#it hits a lot different when you’re 9 years old.

[scottpilgrim4everr]

I rewatched the Scott Pilgrim movie last night after work and it definitely is a movie that exists.

[hysteria-things]

can u do a story of like chris sturnolio being a dad ??

UNEXPECTED TURNS

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dad!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: at first, you were devastated to find out that you were pregnant at this age. now, realization hits and turns out it’s not so bad for not only you; but chris too.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFFY, angst in the beginning, flashbacks, panic attack

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 760

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR A REQUEST LIKE THIS I FIND THESE SO CUTE!

was gonna save this for another day but i’m too impatient LMAO

i’m trying to get through my inbox so there should be lots to come! hope you like it anon :)

*flashback*

‘pregnant’

you read the word at least ten times on the test in your violently shaking hand.

a sob leaves your throat as you tremble. “no.” you choke out.

you try your best to grab your phone and text chris, your boyfriend. you need him here, and you need him here now.

“y/n?” his voice echoes through the house. you steadied your breathing, but you’re still a trembling and crying mess on the bathroom floor.

you hear footsteps coming up the steps. “y/n?” he calls out again.

he runs over to the bathroom door and opens it. the panic shoots through your body again when you see him, and you breathe heavily. “i’m sorry.” you say between sobs.

chris worries all over his face. he kneels to you to take your shaky hands in his. “sorry about what? oh my god, what happened?”

you point to the counter where the test is. he knits his eyebrows together and grabs it off the countertop. he scans over it for a few beats before looking into your crying eyes.

he sets the test down, taking his thumbs and trying his best to rub as many tears away. “i’m sorry.” you repeat.

he brings your head into his chest and tries to shush you. “you have nothing to be sorry about.”

he rubs up and down your body in a soothing motion, whispering in your ear. he rocks you from side to side.

his chin is resting on top of your head. “i’m with you on whatever decision you make. you know that right?” he tells you, kissing your head.

you nod. your ear is on his heartbeat, which is strangely calm. you close your eyes to focus on the rhythm, your breathing steadying along with it.

*9 months later*

tears of joy leave your eyes when the doctor carefully places your daughter in your arms. chris held onto your hand tight the whole birth. he rests his forehead on yours and kisses your nose, then the top of your little girl’s head.

“thank you for giving her to me.” you smile at chris.

“are you kidding? you’re the one that went through hell for nine months.” you and him both chuckle. “you’re a warrior, y/n. don’t ever forget that.”

holding your child for the first time is a different type of love. you never want to let them go.

despite both of you being 20, you know you guys can be the best parents to your baby girl.

*now*

chris sighs when he hears your one-year-old in the pack-and-play he set up in the living room. she’s been crying nonstop.

he gets up from the couch and walks over, leaning to get a better view of her. “what is it, little miss?” he says, reaching into the pack-and-play to pick her up.

she stops her crying to look at her father for a split second, but then goes back to the tantrum. “ma-ma.” she cries.

“your mama is taking a nap. she needs to rest.”

that only makes sadie cry harder, and chris tuts. “let’s take a look outside.”

you guys bought a house during your pregnancy, still close to his and your family. it came with a beautiful backyard.

ever since sadie was born, she has been so fascinated by looking outside. it always worked to calm down her little outbursts.

chris turns so his back is facing the glass door. her head rests on his shoulder as she looks at the summer greenery and flowers. her crying immediately stops, and now she’s doing rapid sniffles.

he rubs her back in a soothing circular motion and rocks from side to side. “i don’t like when you’re this upset, little miss. everything’s okay, i promise.”

her cheek rests on his shoulder, her breathing going back to normal.

when it seems to be a little too quiet, he peeks to look at her face, seeing sadie holding on tight to his arm and sleeping peacefully.

he rolls his eyes but smiles. “so dramatic.” he mumbles. “i wonder who you get it from.”

chris walks the sleeping infant into her nursery to set her down in the crib. before doing so, he kissed her on the cheek.

he stays there to admire what’s in front of him. she most definitely has your face and hair, but she has his blue eyes.

this was not a part of the plan in your relationship; at least not this soon. however, you guys wouldn’t want it any other way.

and that’s the beauty of unexpected turns.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[pedge-page]

Baby Sarah and Joel playing tug of war over the tv remote has to be the funniest thing ever , Joel watching tv one night and the remote is resting on the coffee table and the channel randomly changes and he turns to see Sarah just pressing buttons then joel immediately takes it to change the channel back and the brat fusses and tries slapping Joel’s hands and biting even having to get reader involved in the mix

Joel Dealing with Sarah: Theatrics

warnings: none :)

- - - -

Joel is fucking exhausted. Yeah he says that a lot, but damnit, that’s what happens when you have a pregnant monster for 9 months and then a whole ass baby monster for the next year!

You had gone to bed right after dinner with little Sarah. There may have been a debacle about Joel buying the wrong flavor of chocolate chip cookies despite you specifically saying regular chocolate chip earlier. He grabbed the raisins by mistake, and now he’s condemned to the couch (for the next hour or so till you’re out cold and won’t remember whether he was in bed with you or not).

It works out, though. He sighs heavily, propping  one foot then the other over the coffee table with his cup of decaffeinated tea. The house is quiet for once. He gets alone time for once. 

Scrolling through the saved tapes on the DVR, he finally finds the last home renovation episodes he’s missed these past few weeks. He chucks the remote somewhere, sits back, and turns his brain off for some quality Joel time.

The poorly acting woman goes on about the gorgeously boring white paint they’re gonna splash over the entire kitchen when suddenly the Jigsaw puppet creepy thing jumps on the screen and nearly sends Joel over the couch with a heart attack.

He looks around for the damn remote he must have nudged with his thigh when he spots his diapered one year old sitting upright next to him, the remote the size of her entire arm sitting in her lap with both hands on the bottoms. 

“Jesus—fuck kid. Where did you come from???” He whispers, looking around wondering if you put her here mysteriously without being noticed.

Sarah smiles with her gummy mouth like she’s not at all disturbed by the contents of the TV.

“Aight kid, gimme the remote, it’s not a toy—“ as he reaches for the devices, she yanks it back furthest away from him.

“Hey! Listen to me right now—“ he leans further, his arm outstretched in front—when she clamps down with her little gums.

“AY! SARAH! NO bitting!” He grits his teeth and reaches again but Sarah whines and slaps his bitten hand repeatedly with the remote. He manages to push a button, but she snatches it right back and hits another. The TV flashes between channels, volumes and mute, and different inputs like its having seizure as Joel and Sarah loudly grunt and whine at each other, tugging it back and forth.

Joel’s partially amazed at the incredible gripper strength she has on the remote, refusing the let it part from her tiny fingers that are latched on law claws. That, and the fact that she’s pulling enough strength that he isn’t sending her flying over his shoulder is making him wonder what kind of muscle milk you must be feeding her.

“Let GO!” He shouts, his arm straining with one hand on the remote, but she puts that big back in it and is yanking back towards her way with both of her baby paws tightly secured around its middle.

The TV is at full volume now, as are their angry growling at one another. So much that neither of them realize you had gotten up and were standing right behind the couch, rubbing your eyes viciously at the scene.

“WHAT—“

Joel and Sarah stop and turn, frightened by mom-zilla, who’s at her worst when she’s prematurely awaken. 

“IS. GOING. ON.”

Joel opens his mouth, ready to get the little brat in trouble and have a shout when sneaky little Sarah immediately lets go of the remote and launches herself back, crying loudly. She makes heavy eye contact with you through tears and her pained wailing while rubbing her chunky arm, squeezing her little lids shut so that the tears fall fat across her puffy cheeks. All while Joel’s got the remote tightly gripped in his hand.

“Joel!” You rush to pick up your baby and cradle her to your chest, which she totally nuzzles into.

“I didn’t do anything!” He shouts incredulously, and perhaps a little too off tone because there’s no way you didn’t see her just fake her injury by pretending he hit her. “She’s faking it! You saw!”

On cue, Sarah screams harder into your shoulder, huffing up and down like she can’t catch her breath. 

You wave your hand over to shush him. then you point to the couch. “Rest of the week. You. here.” 

He bites his tongue hard as the two of you walk back to your bedroom. He catches the minx give a little glance back over your shoulder with a toothless grin. 

If he could wring that child, he would. But he knows he’s gotta wait before he can start cooking her for real.

The theatrics of Sarah Miller are strong enough to rival your own.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[marvelous-slut]

Rats - Chibs Telford x Reader

not many warnings on this one, just mentions of guns i think? xx

You feel your body tense up as you hear the motorcycle pull up to your driveway. The gun in your hand is cold, but you have a tight grip on it. You have your mothers crucifix in the other hand, holding onto it just as tight as you pray silently. Tears fall from your eyes as you stand up to face the door way. The engine turns off and your body goes cold, holding the gun out to the door. Prepared to kill whoever it is that has been sent to kill you.

It was always said Piney, Clay and Bobby had spent many days in the club house carrying you around. They held you, fed you, changed you. Bobby was the most attached to you out of the three men, once you got old enough he’d make sure he had things to keep you occupied. He didn’t want you thinking of your father Otto being locked up and at this time as far as you were concerned your mother had a 9-5, but everyone knew she was filming her movies to try to help with the expenses that came with a baby.

