#i ordered things at a Reasonable Time for once

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Prologue

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel had always liked Starfall. 

Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine. 

Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it. 

Feyre had invited Lucien. 

A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice. 

And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.

*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced. 

Of course, he did. 

Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.

Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.

*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*

Azriel wasn't going to ruin it. 

So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.

The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars. 

Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.

At least he had this .

As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.

He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.

*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*

* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *

*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*

Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.

*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.

* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *

Rhys let out an exasperated breath.

*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*

*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.

Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*

* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.

*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*

Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.

*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*

* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *

*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*

*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.

*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it. 

*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *

*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*

* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.

*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.

* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *

Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*

Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.

Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.

The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.

It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.

There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.

He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.

Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do. 

He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start. 

"Spymaster."

Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky. 

One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that. 

Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena. 

Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions… 

She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough. 

Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit. 

Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims. 

Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was. 

And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.

She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here. 

"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.

She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face. 

But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.

His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…

Irena. 

She was his mate .

" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.

Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.

His mate .

His mate was sitting in front of him. 

Irena .

Irena was his mate.

"Azriel," she whispered,  her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

 They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...

But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.

"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.

"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.

"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.

"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly. 

She looked…so young right at that moment. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.

His . She was his .

Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."

"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?

"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."

Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...

"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.

She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.

Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.

He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.

"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.

 "I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly. 

"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."

She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.

"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."

She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.

It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.

"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed. 

He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly. 

"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."

"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.

"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.

Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.

Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.

He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.

"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore. 

She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.

Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.

"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.

From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...

"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."

She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .

"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.

She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.

He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.

"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.

Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and

Breathe .  He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .

And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."

She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.

Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.

Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?

Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.

She was breathtakingly beautiful

For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .

It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.

His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.

This was real. She was his mate.

She was truly, truly his.

His .

And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.

And selfishly...that felt really good.

Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.

He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.

She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.

Notes:

If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[planetpedri]

jealous pedri 🫦 pretty please 🙏

hope you're having a great day!

Jealous — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wasn’t immune to male attention, and Pedri couldn’t stand it.

Word count: 675+

Disclaimer/s: Jealous!Pedri ehhh idk what else to add clubbing + alcohol mention

A/N: i’ve been WAITING for this request. this is based off ‘jealous’ by nick jonas if it wasn’t already obvious!

The club was booming. Strobe lights flashing and sweat slick partiers passed by with every passing second. This was your element. You loved going out with your boyfriend and you loved any reason to dress up.

Your sparkly black dress flashed different colors with every changing color. A confident smile on your face as you walked in front of Pedri to find the bar.

Pedri trailed behind you with a grin on his face as you easily weaved through the crowd. The grin was short lived when he saw a man in the distance latch onto you, his eyes trailing over your body with a smirk on his lips.

Instantly, Pedri was beside you, covering you from the mans line of sight. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his side with a protective hold. Your head snapped in his direction curiously, noticing the tightness on his face.

“You alright?” You lean up to his face so he could hear you over the music.

“Did you have to swear that dress tonight?” Pedri questions, his eyes dropping to the small dress. He loved the way it looked on you, but hated knowing other men loved it too.

You laugh, “uh, yeah?”

He was not finding this amusing.

Slipping out of his grasp once you reach the bar, you order yourself a drink. Not one for Pedri, he rarely ever drank, plus he drove you two here. “Go find us a booth while I wait?”

Reluctantly, the man does just that; finding a booth in the corner of the club with full view of everything. Everything included you.

The man from earlier had approached you. Pedri saw the way you stiffened, annoyance flashing across your face every time he presumably flirted. One thing about you that Pedri could rely on always, was your complete and utter devotion. You loved him and he’d never doubted it from the second you uttered those three words.

But, when he saw you crack a small smile at something the stranger said, he swallowed, hard.

Leaning over the table, he asks the group beside if they could watch your table. Recognizing him instantly, they eagerly agreed. One perk of being famous, he supposed.

Making his way down the stairs and to the bar, he slipped behind you. “Cariño.” He grumbled, eyes drifting up to meet the man in front of you.

“Hey, man..” He started, stopping when Pedri’s face stays flat. “Chill. I’m gone!”

The second he stepped away, you were turning on your heels and scowling up at your boyfriend. “Hello? Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, who was that?”

“Stranger danger? I don’t know.” You huff, “and so—oh. Oh my God, you’re jealous.” Your mouth forms a proud smirk, you couldn’t even be mad. It was amusing.

“Can you blame me?” Pedri’s voice is exasperated, his hands flying up in defense.

Your shoulders shrug, “you’re far too obsessed with me for your own good. I would never cheat.” Which was true, you were dating Pedro González, you had no need to cheat. He was everything and more, nobody could compare. “It’s not my fault they hover!”

Your point was well taken, but Pedri tilts his head to the side. “So it’s my fault I have an insanely beautiful girlfriend?”

Tapping your chin playfully, you nod. “Hey. You chose me.”

“And I would make that choice a million times over again.” He hums, leaning down to connect his lips with yours.

Pedri wasn’t massive on public displays of affection, so when he did give it; it was for a purpose. His purpose tonight was to show everyone in that club that you were his. And, you loved every second of it.

Leaning your head back, Pedri lets out a low whine at the loss of contact. “Can we go back to our booth and order some food?” You laugh, “i’m hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Pedri sighs, “come on.” His hand tangled into yours, keeping a tight hold on it while he leads you up to your booth.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @joaoflms @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗖'𝘀 ᵃᵐᵇᵉˢˢᵃ ᵐᵉᵈᵃʳᵈᵃ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Headcanon. Romantic/Wholesome. SFW. Overall just Ambessa Medarda with you (Arcane). 𝘼/𝙉 ;; First Arcane fic here! I hope you guys enjoy! Might add onto this if it's really liked.

11.21.24

— Ambessa never outright claimed to be with you, but everyone knew. It was impossible to ignore the way she looked at you, how her piercing, commanding gaze always softened in your presence. The unspoken bond between you was clear, even to the most casual observer. — She was undeniably fond of you.

— Though you weren’t dating, engaged, or married, the connection between you two was undeniable. You spent an absurd amount of time together, always by her side, offering her your company whether it was necessary or not.

— You weren’t a servant or a subordinate—don’t get it twisted. You were much more than that. A close, trusted companion and perhaps something more—though Ambessa would never admit to loving you.

— Ambessa valued you too deeply to treat you as anything less than an equal, refusing to order you around or regard you as just another soldier under her command. — She called it “fondness,” never putting a more specific label on her emotions. For her, it was simpler that way. It wasn’t a romantic love, nor was it sexual desire. What she desired was your presence alone. You were her calm. — For example, during her rare moments of downtime, such as lounging on a couch and indulging in fresh grapes, she’d still ask for your company. To her, it didn’t matter what she was doing—whether doing paperwork, working out, indulging in wine, or doing absolutely nothing—you needed to be there. Your presence was as essential to her.

— This respect and value she placed on you extended far beyond what others might have expected. Ambessa, known for her formidable strength and unshakable pride, showed refusal in indulgence. She avoided the temptations of foreign escorts or other offered pleasures, choosing instead to keep her dignity intact when you were around. She wouldn’t dare lower herself in your eyes. — Instead, when on expeditions in foreign lands, she turned her attention to things she thought you might enjoy.

— During a visit to Piltover, for instance, to see her daughter, Mel Medarda, Ambessa chose not to indulge in distractions. She dismissed her guards and subordinates, deciding instead to explore the city with only you by her side. It was a quiet, intimate moment—just the two of you walking through the bustling streets. — Mel was unsurprised to see you. She had grown accustomed to your constant presence in her mother’s life, even before her exile. In truth, Mel recognized the subtle influence you had on Ambessa—a thread of reason tying her to humanity. If you weren’t there, Mel believed, a few more heads might have rolled over the years.

— And yet, you didn’t seem disturbed by Ambessa’s brutality. At most, you were slightly unsettled, but you understood her. You saw the reasons behind her actions. That was enough for you.

— You accepted her for who she was, flaws and all, offering her something she rarely allowed herself: unconditional companionship — You’ve become her moral compass in a way she’d never admit. She catches herself pausing before making decisions, wondering how you’d react or whether you’d approve. — You’ve introduced her to softer moments in life. For example, you’ve convinced her to take small breaks to watch sunsets, sit by the waters, or enjoy simpler meals without grand banquets. She doesn’t say it, but these are some of her favorite moments. — Because of you, she has developed a subtle patience. Where she once might have resorted to immediate, bloody solutions, she now considers alternatives—though she’ll always default to force if her hand is forced.

— Ambessa doesn’t openly show affection, but her actions speak volumes. She remembers every small detail about you—your favorite foods, your preferred wine, the exact temperature you like your tea—and ensures they're always available wherever you go.

— She doesn’t say it outright, but she makes sure you're warm in cold climates by draping her signature red cloak over your shoulders.

