his shirt, concern in his voice.

Telling him no with a smile he helps clean off the mess he made on you with his white shirt. He chuckles, not believing that he wasn’t able to hold back to finish completely in your mouth like he usually did. You did ambush him after all, getting on your knees infront of him after you greeted him back home. He was still against the door of your shared room his height towering over you. Making you seem extra small compared to him.

“I got it all over you, didn’t I?” He wipes the last of it from the corner of your lip and chin. Something about the sight makes his breathing hitch. He was wiping his cum off of you when it should be inside.

What a waste.

Loris eyes darken once again, his body heating up with desire as some unknown primal wave takes hold of him. He didn’t know where it came from but seeing you covered in him made him want to rectify it. Quickly.

He gives you a hand, helping you up to your feet. Then the next moment he’s letting out a gruff moan as his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss. A growl escaping him at the taste of himself on your lips. Reminding him of his wastefulness. Large hands Gripping tight on your waist, need and hunger pulsating through him with inpatience. Removing your clothing like they were not even there in the first place.

The back of your legs hit the bed before you fall back; loris following you down onto the mattress with a thud. He breaks away to take a look at you. worn, protective hands gliding down your body.

Loris strokes himself a couple of times, sucking in a breath. helping him get hard again. although it doesn’t take much seeing how he already was dripping precum onto your stomach. Legs already spread, luring him to settle his hips between them. Loving the way his large frame covers your small flushed body. So the only thing you can see and feel is him. his pendent necklace hanging between the two of you.

“This time I’m going to make sure it all stays in” he murmurs placing himself at your entrance.

“Lo?” You start to question- then let out a gasp when you feel him suddenly push his thick cock into you without warning as he usually does. Half way inside all in one go is all you can muster as you let out a whine, nails digging into his shoulders. your walls trying to accommodate the sudden intrusion. loris halts, Feeling apologetic at his roughness. He presses kisses on your lips and Jaw “m’sorry…m’sorry…you okay?” Your comfort, his number one priority even when he’s in such a primal state of need. With a smile you reassure him you’re fine just surprised. He nodes and at your signal, starts to slowly push in letting you adjust to his size.

“There you go honey… just like always, you take me in so well, dont you?” he groans at how perfectly made your are for him. His broad back muscles tightening as he continues to push in with care till the hilt. Both, moaning and breathing hard looking up at each others eyes.

Loris takes your legs, pushing them to your chest, making you even smaller against him. All flesh and muscle surrounding you. he starts to thrust deep hitting that soft spot that has your eyes rolling back.

“You’re so beautiful honey…but I know youre gonna look even more radiant with my baby in you” murmurs, thrusting at the image of seeing you with a swollen belly.

your walls clamp around him at his words already wanting to coax his release to spill inside you. He rumbles, with a growl; a grin on his face.

“Mmm- I know you’d like that huh? Starting our family?- Keeping you full to the brim with my seed” his thrusts hit impossibly deeper as he keeps you folded. Eyes never leaving your blissed out face. “none of it will go to waste darling, I’ll promise you that”

One thing about the man you love is that he never breaks a promise.

[akecsu]

i’ve really really been liking crashout duo recently… some thoughts below on new beginnings, moving on and ofc in relation to spacewaffles 

okay so i’ve always been obsessed with the idea of new bases being symbolic of new beginnings. its a new physical setting. a new landscape. and yeah you will leave a chunk of yourself behind in that old base (thinking about 3ht.. dearly)

the new “focus” base has a special place in my heart because

1. hannah said she’d never built a base before. so this is her first. she’s finally settling down. it feels like a declaration of loyalty. that they are TEAMMATES FOR REAL!! (question: this kinda confuses me because did cfg never have a base? i missed that era of s6. or did hannah mean it in the way where she hasn’t built a base Herself… maybe kab built one lol anyways moving on) 

2. i feel like bacon really needed that change of atmosphere from the spacewaffles base. where there are traces of planet everywhere. a ghost of his presence. the “for bacon!” sign fucks me up i’m not gonna lie. already talked about this before but it was Not a good place for him (the parrot charity stream. YES I WILL KEEP TALKING ABOUT THAT STREAM NO I WILL NOT STOP)

so, bacon teaming with hannah feels new. feels like moving on. because when planet logged on for that one spawn cleanup session things just felt so different like. will they ever be normal teammates again. will it ever go back to the way it was? they are eternally fucked up forever haha… it’s bittersweet. 

slightly unrelated but mapicc also being an extension of their team is also sooo eugh. like losers hiii!! thinking about mapicc logging on ls at 4am because bacon asked him to help him w subz. haha. new beginnings w hannah and the familiarity of mapicc. someone give me a gun 

okay i really do not want to paint planet as some Villainous Guy who is mean and evil to bacon all the time but its more like. shit changes sometimes. its very human. i dont know. the natural drifting. how many relationships in the world exist purely out of proximity? they don’t have the luxury of that anymore. but they still care about each other. 

on the note of proximity. hannah and bacon streamed together for like 8 hours cleaning up spawn!!! wow yay bonding time <33 that used to be spacewaffles not really anymore though. mhm

early s6 bacon was definitely a little crazy for planet (the overprotectiveness, the “you killed planet that counted”, the wemmbu heart situation) which was painful to watch because. Will that ever be reciprocated. tough pill to swallow but probably not. (spacewaffles is dead? spacewaffles is a dead man walking i think. half alive half dead. they came back wrong) bacon who is stuck in the past vs planet that is not and moves on like it never happened. 