Jax and Opie had been your right hand men for years. The two of you had did everything together. Riding bikes together and imitating all of your fathers, running around Teller-Morrow together. Once the three of you hit high school, your trip was inseparable. Lots of parents didn’t want their kids hanging around “biker thugs” kids.

Tig was like the creepy uncle, sure you didn’t like to sit alone with him but he sure did know how to make someone laugh when they were down. Juice, while quiet he thought highly of you. You were always willing to help him out, and he did the same for you. Any time he over heard you talk about going on dates, he was looking up information on the guy to make sure he wouldn’t cause any problems. Happy was different, he usually said nothing when you were around. You couldn’t help but like him because when he did say something, it was always a great comeback or eagerness to help the club.

Chibs Telford, he was the man who occupied your mind day in and day out. The one who looked out for you most in the club besides Bobby. You didn’t know what it was or why he did the things he did for you, but they always made you feel like a high school girl again with a crush. Anytime at the SAMCRO parties when you’d have a little too much to drink, he’d make sure you made it to his bed safe and sound, untouched. He’d let you sleep there alone until the morning when you felt better. He always had coffee made for you two to share. Maybe it was the fact he had a daughter he couldn’t take care of as you were younger than him, but it made you feel a way about him that you’d never felt about anyone else.

One of these men would kill you tonight and you were sure of it. You hoped it would be Happy, convinced it would be him. He would kill at the drop of a hat, plus you were close to him. Bobby would never be able to pull the trigger he was too close. No one else made sense. Your father had ratted on the club and tonight they’d seek revenge on his child as his wife was buried 6 feet under ground. As much as you loved these men dearly, considered them family you also knew what they were capable of if it hurt the club. The engine turns off and you hear a knock at the door. You set the crucifix down, holding on to the gun with both hands. Your heart falls when you see Chibs standing at your door, of course. They’d sent him to end your life. As he sees you with the gun pointed at him, he throws his hands up in the air.

“Jesus Christ! Lass, put that thing away!” You continue holding the gun, pointing it directly at his head. You feel yourself shaking, unsure if it was fear or shock. Maybe even both. Tears spill over as you realize the man you’d been in love with would kill you, or you’d kill him.

“No. I know dad ratted. I know what you’re here for!” You scream, shoving the gun closer to him. He grabs it and jerks it down. He takes the gun, emptying the bullets. You fall to the floor, tears falling down your face. “I don’t want to die.”

“What the hell are ya talkin’ about?” He asks, shoving the weapon into the waist band of his pants. He squats down, pushing hair out of your face. “Who’s going to kill ya?”

“Apparently you! The club has to send a message to dad about him flipping, my moms dead. He has nothing else to loose besides me.” You say, Chibs feels his heart ache at the sight of your tears and fear. He grabs your face, making you look him in the eyes.

“Love, no one’s killing anyone. Jackie boy wanted me to come by and make sure you were okay. Reassure you the club still has your back, we know this ain’t your fault. What your father has done doesn’t outweigh the trust we have in you.” The words make a weight lift off your chest. You wipe the remaining tears away and laugh. Chibs remains a little distraught that you thought he would be coming to kill you.

“They wouldn’t send me anyways, probably send Happy.” He says, chuckling as he does. “Jax says we have some kinda fucked up bond.” You think back to the times Jax had told you at the club house you had daddy issues after he’d saw you and Chibs together.

“That bastard.” You say, sighing afterwards. Chibs has a confused look on his face.

“Do we have some kinda fucked up thing?” He asks. You grab his hands, running your fingers over them.

“Maybe we do. But I like it.” You say, he smiles, pulling you into his chest. Your face lays on his kutte as he runs a hand through your hair. “Would you please stay tonight?” You whisper.

“I’d love to.”

[the-guilty-writer]

Can't Lose Her Too

Request from anon: Hotch x daughter reader when her depression is really bad  and she barely eats and sleeps all the time and doesnt want to see anyone or do anything??

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: When your depression hits, your father’s ghosts come back to him.

A/N: Did I intend for this to be Taylor Swift related? No. Did it happen that way? Yes. Yes it did.

CW: reader has depression, mentions of reduced food intake, mentions of Haley and Foyet, lots of sad Hotch

---

When my depression works the graveyard shift All of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room - Taylor Swift, Anti-Hero

---

Aaron got home early for once- around 7 o’clock instead of the usual 9 to midnight. In addition to that, it was a Friday and Strauss had a different team on call that weekend, which meant no interruptions, no emergency cases, and more time with his kids.

He unlocked the door, stepped into the house, and was immediately greeted by Jack’s arms around his legs, throwing his balance for a second.

“Hey, buddy.” He smiled and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Hi, daddy.” Jack beamed up at him, his small arms still wrapped around his father’s legs. Aaron put down his briefcase by the door and picked the boy up- Jack was already 5 years old, but Aaron would carry him as long as he could, not wanting to miss more of his son's childhood than he already had.

“You’re home early,” Jessica said as she walked into the living area from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he told her. “The team got lucky and we didn’t have as much work this week so I let everyone go home.” He put Jack down and the young boy ran off to resume playing with his toys.

“Well, everyone’s homework for the weekend is done. Jack already ate dinner and there’s some leftover in the fridge for you and (Y/N),” Jessica said.

Hotch furrowed his brow. “Still?”

Jessica sighed and looked down. “Still.”

When Haley died, one of the first things Aaron did was put you and Jack in counseling- better to do damage control now than to face the consequences years later- but it seemed, to no one's fault, that you were going to need more than that. The event with Foyet had left you traumatized, but you’d worked through it well. Even the loss of your mother wasn’t the cause of the lows you experienced.

Aaron knew better than anybody else that there were things about the brain that were unexplainable in origin and uncontrollable to the being it belonged to; he only wished you hadn’t been an unlucky victim of the chemical warfare of the mind. You’d already been a victim of too much already.

“Thanks again for watching them,” he said.

Jessica shook her head. “We’re family. It’s what we do.” She said goodbye to Jack and grabbed her coat before heading out the door.

“Daddy!” Jack called. “Can you come play?”

“A little later, buddy.” Aaron had made his way to the kitchen, heating up leftover dinner for you and himself. “I’m going to check on your sister.”

“Can I come too?” Jack asked.

Hotch hesitated. You were prone to irritability, especially when your depression became exceptionally overwhelming. Of course, you’d never purposefully say anything mean to your brother, but it was better that the only people in your room- your personal space- were you and the adults you trusted.

“Well,” he said, “it's almost your bedtime. So why don’t you get ready for bed and after I talk to (Y/N) we can read a story.”

“Even a comic book?”

“Even a comic book.”

Jack dashed upstairs without another word. Aaron plated the food for you and him, carefully carrying it up the stairs and knocking on your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart,” he called softly- it was the nickname he had been calling you since you were a child, just as he had always used “buddy” for Jack. “Can I come in?”

There was a murmured “Sure” that came through the door. When Aaron stepped through, he wasn’t surprised to find that the lights were off and you were wiping sleep away from your eyes.

“Hey,” he closed the door behind him and turned the lights on as dim as they could go. “You take a nap?”

“Yeah,” you said sleepily.

“I figured we could eat dinner together.” He sat on the edge of the bed and handed you a plate, though he wasn’t sure if you would actually eat it or just cut it into pieces and push it around with your fork.

“What time is it?” You asked.

“7:30,” he said. He began to eat his dinner, watching passively to see if you would too. “Jack is getting ready for bed.”

You nodded and took a small bite of food- a baby step forward. The rest of the meal was eaten slow and silent, but your dad didn't mind. Any time he got to spend with you was precious, especially since you didn't want to do much these days. Any time you ate something, anything, offered to you it brought him relief.

You finished about a fourth of your meal. Your dad knew better than to question if you wanted more- instead he just put your plate on top of his empty one.

“You want to do anything once Jack goes to sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m tired.”

“Okay.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled and tucked yourself back under the covers.

He left your room, quietly closing the door behind him. He put the plates by the staircase so he wouldn’t forget to take them down before he went to bed and then walked to Jack’s room. The door was wide open, the little boy already wearing his favorite set of fire truck pajamas and tucked under the covers. Aaron expected him to be holding a comic book- one of the new ones with Captain America on it- but instead he was holding Haley’s candle.

“No comic book?” he asked.

Jack shook his head. “No. I thought we could talk to mommy instead.”

Aaron smiled just a little and nodded. He knelt next to Jack and lit the candle for him. The reflection of the flame danced in his dilated pupil as he silently thought of his mom and then he blew it out.

“All done,” Jack said.

Aaron placed the candle on the nightstand and gave Jack a kiss on the forehead, just as he had done for you. “Goodnight, buddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, daddy,” Jack said, settling under the blankets.

Aaron walked to the door and flipped off the lights. He was about to leave when he heard Jack’s voice again.

“I asked mommy if she could grant me a wish,” he said.

“Oh?” Jack didn’t usually tell your dad what he ‘talked’ to his mom about, which was something he was okay with. His children’s relationship with their mother was sacred and personal- something they should only have to share with others if they wanted to. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, his head peeking out from under the blankets. “I asked her to help (Y/N) get better.”

A sad smile warped Aaron’s features. “That’s a nice thing to ask for.”

“Yeah,” Jack hummed sleepily. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, buddy.”