— Ambessa always positions herself between you and potential threats, even in mundane situations like crowded markets or political meetings. Her protective nature is subtle but unyielding, her large figure easily covering you. — Whenever she returns from a journey without you, she always brings back a small token—a beautifully carved trinket, a rare flower, or a piece of jewelry she claims “caught her eye”

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[soul-controller]

Compensating The Cashmaster

When Matthew pulled into the driveway of his house, the 35-year-old was shocked to see the souped up blue Dodge Challenger sitting there. Although he knew the driver of the car, their appearance on his doorstep wasn’t something that he had expected to see any time soon. But as he finally parked his car and exited, a quick glance over to the angered glare being given to him by Josh, the man standing against his front porch, revealed that this wasn’t a kind and nice visit from an acquaintance.

As a dead weight suddenly dropped into his stomach, Matthew’s pace was glacial as he slowly approached the front door. Opting to keep his lips sealed until they were both in his house, Matthew avoided eye contact entirely as he unlocked the door and pulled on the knob – standing back as the handsome and muscular man wasted no time barging into the residence.

“Are you trying to piss me off, Matthew,” the other man inquired – making his way into the living room before falling back into the small couch.

In response, Matthew’s breathing ramped up as his voice came out entirely weak and airy. “Oh uh, of course not sir! I sent you everything I could afford this paycheck,” he responded, looking over to his cashmaster and attempting to seem as remorseful as possible.

To any outsider who looked at the two of them together, it was clear that they were not close friends or anything. If anything, they resembled co-workers forced to work together or a college jock and his weak-willed nerdy tutor – which paled in comparison to the truth of their relationship. In actuality Matthew was one of Josh’s paypigs, a man who got off on giving away his money to someone he deemed hotter and “far more deserving”.

“Well, $500 isn’t enough,” Josh coldly replied, crossing his arms against his broad and muscular torso – which only made him look even more imposing to Matthew. “Get me another $500 by the end of the day or else…”

Despite wanting so badly to please his cashmaster and keep their relationship on good terms, such an ask was something that the full-time low-level office employee simply couldn’t manage. As he informed Josh as such and explained his reasoning, it seemed clear that the man wasn’t taking the news too well. In fact, all Matthew heard before everything went black was “If you’re not going to give me my money, then I’ll just find a better use for you…”

* * * * *

“You fags like you what you see, huh?” Josh grunted towards the camera, a cocky smirk on his face as he lifted his arms up and flexed his immense biceps. “If you want more, give me all of your fucking money!”

As he watched the money begin to funnel into his account, the cocky cashmaster looked down at his skintight blue compression tee that left nothing to the imagination. Every well-defined line of musculature from his bicep veins to his sculpted six-pack was on full display for the audience and the man loved seeing all of these pathetic losers fawning over him. Although he had the ego the size of Jupiter, the 24-year-old couldn’t help but give some props to his most quintessential prop of the stream – the tee that had once been Matthew, one of his pathetic paypigs. Despite living in a nice house with plenty of things he could have sold to make the extra money Josh desired, the paypig simply said he couldn’t and that genuinely pissed the man off. 

Luckily for the cashmaster though, his magical ancestry allowed him to tap into innate abilities to help teach lessons to paypigs that refused to comply. Any time one of them couldn’t provide what he demanded, he’d find a new use for them in order to help make up the remaining amount of money that they had shorted him. So as the hundreds of dollars quickly pushed past a thousand, it was clear that Matthew had certainly earned back his humanity at the end of the session. Unfortunately for him, the man’s extremely submissive personality made it highly likely that the man would replicate Josh’s experiences with other former-clothing paypigs as those individuals would purposely stop paying in order to relive their inanimate fantasies due to the innate humiliation and helplessness it provided…

Eager to read more stories like this? Head over to my Patreon to discover tons of hot transformation fiction including stories like this one!

[kill4luvina]

First Time

Dealer!Sukuna xlnnocent!BlackReader

Summary : Your somehow childhood best friend is one of the biggest dealers in your city, he’s always pressing you when you ask to try smoking. Until one day he finally lets you, and while completely under the influence both of you end up in the least expected position

"I'd roll out of bed Say 'bout 2:30 mid day Hit the blunt then,                                                                                           hit you up to come over to my place"

You and your boy best friend were almost always together. When you'd go out to buy things for the new apartment you two had moved into, he'd be right next to you. When he was out dealing with a few orders, you'd be right next to him.

The only time you weren't with him was when he was dealing with more "dangerous" clients or when you or he were hanging out with your own friends. You didn't mind those reasons at all, but you hated when he'd leave to go smoke.

You'd always watch him roll up to leave, and when you'd ask to come with him, he'd shake his head and say something about wanting you to keep your innocence and not to worry about drugs.

You'd always tilt your head to the side in confusion as he left, leaving you with mixed emotions on the subject. You've never seen him smoke, drink or anything especially when you went to parties he'd be completely sober just to make sure you got home safe.

As you stared at your best friend, all these thoughts ran through your head. Both of you were on the couch, and he was on his phone, scrolling through messages. "What?" he asked, looking up for a moment.

Sukuna wasn't very nice, but when it came to you, he tried his best to give you everything you deserved—and so much more. You moved closer, grabbing his arm as you tried to find the right words.

"Sukunaa! Please let me smoke, even if it's just once with you! I want to try!" you begged, your voice trembling. His eyes glanced at you for a moment.

"No-" he'd start to say, but you cut him off, listing why he should let you. Your eyes watered as you tried to convince him.

He shook his head again, refusing, and then started to ignore you as you continued pleading.

"Okay... then I'll ask somebody else," you said, your frustration building. Sukuna looked at you momentarily, his eyes rolling, before he got up and walked to his room. You'd watch him come back with a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter.

You'd watch him light it, excitement and fear running through you as you sat watching him in awe. "Okay, for starters you can only smoke with me." He'd say seriously making eye contact so you understood.

"Alright, so just inhale. uon gotta inhale it u can let it sit in ya mouth for a sec then inhale into ya lungs, and then exhale." He'd explain showing you, you'd watch a little confused as he did it another 2 times passing it to you.

"You got that?" he looked a little concerned as you stared at the blunt a little scared. You'd hesitate before nodding your head putting it to your lips as you inhaled it straight into your lungs not completely understanding how to hold it in your mouth.

"woahh," he'd pull the blunt from your mouth realizing you were trying to take long inhales like him. You'd blow the smoke out and start coughing, Sukuna would pass you a bottle of water as he watched you try to catch your breath.

You'd look around wondering when they high would hit, nothing feeling different as you hit it another 2 times but each inhale not being so long as the first.

"Wait til that shit hit." You'd hear Sukuna say, you'd look at him tilting your head a little disappointed as you watch him hit it. "Yk, i heard fuckin while high feel good asl."

You found yourself sitting in Sukuna's lap, making out him in-between hits. This wasnt unusal, the both of you liked eachother but kept it on the low not wanting the title from fear of losing a good friendship. Lost in your thoughts you'd almost miss him putting his that was once in his waist-band to the side.

Then it hit, you completely forgot everything about yourself, where you were and who you were for a moment. You'd pull away for a second, your eye focusing on Sukuna before you remembered a little and went back to kissing him.

Subconsciously rubbing into the tent in his pants, everything you felt feeling so much more enhanced and so much stronger. "Mamas, you high?" he'd ask as your looked up at him nodding your head softly. "You wanna keep going?" he'd add.

"S-sukuna!" You'd moan, your pussy swallowing sukuna's dick whole, your eyes rolling back as you moaned. Your pussy would throb at the slightest movement everything felt so overwhelmingly good. "You're alright mamas.." He held your hips, helping you move up and down his dick.

Your head would drop to his shoulders, your eyes crossing as the feeling in-between your legs became stronger. "S-sukk." you'd babble as he started to speed up his pace. He'd slap your ass bringing you back for a moment as you gasp in response.

"Your okay.." he'd whisper in your ear, pulling your cropped top up and over your head tossing it to the side where your panties & shorts had been completely forgotten of. "I swear, the way you be walking around nipples poking through that shirt.. You've been begging to get fucked."

He was absolutely right, you were, and had no shame about it. Like he didn't come out of the shower in just a towel asking for absolutely nothing. Just yapping to you at the door of your room, v line on full display like it the towel wasn't ready to just fall off. "Y-you too!" you'd say after minutes of looking for the words in your fogged brain.

Staring at Sukuna, you'd hear him speak but his mouth wasn't moving, everything delaying. You couldn't even speak as you felt sukuna start to slam you up and down his dick roughly. "Too-good!" you'd cry out as you rested your head on his chest moaning non-stop.

"Mamas, your creamin' s-o much.." you'd hear him say as he brought a hand to your neck, moving you to give him a kiss. "aww.. your fried." he'd laugh seeing the fucked out expression on your face, you'd look up at him softly smiling. "wanna cum."

In moments you found yourself getting fucked up into, both of your legs being held up to your the sides. As you felt Sukuna from behind your biting your neck, as he continues to fuck the senses out of you.

Your pussy creaming around his dick from how fat it was, your eyes rolling back at the enhanced feelings you couldn't take it anymore. Your legs starting to shaking as your eyes quickly went white and you came all over his dick, squirting.