that adds to why i like crashout duo so much because!! hannah pulls bacon out of the past!! 

i will miss that overprotective over planet bacon arc but i like this too. i like the tone of acceptance. of moving on. of second chances and those second chances not really working out sometimes (yeah i was hoping that spacewaffles would be more active together this season but I Guess Not…) of new beginnings 

i used to have this characterization of bacon in my head that he would search for pieces of planet in every new teammate of his because no one really mattered as much to him as planet did. again, “you killed planet that counted” (my second time dropping this quote in one post lmao.) and his whole spiel about having no friends on the server. 

but i don’t know if that’s precisely the case here. planet used to be his main main priority but i think if planet logged on right now, i don’t know what would happen. planet would log on to an empty base and a bacon with a goal. and a bacon with direction will stop at nothing to get what he wants. (side thought i think that parrot charity stream was a one-off moment because he just happened to be lacking any goal or purpose on the server at the time. -> bro was in the trenches. seriously punching wood and building houses and shit)

bacon, who is spending hours getting villager trades in a new base. who is shooting down wardens one by one. 

in a way crashout duo is like. an echoing of s4 spacewaffles. if we ignore the part where they hated each other at the beginning of the season but i honestly really liked that. “hannah needs the hearts, *more than me*?” (paraphrasing bacon) it’s a different type of tension between them. they’re fighting for the same hearts in the same way because they can’t really kill anyone else. 

hannah and bacon are equals. yes hannah has 10+ hearts (question #2 i have no idea how she got those hearts) and bacon doesn’t but they’re both perceived as deadweight teammates that just need to “survive” in fights because they both suck at pvp lmao. they are both weak they both have to fight tooth and nail to make themselves a place on lifesteal they can’t afford betrayal like the 20 heart players can. so they stick together. so they do pvp practice together. so bacon playfully crits out hannah while she is tabbed out. (has bacon done that to planet ever in s6. thinking about it because it was always planet pulling those stunts. or maybe i am remembering things the way i want them to be) (sigh. oh the change. oh the parallels)

to conclude this i think they should be given permission to destroy the world together. or save it. who knows 

[m4y4wasnthere]

okay i feel so bad because someone requested this but i accidentally posted it before i was done and had to delete the post 😭😭😭

request: johnny x f!reader smut. johnny finds out sodapop likes reader and johnny wants to make sure the reader knows that they’re his.

jealousy

johnny cade x f!reader

warnings: cursing, smut; creampie, a bit forceful, ‘cheating’ accusations

summary: sodapop talking about y/n has johnny go into a jealous frenzy

a/n: this’ll probably be my last johnny smut for while, i wrote alot for him for the past 2-3 days and i just need a break haha 😭

“shes such a doll, you guys wouldn’t believe it if you saw her.” soda said breathlessly as he talked to ponyboy and dallas.

they were all chilling at the DX, soda was on a short break and was bragging about how you guys first met. which was yesterday.

“whatever happened to that chick sandy?” dallas asked slyly with a grin on his face, slowly taking a swig from his cigarette. ponyboy nodded in agreement.

“dont bring up sandy, shes old news. yea yea i thought i loved her but i was dumb,” johnny walked in through the door, “but this girl i know i’ll love.” soda smiled hopelessly.

ponyboy knew about you and johnny. you guys weren’t really in any relationship, but both haven’t hooked up with anyone else either. he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“whatever man, this y/n girl or whatever her name is, can’t be as good as you say she is. you always exaggerate, pisses me off sometimes.” dallas took one final swig of his cigarette and waved bye to the 2 boys, walking past johnny out the DX.

johnny’s eyes flickered to sodapop. y/n? hes talking about her?

“you’ve met y/n?” he asked with a forced smile. ponyboy stayed quiet and pretended he didn’t know anything.

“yup. have you seen her yourself? shes such a dream.” soda chuckled before speaking up again, “y’know my break is almost over, I should probably get ready to go back to work. see you guys later tonight?”

johnny walked out the room without saying goodbye. “whats his deal?” sodapop took a rag and flung it over his shoulder. “i dont know soda. maybe he had a rough day.” ponyboy decided he’d go home. he never understood the relationship between you and johnny, never liked you in that way. but he was happy for his best friend.

he was just hoping sodapop would catch on so he wouldn’t have to be the one to break the news.

you were trying on a new dress you had just got before you heard a knock on your window.

the only people who knew where you lived was the gang, so you assumed somebody just wanted to hang out.

you walked over to it and saw johnny. it was pouring rain, and he was just sitting outside waiting for you to let him in.

“johnny? you came out here in the rain? you’re gonna catch a cold like that !” you opened the window and let him climb inside.

you shut the window quickly and went to retrieve a towel for him.

after a few minutes of letting him dry up, he finally spoke up.

“did you meet soda yesterday?” he looked at you, but you didn’t notice his hard stare.

“soda? ohh, ponyboy’s older brother,” you started to make your bed, “yea, he’s pretty nice to talk to.” you took a pause , “rumors weren’t lying about his face either.”

you meant it as a joke but johnny’s blood boiled.

“you find him cute?” he leaned against your dresser, directly behind you. his eyes gazed up and down your body as you folded your blankets. your dress easing up your thighs had him appreciating your ass.

“i guess alittle, for his age,” you said with a smile. but you were completely oblivious to what trap you were getting yourself into.

before you were finished making your bed, you felt johnny wrap his arms around you from behind.

you giggled as you felt him hug you tightly.

he had his head up against your ear, “you like guys like him?”

you were a bit confused by his question. “well, what do you mean?” you were going to turn to look at him but he held you tightly. you slowly realized what was happening.