Aaron closed the door and went back downstairs. The silence in the house was deafening- there should have been a movie on, or the clicking of a keyboard, or even soft music playing from your phone. But you were upstairs asleep, not wanting to do anything or be with anyone. He could have taken the time to enjoy the quiet, but he couldn’t. He tried to read, or get ahead on paperwork, or even clean (though the house didn’t need it), but he couldn’t be happy about the silence that was a result of your loss of joy.

He went to bed early, following his normal night routine until he got into bed and rolled over onto his side.

Haley’s candle was on the nightstand.

He sat up, taking a deep breath before gently reaching for the candle and lighting it. A tear fell from his eye as he watched the flame burn in front of him- a reminder of everything he had lost.

Honey, he thought. If you hear this, please help her. I’ve already lost you… I can’t lose her too.

I really can’t lose her too.

[foldingfittedsheets]

on the topic of mattresses and pillows, first off, thank you for being a treasure and answering everyone's bed queries, secondly, i have a mattress that is at least 15 years old if not older at this point, and i prefer to sleep angled somewhere between my side and stomach due to an unfortunate overendowment of the chest. what type of mattress would you recommend, and are there any decent pillows that don't go flat and won't cause me to accidentally smother myself in my sleep?

Hmgh. Okay so first as a benchmark, our bodies needs change every 7-9 years. Replacing a bed that often is expensive but start to think of it when you hit the ten year mark. $800 over ten years is a reasonable amount for your health.

No shade at all, 15 years is getting awfully long in the tooth and will definitely be a contributing factor in sleep position. If you’re reading this and your bed is that old please consider whether it’s still meeting your needs or if you’re sleeping in a dent and putting it off. Beds are part of your health. Be nice to your sleeping body.

To your question: you’re probably gonna want to aim for something in the middle range, very soft beds are rough for stomach sleeping, but very hard is brutal for side sleeping.

For a pillow a solid memory foam, but as an erstwhile stomach sleeper I find that pulling the pillow partially under my chest helps stop the suffocating. With a solid memory foam you’re not struggling to come up for air.

And now for the line that I straight up didn’t believe before I got a nice bed: Sleeping on your side and stomach are symptoms of discomfort. The “ideal” sleep position is on your back with your head raised slightly.

See, the reason most people don’t sleep on their back is lack of low back support from the mattress. That curve in your lower back needs to get filled in for you to really be comfy. Ever found you need to keep your knees up while laying on your back? It’s shitty back support! Your body is unconsciously saying it’s not comfortable and you’re making an adjustment to accommodate that.

I truly thought this was bullshit until the first night I woke up on my new bed, flat on my back, having not moved all night long. Nothing hurt and I was freakin shook. I’ve always had a fucked up back and slept almost exclusively on my stomach. So with the right setup your sleeping position might change.

Now some people need help getting the low back support- people like I used to be who don’t weigh enough, people with difficult spines. Other people need help with breathing on their back like if you have huge massive boobies flopping every which way. Adjustable bases can go under your bed and provide the least pressure on your body to sleep well.

This isn’t always feasible for a lot of people, because fancy beds that facilitate real comfort can be expensive, not to mention moveable bases. The upshot is you can achieve some of that with pillow placement.

A pillow under your knees while sleeping on your back helps a ton. There’s angled wedges that can help prop your head up a bit while you sleep. Only ten degrees makes a huge difference for all kinds of issues. Acid reflux, sleep apnea, migraines, the list is long.

So if it’s in the stars for you to splurge don’t rule out that back sleeping might be in your future which my betitted wife has always found comfiest, bed permitting. But when you go into the store, lay how you sleep. Don’t rule out trying a bed on your back but if you sleep at an angle, lay at an angle.

I know it’s awkward to lay ass up in front of a stranger. But do it. Do it for long enough to really feel if the bed is supportive, squashing your tee-taa’s too much, if it’s letting your spine bend too far the wrong way. And ask to try it with a nice pillow that fits your body. Get a combo that works for you.

Good luck!

[redheadspark]

Hey love! It’s been awhile. I’m really hoping no one has requested this yet 🤞

May I request for Druig with Imprint?👀🙏

Hope you’re well🧡

A/N - Hey! Long time no talk, I hope you're well! This one is short but sweet, I hope you like it!

Look

Summary - One look changes everything

Warnings - Just Fluff

All it took was a look. One singular look.

Imprinting happened with animals at the very beginning, it was a natural phenonnemon for them for thousands of years and through plenty of evolution of the planet.  When humans started to imprint, it was a two new breed to deal with so to speak.  Scientist could not explain it, nor could anyone else really.  One day, humans found out that there was a way imprinting could happen amongst one another.

It was rare, but it was real.  Soulmates came into being.

Even with modern day technology, soulmates was still a mystery amongst the entire population.  They were rare, the actual international number of soulmates was lower than 1% with no real clue or sing of increasing.  Yet those who found to be soulmates end up having the longest lifespans compared to the average humans, not to mention the lowest rates of sickness and diseases.  Interviews with soulmates to make them look like celebrities, yet they were normal people.

Normal random people, and you happened to be in that statistic.

With the sunbeams hitting your skin and bringing you out of your sleep, you blinked slowly and heard a few sounds already this early in the morning.  The coffee maker in the kitchen beeping, signaling it was ready.  The shower turning on, the sound alone bouncing off the tile walls.  With a slight crack in the window brought in the noises of bird chirping and cars already honking outside on the road. But you were used to these sounds, you rubbing your eyes to get the rest of the sleep out of your body.  Your bedroom was slightly opened from the door, you could distinctly hear soft humming from the direction of the living room.  A deep tenor tone, making you grin and curl under your sheets.

Your own soulmate: Druig.

If you were to ask him, Druig would claim that you were the one who imprinted on him when you two saw one another across the room.  But in your mind, it was Druig that imprinted.  Maybe it was both of you acing on it without either of you realizing in.  From that you read in college papers and in some of your own research, the feeling of imprinting was like your breath getting lost in your lungs and your vision being amplified and heightened.  Soulmates claiming it was like a rebirth, or taking in a fresh breath after being under water for so long.  

You never thought you would have that yourself in your life, which seemed mundane and nothing out of the ordinary.  With your 9 to 5 job, an apartment that seemed a bit too cramped, and family drama to deal with, nothing new was going to happen in your life.

But Druig changed all of that with one simple gaze.

Getting up from the bed, you stretched your back and ruffled your Long hair that got out of its braid.  You now could smell the coffee that was freshly brewed, making you hungry since you were a coffee addict.  The humming was heard from the shower, some tone that was one of his favorite songs from an old punk band that he was a fan of.  Yo knew his sate of music was unique since he was no big fan of the mainstream music that was heard a lot on the radio.  Everything about your soulmate was unique and different, and it shook up your life in the best way possible.

You remember the day it happened: exactly one year ago.

A warm summer day that was morphing into autumn, the leave already starting to turn and the crisp winds coming in from the mountains.  You were invited to a backyard party by a fiend of yours in college whom you stayed in contact with.  Making it just in time for the local band to tune up and start their first song.  You friend Makkari placed a red cup in your hand and grinned at you as she signed with one hand “I’m glad you came!  You’ll love these guys!”

The band started playing, the notes floating in the air and was already shaking the walls of the house.  Of course you were bobbing your head to the music, thinking it was a great song and the band was rather decent when it came to the sound.

Then suddenly, someone bumped into you from behind and made you spill a bit of your beer.

“Oh, sorry!”  

“It’s okay—“ You stopped when you saw him, looking over your shoulder and seeing his bright blue eyes wide at you.  They were so blue, so pristine and almost like sapphires or drops of waters.  His dark brown hair pushed to the side along his ivory skin, the distinct nose that complimented his face.  

The way he looked at you, it made you feel it within a second.  The breath that seemed so fresh that it hit you in the gut, your vision was beyond clear and almost razor sharp clear.  Perhaps it was muddled before, the way you saw thing or even breathed.  

But not now, not when the imprint took place. 

You heard the shower go off as you slipped out of bed, having  no need to make it since it was your day off and you were intending to make it a relaxing day.  The humming from Druig was heard a bit more as you heard him shuffling around in the bathroom, you combing your hair to get the knots out and then heading out into the living room.  Knowing Druig, he liked taking his time in the morning.  He was a late riser recently since the promotion at work.  

Ajak, his boss and mentor, saw the hard work he was putting and decided that a promotion was in order, which meant half of his week was spent at your shared apartment to work remotely.  He liked it that way, enjoying the peace and quiet at home when life would get chaotic.  

After the imprint was made, you two were inseparable.  Druig took you by the hand and ushered you out of the backyard. Away from the noise and the chaos of the band to talk to you, for you both to talk to one another and to figure out if the imprint was real.  Feeling his hands holding yours, hearing his voice in how he spoke to you, you felt it in your gut. 

It was real:  you was his soulmate and he was yours.

Your living room was cramped but comfortable.  The sofa was a gift from your friend Gilgamesh since she moved into his new home with another friend Thena, the rocking chair that you would use for your cross stitching and reading was found at the goodwill around the corner.  Several indoor plants on the windowsill to get the sunrise that was already pouring into the space, small trinkets and knick knacks from past adventures and traveling days together in Druig’s black hair. You loved this apartment, it was a home for both yourself and Druig to hare together. Late nights eating pizza, early mornings over coffee, those moments were the best with your soulmate.