"didn't know she could do that.." he'd say.

He'd quickly take a hand and rub against your clit to prolong the orgasm. You'd rush to move his hand the overstimulation too much because he was still fucking into you now at a sloppy pace. A few more thrusts would have your eyes rolling and back arching as he filled you up completely .

"Suk-" you'd fall back on him, your head rolling to the side to make eye contact with him. "Yes mamas..?" He'd look down at your dripping cunt for a moment, and looked back at you after not hearing anything for a moment. You were completely knocked out and sleep.

"Wake up, wake up, bake up Gotta heat the vape up Let's get faded"

[deadpresidents]

I’m curious about the friendship between Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter (and presidential friendships in general,) I’d like to know what that looked like for them. Would they go and do things together or was it just a few phone calls a year?

Their relationship is really interesting because during the 1976 campaign and in the years right afterward, Ford and Carter genuinely did not like each other. It wasn't a normal, opponent vs. opponent rivalry, either. They straight-up disliked one another, and that was extremely unusual for Gerald Ford, who got along with practically everybody he met throughout his life, rarely had bad things to say about other people, and was almost physically incapable of being unkind to others, no matter what side of the political spectrum they belonged to.

What changed was when President Reagan sent all the living former Presidents -- Nixon, Ford, and Carter -- to Cairo in 1981 to attend Anwar Sadat's funeral following Sadat's assassination. The three former Presidents all flew together on one of the planes normally used as Air Force One, and there was some tension at the beginning, but the person who broke the ice, oddly enough, ended up being Richard Nixon. Ford then suggested that the former Presidents should drop all formalities and just refer to one another as Dick, Jerry, and Jimmy. As Ford remembered, "I guess we figured we were gonna be in a plane together forty hours, more or less, and in order to be pleasant, it was a good idea to just wipe the slate clean, which we did." Ford and Carter eventually started bonding, partly over the fact that Ronald Reagan was a major reason why each of them ultimately lost their respective bids for re-election.

At the time, Carter was having trouble building his Presidential Library, and he asked Ford for some advice since Ford had just recently opened his library. When Carter mentioned he was having some issues raising money for the library, Ford offered to come down and appear at fundraisers for him, and asked Carter to return the favor and visit the Ford Library for an event.

As Thomas M. DeFrank writes in his 2007 book, Write It When I'm Gone: Remarkable Off-the-Record Conversations With Gerald R. Ford (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO):

"Carter accepted, triggering a Jimmy-Jerry tag team match extending over several years. These back-scratching appearances didn't convert them into friends, but the relationship was notably friendlier. They began staying in regular contact, talking on the phone, and exchanging birthday greetings. Their contacts were sufficiently public that some of Ford's closest political allies grumbled that he was spending altogether too much time with Carter -- not unlike similar complaints from [George H.W.] Bush 41 partisans today that he hangs around Bill Clinton too much. Ford brushed off the complaints. Beyond their shared practical interests in Presidential Libraries, another unifying bond was at play. Both ex-Presidents had strong reasons not to like Ronald Reagan, which helped cement their ties even though neither one would ever admit it publicly. To one old Ford friend, the calculation was simple: 'Once you did something for his library or museum, you were a friend for life.'"

As they got older, Ford and Carter would sometimes make joint appearances at Presidential Libraries or universities, or events for important causes, and they even wrote a joint op-ed during the Monica Lewinsky scandal urging Congress to censure President Clinton instead of impeaching him. They felt it was a bad precedent (which it has clearly turned out to be) and would be bad for the country. Unlike Ford, Jimmy Carter wasn't very easy-going or personable, so there were times when their friendship would get a little frayed. Ford once told a friend, "Well, you know Jimmy. He can be a real pain in the ass, but we get along."

Eventually, they promised one another that they would deliver the eulogy if the other former President died first. President Ford died first, on December 26, 2006, and Carter attended every event during the several days of ceremonies, from Ford's lying in state at the U.S. Capitol, to the national funeral service at the Washington National Cathedral, and traveled with Ford's family and the former President's remains to Ford's hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. At the church service in Grand Rapids, Carter delivered his eulogy, and also attended the private interment service when Ford was buried as at his Presidential Library. In his eulogy, Carter repeated the gracious first words he had said when delivering his Inaugural Address on the day he took over the White House from Ford in 1977, "For myself and for my nation, I want to thank my predecessor for all he has done to heal our land." It was a remarkable relationship between two former Presidents who, again, genuinely disliked one another for quite some time.

[rookinthecrownest]

Discussion about romances + expectations under the cut (I'd put it as like..mildly critical, but also coming from a place of understanding?). As usual, will tag as such so you don't have to engage/read on if you don't wish to. I always invite open discussion, just keep it respectful (as I will endeavour to do so myself).

This is going to be a bit of a ramble, so I apologize if my thoughts are not clearly laid out like they should be.

I think I've found the reason why I (and maybe others), feel that the romances in Veilguard feel a bit... idk, hollow, at times (not BAD!!! just feeling like there could be MORE). And that's because of the trap of expectations. I may also be speaking completely for myself here.

Anyway, let's rewind to 2014.

Be me, 10 years ago. You're not really a gamer, but indulge in action RPG's casually.

See a commercial for this hot new game coming out called Dragon Age: Inquisition. Be intrigued by the character designs, but know nothing about the world. Come to find out it's part of a trilogy. So naturally, you buy the first two games and play through them before playing the third.

Be amazed, and completely hooked on the characters, the lore, the world, the darker elements and themes. It becomes your favourite game series of all time.

But you had no idea that you could romance any of the companions going into the experience. And man, does it fundamentally rewire your brain chemistry to fall in love with cRPG and get ridiculously attached to your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor.

So, you romance Alistair first because he's funny as hell, and has a really interesting story/character arc. Then you romance Zevran, and love that too - he's charming and suave and awkward and funny. Then you go onto DA2 and romance Fenris and Anders, and each of those romances pack their own emotional gut punches. Then it's finally time for DAI, and predictably, you go for Solas (a veritable slow burn that spans TWO games), Cullen, and partially (I never finished those playthroughs lol) Blackwall and Dorian.

I had no idea you could romance companions going into these games. It was a pleasant surprise! It always felt like an important part of the story, while not overshadowing the main plot. There was enough material in the codexes, the cutscenes, and party banter to make each romance feel complete and whole and awesome and nuanced.

And then, like some of you I suspect, I read an article that touted Veilguard as "The Most Romantic Bioware Game Yet", and I thought - "Wow, if they're saying this then the romances must be something else", given the quality of the previous romances you've experienced in these games!

But you get to the game - and while you're having fun, it definitely leans more into the ARPG style where romances feel a bit more pushed to the side in order to tell a certain story than the traditional Bioware/Larian RPG experience you've come to love.

Which is fine! Again, once I stopped thinking of Veilguard as a classic Bioware CRPG, and more like GOW/The Witcher, I found I was able to appreciate it a lot more for what it is. Things have to Happen A Certain Way for the narrative to work, and that's not a bad thing. DA2 was similar - it was a harrowing, personal tragedy about the Hawke family and their struggle to survive in Kirkwall.

Just like DA2, there are aspects of Veilguard that make me glad things happened the way they did. I'm not mad that Rook has so much dialogue without a ton of player input and you can't 'be evil' - because the game doesn't make sense if you can. At its core, Veilguard's narrative is centered around Regret, after all - you can't have an evil protagonist running around because Solas' Regret prison would never work (evil people don't generally tend to regret their actions...)!

Now, if you're expecting a long-winded, fully researched academic breakdown of every romance I'm sorry but that ain't happening tonight lol. This is not based in any fact, this is all opinion.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but sometimes it feels like the romances in this game (and I say this with the biggest grain of salt as I've only done Emmrich and Lucanis' - and am going through Neve's now), are just missing....something, to take them from good to great.

I loved Emmrich's romance. I thought it was very well done. I think a lot of people would agree it's one of the stronger ones in the game - doubly so if you play as a Mourn Watch Rook (you get a TON of MW specific lines going this route, it's great). His side romance with Strife if you don't get together is very cute, I enjoyed it. But as superbly well done as it was, somehow, I wouldn't even put it in my top 4 Bioware romances.

With Lucanis' romance - whatever my hangups may be about how it was handled, certain parts of his romance were done excellently (even better than some of the previous Bioware romances, I'd say). You can read more about my thoughts on his romance here which is why I'm not going into detail about it. Unlike Emmrich's, I would put it in my top 4 because I fell in love with the character that much (both in the game but really, I've loved him since Tevinter Nights), and I've grown very attached to my first Rook and him as a pairing. I've seen others share a similar sentiment on here (and I hate to say it but I agree) - sometimes it feels like I fell in love with Rookanis despite the way it was handled, not because of it. I can't say that for many other romances. While it's been fun to think up a lot of HC/write fics/make art about those abandoned concept sketches and parts where I felt the game could have showed us more of their dynamic, I can't help but feel like his (and other) romances would have immensely benefited from even 1 or 2 extra small scenes to flesh it out a bit more if they weren't going to let us freely talk to our companions.