“you find him hot, don’t you ?” he bit your earlobe.

your body stiffened and you couldnt help but squirm against him.

“i never said i found him hot johnny, i didn-“

he put one of his hands on one of your breasts, retrieving a gasp from you.

“you like showing yourself off for other guys?” he was still speaking at a low whisper, his breath hot and heavy against your ear drums. you could sense the jealousy throughout his body.

you were flushed up against his back, your body was heating up. breath staggering as he continued to massage your breast, your legs clenched together.

“always wanting to be the center of attention.” he slowly unzipped the back of your flowly dress. “i bet you batted your eyelashes at him, hoping he’d like you.” the dress fell down to the floor.

goosebumps covered your body from head to toe. he was jealous of sodapop.

“i swear i didn’t. i was just being friendly-“

“friendly my ass.” he brought his other hand to your other breast and massaged both of your nipples.

you tried to keep your whimpers in but your body betrayed you as you slightly grinded back on him.

“won’t even moan for me.. you’re such a brat today.” he pushed you flat on the bed.

“johnny i swear i didn’t do anything. i wouldn’t do anything like that ba-“

he cut you off with a slow, deep kiss. his body hovering over yours. you moaned softly into his mouth, cupping part of his face.

he stripped off his jacket and jeans before returning to you.

“you’re gonna be a good girl for me and let me do what i want to you.” he moaned into your lips while groping all over your body.

he kneaded at your skin, massaged, smacked, anything he could do to relive his jealousy.

he slid two fingers into you without warning. you felt his fingers curl inside of you, getting covered in your juices as he pumped in and out.

“soon this’ll be my cock and you’re going to be crying for me to stop.” he whispered into your ear.

one thing led to another and he had you on all fours crying your eyes out, hands gripping the bedsheets, back arched and body full of sweat.

“what’d you say baby? i couldn’t hear you.” he thrusted in and out of you at an unbearable speed. the arch of your back was at a perfect angle for him to hit your g-spot over and over again.

“i- i’m sorry for yesterday, im sorry,” you cried , “im sorry for being such a slut.”

he pulled all the way out and oushed all the way back in. you clenched around him and your voice cracked as you moaned his name.

“yea keep moaning my name baby.” he grunted.

he smacked your ass.

“you need to know who you belong to.” he moaned lowly as he slowed his thrusts in and out of you.

“johnny, ‘m yours.. ‘m all yours, nobody else’s…,” your words slurred as he fucked you through your second high. your eyes rolled as he fucked you faster after feeling you pulsate around his cock.

he leaned down and wiggled his cock against your cervix as he whispered ,“yea y/n, you’re mine. not sodapop’s, not dallas’, you’re mine.”

you broke a 3rd time and mumbled nonsense as you felt his warm cum shoot in you.

you laid boneless on your stomcach, his fingers pushing all the cum back into your pulsing hole.

💛

after a few minutes he climbed into your bed next to you.

“are you okay baby? i know i was a bit rough today. im sorry.”

he stroked your hair softly.

“yes im great.. it was great,” you said breathlessly.

“i just got so jealous after hearin’ sodapop talk about you and i just needed to know you were with me.”

you kissed his neck in response and he cuddled back into you.

[watching-sam-and-dean-again]

Funny how hellers only ever lie, misinterpret everything or cherry pick things that suit their shipping narrative.

This is such a waste of my time, but here I go …

“Funny how it's supposedly not supported by Canon yet actors, directors, and writers say that destiel was in the show and obvious,"

- Canon - it wasn’t though. Deahstiel is NOT canon. Castiel "confesses' his "love" (as if angels even feel love like humans) to Dean, NOT that he is IN love with Dean. And Dean responds by saying nothing, while the script notes he CAN't reciprocate because he DOESN’T love him back. Whatever way you want to interpret Castiel loving Dean, Dean doesn’t feel the same. Also, if it was canon, they would have mutually declared feelings, kissed, or something. They didn't, so it isn’t.

- Actors - it is NOT supported by Jensen or Jared, the only actors who have read every script, been in every episode from day one, and don’t need to pander to fans to get them to pay attention to them. JENSEN in particular matters here, and he’s been very clear that he did not play Dean as in love with Castiel, and played him straight. Misha panders to hellers, including selling destiel jewelry the night of the "confession," because he knows that’s the only way he stays any more relevant than other supporting actors. He used to joke about shipping wincest until his obsessive fans attached him for it. Rob and Rich DONT actually say it’s canon, they say they can see moments where fans might interpret it that way, and the last time it was brought up Rich clearly wanted to move on. Also, even IF Rob and Rich, or Misha, go on to say it’s canon, it still doesn’t mean shit because they aren’t the show runners or the leads. Their say means nothing on a show that’s already over.

- Directors - Who? I’d like to see some evidence of even one director saying destiel is canon, and Director Rich saying Castiel loves Dean is only one side of a ship. Not a canon romance.

- Writers / Show runners - Not a single show runner ever said destiel was going to be a thing, or ever was a thing. They, in fact, said the exact opposite. The odd rogue writer throwing nods to shippers into their episodes means no more for canon destiel than the writers throwing wincest nods (which there were way more of) meant Sam and Dean were secretly fucking "bewtween the lines" or "off screen."

"and funny how Dean only stays with 1 woman and then spends years with his brother and an angel"

- You almost got the point. He doesn’t value Romaric relationships (which he only has with women) as being nearly as important as FAMILIAL relationships, particularly that with his brother who he can’t live without. He is with Sam 24/7, while Castiel wanders in and out if their lives depending what stupid angel business, or new problem he is creating for them, is going on per season.