That first year together seemed like a dream. You both got to know one another so quickly with no sings of slowing down, but it was what you both wanted.  Not wanting to go on with your lives without one another, no matter the raised brows from your friends and families.  Especially from Ikaris, a co worker of yours who seemed cocky.  When he met Druig, he instantly hated him.  But you hated him already in how he treated his ex Sersi.  Yet he looked disgusted at Druig, like he was a bug under his shoe.

It made you hate Ikaris even more. 

Druig made things easy when you two got together.  There was no hesitance when It came to him, whether it was finding a place together and going through the milestones side by side.  Like any other relationship, the bumps and hiccups were there.  But since you were soulmates, those bumps were smaller and the hiccups were non existent.  

You loved his quirks: indie music, worn books to read from cover to cover, second hand furniture, black coffee.  The way he spoke with an old soul but had a youthful heart, how he enjoyed doing community service on the weekends and still have time to go to his friends parties and kickbacks.  He made more time with you, wanting to spend any time he could with you.  His words of affirmation, subtle physical touches when you sat side by side.  

He swept you off your feet from the very beginning, and he still did one year later.

“Darlin’?”

“Out here,” You called out as you heard his name, making the pair of you two cups of coffee.  Thankfully, you two had the day off together something very rare because of your schedule and constant busy schedule.  Although you both were having a lazy morning, you had a dinner you both were going to attend at Kingo’s move premiere.  Knowing that the dinner and premier was going to be long, Druig thought it was a good idea to have a lazy morning before it would get chaotic into the evening.  

Finally, you heard the soft sounds bare feet on the hardwood floor, king you look up and seeing your soulmate and boyfriend Druig walking out of the bedroom freshly showered in a worn concert t shirt and his sweats hanging low on his hips.  You felt your stomach do a small lurch from the site, Druig ruffling his damp hair and he smiled.

“Happy one year anniversary,” you hummed as you handed him his cup of coffee.  Druig chuckled, leaning over the small counter to peck you on the lips as he took the cup in his hands. 

“Thank you, luv,” He replied lightly, then leaning back to take a big drink from his cup.  You made a face, to which Druig raised a brow at you.

“What?” He asked, you gesturing with your chin to his cup.

“I still don’t understand how you can drink that with no cream or sugar,” You explained, seeing him roll his eyes.

“I’ve told you, it reflects my bleak and dark soul,” He answered in a sarcastic tone.  Throwing a towel as his face, you laughed as you drank from your own cup that had a dash of cream in it to make it sweet.  

“Also, I have planned a getaway for us after we have this premier and dinner tonight,” Druig explained while he took the towel off his face and watched you drink you coffee, “To one of our favorite places,”

You grinned widely at him, “The beach?  Where?!”  

“Let’s just say Kingo has great connections to one of the beach resorts you and I have eyed a few times,” Druig answered, you were about to argue with him when he raised his hand to you, “I promise it’s all taken care of.  Kingo helped with the reservations and Makkari already filled me in with where to take you for meals there,”

Some gestures like this made you love Druig all the more.  Ever since you two got together and made your relationship work, he would find smaller ways to make you feel special and immensely loved.  From gifts like flowers and books you loved reading along with new material for your stitching, to his chivalry that he would show everyday at you.  He made your light days lighter, and drove out the storms that threaten to make your smile fall away.  He brought comfort in pain, peace in chaos, love when you felt undeserving of it.  

And to think you were skeptical of the concept of soulmates.  Now you had one, and there was no other life you wanted.

“Well, now I’m looking forward to it!” You said, nearly bouncing on your feet as you went to wash out your cup.  Yet Druig watched you with his warm smile, knowing deep down he had more plans than just a weekend getaway at the beach.  

The engagement ring he brought for you a month before was in the sock drawer, Druig knowing it would be the perfect weekend to take the next step with his soulmate.  

The End

@a-lumos-in-the-nox @valeridarkness @ethereal-athalia @heartofwritiing

[anthurak]

Random Old Theories/Headcannons: Wyrd RWBY

So those who have been following me for the last few years might recall that prior to us actually knowing anything about Volume 9, some of my theory posts touched on Team RWBY returning to Remnant changed by their time in this mystical realm beyond their own, wielding weird and strange powers.

Anyway, this is a WIP from a couple years back that went into some fun ideas for these changes for ‘Wyrd RWBY’ that I thought I’d touch up and finally post.

Enjoy XD

---

Yang doesn’t seem much different at first. Just that her hair seems to be a bit wavier than before, like she’s using her semblance all the time now. And the air around her always seems to be at least a few degrees warmer. But then you start noticing other things. Like how sometimes her right arm isn’t made of metal and circuits but instead wreathed in some kind of tangible flame. Or how the fingernails on Yang’s left arm now look more like claws. Or how when Yang’s eyes turn red, they now also become slitted like the eyes of a lizard. Or the golden flakes that now dot Yang’s exposed skin. Flakes that will sometimes spread. Sometimes they spread so much they look more like golden scales. Yang always laughs this off. Which is also when you can see that her teeth are quite a bit larger, and sharper than you remember.

Blake herself isn’t the one who seems different at first. It’s her shadow. Like how it often moves independent of Blake. Or is somehow able to grab things for Blake. Sometimes you’ll see Blake’s shadow moving along a wall with Blake herself nowhere in sight. Sometimes Blake’s shadow won’t look like Blake at all, but rather some manner of very large cat. And sometimes you’ll see a large black cat wandering the back allies with the shadow of a person.

Weiss… where to begin with Weiss? First off, you wouldn’t expect a girl like Weiss to be into tattoos, but now Weiss seems to be covered in them. On almost every bit of visible skin, Weiss has these strange, arcane symbols, glyphs and runes. They tend to glow whenever Weiss uses her semblance. Speaking of which, you know that the Schnee semblance is versatile to say the least, but you’re pretty sure they at least needed to dust to do some of their crazier feats.

What Weiss is doing feels less like a semblance and more like actual magic.

Then there’s Weiss’s Grimm. Not Grimm like everyone knows. No one would mistake these creatures for the Grimm that humanity fears. With their bodies and fur the color of freshly fallen snow and icy blue eyes. You’ve seen Winter and Willow Schnee summon ‘white’ Grimm before, but the creatures that Weiss calls to her side seem so much more tangible. Not some construct of aura that will vanish as soon as its mistress stops focusing on it, but something REAL. And there’s always at least one or two with Weiss wherever she goes, sometimes more.

And Ruby? Well, let’s just say the fact that she somehow has wolf ears and an eye-patch are probably the least weird things about her now.

Like how her silver eyes were always unique, but now it seems they often glint and shimmer and otherwise catch the light in ways eyes don’t. Even when there isn’t any light for them to catch…

Ruby also uses her semblance more. A lot more. As in, unless she’s accompanying someone else, you can expect her to enter a room not through a door, but via a trickle of rose-petals blowing in through an open window. Or a vent. Or just appearing out of basically nowhere.

In fact, it seems like there are always a few petals flaking off of Ruby’s cloak, only to vanish before they even hit the ground.

And it feels like any time Ruby might be struck or otherwise injured, her semblance will activate.

You remember one time when Nora tried to give Ruby an affectionate punch to the arm, only for her fist to travel through the arm as it suddenly burst into petals before reforming a moment later.

Come to think of it, you’re pretty sure you haven’t seen anyone actually TOUCH Ruby. Aside from her teammates…

Speaking of which, Team RWBY together brings even more strangeness.

Like how they’ll sometimes speak amongst themselves in a strange language that sounds more like a whistling breeze or a crackling flame than anything someone might actually speak with.

Or how they will sometimes move and act together without need for words at all. And that’s just the least of it…

Like you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Blake’s golden eyes flash just a bit when Yang uses her semblance. Or Yang’s violet eyes shimmer when Blake uses hers. Or how Yang’s semblance now creates a fiery, shadow-like afterimage of herself that looks a bit more like Blake than her. Or times when Blake will gain some sudden burst of strength while fighting that causes her hair to start flickering like a flame.

Meanwhile you’re pretty sure you’ve seen some of Weiss’s runic tattoos briefly appear on Ruby’s skin, or the edges of Weiss’s hair briefly turn red. And there was that one time Ruby and Weiss went out to save a group of incoming refugees being attacked by a horde of grimm, yet those same refugees swear they were saved by a mysterious woman in red and white.

Oh, and there’s also Ruby’s new pet mouse who actually seems pretty normal. Aside from the fact that some people are saying the mouse talks.

But that’s just silly!

[robertreich]

Why Are There Fees on Everything? 

If there’s one thing that brings our divided nation together, it’s our hatred of junk fees.

Junk fees are extra charges you don’t know you’re paying until you get the bill. They hide the true cost when you buy a good or service, so it’s impossible to comparison shop. For example…

Say I want to travel to go see my favorite musician Dolly Parton play at Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry.

When I book my plane ticket, I have to fork up extra cash to bring luggage or change my flight. My grandkids are more into Blippi than Dolly — so they won’t be traveling with me. Otherwise, I might have to pay a fee just to sit with them.

I need a rental car once I land, so I’ll be stuck paying an extra fee to pick up the car at the airport and another fee they never told me about to cover the rental company’s costs for disposing old tires. Seriously?

When I pay my hotel bill, the price is way higher than I thought I’d pay when I booked the room, to cover wi-fi, pool access, a gym, state and local taxes and other special fees.