The issue with the romances might also have something to do with the pacing of the game itself. I think Act 2 is where the pacing goes a bit awry, before picking back up in Act 3 (which is great, I love it).

Sometimes I also felt that there was a little too much reliance on codex entries and party banter to tell the story of the romance rather than showing it explicitly through cutscenes. I think that's what makes the romances feel a bit truncated at times, compared to the previous entries? Some of the romance-specific party banter was so good, it probably deserved its own cutscene. But it's also highly dependent on the party you have, and it's easy to miss/not trigger. I remember absolutely living for the cutscenes in the first three entries and I can't explain why I feel like, subjectively speaking, Veilguard just has less romance content (this may not be objective reality - I haven't compared the amount of romance specific content head to head with other games).

I also couldn't tell you why I feel DA2 doesn't suffer the same problems as DATV in terms of romance interaction - because you can't freely talk to your companions in that game either. Yet somehow, it always felt like I was getting enough of them to not notice that. I do miss being able to chat my LI's ear off and ask them questions about their life/their views/etc. like I could in DAO and DAI. I think it's a shame we can't because the companions in DATV are SO interesting. I want to ask them all a billion questions about their lives/stories/etc even if they're not my love interest. The party banter in this game is immaculate but being able to talk to them individually about this stuff would've been SO nice. I feel that I've missed out on SO MUCH of these characters just because I didn't have two of them in my party at the same time!

Anyway, I need to wrap this up.

In closing, perhaps, if I hadn't read that article about how it was going to be Bioware's most romantic game ... maybe I wouldn't feel this way? I think it sent my expectations through the stratosphere, and that's no one's fault but my own. Not Bioware, not EA, mine.

I know that this game's development cycle was a unique sort of hell that the other games didn't suffer. To go from Joplin -> Morrison -> Veilguard. To have so many of the original staff leave the team when Joplin got scrapped. To have to pivot from Live Service and then back to single person RPG. More lay-offs. It's a miracle this game got made. I'm happy I can sit around thinking about it. And I hope its successful enough that we get DA5 so we can all sit around dissecting that in 5-10 yrs time.

Don't get me wrong - I enjoy the Veilguard romances for what they are. I'm enjoying them more I play and discover additional banter/codex/etc that I missed the first time around. Like any Bioware romance, there are spots where they hit their stride, and spots where they falter a bit. When they hit their stride they knock it out of the fucking park. But when they falter, you can really feel it. Romance is hard to write! And you'll never fully please everyone.

But a small part of me wishes I'd gone in blind, and checked my own expectations a bit.

Maybe you agree, maybe you don't. Tell me about it. What was your experience with the romances? Did you also read that article and get your expectations up?

I hope this makes sense.

Kind regards good fandom folks,

Keep the discussion respectful. And please don't use this post as an excuse to just blatantly hate on the game.

-Rookie

[kaylatoonz]

Movie Amy Rose future AU

This post is kinda ironic knowing the rumors of Silver is the next character being introduced in the fourth movie or the end credits for the third movie. To save myself from going into another rant I’m just gonna say I don’t feel too great about the idea (especially with the possibility of them skipping Amy again or cramming way more characters into Amy’s debut movie than they did for Shadow).

Believe it or not, I drew this to cope with the possibility that they may cram a bunch of characters in the fourth before the stuff about the rumored silver spin-off came out.🫠

Anyway, this is how I would see an Amy Rose, Silver the Hedgehog, Blaze the Cat, and Metal Sonic movie.

Context

Amy and Silver are from a time organization that protects the timeline throughout the galaxy. Amy is gifted with the ability to see the future and summon her hammer (and other abilities). Silver is gifted with powerful psychic abilities unmatched by other fellow psychics within the organization. Together they were a powerful duo when assigned on missions. They were also friends with a tight-knit dynamic that strengthened their bond inside and outside of missions. This doesn’t mean their team was without fault. Although they both have a similar optimistic outlook on things, they have different ways of fighting for the future they envision.

Though Silver is an optimist he is also naive, he’ll take anything the organization gives him as the truth. If the organization tells him he needs to make a sacrifice for a brighter future he’ll do it. Amy is the opposite, she looks to one's past, present, and future to find another solution rather than stick to the organization's rigid ones. She believes in fate and destiny but she will challenge it and look for a different perspective if it means a brighter future for the universe or just one person. This often causes conflict between Amy and the organization but things usually turn out ok despite Amy’s differing approach to assignments. Silver was fine with this, Amy's way always brought even better results than the organization offered and as long as the future was secured there was no harm in a different path.

That was until a very dangerous variant infiltrated the organization threatening the timeline. Fortunately, they were able to contain it and learn of his origins. The dangerous entity was Metal Sonic, a future variant, a roboticized Sonic the Hedgehog. Deeming the threat too dangerous to exist they order Silver and Amy to terminate Sonic the Hedgehog before he becomes Metal Sonic (or lead to his birth). While Silver accepts the mission with a heavy heart, Amy refuses stating that there must be another way. This time the organization is not budging on their decision despite Amy’s grievances. If she would not cooperate she would be removed from the mission and forbidden from intervening.

Sensing a darker motive for the organization wanting Sonic the Hedgehog gone for good, she raced against Silver to protect Sonic from his assigned fate. One fight later Amy shakes Silver off her trail by stranding him in another dimension. Fortunately for him, in the loss of one ally, he gains a new one in Blaze the Cat, princess of the Sol dimension. Once he makes her aware of the danger Sonic/ could bring to her world and the universe she quickly allies.

Unbeknownst to anyone metal Sonic has escaped containment upon Silver and Amy's departure and he seems to be set on tearing the universe and time itself apart. He also seems to be targeting Amy for some strange reason.

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Cage of Desire

Ryeham Option

You can talk to the characters, but sadly these conversations aren't available in the recap. Luckily I made a screen record so I can share the words being spoken. Except for a part of Mirael! So sorry about that, I realised too late.

.・゜゜・ CASSADEE ・゜゜・. Magister Merlin!

Cassadee? It's been too long.

Magister Merlin, it's an honor to have you join us here. I've been studying he magic you left behind. You once blessed the land of Ryeham and were even able to transform a desert into an oasis. Currently, I cannot create magic on such a grand scale, but I will keep following your path.

Long time no see! Yes! What a privilege!

Sorry, but you're an illusion. What? Am I truly the product of magic? But everything is so lifelike! Look at the texture of the fabric I'm wearing. It's identical to the real thing. Even the touch of my skin feels real… What kind of magic is this? After the banquet, I'll have to study it thoroughly!

You're a remarkable mage. Thank you. Still, I recognize my own limitations and that there is still a wealth of knowledge for me yet to uncover.

Look! Valen has provided a generous feast for everyone. Strange… I can't remember why Valen is hosting this banquet, but in any case, it's an honor to dine with you. Please take a seat, Magister Merlin, and enjoy a lavish meal.

.・゜゜・　VALEN　・゜゜・． SONYA, you're late.

Valen, you haven't changed.

It's rare for me to spend so much on a feast like this, and yet the most important guest still arrives late. Go ahead, please sit down. The seat at the center is reserved for you. With this, all the guests have finally arrived.

You're hosting a feast? Am I dreaming? If this is a dream, so be it. I never thought there would be a day that I'd host a banquet. By all rights, it should be General Hogan doing this… Strange… Why did I invite you all to this banquet…? Even Mirael and Cassadee are here. Forget it, now that the beautiful ladies are here, the reason is of no importance. Let's have dinner.

This is an illusion! That's hurtful to say, SONYA. I might not have much to spare, but even I would treat the savior of the Heroic Order out to dinner. After all, repaying a kindness is a basic tenet of a knight.

It has truly been a long time. Yes, it's been quite a while. While you're tackling issues from afar, I was running around handling the general's business at the Heroic Order. We both haven't stopped for a break.

Although it pains my coin purse a bit, this feast was set up for you. We all came to see you. So enjoy yourself.

.・゜゜・　MIRAEL　・゜゜・． Magister, you're finally here…

Mirael? It's really you…

What's wrong? Why that expression? I've seen that look in a mirror before. When we met each other and you had forgotten me, I had the same expression on my face.

It's been a while. …

You're just an illusion. When you were teaching me about illusions, you said that although magic can create false images, the caster's emotions are not necessarily untrue. If am truly an illusion you fashioned, then it at least means you must have thought of me at some point. That in itself is a comfort.

I miss the time we spent together. I feel the same way.

… My dearest magister.

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 16

Masterlist

Jason had been planning on waiting to call Phantom until a bit later in the day, he had, really! But after a few hours of trying to sleep and a few dozen more muffins, Jason was bored out of his mind and fighting the urge to storm Danny’s apartment and ask him what the fuck he wasn’t telling. So instead of freaking out the only kind of normal person he’d kind of befriended (and really wanted to have the chance to get to know better) he decided to get answers from someone who’d basically offered them.