“and then commits suicide after the angel dies but then is all joyful and hopeful the next episode because the angel came back kinda like the angel was taking the place of his love interest"

- When Sam dies in Season 2, Dean sells his soul to bring him back. When Sam is shot in "Dark Sude of the Moon," Dean sits and basically invites the killers to take him out, too. When Sam dies in "Swan Song," every part of Dean wants to die, but he goes on living because he promised Sam (and keeps trying to find ways to bring him back), and he is sad until Sam does comes back. In Season 8 Finale and Season 9 Priemiere, even though Sam is willing to die, even kind of wants to, Dean begs him to stay and live because Dean can’t bear to live without him. In Season 11, Dean straight up Romeos himself when he thinks Sam is dead in hopes of begging for him to be brought back. In Season 13, Dean goes mute and almost catatonic when Sam is killed by vampires, and he’s ready to face death just to go and retrieve his body alone. In Season 14, Dean tells Sam he is the only one who could talk Dean out of sacrificing himself to keep Michael locked up, and it turns out that Sam IS, in fact, the one who talks Dean out of throwing himself into the ocean. Finally, when Dean dies, he tells Sam it was always "you … and me," and begs for his permission to go after telling Sam he needs to live for him. Yeah, there’s no romantic parallels going on there. At all. But destiel shippers, you go off because Dean was sad that his Friend AND MOTHER were taken out by the devil, true love right there, nothing else compares. Also, when Dean does get to heaven, after being perfectly happy without Castiel for anywhere between 6 moths and five years (the latter is Jensen’s preferred timeline), and learns "his love" Cass is alive, he barely smiles, then goes off for a solo drive to wait until the actual love (platonic) of his life can join him and finally make heaven perfect.

As for your second dose of BS:

- Rob and Rich are pandering because they know hellers throw money at anything that even hints at destiel, meanwhile JA and JP fans are largely indifferent to them, being "Sunday People," so that well is fairly dry. Also, they are in the show so little, their opinion holds less weight than fans who have watched from the beginning, or even just watched twice all the way through. They don’t even pay close attention to the show, so no, their opinions don’t hold a lot of weight.

- Jensen said Castiel having "feelings" is clear text, but he ALSO said that it’s clear text that Dean sees Castiel as a brother in arms, similar (but less than) to Sam, and that there is no need to address Castiel's "confession" because Dean heard what he had to say, but has nothing to say in return. He doesn’t even think it needs to be addressed.

- I already addressed this, but Dean is sad because Crowley, Castiel, AND HIS MOTHER (or so he believes) were all taken out by Lucifer. He is happy to have Castiel back because he is his friend and he needed any win, but then he goes right back to barely paying attention to what Castiel is doing very soon after, and not even noticing when he gets kidnapped. Big love there.

- Dean is perfectly fine being alive while Castiel is dead in Season 15, and when he is upset when Castiel is dead at other times, it is ALWAYS accompanied by another factor that is also affecting him (like Castiel’s betrayal and Sam being insane, Bobby dying, Mary dying, etc). I think you’re confusing Castiel with Sam again, as destiel shippers tend to do.

- Sam is the Collette parallel, not Castiel. Sam is BOTH Colette and Abel first Dean', his brother and the love of his life (platonic). And the parallel breaks down anyway because, while Sam is the only one who can stop Dean until he’s too far gone (like Colette), Dean never kills him like Cain did Abel.

- "it’s clear … but not explicit." First, "not explicit" literally means it’s "not clear." Second, the CW had more queer characters and relationships in its shows than just sbiut any other network, especially by the end of SPN. If the show runners or Jensen had wanted Dean and Castiel to be in a romantic relationship, they would have been. It just wasn't the story they were telling.

- there’s a difference between being "closed minded" and understanding a pretty straightforward television show vs "playing yourself," (a.k.a. Veieing media through shipping goggles). You should learn it.

The Destiel phenomenon truly makes me want to deeply delve in spn fandom psyche and how so many people believe in something, that isn't supported by canon material.

Dean Winchester isn't interested in having a romantic partner. He canonically only stays with one partner ( Lisa) for a year, and that's only because Sam is gone and he is the one who asks him to lead a normal life.

[miss-choco-chips]

Kyou Kara Maou but Yuuri is the one who introduces people to a tradition for once. It goes a little like this -

There's a rumor in court that the King doesn't really love his fiance, and sees him as a friend or brother in arms. They got engaged for political reasons, you see. Or by mistake. There's no intent there. A few dream of proposing to the king, and have him maybe accept, but most know that's a moot point- he's always with Lord Weller, his bodyguard. No one can get past that man, less of all close enough to the king to actually strike him. So, the smart ones decide a better way to get into the king's good graces and into his inner circle would be by proposing to his fiance. Free him of an unwanted arrangement, become something like a sibling in law by marrying his long time companion, AND get a drop -dead gorgeous husband?? Its too good of a deal to pass up.

And so it starts, one night during a ball at the castle. Yuuri is dancing with Greta, while Wolfram smiles tenderly from the side, and the way the gesture lights up his entire face and turns his stern demeanour angelic gives the last push of bravery a tipsy noble needed. The slap is heard throughout the hall, and everything, music included, quietens at the sound. Wolfram is frozen in place, cheek stinging. Conrad and Gwendal approach, storms in their eyes. Yuuri, confused and a little annoyed as he starts to understand what's going on, follows suit.