Before I get to the show, I better look at my checking account balance if I want to buy a record. Even if I see that I have enough money to make a purchase, the timing of other charges hitting my account could result in me getting slapped with a surprise overdraft fee. It's a simple mistake, but could make a $20 record end up costing $50.

Oh and don’t forget the concert tickets themselves. Major ticket sellers like Ticketmaster tack on fees to attend shows, which can drive up the final ticket price as much as 78% percent higher than what I was told the initial price was.

It’s all bait-and-switch. You thought you could afford to see Dolly Parton, but it turns out it’s gonna take a lot more than working “9 to 5”.

Corporations often label these types of charges “convenience fees” or “service fees.” Probably because they “conveniently” “serve” to pad their bottom lines, costing Americans at least $29 billion dollars a year we didn’t expect to pay. This is a huge problem spanning many different industries — not just the ones I’d encounter on my trip.

But there’s good news: President Biden has urged Congress to draw up legislation to prevent these outrageous fees.

Turns out, one of the few things as popular as Dolly Parton is tackling junk fees. 

It’s time for Congress to act.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter II

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

Bob takes you out and lets you in after a(nother) moment of weakness.

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

A/N: The mannerisms of Steve are based off of my sweet, derpy, old pup. She helped pull me out of my crippling postpartum depression and welcomed me back, forgetting I hadn’t just ignored her for the year prior (I was barely able to take care of my newborn, I wasn’t taking care of myself and I couldn’t fathom mustering up enough energy to even pet her, trust me, I still feel bad about it). She is the best.

Warnings: mentions of asshole ex boyfriends, negative thoughts (thanks to asshole ex boyfriend), smut, etc.

Bob waited until you were in your apartment and turned the lights on before taking off. Hes bubbling with different emotions as he drives home. He’s smitten, obviously. He’s never met a girl like you; so beautiful, witty, passionate, funny. He’s baffled that someone like you is interested in him. Then the embarrassment creeps in…he came in his pants like a fucking teenager, but relief since you didn’t laugh or make him feel worse. In fact, it had seemed you liked it. He can’t stop thinking about you whispering how you wanted to blow him the parking lot and then sucking your fingers…Damn it, he was hard again.

He sighed as he unlocked the door to his house. Even though his sister would come once a week or so to get his mail and check on the house, it was stale and stuffy. He opened the windows in his room and got in the shower.

___________________________________________

You overanalyzed the entire night while you showered, every look, every conversation, every touch.

You started and deleted a text to Bob several times before finally hitting ‘send’ and turning your phone over while you put your pajamas on.

Sunny: Thanks again for handling that jerk and following me home. I’m also sorry things got a little heated too quickly. I haven’t dated in years, but I don’t do that on the first date. Or, pre-first date I guess.

A few minutes later your phone dings.

Bob: You’re welcome, I’m just glad you’re okay. No worries, I liked it (obviously lol). Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow.

Your stomach flutters and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s okay. He’s not Derek. He doesn’t think you’re a whore. It’s okay for two consenting adults to do these things.

Sunny: I can’t wait either. Goodnight.

Bob: Sweet dreams

___________________________________________

You sleep until 9 and it feels amazing. You pick up a little in case Bob comes all the way to the door and get ready. He said to dress casually so you don a pair of shorts again with a favorite oversized band tee and a pair of Converse. It feels weird to be putting normal clothes on 2 days in a row, you pretty much live in scrubs or pajamas.

Bob knocks as you’re putting your hair up. As you open the door, you’re greeted by a fluffy gentleman sitting oh so patiently, his tail is giving away his excitement by going a mile a minute. “Hey there cutie. You must be Steve, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sunny.” You say, crouching to pet him. He’s so soft, and his wet nose tickles as he sniffs you.

You rise and take in Bob. He looks good enough to eat in a worn pair of Levi’s and a gray tee. He hands you a bouquet of fresh flowers. “We stopped at the farmer’s market on the way, thought these were pretty,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, the tops of his ears turning red.

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you. Come in, I’ll put them in water.” You smile.

“We can wait out here, he sheds a lot”. Bob replies.

“Oh gosh, don’t worry about it, I grew up with pets and have a vacuum.” You insist, pushing the door open wider.

“Alright,” he agrees. As he brushes past, you notice the slight bruise you sucked into his neck last night and your cheeks heat. Embarrassment or arousal? You weren’t sure.

“Nice place,” Bob says looking around. Steve is sniffing everything in sight.

“Thanks, it’s small but it’s got everything I need. I’ll eventually look into buying a house, but I’m comfortable here for now” you say, trimming the ends of the flowers. “Where’s your place?”

“About 15 minutes from here, by Valencia Park” he replies, looking at the pictures hung on your walls

You nod while filling a mason jar with water and place the flowers in it, setting it in the kitchen window. “Perfect. Thanks again.” You kiss his cheek. “Hey, what’s that on your neck?” You tease, lightly brushing the bruise with your fingertips.

He blushes again and chuckles. “Must’ve burnt myself with the curling iron”.

You laugh, “Is that so? You should really be more careful.”

“You’re telling me. All set?” He asks.

“Let’s go” You nod.

___________________________________________

You watch Steve take the stairs down while you lock up. “That is impressive, is there anything he can’t do?”

“No, not really. I help him in and out of the truck bed because it’s pretty high, but he’s adapted way better than I would’ve expected. Oh hey, my truck is just a regular cab, so there’s no backseat. I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll want to sit in the middle, or Steve will be on your lap. He insists on being by the window, one way or another.” He says as he unlocks it, stepping aside to let Steve through.

You climb on next to Steve and squeal as he immediately goes for your ears, sniffing and huffing with his wet nose again.

“Sorry, he’s pretty polite, but he has a thing for ears,” Bob grins as he gets in seat beside you.

You laugh, “I don’t mind, he’s so sweet. I’m just ticklish”.

Bob pulls out of Penny’s driveway and you’re off. Once he puts the cruise on, he relaxes his leg, resting it against your bare one. Goosebumps rise at the feel of his rough jeans against your skin. Down girl.

“Where we going?” You ask.

“There’s a quiet, dog-friendly beach up there road here, it’s Steve’s favorite place. I packed some lunch too” he replies, slowing to turn into the parking lot.

“That sounds great” you answer.

Steve realizes where he is. His front paws start tippy-tapping and he whines, hardly able to contain his excitement.

You laugh, patting him. “Almost there buddy”.

___________________________________________

Steve zooms along the shore as you and Bob put down a thick blanket. You three are the only occupants, save for an older man with an older dog a couple hundred yards down the beach.

You sit cross-legged and Bob comes to stretch out beside you, handing you a sandwich. You both laugh as Steve attempts to stalk some seagulls, but panics and tucks tail back when they start chasing him. He hides behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. You give him a smooch “You’re okay, I won’t let them get you. Those gulls are mean, huh?”

Bob tells you stories about Steve while you eat, making you laugh at his antics. He pulls his phone out and shows you a picture his sister snapped last night of Steve tucked into the sleeping bag between two little girls, all three wearing sleep masks. “Guess he slept like that all night” Bob chuckles.

Steve eventually sneaks his way between you two, laying his chin on your knee. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” You say, softly rubbing his forehead. Bob chokes, his thoughts immediately turning dirty at your words. You bite your cheek so you don’t smile, pretending you don’t notice.

“Did you bring a ball or anything to play fetch with?” Bob nods, grabbing a frisbee from the bag.

___________________________________________

You three play for a while, the sun warming your arms and legs. It feels good to be outside. Bob tosses the frisbee towards you and Steve, but the wind catches pushing it behind you. Steve’s too focused on it to realize where he is and knocks you off your feet.

“Oh my God, Sunny!” You hear Bob yell running over. “Steven! Watch out buddy, give her some space.”

You can’t answer, you’re laughing too hard. Steve’s in your ears again, sniffing, huffing, and licking. Your laughter makes him more excited, and he zooms away as soon as Bob gets to you. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. I can see why you love him so much, he’s quite the character.” Bob holds his hand out to help you up. You take it but tug him down instead. He lands with a surprised oomph. You pull him to you for a kiss. He stiffens for just a moment, caught off guard (again) but relaxes into it. You kiss slowly, lazily. You suck his tongue and groans deeply. He’s hard, pressed perfectly against the seam of your shorts right where you need him. “You feel so good” you murmur against his lips. He twitches against you.

Out of nowhere, you feel frigid saltwater slide around you, soaking you both. The tide came in. You squeal and Bob chuckles, the moment gone. Probably for the best, you don’t really want an indecent exposure on your record.

He helps you to your feet. “My place is closer to here, we can get cleaned up and dried off there if that’s okay?”

You nod, wanting to get out of these wet, sandy clothes ASAP.

_______________________________________________

Bob grabs some dog shampoo from his truck and you help him lather and rinse the sand from Steve. “I know it’s a pain with his fur, but he loves the beach so much. It’s worth the extra work to me” you nod, agreeing. You towel him off, unable to stop kissing his wrinkly forehead. Bob lifts him into the bed of the truck and leads him into the kennel he has secured. “I know it’s not the safest, but I only put him in here after the beach. It helps him dry and he loves the wind in his face.” He explains.

You give him a quick kiss. “He’s lucky to have you Bob, you’re a great dog-dad”.