That’s how he found himself standing in the alley beside a coffee shop (the same one he’d met Danny at to discuss tutoring the boys) in full gear in the middle of the afternoon holding out a piece of paper with a summoning circle on it. The directions on the back said to just hold it out and say his name three times and he shall appear (was that real or was Phantom making a stupid ass joke?) like bloody mary or some shit.

But it worked and only a few moments after he’d said ‘Phantom’ for the third time there was a glowing, blinding light.

“I thought we were going to get coffee, eh sugar?” The ghost’s voice was strange, it sounded layered and loud and yet…. Something about it was soothing, gentle, like he was meant to hear it.

Jason snorted. “Didn’t think summoning you inside the coffee shop was such a good idea.” He looked in the general direction he thought the ghost's eyes would be but his glowing was making it difficult to see.

The ghost floated closer to the ground until he landed gently and the light emanating off of him dimmed enough to really see what he looked like. He wore knee high white boots with loose fitting black pants tucked into them (Jason did not note that the pants were tighter around his hips- he didn’t- he most certainly was not checking out this stranger), a white belt that helped break up the black pants from the black undershirt he had tucked into the pants, some silver chains hanging off his belt, a cropped black sweatshirt that hung just below his ribs with the sleeves tucked into white gloves that matched the boots, and a symbol on his chest. The symbol wasn’t something he recognized.

“Fair enough. I actually slept well for once so I’m not in desperate need of coffee like usual.” smirking, as if he’d just remembered something, Phantom side eyed Hood. “I can think of a few other things I’m in desperate need of.”

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the butterflies in his stomach (what was he- a twelve year old girl?), Hood crossed his arms. “I was unaware a king could be desperate for anything.”

Waving a hand dismissively, the Ghost chuckled. “Believe me, there are many things I desperately need as a king, one of them is to not be the king but, well, what’re you gonna do? But you didn’t call me here to talk about that, what can I help you with, hot stuff?”

“You wanted coffee, I have questions, seemed like a good enough reason.” Hood shrugged.

Phantom pretended to pout. “I’m hurt. You didn’t just call me here for a date?”

“You don’t even know me.” Hood responded flatly.

The king shrugged. “I know you’re a hero in the eyes of my people. I know you’ve got a bit of a dead thing going on.” he wiggled his fingers at Hood. “I know you’re hot.” He smirked as Hood clenched his jaw, Danny flashing through his mind for some reason. “I know if you weren’t curious about me you wouldn’t have called me here. So, I’ve got a couple of hours, and I believe I promised you coffee.”

The looks they got when walking into the coffee shop were admittedly hilarious and Jason vowed to go out a little more often as Red Hood in broad daylight just to see it. Although it might not have been the crime lord walking around midday but the glowing ghost who floated beside him that earned them so many looks. They placed their orders quickly and got their drinks even quicker.

Hood gave him an inquisitive look as he headed for the exit. “Best not to talk about all this around civilians.” He paused before offering another smirk that Hood was growing far too used to. “Unless you like when others watch.”

Jesus Christ Phantom was going to be the death of him. This time he wouldn’t come back. Would he be a ghost? If he were a ghost and Phantom the king of ghosts- 

Jason cut that line of thinking off with a firm shake of his head.

The pair made their way to a nearby rooftop and sat on the edge in silence. Only for a moment though while Phantom was drinking his tea, then he broke the silence.

“Well? Let’s hear your questions.” 

Hood didn’t know where to start. “Why are your eyes green?”

Phantom gave him a strange look. “Why… are my… eyes green? That’s what you’re going with? Why are you built like a brick shit house?”

A brick- what?

“Huh?” 

“You can ask me- the ghost king- anything you want, and you ask about my eye color?” Phantom scoffed.

Hood stared trying to figure out how to ask about their matchy glowing green eyes without outing himself. “No I- fuck, listen- I have a friend.” He finally settled on. “Something happened and he was angry and beating someone- someone who deserved it, mind you. When I pulled him offa the guy he was beating up, his eyes were green like yours. Like, glowy neon green.”

“Is this a ‘I have a friend’ situation where you're actually talking about yourself?” Phantom asked slowly and wow, okay. Sure, it was kind of, but not really either. How the fuck did Phantom manage to read him like a book?

“If I say it’s not?”

Phantom smirked. “I’d say you’re lying. But whatever.” He shrugged, setting his tea down beside him and clasping his hands together. “My eyes are green like ectoplasm- kinda like the lifeblood of ghosts in a sense. Anyone whose eyes glow green like mine have likely been around ectoplasm and- more likely- have died. Not all ghosts' eyes are green, but that’s my best guess for why this ‘friend’ of yours has glowing eyes.”

He supposed that made sense. He and Danny had both died but- “But why does it come and go?”

Phantom eyed him for a while, oddly quiet, before responding. “This friend of yours. What’s his name?”

And- okay, that wasn’t information he was sure he should give out. Danny had told him in confidence about his death and all of the ghost things that came along with it so he didn’t want to go around spreading his business. At the same time this was the ghost king- he could probably figure out who Jason was talking about if he really wanted to. But still! He didn’t want to do anything that would hurt Danny-

As if sensing Hood’s discomfort, Phantom spoke again. “I’m just going to take a guess and say it was Danny Nightingale?” When Hood neither confirmed nor denied, he continued. “Danny’s a bit of a special case. The guy is kind of dead, kind of alive. Sometimes his powers flare up even in his human form. It’s… disturbing to hear that he lost control of his powers while hurting someone, but it’s not unusual for his eyes or hair to change color. Especially if emotions are high.”

“You mean emotions being high makes him lose control?”

“Eh, not exactly. Ghosts are created through emotions. Ghosts are formed when someone dies with a lot of emotions attached to their death. That means ghosts tend to be pretty emotional, they feel things stronger than normal people and emotional pain is worse than any other kind. Emotional pain can even cause serious harm to our cores.” Phantom explained casually, as if they were talking about the weather.

That made sense. For the short time he’d known Danny he had noticed that the man seemed to feel emotions a lot more than others. He was still affected by killing the Joker despite being fine with the man's death, he flew into a blind rage when someone was going to hurt people he loved, one thing he’d noticed about Danny a long time ago was that he emoted so much more than others.

Though, Hood’s understanding of normal emoting was based on his family and they were... Probably not a good comparison for that. Either way, he liked that he could read Danny through his emotions that he had no problem displaying for anyone to see. It was refreshing for someone who hid behind a mask fifty percent of the time.

“So… if someone came back from the dead and… all they felt was… blinding rage… would that just be a normal ghost thing?” Fuck that sounded stupid.

Phantom tilted his head, considering. “Um. Depends I guess. I’m going to assume this is another ‘my friend’ situation. Do you mind if I check something real quick?” Thinking it was going to be like a phone or something, Hood nodded. “This will feel weird.” He didn’t expect the fucking ghost king to reach his hand into Hood’s chest and root around.

Hood let out a very undignified squeak as the feeling of someone poking around inside his chest overwhelmed his senses. Just as he was growing accustomed to the feeling and taking the time to examine Phantom’s face up close (Holy fuck his freckles were stars and they were glowing and when he bit his lip his fangs dug into it and this man had been flirting with Hood and he hadn’t been flirting back because of Da-) he felt the hand leave his chest and involuntarily exhaled.

“Okay, so- that’s… not great.” Phantom started, holding his chin in one hand in deep thought. “I think I know what will fix it so that’s good at least.”

“What’s wrong with me, doc? Give it to me straight, am I gonna live?” Hood asked sardonically.

Phantom rolled his eyes, amused. “I don’t know how, but you’ve been- for lack of a better word- infected with toxic ectoplasm. Not sure how, or even where you came across it but that stuffs nasty. Luckily the fix is easy enough. You need to be getting healthy ectoplasm- you aren’t going to find stuff good to fix what you’ve got going on in Gotham- But! Hanging around myself or someone like Danny Nightingale will help filter out the toxic stuff and replace it with a healthier version.”

Was that why he hadn’t been feeling the pit as strongly recently? He’d been to the manor willingly, he’d been feeling good- happy even, was that because he’d been hanging around Danny? If so, would he be able to hang around Danny more without having to explain himself? They did still need to have a conversation about what they’d talked about last time, but things had gotten busy and he hadn’t had the chance.

“Just tell Danny what I said and he won’t have a problem with you hanging around.” Phantom shrugged.

“I can’t just crash into the guy's life and make him fix me- that’s rude.” Hood growls. Who was Phantom to think he could just decide what Danny did and didn’t do? 

Giving Hood a hard look, Phantom repeated himself. “He won’t have a problem with you hanging around. He likes helping people.” He paused before thinking of something. “I’m not saying this as like, the king ordering one of his people to do something. I know Danny- personally. Not everyday a kid dies, comes back as half ghost, and becomes a teen vigilante who stops ghosts- my people- from disrupting humans’ lives. Obviously, I know Danny.”

Oh. Well that…. Kinda made sense actually. Obviously Phantom wouldn’t know every subject but if there was one subject who was keeping a bunch of other, more unruly, subjects in line, the king would start to take notice. “Like you know him or you know of him?” Hood asked.