He has to duel the noble, of course. As the one of higher standing between him and his friend, it's either he fights the dude for Wolfram or 'gives him up'.

'You can get rid of the engagement like this', Murata points out.

'Wolf isn't an object to be passed around,' Yuuri replies, getting ready for the fight. 'And he doesn't want to marry the guy- I won't free myself by trapping him somewhere else'

He doesn't go too hard on the noble. Poor guy was kinda drunk, he probably didn't mean anything by it, and he doesn't deserve to have his shit rocked because he made an impulsive decision while deep in his glass. Yuuri can also empathize, as he, too, has felt the need to hit Wolfram in the past (and he understands his beauty is the type that makes people do dangerous things).

They think the matter is settled. That it's a one off, weird but whatever.

Then, it happens again, when Wolfram is taking a stroll through the gardens with Greta. The noble lady responsible had thought the last attempt made had failed because the man decided to slap Lord Von Bielefeld in front of the Maou. Of course, even without an emotional connection, the gesture was too disrespectful to go unpunished. She grins as her hand makes contact, uncaring about the young princess bursting into tears and running off. Wolfram, this time, gathers himself fast enough to feel pissed. If not for the guards holding him off, weary of how tradition dictates the only retribution given might come from Yuuri, he'd have cooked the woman alive.

By the time Yuuri gets there, hand in hand with a still weepy Greta, he's mad enough by the fact someone dared make his daughter cry that he duels the woman right there in the gardens. After it's done, Wolfram huffs, still indignant, and marches his king and princess back inside, leaving the guards to deal with the waterlogged lady.

Okay, the nobles think. So maybe the Maou has to save face, and feels forced to accept any challenge thrown in his own home. No big deal! Lord Von Bielefeld is escorting the King on a diplomatic meeting when a dignatary from the neighboring country, the one they are visiting, goes up to him and strikes.

Conrad is the one holding Wolfram back this time, while Yuuri, angry after a full day of negotiations going nowhere, takes the chance to work off some nervous energy and dons his sword for the duel. Murata, again, points out Yuuri could use this as a chance to end the engagement. Yuuri, who's heard Wolfram ask late at night, on a very quiet voice, 'they think me so easy to steal? Am I worth so little to them?', shuts him up with a glare. It was never funny to begin with, but now it's really, really not funny.

The general consensus is, then, that it shouldn't be done while the Maou is nearby at all, or in his castle. Pursuers gain confidence then, attacking again and again when the young lord is on patrols, back on his uncle's lands, or simply out and about. Wolfram's guards become twitchy, trying their best to stop this from happening but not having much success, dreading the moment they are sent to call for the Maou so he might fight for his fiance.

Yuuri fights no less than 15 duels, having to cut meetings short, postpone his trips to earth and cancel baseball practice to do so. He's getting angrier and angrier, frustrated and... Something else he has no name of, at how many people are apparently wanting to take his place on Wolfram's life.

He still entertains the entire thing because that's tradition, apparently, and it has to stop eventually, right?

Until one night, when they are alone in their room, Wolfram turns away from him in the bed and whispers how maybe they should end the engagement. If people think him so easily stolen, his image must be pretty bad, not at all like how a future king consort should be; and he's seen how tired Yuuri is of having to defend him. His pride and feelings are hurt, and for the first time in his life, Wolfram is contemplating giving up instead of fighting, his usual fire dimming with every careless duel.

That's when Yuuri gets up from bed, terrified and furious at the notion, and storms into the treasure room to look for the thing he needs. And during the next big feast at the castle, like the one that started this madness, he calls for attention and explains to everyone how proposals are done in Earth. How one gets down on one knee, begging their partner to accept a ring in exchange for the rest of their life together. How no one can take that ring off, except the one that put it there or the one who wears it, and even then it's by their choice alone. How it's a promise and a vow and something unbreakable, forever.

And as he says this, he kneels in front of Wolfram and presents a precious ring of emeralds and onix, and once again binds Wolfram to him.

No one else proposes to either of them, after that night, even though Wolfram's smile had shone so bright it put all the jewels in the room to shame.

Gunter doesn't stop crying for a week, while Gwendal is busy planning the wedding.

[stilessflannel]

just thinking about percy jackson fucking you in the shower, where the water strengthens his endurance...

his strength never quavers, senses heightened, catching every small gasp and moan that escapes your kiss swollen lips. even after cumming three times himself his pace is unrelentless, always finding just the right spot inside you with every thrust of his hips, swollen mushroom tip of his cock rubbing oh-so deliciously against the spongy part of your pussy his fingers can't reach.

an arm glides over your waist, the water pouring down your bodies making it easier for his large palm to slide down your body and lift one of your legs over his hips, pushing deeper inside of you. the feeling makes you throw your head back, but percy's three steps ahead of you and before the back of your skull hits the tiles of the cabin three shower his hand gets between the two, cradling your hair and forcing your eyes on his.

"you okay baby?" his voice is a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the rush of water but you do your best to nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his tip hits a particularly delicious spot inside you. "you wanna slow down?"

"no... perce, please...~" you moan, grinding your hips down onto his when he pauses, eliciting a scrunch of his eyebrows while his pupils dilate with a stronger lust.

"yeah angel, just like that. be a good girl for me, will ya?"

taglist: @izzieluvsdelusion @azure-drag0ness @vivi-anasan @percyssunlithope @amandareids @raysmayhem-72 // join the taglist here

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Missing Persons

also on AO3

It started so quietly no one really noticed.

People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol – they announced an investigation.

The disappearances stopped.

It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldn’t just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.