You both towel the sand off the best you can before getting in yourself. “I’m sorry about your truck, I can help you vacuum it” you offer.

“Don’t worry about it, my neighbor's son details cars for extra cash and is always looking for business. I always give him double after beach days.”

“That’s sweet of you.” You reply, sliding into the middle seat again.

“You don’t have, I mean you can sit there if you want but—“

You buckle your seat belt. “I know. I wanna sit by you.”

He nods, a little pink staining his cheeks, “Alright”.

___________________________________________

A few minutes later, Bob pulls into a cute, navy blue bungalow. “This is it”.

“I like it, it’s cute.”

You laugh as Bob helps Steve out of the truck bed. His fur is fluffy from the ride.

Bob leads you into the house. It’s tidy, with a minimalistic and cozy design. It smells like him—like clean, fresh laundry with a hint of leather.

He shows you to his bathroom, handing you a towel, he turns to leave. “If you want to leave your clothes outside the door, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine before I shower”.

“Will do, thanks.”

He shuts the door behind him. You carefully undress, trying to not fling sand everywhere. You turn the water on and set your clothes outside the door, purposely leaving your lacy bralette and thong on top to tease him.

You’re lathering your hair for the second time when you hear a knock. “You can come in. Sorry for taking so long, I can’t get the sand out of my hair.”

Bob freezes. He’s been half-hard since he put your pretty underwear in the wash, but taking in your naked silhouette against the frosted glass has him at full mast instantly. “It’s okay, no uh…rush. I have some clothes for you when you’re done. I’ll put them here on the counter”.

“Thanks, I’ll be out soon” you smile as he closes the door. You probably didn’t need to arch your back and stick your tits out like that, but his reactions to you are just too good.

___________________________________________

A few minutes later, you towel dry your hair and take yourself in the mirror. Bare-faced, nipples that could cut diamonds poking through his worn ‘US Navy’ tee, and rolled sweat pants. You look like a slob, you only wear makeup and straighten your hair when you go out, always trying to look good for other guys, you can hear Derek words in your mind.

You push him out of your head as you hang up your towel and open the door.

___________________________________________

Bob fumbles his phone as he takes you in. Curly, wet hair, perky breasts gently bouncing under his shirt as you pad over to him.

He reaches out and brushes a curl by your forehead. “I wondered if your hair was curly after it got wet at the beach. It’s pretty. Do you always straighten it?”

You nod, throat thick as you answer. “Yeah, my ex didn’t like it, thought I was ‘attention seeking’ when I would wear it natural, probably because someone usually commented on it. He uhh, he thought everything about me was ‘too much’; I laughed too much, I talked too much, I hugged too much. We broke up months ago, but I’m still trying to find myself again.” You look away, feeling vulnerable.

“Sounds like he’s an idiot. You could never be too much, Sunny. Your hair is beautiful no matter how you wear it. Everything about you is beautiful.” Tears fill your eyes as and he turns you toward him, kissing you sweetly.

You kiss him back and things heat up quickly. His hand slides into your hair fully, while the other goes to your waist, pulling you into him. He can feel your nipples brush across his chest and his cock twitches. He brings his hand up slowly, but as he reaches the underside of your breast, the doorbell rings, startling you apart. “Oh, I ordered pizza. I got half cheese, half everything so you can put whatever you want on. I hope that’s okay” he says as he turns, trying to discretely tuck his erection into his waistband so he doesn’t scare the delivery driver.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. I like everything but anchovies and mushrooms.”

“Agreed, I’ll remember that for next time” he says as he opens the door.

Hmmm, next time? You like the sound of that.

___________________________________________

You both dig in, having a beer each. Steve sits nearby, politely begging with his eyes.

You tell him about yourself. How you were always getting into trouble as a kid since you were quite the little adrenaline junkie, always looking for a thrill. About how you wanted to be a naval aviator like your old man, but you couldn’t put your mom through that, especially seeing the toll it took on Carole when Bradley joined. You tell him how you thrive in chaotic environments and by doing flight nursing, you could combine your passion for flying and help people. He takes in your every word, listening intently.

You settle in on the couch after for a movie as you wait for your clothes to dry, Steve draped across your lap, fast asleep as you rub his ears. “I knew he’d love you.”

You smile, “He’s a sweetheart.”

Bob puts his arm around you and plays with a curl by your ear absentmindedly. He pulls a little and you shiver as your nipples harden. “You cold?” He asks, looking down at you.

You shake your head, dropping your gaze to his lips. You lean forward, capturing his lips with yours. You moan into it, you’ve been worked up too many times since last night without relief. He licks into your mouth, pushing his hand into your hair farther. Your right goes to his chest, sliding up to brush your fingertips over the bruise from the night prior again. He inhales sharply, breaking the kiss. “Steve, buddy, go to bed, okay?” He asks him breathlessly, eyes not leaving yours.

Steve hops off with a heavy sigh, walking towards the bedroom.

You rise to straddle him, leaning forward to bite his bottom lip before kissing along his jaw. You slide your hips forward until you trap his cock against his stomach. His breath hitches in your ear at the contact. You smile into his jaw as you slowly start moving your hips, up and down, rubbing your clit against him.

You let out a breathy moan and his grip on your hips tightens. You kiss up to his ear and lightly nip the lobe. “You’re so big, I can’t wait to have you inside me”

Bob lets out a strangled groan at that. His hands release your hips and slide back to your ass, squeezing a handful in each palm, pulling you harder into his cock. You groan against his ear before pulling back and whipping his shirt off of you.

Your bare tits are level with his face. “Sweet Jesus” he whispers, bringing his hands up from your ass to cup one carefully in each hand. “They’re perfe—you’re perfect,” he says in awe. You should get a boob job, no guy likes less than a D cup, you hear Derek's voice again, but Bob brings you back to him by circling your nipple with his calloused fingertips.

You whimper, “Keep touching me, please. Just like that, and this” You bring your hand up to gently pull and pinch.

His eyes drift shut with a groan, the sight of you playing with your tits is too much. His erection throbs against your hip as he nods, continuing his ministrations. Your hands go to his shoulders for leverage.

You work your hips faster, already hurtling towards the edge. He leans forward and gently sucks your nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

You whimper, “Almost there” as your orgasm approaches.

Bob pulls back at the sound, replacing his mouth with his fingers, and groans as he feels you soaking through both pairs of pants. His hips jerk up, chasing your warm, wet heat. He’s getting close too. You moan and your hips stutter as his tip catches your clit just right. He takes your hands and places them on your tits, and drops his back to your hips to guide them. You pinch both nipples as he thrusts and that’s all it takes.

You cry out as your orgasm sweeps through you. Bob takes you in, trying to commit the sight and sounds of you to memory. Eyes closed, flushed cheeks, hands playing with your perfect breasts, your hips undulating against his…it’s enough to pull him over the edge. He groans, hands gripping bruises into your hips and he cums too, coating the inside of his pants (again).

You lean down and place a kiss on his damp forehead. His face is flushed, and he won’t look at you.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, I—I’m good. I uh, I think we should talk.” He replies and a cold wave of shame washes through you. You did too much too fast. Again.

Bob feels you stiffen on him. “No, hey, no it’s nothing you did, it’s not anything bad, I don’t think, I just,” The dryer dings from down the hall, signaling your clothes are dry. “Hey, let’s get cleaned up and I’ll explain.”

You nod, still uneasy and follow him to the laundry room.

___________________________________________

You meet Bob back in the living room, wearing your clean clothes. Mmm, you smell like him.

He gestures for you to sit by him. You can tell he’s nervous, or embarrassed. Maybe both.

“So you know how I told you I’m not good with women, dating, and all that?” You nod. “Well, I meant it. I haven’t dated much. The longest relationship was 2 years in high school. We fooled around a bit, but never went all the way since her family was strict Catholics and she was saving herself for marriage. We broke up after I joined the navy cause she didn’t like long distance. I’ve dated a bit here and there, but it never lasted long as it’s difficult to keep a relationship when I was moving around so much and deployed so often. So…that’s why I was uh…a little quick on the draw last night, and not much better today. You’re gorgeous Sunny, so that doesn’t help either.”

You nod, and can breathe a little better in relief. You’re starting to understand. “Bob, it’s okay. I knew you just got off the carrier after 4 months. It’s…it’s also been a long time for me too. I think that’s why I can’t keep my hands off you, not to mention how good you look in those Levi’s” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Bob’s blush deepens and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh yeah, except that I haven’t, I’ve never…” he stammers.

You realize what he’s trying to say, your stomach flips and your pussy clenches. Oh the things you’re gonna do to him.

“Bob, are you a virgin?”