“I know him, Hood. Is that good enough for you? Now let’s get any other questions out of the way, I wanted to enjoy our date before I have to go back.”

Hood pushed past the fact that Phantom had called this a date again (why would you push that aside you fucking dumbass a voice in the back of his head screamed, he’s hot, he’s interested in you, you’re single, what more could you fucking want?) and continued with the questions. “How’d you know to show up at the Daycare yesterday?”

“Danny obviously has one of my personal summoning cards.” Phantom shrugged. “He used it before tackling that scarecrow guy- which, by the way- your city’s rogues are fucking crazy.”

Letting out a genuine laugh, Hood agreed. “Yeah, they are.”

“Like I’ve dealt with so many weird things- but they’re ghosts with powers- scarecrow’s just a fucking weirdo! Thank god Joker’s gone cause I do not fuck with clowns.” Phantom held his hands up in a giant ‘X’.

But- wait…

“How did you know the fuckhead clown’s gone?”

Phantom froze for a millisecond. “Danny may have mentioned it.”

Danny mentioned it? The same Danny who said he didn’t want anyone to know about it? The same Danny who’d said he had barely slept since accidentally killing the Joker? He hadn’t realized that Danny was so close with the ghost king. It made a negative emotion boil in his stomach but he wasn’t sure why. Why would he be upset to learn that Danny had someone he was close to that he could tell about the terrible and traumatic things he’d gone through? 

That’s probably how Phantom knew he was talking about Danny earlier too- Danny told Phantom about beating the shit out of Miguel and Santiago’s sperm donor and the rage he felt. He told himself to be happy that Danny has someone to talk to- he and Phantom must be really close if they talked about things like murder. So why wasn’t he happy? 

“Hood?” Phantom prodded.

Snapping out of whatever daze he’d gone into, Hood focused on his date. “Just out of curiosity… did that fucker become a ghost?”

“No- fuck no.” Phantom shuddered. “He’s for sure in hell though, don’t worry, that guys never going to hurt anyone again- I’ve made sure of that.”

That made Jason feel a bit better. He tried to think of his next question but it seemed to be Phantom’s turn.

“Have you heard of the GIW, Hood?” The humor in his voice was gone, replaced with solemnity. Hood shook his head. “They are a branch of the American government whose goal is to capture, experiment on, and exterminate my people.”

“What. The. Fuck. What do you mean?” Hood growled deep enough to rival Batman.

Phantom fiddled with the sleeve around his tea cup. “I had to put strict conditions around my people visiting earth anymore because of what the GIW will do if they catch them. I didn’t know how to deal with them, I hoped… I’d hoped someone like the Justice League would see what was happening and step in before I had to. But they didn’t. And who suffers because of my patience? My people.

“I didn’t just call you here for a fun date.” Phantom offered him a smirk but it was far less playful than before. “I need help taking down the GIW before they hurt anymore of my people. If they had their way they would commit genocide with a smile and say they’d done it to better the world.”

Hood crushed his cup of coffee, spilling hot coffee onto his hands but he barely processed it. “So you need help bringing them to light?”

“No. What they’re doing is legal. I need it to be illegal and punished severely.”

“How is it legal?” Hood demanded. 

With a sigh, Phantom looked into the distance. “When I was a teenager, something called the Anti-Ecto-Acts was passed. It declares all beings who use or produce ectoplasm to be non-sentient and non-sapient beings, belonging to the government to be done with as they see fit. And they see fit to torture us.”

There was no way something like that had flown under the JL’s radar. There was no way it had flown under the BAT’S radar. Jason would have to talk to Tim and Oracle ASAP to dig up everything they could find on the GIW and these Anti-Ecto-Acts and get the fuck rid of them. Anyone who uses or produces ectoplasm would include Danny and- and him. The bats were going to be capital ‘P’ pissed. 

“I’ve never heard of them but I’ll get the bats and the JL on it immediately.” Hood promised. “Bats ain’t gonna be happy about this.”

Phantom gave him a small smile. “It’ll be nice to finally have some help. I- to be honest… I wasn’t sure when I was going to do anything about them. So many other things have been added to my plate recently and I kept pushing back the timeline to deal with them but… well frankly the attack last night has forced me to move things forward.”

“Why?” What about Scarecrow’s attack could possibly change the timeline for a government agency hellbent on committing genocide against ghosts?

Phantom bit his lip, Jason’s eyes drifting down to follow the motion before meeting his eyes again. Thank god for his helmet. “Well, apparently the attack was on the news. Everyone now knows that the daycare- Danny’s daycare- was attacked in Gotham. There are…” Phantom twisted his fingers anxiously before stilling and letting out a sharp sigh. “To put it bluntly, the GIW would like nothing more than to capture Danny again and have their way with him.”

Again? Despite Phantom’s presence, green seemed to seep into his vision. Hood felt his heartbeat pick up and heard his blood pounding in his ears. What had they done to Danny? He wanted to ask. He didn’t want to know. Who would want to hurt Danny? Danny who opened a daycare because he saw a need and filled it, who got mugged by a kid and offered to give the kid a safe place to live, Danny who’d died and used his death as a way to protect his town from ghosts.

“Not only is Danny in danger, but Santi and Miguel will be too. I can’t have that. So I’ve reached out to my team and alerted them to the situation. I’ll also be speaking with my council about this new development, but it would be a great help to have someone like Batman or Superman on our side.” Phantom rubbed a hand across his forehead tiredly.

Interesting how the straw that broke the camel's back was the danger posed to Santiago and Miguel. Hood also hadn’t missed how Phantom called Santiago, Santi, which seemed to be something only those he deemed close enough got to call him. Each passing comment painted a new picture of how close Danny and Phantom were and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Hood discarded the cup he’d thoroughly ruined and tried to shake out the coffee that had soaked into his glove. “Listen, Phantom, I promise you, there’s no way in hell Batman knew about any of this. I’ll tell him about this and he’ll light a fire under the JL and we will get this sorted. Or- you know, I could just kill every GIW agent out there and then… problem kind of solved.”

Phantom snorted. “While I wouldn’t mind that, the laws would still be a problem. And if you- someone with ectoplasm- killed them all it would be the opposite of helpful. But I’ll keep you in mind if I ever need someone dead.”

“You can keep me in mind for more than that-” he cut himself off before he could call the KING of the INFINITE REALMS ‘doll’. It didn’t matter though, the tone was clear in his voice; he was flirting.

Whipping around to face Hood full on, Phantom squinted. It was a long dragged out moment of confusion but not discomfort as Hood wondered what Phantom was staring at. “What else should I keep you in mind for, casanova? Cause I can think of quite a few things.” He looked Hood up and down, suggestively biting his lower lip and -wow, okay, his fangs were really digging in and Hood couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like if he dug right in-

Clearing his throat, Hood looked away- why was it so hot in his helmet? 

“Well, this has been lovely,” Phantom smirked, standing up. “But I’ve got some responsibilities to attend to and some explaining to do so I’ve got to head out. Let’s do this again sometime eh Mcdreamy? Call me.”

Before the ghost could disappear Hood grabbed his wrist. “I’ll summon you when I’ve spoken to Bats about it. We won’t let this happen to your people.”

Phantom offered a tender smile that almost reached his eyes. “Thank you.” With much less blinding light than before, Phantom disappeared, leaving Jason alone on a rooftop with a crumpled paper cup and a weight in his chest. That interaction at the end… Hadn’t that been exactly what he’d said to Danny the other day?

Oh.

Fuck.

Of course.

Hood couldn’t believe he’d been such and oblivious fucking idiot. The whole ghost thing, Danny having so much money, Phantom being a king, Danny coming to Gotham as a ‘favor’ for a friend,  Phantom saying the GIW was after Danny, Danny telling Phantom about the Joker, Phantom knowing about their flirting the other day (even if the flirting had been as Jason and not Hood)- it all made sense.

Danny Nightingale was dating Phantom the ghost king.

As he headed home for the day, Hood couldn’t help but feel a confusing amount of disappointment.

~~~~~~~~

Oh fuck- of course.

It made so much sense- Jesse had told him but he hadn’t believed her because why would he when what she was saying didn’t make any sense! But then the whole dying thing and the vibes were similar and the cookies! The cookies Jason had brought tasted so much like the ones Hood brought and it just makes so much sense that they’re dating!

Danny couldn’t believe his luck. The two hot men he’d been flirting with were already dating each other! Fucking Ancients- he’d never find someone at this rate! Just then a memory popped into his head.

Yeah one of them.

Woah- no no no Danny, time-out! You are not going to be in a throuple with the Red Hood and Jason- they probably weren’t even interested-

Well.

They had been flirting with him.

Technically Hood’s flirting had been with Phantom and Jason’s had been with Danny so maybe they were in an open relationship? 

No! He shook his head wildly. You’re way too busy for one boyfriend- there’s no universe in which you can handle two!

Though he would love to handle them. Ancients with Hood’s muscles and his thighs that could crush a watermelon and Jason’s eyes that couldn’t seem to decide if they were blue or green and both of their inclination towards leather and-

No! Bad Danny!

“You’ve got two kids to go home and explain your deadness too, stop drooling over taken men.” He grumbled to himself as he crossed the hallway and knocked on the boys’ door. Ancients, this was going to be a long conversation.