When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ‘nice young man’ from her dream who offered to take her away.

She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said he’d be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batman’s irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.

So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.

“I do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.”

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.

“Dramatic fuckers, eh?” Constantine muttered.

A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.

A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.

“Who would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?”

A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.

“Eugh, it’s you.”

The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didn’t stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.

“Peace, Hellblazer.”

A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.

“I mean you no harm.”

There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.

“We met?”

“No, but I know of you. And I must admit, I’m disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.”

They gestured to the others in the room.

“Yeah, well,” Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.”

There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.

“Who might you be, then?”

The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.

“You may call me Ambassador.”

“Ambassador to ghosts?”

“If you’d like to think of it that way.”

Constantine straightened his posture.

“We would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.”

The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.

“Where to even begin…” they whispered to themselves.

“Okay, let’s start with this.” They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. “What part of ‘sleeping tyrant’ wasn’t clear?”

“I was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?”

The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.

“Ancients...”

They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.

“The king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and I’d like to keep it that way this time.”

Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.

“Speaking of which, how’d you even summon him?”

“Summon?” Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.

The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.

“Ancients, this is archaic. Where’d you find it?”

After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.

“Well?”

“Ah...Merlin.”

The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s bloody true!”

The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.

“Can’t fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.

“Lord Phantom.”

Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.

“’Sup Frighty?”

“The dark one is marked.”

The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.

“So he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.”

The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.

“Sure enough. It’s weak, but there’s a family bond there.”

Batman clenched his fist.

“Where is Red Hood?”

The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.

“Safe. And being cared for.”

Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.

“These are the ones?”

The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.

“Is anyone not coming?”

A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.

“Apologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.”

Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.

“I am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.”

“I thought she might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward.

“My Lady, I –”

“You were not asked to speak, Child.” The woman snapped.

Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.

“I will make my displeasure known,” the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.

“Take Dora with you.”

“Do you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?” Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.

“I know better than to doubt you,” they briefly smirked back, “but given my limited experience, I don’t hold them in high regard.”

After a pause they tacked on a “no offense”.

“None taken.”

The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.

“Ambassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.”

He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.

“May I inquire what your companion meant by ‘evacuation’?”

“Exactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.”

“In that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would –”

“Typical,” the ambassador scoffed, “your primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet we’re at fault for not properly informing you.”

Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard “we’re independent” retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.

“If I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.”

The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.

“I don’t talk to cops.”

The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.

“Prepare the Keep. I’ll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.”

“My Lord.”

The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.

“We have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.”

The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.

“You’re an excellent liar, Batman.” The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. “Unfortunately, I know you’re full of shit.”

“What points you to that conclusion?” Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.

The fog had risen to the ambassador’s chest. They scoffed.

“There are photos of you with Amanda Waller.”

Batman’s fist clenched harder.

The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.

“I suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.”

The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.

“I must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.”

Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.

Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.

He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger ‘Phantom’. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.

He had to act quickly.

[aburningmemory]

Percival winced as the hold tightened and held his breath, giving a small gasp of breath when he was released and shook his fur out, he was about to move to try and comfort galahad when the sound of familiars filled his ears, the knight turned to the others, armor still painted red from the ‘fight’ (when really it was onesided on percivals part), if this was any other situation perci might’ve been annoyed at the fact they arrived so late. And even more annoyed beithir just now turned back to normal which made galahad look like he lost his shit on some defenseless hermit. Thats what annoyed oercival right now. He took a breath and faced the two.

“I was here for the whole thing, so i can assure you galahad is innocent here, the story is just… very complicated. I’d be delighted to inform all of you when we’re safe in the castle. I apoligize for running off so rashly, but i had to stop galahad before things got worse- and well— it’s just better if i explain. But i assure you- galahad is no madman. Its the hermit we should be fearing.”

Percival was sure to defend galahad despite their arguing. He wouldnt stand for this lying hermit getting his friend thrown into the dungeon. If only galahad had just let him handle this.. he sighed heavily, nodding to lancelot.

“Yes, i believe that would be good. Ill fetch my horse, wherever it hid at when the dragon ran put here- and we xan head back. I’d request galahad be tended too first, if thats alright?”

Percival hummed, moving to whistle out for his stallion, waiting a heartbeat or two before it came from the treeline where it had hidden during the whole exchange. Humming as he took its reigns and climbed up onto it, waiting for the other two to prepare.

“But i must ask so i dont feel like im going insane- lance, gawain- that hermit looks freakily familiar doesnt he? I swear to the gods he does.”

He had to ask, to know if he was just being batshit insane and reaching about that or not.

Beithir stayed silent. Far too damaged to even try and get away from the knights and having shrieked his voice dry- all that could be heard to indicate his life was still intact was a hoarse squeak and nothing more as labored breaths fell from his mouth.

[ @aburningmemory sir percival and galahad talky time :3 ]

A knock is heard on the knights door, as percivals voice rings out from behind it.

“Galahad? Are you awake, and most importantly, feeling alright? I have.. something i wish to speak to you about. And no, its not about the drunken dinner thing. Its something.. well- alittle more serious then that, if you’re up for the chat.”

Percival hums, making sure to specify what he wishes to speak of isnt the drunken ramblings of the guest dinner fiasco, he’d rather wait for a better time, when there aren’t any doubts and concerns about that hermit plaguing his mind. Its best to talk to the knight that seems to know him best about this, then the king. But hes definitely going to talk to gawain aswell later.

"Yes, I am awake, and I am feeling better. What do you want, Percival?" Galahad replied, sounding rather annoyed. He might still be a little mad that Percival lied about the King laying him off for his drunken stunt.