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  fragilecapric0rn! @fragilecapric0rnn has written 22 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and 21 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@cheatghost recommends the following works by @fragilecapric0rnn:

It Might Be Worth It For Once

clown music at the disco

you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost

Catch Me (I'm Falling)

Anyway, It's About Old Friends

"Sen's body of work is like a truly love letter to the characters. No matter the universe, Steve and Eddie always feel authentic to themselves. Sen's love for classic rom-coms influences a lot of her writing and makes for really romantic, touching stories. It's an absolute delight to dive into a world crafted by this author!" -- @cheatghost

Below the cut, @fragilecapric0rnn answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I think in May of 2022 I was bit by the same bug as everyone else. Before I started writing Steddie, I was on a 4-year fic writing hiatus, and it was like seeing those two interact on screen zapped my brain awake. The chemistry, the potential, the fact that one half of the ship got ripped away from us too soon. All of those components really did something to my brain and I decided I had to write them and I haven’t looked back since!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a idiots to lovers! These two really have the potential to fit that trope so well!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Second-chance at romance! If you’ve seen any of my fics, you know that I love and will take any chance to write 90s older steddie, haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, who re-meet and fall in love. It is so them, it is my favorite version of them. It’s the version of them that lives in my head!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so many good ones to choose from, but I think I have to go with Show Me the Place Where He Inserted the Blade by the incomparable, the magnificently talented and outstanding Cheatghost. Lou, who I am very proud to call a friend, is one of the most talented people I know and I feel very lucky to have had them brought into my life via the Steddie brainrot.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Is it lame if I say no? LOL. Honestly, I have written almost everything I have felt the need to explore with this pairing. A lot of my ideas moving forward are expansions/continuations of ideas that I already started or have posted before. 

What is your writing process like?

Right now it’s at its most unstructured because I am rawdogging life without my ADHD meds for the first time in 7 years, which has been a whirlwind but I am managing. However, it usually depends on the fic I’m writing! For a lot of my longfic, I have a physical notebook that has an outline and major plot points I want to hit at certain times in my stories. Other times, for the shorter fics/one-shots, I just write them all in one go. It starts with a (usually silly) idea, and then I get possessed by the writing demons, and suddenly, I haven’t moved from my chair in 2 hours and I have four thousand words on my screen. I contain multitudes!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I am a victim of the: One word. One phrase. Lin breaks for emphasis. And I will be doing it until someone who is being paid real money to publish one of my original works tells me to knock it off!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Again, asking if it’s bad if I say neither? When I first started posting fic again, I was very much writing it all and then posting it over the course of a few days. But now, I tend to write sporadically and post even more sporadically. And I prefer the latter! Fanfiction, and fandom in general, is a collaborative experience in its heart and soul. One of my favorite things about longfic is posting a chapter and seeing what people take away from it, because 9/10 it’ll be different then what the writer thinks they’re going to take away! And the chance to change and rework and let yourself be influenced by other fans of the ship is taken away when you write it all at once and post it all at once.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Anyway, It’s About Old Friends. Even in its unfinished form, it is my magnum opus. My white whale. I have done some of my best writing in it (chapter 2 MY BELOVED) and the fact that its so close to the end is both exciting and terrifying. It is a fic I wrote and continue to write for me, and the fact that other people are reading and enjoying it is a win!

How did you get the idea for It Might Be Worth It For Once?

HA! So, I was chatting with my friend Emily (JudasofSuburbia) about a potential Pornstar!Steve AU offhandedly back in the fall. Then, I got paired with them for a little fic exchange between friends, and it felt natural to take that one off little conversation and turn it into a fic for her. It was one of those fics that started out as a silly idea and then suddenly it’s been six hours and I wrote the whole thing in one go! After some polishing and editing, it became a Pornstar!AU with not as much smut as I expected. It was so fun to write, made even more fun as it was for a dear friend.

When writing Anyway, It's About Old Friends, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to change and mold and morph in the way that it did. There is a version of this fic where they do hook-up earlier, there’s a version where they re-meet at gay club and not a wedding, there’s a version where Steve marries a Evie and Eddie is Raul. But, this version feels the most right. It’s a story about heartbreak, about finding love (in all it forms) in unexpected places, and it’s about found family most of all. All of that was stumbled on accidentally! My only intention was to write a Steddie-fied When Harry Met Sally fic, and accidentally flashed my heart and soul. Whoops!

What inspired clown music at the disco?

I used to be an opener at a coffee shop and there is something so disorienting and mind altering about having disco music blasting on the speakers at 4am. But, it was in one of those moments, where I was so tired I was nauseous, that the fic idea came to me! I had already been thinking of writing as my first fic, Steve and Eddie accidentally have a Devil’s Sacrament moment at the gay bar, but the line “But it’s Disco Night”, came to me at the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning. What a time!

What was your favorite part to write from you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost?

The Never Have I Ever Scene! It was the first time I wrote the entire party in one scene and it’s chaotic and a little messy but it was one of my favorite parts of the fic. It also made me realize how much I love writing ensemble scenes! Just everyone trying to talk over each other, chaos in its best form.

How do/did you feel writing Catch Me (I'm Falling)?

I wrote this fic in the span of like almost 3 weeks? I was sick and burnt out for most of the time I was writing it, but it was almost a compulsion. I had the idea and I just HAD to write it. No outline, just vibes and Steve Harrington in a cheerleading uniform! I took it down for a while because I was turning it into something else, but then had a change of heart and put it back up. And part of me is glad that I took it down for a moment because people love to be weird about the feminizing Steve’s character, and even though I was writing him as a cheerleader, I tried really hard to keep him earnestly himself, and in character.

What was the most difficult part of writing Anyway, It's About Old Friends?

Writing about San Francisco while being the most homesick I have ever been in my life. Also writing Eddie in those first few chapters as an asshole but not unlikable. I didn’t want him to be “fine” (because no one is fine in this universe, especially not in the beginning) but I also didn’t want him to do or say anything too bad. I think I got a handle on it pretty well.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In Faces Freedom With A Little Fear, the first scene in the hospital with Steve’s sister. She storms in, threatens federal agents, all for her brother. JJ Harrington you will always be famous!

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Just my current WIPs! Anyway It’s About Old Friends; the When Harry Met Sally AU of my dreams. Hand on My Stupid Heart; the modern AU, where the UD exists but everyone has iPhones and Steve deals with his bisexuality!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Shout out to my boys! Kkpwnall, judasofsuburbia, figthefruitfaeth, gideoncharov, cheatghost, fastcardotmp3, snowangeldotmp3 you guys rule and they’re all so talented!!!! Thank you to whoever nominated me! I feel the love and give it back to you tenfold!!!!!!

Thank you to our author, @fragilecapric0rnn, and our nominator, @cheatghost! See more of fragilecapric0rn's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 13

Author's Note: It's been an intense week for me, my loves, (I quit my job of 9 years!) so this was severely delayed, but here you are!

Description: You're forced to make a really tough decision, and as the war rages, you finally realize what it's gonna take to win.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Angst. Severe injuries. Word Count: 6427 Author's Masterlist

   You’re not quite sure how Simon’s managing to change the oceans so quickly, unless he’s concentrating all his efforts solely on the Atlantic, not trying to expand in all directions at once. Still, there is a lot of ocean to get through, and he’s advancing terrifyingly fast, turning thousands of square meters of the water into the same goop you saw in the Mexican Gulf, every few seconds.

   This is what allows him to stay at the front of his army, riding a bizarre wave of dead things at the head of his legion, while Oberyn circles above, keeping just under the shadow of the cloud, as if itching to reach new land to destroy.    Seeing him sends shards of glass through your heart. He’s not a spirit, which means your light won’t be able to save him, and you have to be prepared to kill him if you wanna win this war. There’s no other way this ends.

   But no matter how badly changed he is, you still see your beloved prince when you look at him. Your heart won’t stop choosing to see the love he gave you. It just won’t.    His gift will live on in you for as long as you survive this world, and in Day for the rest of all time, which is the only comfort you can find while you stand there in front of the now once more glowing lighthouse, waiting for the storm to hit.

   He is lost. But not gone. You can still save one small part of him.

   The cloud reaches over your heads just as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, no doubt a precisely calculated time-plan on Simon’s part, but the dragon pulls back then, remaining above the mass of the army as the gunk which replaces the sea makes landfall.    You guess that he’s being held back so he won’t kill too many people before they can be converted and added to the ranks, but it makes no difference as the island itself rejects their arrival.

   It’s more than a little satisfying to see the Darkling literally fall over when his wave of death is brought to an abrupt stop, as if hitting a wall, once it tries to spill over land.    You can’t help but grin smugly at him when he glares at you while getting back up, which of course, only further angers him.    But there’s no use. The light holds.

   “That’s a neat little trick, Lux. But you won’t keep me out forever,” he growls, and the slight tone of incredulity in his voice tells you this is something he hadn’t anticipated.

   Which must mean your spirit has never managed something like this before.

   “I thought you were the new and improved dark one. The best one ever,” you taunt, feeling a tad superior to have finally found an angle he can’t immediately break through. “I thought you knew all my tricks and had already figured out how to counter them.”

   “Like I said, it’s just a matter of time.”

   You refrain from replying that you can reach around the entire world like this, since angering him further isn’t gonna do you any favors.    Then Oberyn’s flame suddenly drops on you from above. As if spewed from one of those airplanes with water-tanks, used to combat wildfires, it cascades over the entire western coastline.    The dragon is sick of waiting for his cue, it seems.

   You can protect the island from the dark forces, which means he can’t land or swipe at people or animals on the ground, but his fire is just fire. Neither belonging to light nor darkness.    The people aren’t frightened of it, so they just stand there as it hits them, melting their bodies in mere seconds.

   If you don’t do something, the entire island will be destroyed. But the only thing you can do is try to kill the dragon.    The thought fills you with pain and sorrow, and Simon immediately senses it.

   “Poor little Boo. How awful it must be to know you have to kill your lover if you want to save these pitiful people.”