~~~~~~

“Told you he wasn’t human!” Santi shouted, pointing a finger at his brother.

Danny frowned, looking between the gloating and pouting boys. 

“I never said ‘e wasn’t not human! Jus’ didn’t care enough ta ask.” Miguel shrugged.

“Okay wait- stop.” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys don’t… have any questions?”

“Like what?” They looked at each other and then him blankly.

“Like- I don’t know! I’m kind of dead, kind of alive, I’m the king of ghosts- you don’t have any questions?”

Danny had come back to find the boys sticking post-it notes to the wall with different theories about what had happened to Danny, who was at fault, and when he’d be back. There were some pretty wild theories and ‘is dead?’ was among them somehow, but not in the way that was true. They thought when he got summoned he might have died. He was grateful that they didn’t break down in panic but also confused at the composure they’d kept.

“C’mon man, you wouldn’t DIE die on us, I ain’t worried.” Miguel shrugged uncomfortably.

He’d swallowed back the tears that threatened to formulate if he thought too deeply about Miguel’s sudden trust for Danny and moved on. But now they were just bickering back and forth about his identity and what it meant.

“Who cares? I was right!” Santi jumped up and down before freezing. “Does this make us princes?”

Danny looked between the two of them, not daring to breathe for fear of Miguel getting upset at the implication.

“Yeah, does it?” Miguel asked quietly, not meeting Danny’s eyes.

“Uh, well.” Danny swallowed. “If you’d… If you’d like to be my sons then- yes. But you don’t have to. I would never expect either of you to want to be my kids or to make it legal or anything like that and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“Old man.” 

He kept rambling. “I know you both have issues with your bio dad and I understand if you never want to have a dad again, I mean that’s what I did and I’m doing fine! I mean, I’m not *fine* after everything my dad did- but you know what I mean!”

“Old man.”

“And really- it wouldn’t change anything if you said you never wanted to think of me like that- I mean I kind of think of you as my kids but not in the way that I’d introduce you as my sons or anything, I’d never cross that boundary! Miguel made it clear that he didn’t want me acting like a parent so I’ve been trying to behave like a cool older brother but I’m not sure how I’m doing because I’m not one and I don’t have one and-”

“Old man!” Miguel shouted, cutting off Danny’s embarrassing ramble. Santi and Danny whipped around to look at the usually quiet and reserved boy. He met their stares with uncertainty. “I already said you were dad-shaped.”

And it was like someone filled the room with pure ectoplasm as Danny registered what he was saying. Forget cloud nine, Danny had far surpassed the troposphere and landed somewhere in space where he felt the giddiest and he couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across his face. “Are you… are you sure, Miguel? ‘Cause I’d like to make it legal if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Yeah whatever, do what ya want old man, ain’t gonna change nothin’. You already take care of us.” He shrugged casually and left the living room, likely trying to hide from the emotions he’d expressed.

Santi watched him go, eyes wide. “I think you broke my brother.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Danny covered his face. Fuck he didn’t know what he was doing. Guess he had to call his friends and tell them they were right. He was a dad.

Prev. Next

[dseval]

What are your thoughts of CrossDust? What dynamic you think they have?

Permission to yap about CrossDust??

Short answer: funny i like both of them they should kiss

...Long yapping ahead (there's yapping about my Murder Sans interpretation, then there's also CrossDust. It's long.)

I'd like to first clarify that my interpretation of Dust may be different compared to many (I think, at least). Since I base his character on the canon information from Ask-Dusttale and fangames— particularly Evan Streblow's Dusttale (if you don't know, it's the one with the psychotic HAHAHAHAHAHAHA and "We're gonna have a MAD time!")

I also slot in some headcanons (and self-projections, can't help it) and some character adjustments because I think canon Murder is extremely difficult to work with, especially in the context of shipping and anything else this fandom does with him in general.

But just the gist of it so you all don't have to read that much (I can go on for ten more paragraphs. I'm obsessed with this guy):

I'll use the names Murder and Dust interchangeably and within different contexts. I like to think Murder is a front that Dust puts on— an apathetic murderer who finds emotions difficult to feel, someone who always lies to get his way, a sociopath. While Dust is quiet, honest, and more contemplative. It's mostly Murder who interacts with others.

Murder and Dust aren't necessarily two different people. Ultimately, Dust directly influences Murder's choices, and Murder may disappear one day once Dust feels content.

His hallucinations aren't only Papyrus, he also hallucinates about others although Papyrus is the most often. And these hallucinations speak different things according to the state he's in. Murder's hallucinations would encourage him to hurt more. While Dust's would induce guilt.

Murder is a very focused person, not afraid to take the lead, and he hates it when nothing happens. Dust on the other hand is content just doing nothing.

Murder finds love absurd. Dust too, but he entertains the thought of it.

Murder and Dust both think words are silly, insincere, and can change meanings, so they are more action-oriented.

He's demisexual. That's a headcanon.

And if anyone has any different interpretation of Murder/Dust Sans, that is absolutely okay and amazing. Dusttale is a very hard AU to actually get into (all the informations are scattered). Plus, there is nothing wrong with fanon. I think it's great, I like fanon. I sometimes like fanon more than canon.

Now CrossDust.

For their general dynamic, I think it's very difficult for them to get together. They just go back and forth between something and nothing. They have like... The slowest of slow burns.

I'd like to implement the entire Underverse thing. Remember how Cross stole Classic's soul? Apparently, Sanses across different alternate timelines can share a memory. So Geno knows Cross stole 'his' soul. Killer also acknowledges this and says to XChara that they stole 'his' soul.

So technically to Murder/Dust— Cross also had stolen 'his' soul (And Murder would've had felt all Cross's pain while at it, too). I think Murder would find it hilarious that Cross brought literally every single innocent AU into his problem. Dust would feel like Cross's plans are ridiculous, but since it's XChara's plan, and XChara is the human, Dust wouldn't even question it.

In a way, they share SOULs once, even if indirectly. Murder/Dust knows probably a lot about Cross. But Cross didn't know who the hell this guy is. Either way, with that in mind. Murder probably didn't have a good first impression of Cross. Dust might empathize with him, since Cross also committed a genocide in order to 'make things better' which is also Dust's reasoning. Cross might learn about Murder's actions later— but cannot judge Murder/Dust for it.

They are very similar. Kindred souls in a way. They went through similar struggles but they turned out to be completely different people. Because Cross in his entire life is under control, while Murder acts on choice. Because Cross knows what he did is horrible and he'll carry that sin to the grave, while Murder justifies his actions.

Cross is too trusting (he doesn't trust easily now), too seeking for approval, he doesn't know what to do if no one orders him. Murder thinks he himself is enough, Murder thinks he is the hero, he doesn't need anyone else.

Cross thinks Murder is a bad person, an absolute jerk. Murder likes to toy with him, probably also uses Cross to his advantage. Murder can either try to hurt Cross, or will try to win his favour. But can Cross judge him? Not really, hell, I don't think Cross even noticed if Murder did manipulate him. Low-key toxic these two.

But then there's the private moments, the intimate moments where Dust shed the front that is Murder. Where Dust is sincere; he doesn't talk, but the way he gazes and acts towards Cross is honest. And although reluctant, maybe Cross desires to bring that side out of him more.

It's both difficult for them to trust. But eventually Dust will learn that Cross cannot lie— Dust will trust words again. Eventually Cross realizes that he's not the only one hurt, and he can find a home in others, he can choose to find a home.

Cross will find it frustrating how Dust shuts himself down. Dust would find it frustrating how hard Cross tries for him. But eventually, Dust would learn to no longer front himself up with Murder. Cross would need a signal from Dust that what he's doing is okay and perfect before they can advance further.

They'll care about one another.

Eventually, they'll trust each other.

In a relationship sense where they're both happy and recovered, though. I think both of them like cuddling. Dust still had a hard time with words, but he knows how much it means for Cross to have words of affirmations, so he would praise Cross a lot. Cross knows Dust is as restless as he is, so he makes sure they both have a full schedule with a lot of things to do.

All in all, they're comfortable with each other. And that's enough, really.