[vhsstank]

messy bee doodles + close ups

[petrii-dish]

Snapped back to reality after 10 hours in a cold sweat. Mal Du Pays Banette

[fratboykate]

Yelena doesn’t pack.

She sits there, fists clenched on her thighs, jaw tight, every muscle in her body screaming at her to follow Kate and fix this before it spirals further out of control.

But she’s tired. God, she’s so fucking tired.

For once, she wants to be the one walked toward instead of always being the one doing the chasing.

But the minutes stretch. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. The silence outside Kate’s office is oppressive, settling into Yelena’s bones like lead. No footsteps. No hesitation. No coming back.

And she knows...Kate’s not easing up.

That realization sends something sharp and dangerous slicing through her chest. Fine. If Kate wants to be stubborn, then Yelena can match her.

She heads to the door, grabs her keys out of the bowl, and heads out. She doesn’t rush. If Kate is listening, she wants her to hear every deliberate footstep, the soft click of the lock as she pulls the door closed behind her.

Let her know that Yelena isn’t bluffing.

She makes it as far as the car. Keys in hand, fingers curled around the driver’s side door handle. And then she just…stops.

Her pulse is a dull, steady thud in her ears. The weight of the night...the fight, the accusations, the sheer exhaustion of being caught in this cycle...presses in on her.

She should go. She said she was going. And Yelena isn’t the type to walk back on something once she’s put it out into the universe. She’s stubborn like that. Always has been.

But she's still here.

Kate is right here.

And maybe maybe this is the moment. The test.

If Yelena gets in the car and drives off, does Kate let her? Does she come outside, bang on the window, demand she come back inside? Does she call in ten minutes, or an hour, or tomorrow morning when she wakes up and realizes Yelena actually left?

Or does she do nothing?

That last thought sinks claws into Yelena’s chest. It sits there, heavy and festering, refusing to let her go.

She releases the car handle and pivots on her heel, marching back toward the garage elevator before she can talk herself out of it.

Inside, the lights in the hallway are dim. The office door is still wide open, her chair pushed back from the desk exactly how she left it. The fight sits in the air, thick and suffocating, but the house is quiet.

Uncomfortably so.

Yelena makes her way down the hall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the guest room at the end of it.

She hesitates, foot hovering over the carpet leading there, then she moves past it entirely. Instead, she veers toward the kids’ rooms. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. Some reassurance, maybe, something to anchor her in the mess of tonight.

She stops outside Alexia's door first, pressing her palm against the wood for a second before carefully pushing it open just enough to peek inside.

The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the nightlight in the corner. Alexia is curled on their side, one arm flung over the stuffed owl Kate bought her last Christmas. Yelena watches her chest rise and fall, slow and even.

She should’ve been here earlier. Should’ve said goodnight, should’ve been the one to tuck the kids in instead of leaving it to Kate again.

She shuts the door as quietly as possible and crosses the hall to the little one's room.

Maks is sprawled across the mattress in the most chaotic sleeping position imaginable, tangled in the sheets, one sock barely clinging to his foot. In the crib, Sonny is neatly tucked in, her tiny hand curled under his cheek.

Yelena lingers in the doorway for a long time.

She loves them. Of course, she does. That was never up for debate. But it still stings, the way Kate threw it at her earlier, like Yelena being a good mother was somehow optional.

Like Kate thinks she’s failing.

Like she thinks she’s failing.

She swallows hard, backing out of the room.

When she reaches the guest bedroom, the door is cracked open. A lamp is still on inside, and Yelena can just make out the shape of Kate sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up, fingers pressed to her forehead.

She doesn’t knock, just pushes the door open wider and steps inside.

Kate doesn’t look up. Doesn’t say anything.

Yelena exhales slowly, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t leave.”

Kate snorts, the sound dry, unimpressed.

“Want a medal?”

Yelena clenches her jaw.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

That makes Kate lift her head. Her eyes are red, tired, but sharp.

“Do what?”

“This. Fighting. This stupid back and forth. I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

Kate watches her carefully, searching for something. Then, with a quiet scoff, she shakes her head.

“That’s nice. Really. But you don’t get to say ‘I don’t want to fight’ like that fixes everything. You did hurt me. You keep doing it.”

“I know.” It’s the only honest thing Yelena can say. She shifts on her feet. “But you’re hurting me too.”

That seems to land. Kate’s jaw tightens, and she looks away.

Yelena takes a careful step forward.

“We can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to lose you.”

Kate laughs, but it’s hollow.

“You sure about that? Because every time shit gets hard, you disappear.”

Yelena shakes her head. “I don’t...”

“Yes, you do.” Kate cuts in sharply. “Physically. Emotionally. Take your pick.” She lifts her hands, then lets them fall limply onto her lap. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re fucking drowning? I do. Every single day. But I don’t get to check out. I don’t get to decide it’s too much and just…step back.”

“I don’t decide to do it.” Yelena’s voice is quiet now. “It’s not…it’s not something I want.”

“But it’s what happens,” Kate mutters, shaking her head.

Silence stretches between them.

Then, Kate exhales and leans forward, pressing her face into her hands for a moment before lifting her gaze again. Her voice is softer when she speaks next.

“What are we to you?”

"What?”

“Its a simple question,” Kate says, watching her. “If this...” she gestures vaguely between them “...is something you’re only holding onto because it’s familiar, or because leaving would be too hard, then we need to stop pretending.”

Yelena doesn’t answer right away. Because wanting something and knowing how to make it work are two different things. She exhales, crossing the room until she’s close enough to kneel in front of Kate, resting her hands lightly against her knees. Kate doesn’t pull away.

“You and them are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you,” Yelena says, voice steady. “And I don’t want to stop trying.”

Kate studies her for a long, tense moment. Then, finally, she sighs.

“We have to try differently then,” she says. “Because whatever this is? It’s not working.”

"We'll figure it out. All we have to do is choose not to give up."

///

The next morning is quiet. Too quiet.

Yelena wakes to the sound of muffled voices. The house is awake without her. The kids are up. Kate is up. And Yelena is still in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like she’s an outsider in her own home.

She drags herself up, pulling on a sweatshirt over her sleep shirt as she pads barefoot toward the door. Their bedroom feels wrong when Kate doesn't sleep in it. Foreign. Without Kate in here, Yelena feels she’s intruding. The space between her and Kate has never felt this wide.

Hearing them out there...it feels like they're already moving on without her.

Yelena makes her way to the kitchen. Kate must have said something hilarious because she hears Alexia and Maks cackle. She turns and corner and, the second she steps inside, she knows she’s walked in on something.

Kate, who stands by the sink, tenses the moment her and Yelena make eye contact. A few feet away, Alexia sits at the table with Maks and Sonny. Sonny is in just her diaper, swinging her legs under her chair, oblivious to the tension that just thickened the air. Maks is staring down at his half-eaten cereal like it might give him an answer to whatever the hell just happened here. Alexia, however, is bristling.

“You should have woken me up,” Yelena says, voice rough with sleep.

Kate doesn't say anything.

Alexia glances up, eyes flicking between them, and suddenly, Yelena realizes what this looks like. Kate slept in the guest room. She wasn’t here when they woke up. She walked in late.

Like a stranger.

“Mama, are you living with Deda and Babu now?” Maks asks, tilting his head.

Yelena’s stomach twists. “What? No. Why would you...”

Yelena glares at Kate. Before she knows it's happening, she's crossing the kitchen and walking straight to Kate.

“What did you tell them?” Yelena asks barely above a whisper.

"The truth." Kate turns, leveling her with a stare. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend like nothing is happening? They’re not stupid.”

“They’re also kids.”

Kate scoffs, dropping a spoon into the sink with a clatter.

“Right. And what do you think is worse? Talking to them about it or letting them figure it out on their own while we keep playing house?”

“This isn’t something they should have to deal...”

“They already deal with it,” Kate snaps. “Every single time you put your work first. Every time you miss a recital or a game or a school meeting. Every time I have to make excuses for you...they already know. So maybe, just maybe, don’t act so fucking surprised.”

Alexia chair scrapes backwards and she storms off.

"Alex..." Yelena pleads after her daughter.

But she's already gone, storming down the hallway and up the stairs. Maks looks like he wants to follow, but he stays put, chewing his lip. Sonny, blissfully unaware, bangs her little hands on the high chair and gurgles.

Kate sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is exactly why I told you to fix your priorities.”

Yelena sets her jaw. “You told me? This isn’t just on me, Kate.”

“Really? Because I’m not the one who’s always gone.”

The words slam into her, harder than she’s willing to admit.

Before she can respond, Maks slides off his chair and follows after his big sister, leaving only Sonny at the table.

Kate watches them go, then turns back to the sink, gripping the edge of the counter like she’s holding herself together.

“I don’t want to fight in front of them,” Yelena mutters.

“Then don’t start shit at breakfast.”

Yelena's eyes flash. “Start shit? You told them I was going to stay with my parents.”

“That's what YOU said,” Kate hisses, stepping closer.

“I came back.”

“And you want me to give you points for that?”

“No. I want you to stop acting like I’m the only one responsible for all of this falling apart.”

Kate laughs, but it’s sharp, humorless.

“You’re really going to stand here and act like you’re not?”

“This isn’t fair...”

“What’s not fair is that I have to be the reliable one while you get to be at work. You get to show up when it’s convenient for you. You get to skip the hard parts. You get to waltz in late because you’re Yelena Belova, the brilliant scientist who’s too important and too busy to actually show up.”

“That’s not...” Yelena pauses. "Why did you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Yelena Belova."

"That's your name."

"It hasn't been for A LONG time."

“Don’t change the subject,” Kate warns, voice dangerously quiet. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you don’t see it. You have no idea what it’s like to be the one who has to hold it all together.”

Yelena’s chest heaves. “And what do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

“Trying isn’t enough anymore.”

There it is. The final nail in the coffin.

Yelena shakes her head, throat burning. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Kate doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickers, like she wants to take it back. But she doesn’t.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Kate says finally. “Not when nothing ever changes.”

A thick silence swallows the kitchen whole.

Yelena swallows around the knot in her throat. “So that’s it? You’re done?”

Kate exhales slowly, but there’s no satisfaction in it. No relief. Just exhaustion.

“I think I have to be.”

Yelena takes a step back, like she’s been hit. She doesn’t realize she’s shaking her head until Kate sighs and looks away.

“Yelena...”

“No,” Yelena breathes. “No, this isn’t...we aren’t...”She can’t finish it.

Because Kate isn’t stopping her. Kate isn’t walking it back. Kate isn’t saying 'I don’t mean it' or 'I just need space' or 'We’ll figure it out'.

She’s just standing there, watching Yelena unravel.

“When are you moving out?”

And that...That’s the moment it all falls apart.

[saintaviator]

oooo yeowch ouchie owch augh ough ow

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Wei Wuxian eats a watermelon. Yep!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.