(i almost yapped for ten more paragraphs but I think this is enough for now sksksksk)

Dust Sans by Ask-Dusttale

Cross Sans, Underverse, & XTale by Jakei

Mentioned characters: Killer Sans (by Rahafwabas), Geno (by loverofpiggies/CrayonQueen)

[thcophagy]

sully had chalked up to what had happened after the party as one big misunderstanding, something that he couldn't be mad at lana for considering the rest of the events of the night. if anything, he'd felt a wave of pity for her, assuming that she was only trying to come onto him because she thought had to thank him for defending her. if he were a worse man he might've taken advantage of her vulnerability in that moment and let her touch him as she claimed to have wanted to but he was trying not to be that man, especially at the cost of disrespecting lana. it was easy to turn her away then because she gave up so easily, however the same couldn't be said for the version of his nanny that sat in the passengers seat, seemingly desperate to grope at his cock like it was the air she needed to breathe. he was trying to be that noble man, the one who saw how inappropriate the situation was and put a stop to it but he was also too soft to properly put his foot down and say no. with each flickered glance sent in lana's direction, he was met with the sight of her big eyes glimmering with mischief as she giggled at her blatant objectification. not only was it almost too much to hear her using such language, to be the subject of her dirty talk made him hyper-aware of his body in a way he hadn't been for a long time. he opened his mouth to formulate some kind of reply but nothing came, there was nothing he could say that would make any difference to the situation, not when lana was set so in her ways. as much as he wished he was, sully wasn't immune to that sickly sweet lana put on as she cooed fake sympathies about his abstinence, that was until she began to dive head first into the absurd and sully was forced to bark out a laugh. "are you serious? lana that's- you're being ridiculous. i'm fine, i'm not- jesus christ." she was insatiable, for a brief moment he thought he'd finally managed in getting her to keep her hands to herself but like clockwork, another dainty hand reached out and gripped the heavy weight of his cock through his pants once more. parking did sound like a pretty good idea, though not for the reason that lana seemed to be rallying for. the last thing either of them needed was for sully to somehow manage to crash the car on the empty road because he was too flustered by her advances, he only had two hands and she clearly needed them both in order to be held back from groping him like he was a piece of meat there for her pleasure. unable to move her hand away without letting go of her wrist or taking one off the stirring wheel, sully let out a shaky sigh and took a sharp turn to the right, pulling onto the side of the road. the second the car screeched to a stop, he was forced to once again grab at the hand stimulating him and pull her away with a sharp yank, though his grip was harsher than before. if she wouldn't listen to him then he'd have to apply some force, physically restraining her wasn't ideal and made him feel a little crazy but it was the only thing that he thought could work. "listen to me. you need to stop this. all of it, alright? i'm going to take you home and you'll sleep this off and tomorrow we can forget this ever happened but i won't tolerate your misbehaviour any longer. understand?"

this side of lana wasn't exactly out of character, though for mr. landry, it was likely a jarring switch. she'd taken great pains to craft an alternate persona to suit the nanny gig; a more polite, carefully censored version of herself that wouldn't corrupt the kids or scandalize their parents, and she'd prided herself on her ability to seamlessly maintain that act the whole time she'd been living with the landry's. sure, the way she dressed left little to the imagination even after her attempts to tone down the sex appeal, and she had a bit of an unpolished manner of speaking, but she always remembered her manners, she hardly ever swore and, the biggest difference from her usual self, no sex talk whatsoever. by then she'd slipped up once or twice with an innuendo or two— never in front of the twins, of course— and then, most damning of all, her attempt to initiate something that night after the family's holiday party, but it was nothing that could've cost her her job, she thought. at least in that case she'd been mostly sober, and had the good sense to pull back when he challenged her. this time, her inhibitions were thrown out the window, and there was no stopping her as she felt his cock stir to life beneath her soft palm, gasping in response as her eyes widened. "oh shit!" she couldn't resist giggling uncontrollably. "i forgot you had such a big cock, mr. landry..." had she been in her right mind, lana would've at least attempted to go about things with a tad more finesse, but there was something about blatantly objectifying her much older, wildly unavailable boss that gave her a rush like no other, almost like another shot of tequila or a hastily snorted bump, and all she had to do was say and do exactly what was on her mind. now that she could feel him hardening, she was sure it wouldn't be long until he caved just as long as she kept applying pressure. "oh, but i am concerned... it's very concerning." her voice became an exaggerated coo, the front edges of her brows turning up and her eyes widening to give her a sympathetic look. for a moment after he grabbed her again, she didn't fight him, playing nice just to get his guard lowered a little. "it's not healthy for a man to be pent up like that mr. landry... you've gotta get what you need from somewhere. i mean, who knows? if you don't get that release now, you might just go buy a gun and release it all over the family in a fit of blind testosterone fueled rage! i'm just looking out for you. don't you think you deserve that?" her brief period of peace now over, lana went right back to trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, only realizing after a bit of struggling that she had another functioning hand. she stopped fighting only to grope him with her free hand, a sly grin on her face like she'd just experienced a stroke of genius. "let's park somewhere, c'mon..."

[thistaleisabloodyone]

The purchase of the new CyberHelix cards got cancelled, which is Frustrating because that's why I bought any cards today, but I did use the refund to go buy two new auctions. Still getting the basic versions of the two Riku cards, but the one with the shiny signature is a no-go 😩

[lucabyte]

Hohohohohohohohoooooo!!! Items aquired.....

Now to make some more designs now that I know how the process goes... Entirely OC items for my own amusement though, of course.

[harukamitsuki]

Why Izuku's motivation in fighting Muscular can be seen that way? It's because of the reasons I listed.

He didn't have to fight him. He could have grabbed Kouta and ran away, especially since Muscular isn't as fast as Izuku's Full Cowl, and the fact that Aizawa was on the camp, who could easily make Muscular's quirk ineffective, making him significantly easier to beat.

Obviously, he still mainly wanted to fight to save Kouta, but it feels strange that retreating, even if just to get more hands on deck, didn't come to him as this came after the Hosu arc. His first thought there was to grab Tenya and run, but when he saw Native, he sent a request for help.

By that point, Izuku was shown to know that engaging in a life-or-death battle alone was foolish. His first choice was to retreat, and the choice he ended up making was stall for time until back-up arrived. He didn't plan on beating Stain with Tenya and Shouto.

Rather than being a favourite fight of mine, it felt more... detrimental. A sign that MHA was on a decline. Because such a fight, with those drastic results, should have been conveyed as empowering.

With Stain, the end of the fight was relieving, as they managed to survive. Keyword: managed. None of them were should have been able to survive an encounter with him, but they did. That is what made it so relieving.

A bit of an odd comparison, but it's sort of like 'Let It Go' from Frozen. It's not a moment or scene that should be seen as great, but it is. Elsa in that moment is isolating herself from everyone, and isolation is a horrible thing to admire.

Izuku has mutilated himself in order to save Kouta. That is horrifying, at least to me. It pushes this idea that heroes are obliged to sacrifice everything in order to save someone, or at least that Izuku is ready to destroy himself for someone, and it's not a good message.

It's inspiring to see a hero or anyone push against the odds and emerge victorious in a fight that seemed so against them, but not to that degree.

Izuku nearly lost functionality in his arms, just to beat one villain, and it didn't feel like he was trapped either. I could understand if he had no other choice, but he did. And if he went to ask for help, it would in turn help this theme of, 'alone we are weak but together we are strong'.

I love Power of Friendship - Fairy Tail was one of my first anime and it still holds a dear place in my heart, so there's no judgement in the Power of Friendship move.

Heck, you could argue that Fullmetal Alchemist, known to be one of the greatest series of all time, had a power of friendship moment with everyone talking Roy down, and Ed finishing off Father.

Now, when it comes to the events you listed, with Overhaul, I agree. It couldn't have happened without everyone turning they keys at the right moments. The arc wouldn't be nearly as powerful without everyone moving the pieces, Mirio, Tamaki, Eijirou, Nighteye...

But, it still stands that Izuku faced Overhaul alone. Even in Fairy Tail, when Natsu faced off against Hades, his team were right by him. Against Acnologia, the other Slayers fought with him too.

In MHA, it was cool to see them 'pass the torch' in fight, like All Might passed the torch to Izuku, but it would have worked a lot better if everyone all at once were fighting him.

We could still get Izuku making the last move, maybe everyone gets knocked down and Izuku is the only free, or Eri's powers going out of control and Izuku is the only one who can do consistent damage to his body to prevent her quirk from affecting him.

In that case, Izuku making the final hit or combo would work to great affect, and push the idea of everyone working together as one even more.

It would also serve to highlight how hero society was weak due to All Might being the singular pillar. The 'Atlas' of sorts. However, everyone working together would hint at the idea of having multiple pillars to hold it afloat. Instead of a single person holding the world on their back, everyone is.

I mean, if you like the fight: go ahead. I'm not going to stop you. Most of this is my personal feelings, and I post this sort of content as a form of venting, rather than trying to change anybody's mind.

Rather than disliking or hating MHA, it's more like I'm disappointed with it. But, if you and others adore it and every aspect, I won't try to stop you.

In the end, anime, manga, movies, comics, games... They're all pieces of art, and art is ultimately subjective. How people percieve art and the enjoyment they get from it is personal.

Uhhh that's all. Peace ✌️

MHA Volume 33...not going to enjoy most of this I bet

Why does Bakugou get to have an opinion about Izuku? Many of Izuku's issues are Bakugou's fault! Society as a whole bears some responsibility but for real...Bakugou was the on-site bully...and not only toawrds Izuku.

Also...trying to bring Izuku in by attacking him? Way to make him feel "loved". Maybe it's not the "right" call for him to be a loner, but it's Izuku's choice.

Plus this whol series has been a confusing mass of "don't rely on others" and "rely on others" with Izuku forever being the one punished for not picking right each time.