   You can feel him prodding at your mind, trying to slip past the light so he can disrupt your power, but you’ve been down this road before and you’re still immune to him.    Flooding your mind with all the happy memories, all the curious conversations in the beginning of your time at the castle, the immediate connection you’d felt with Oberyn and how it had eventually blossomed into love, you shove Simon out of your being with such force that it once again unbalances him.

   And when the dragon lines up for his next run, you use your connection to all the people around you to increase the strength of your beam, before unleashing it from your chest.    It hits him at the base of his throat before he veers off, but you maintain the beam, chasing after him until you’ve hit him again, leaving a glowing trail along his spine.    He crashes somewhere to the northwest, and the sea of malice swallows him whole.

   It’ll heal him, you know it will. He isn’t nearly damaged enough to be out of the game, but it gives you a while to think. And what you think is that you can’t fight a war by being only defensive.    Your enemy can and will wait practically forever for your barriers to fall. His army isn’t dependent on food and water to survive, whereas yours is.

   The only offensive measure in your arsenal is your light-beam but it won’t be enough to decimate Simon’s forces. You need to find a way to put a weapon in the hands of every living thing you’re connected to. But how?    While you’re working that problem, the Darkling continues to let his evil spread through the ocean, killing millions of water-dwelling creatures in the process, and when you see the black goo travel past the island, you suddenly wonder why your light hasn’t seemed to reach the underwater population at all.

   Reaching out towards Europe, you try to feel if your powers seem to have reached into the landlocked rivers and lakes, but the only answer you find is no.    Which means, given time, all water on the planet will eventually be infected and undrinkable, killing everything no matter how much light you try and infuse things with.    If you can’t find a way to protect the water, you’ll lose.

   You can’t see Caelum anywhere, so you have to assume she’s hiding and waiting for her moment to strike. But you’re also highly aware the other spirits are absent as well, meaning Simon knows you can restore them and is keeping them out of your reach.    Fuck!    You need more time. There are too many unanswered questions.

   Then something unexpected happens. A person on the beach below you loses his light, and the darkness instantly swallows him through the gap in your armor, giving it a foothold on the island. It can’t spread any further unless more people give in to it, but it still worries you.    The dark one must be whispering to them, reaching into their minds just like he tried to do with you and just like you expected him to. But you didn’t expect him to succeed in persuading anyone so quickly. It’s only been minutes…

   One problem at a time, that’s as much as you can work on, and right now, weapons take priority. You need a way to distribute light through something other than yourself.    Another person falls, further inland, leaving a second beast in her place. It writhes and screeches, clawing at the invisible barriers which contain it, already hungry. Desperate to consume.

   Consume… wait, that’s it!    Using your hand, you shoot a highly concentrated beam at the newly formed creature down on the beach, turning him into glowing dust. Your light has now consumed and transformed him, just like the darkness does to the living. Except the dust he becomes also becomes a part of you, because it’s light.

   Out of seemingly nowhere, Caelum suddenly swoops down over you, heading straight for the glowing dust and then beating her wings against it, sending it flying off over the blackened sea.    Taking the opportunity given, you attempt to amplify the light of those little specks as they disperse, and it works.

   Like fireworks, each and every particulate becomes a sizzling little bomb, which when it hits a creature of the dark, multiplies and creates a chain reaction which kills thousands in mere seconds.    Simon manages to stop its rampant progression by throwing masses of thick vines in its path, essentially drowning the fireworks. But this time, you’re the one who can sense his fear growing, because this is an effective weapon, and one he won’t be able to wait out or prevent.

   There’s no reason to hold back, so as soon as the first volley is extinguished, you launch a second one, and Caelum is right there, helping you disperse it with her microbursts of powerful winds. This time, you use both hands separately and aim your beam along as much of the front lines of the dark army as you can endure, before your hands are once again charred.    But it pays off. The chain reaction which follows is massive, destroying at least a tenth of Simon’s army before he can halt it.

   Then, just as the battlefield grows louder with the shrieks of anger from the decimated forces, there’s a rumble from below the semi-solid surface of the black ooze, and then Oberyn comes thrashing out of it.    It holds him back, weighing him down with its oily muck, leaving him struggling to get his wings up, having to beat them hard repeatedly before enough of the shit has been removed to allow him to take off.

   He comes straight at you, fully aware that you’re the one who brought him down and obviously eager to retaliate.    It takes less than a second of seeing his distorted and enraged face glare at you, before your mind reverts into thoughts of grief and despair, and just like earlier, the moment you do, the Darkling pounces and tries to invade your mind.    You’re not threatened by it, but it does scatter your resolve, leaving you frozen.

   It tortures you. Seeing this, knowing that it’s your Oberyn but you’ll never get to see him proudly glide across the skies again. Knowing you’re the one who has to end him.    There isn’t enough light in the universe to keep those thoughts away.    He closes in so fast, and yet it seems to happen infinitely slowly. Jaws wide and the churning heat within, trained solely on you, needing to destroy with such desperation.

   You wonder if there’s more behind it.    His very existence depends on your obliteration, that much is easy to conclude, but somehow, you feel as though this need is fed by more than just the fear of death.    It was the fear of losing you which brought him here, so it stands to reason the same fear is still what ultimately controls him, even if his memories are gone.    But none of this really matters. It’s just thoughts, coming to you now as your own desperation is brought to a head. A last attempt to put off the unthinkable… but inevitable.

   Stop..

   An image flashes before your eyes, obscuring the jaws which are about to reach you, and you hear your own voice whispering inside your head, just as it had sounded back then, while something occurs to you on instinct.    You’d made it stop that day in Detroit. The creature attacking the policemen. But it hadn’t been sunlight you’d put in its way.    Once again you scream the word, not as loud as you can, but with all the might you possess… and the dragon stops.

   He’s brought to a halt so abruptly that he flinches backwards and then crashes down onto the beach below you as if an invisible rope had snared and pulled him down.    You look up, checking if there are reinforcements on the way to try and aid the dragon, only to see Simon’s face contort into pure rage at the sight of his presumed perfect weapon against you flailing as he tries to get back up.    But the monster makes no attempt to help his minion.

   Turning back to Oberyn, your breath is suddenly stifled as pain floods your being with the knowledge of what you’re about to do. He’s helpless to defend himself while you hold him down, pinning him to the sands as you try to prepare. Except there is no preparing for this. No amount of conditioning is going to make this one damned bit easier.    You need to touch him to finish it, so although it’s the last thing you want to do, you start to walk down towards the beach.

   He thrashes against the invisible chains you have wrapped around him, screeching through his ruined throat for his master to save him, but the dark one isn’t going to spare his resources on a lost cause.    Whether he knows what you’re doing or not, he knows he’s powerless to stop it.

   “Shhh…” you soothe, making your way to the once so mighty king of the skies, and his writhing eases up a little. “It’s gonna be alright.”

   By the time you’re standing in front of him, he’s completely stopped moving, laying his head down in the sand, staining the tiny crystals black with the oil that seeps from his ruined skin.

   “It wasn’t the sun which stopped that creature in Detroit,” you explain, even though you know he doesn’t have the ability to understand you anymore.

   You just need to. One last conversation. Your final chance to ever say anything to him again.

   “It was conviction. In that moment, I truly believed myself strong enough to stand up to something so evil. And I believed it so completely, so fiercely, that my voice reached into its dead brain and sparked the idea that maybe there is something more powerful than darkness.    That’s all it took to stop it in its tracks. Just an idea. The barest hint of a flaw in the fabric of reality woven by the evils of this world.”

   Taking one final step, you lay your hands on the tip of his nose, ignoring the thick, oily goo you sink into slightly, and which starts to trickle down your lower arms in sluggish dribbles.

   “Such a simple thing. And yet, I couldn’t convince you of it. Because around you, I didn’t think I had to be that person. With you, I thought I could just be… human,” you shrug unhappily, giving yourself just a few seconds to let the tears fall. “I should’ve known better.”

   He watches you, giving no indication that anything you say is affecting him, and even though you knew it wouldn’t, it still hurts you to know he’ll never look at you with those big brown, adoring eyes again.    Light flows through your hands and your chest, and you watch as he slowly dissolves before your eyes, until all that’s left is the glowing dust. And the love of your life is truly gone.

   Pain overwhelms you, bringing you to your knees, but there’s no longer any fear within you.    The worst thing that could ever have happened, has already happened.

   What’s left is agony and loneliness, but this doesn’t concern you, because you now know those feelings won’t take away your love or your hope. That they don’t eliminate positivity, but each exist alongside one another instead.    You now realize both are born from the same place. Equal parts of the same core, and each vital for the existence of the other.    And this understanding makes you truly untouchable to the Darkling.

   But you can’t force this kind of understanding on other people. It’s not something one can be taught, so there’s no way for you to render others equally untouchable.    Oberyn’s final act was to make you invincible against the darkness, not so that you can singlehandedly stop it, but so that the forces of light will always have a leader.    No matter how long this war rages.

   “You may have temporarily weakened me, Boo,” Simon snarls then, “but so long as the spirits belong to me, you will lose.    I have all of eternity to wait for you to recognize that.”

   With those words, he and his army retreats, although the Atlantic remains ruined after their departure.    He’s not defeated, not even close. He’ll regroup and head for another coast, another continent to try and infect, and he’ll keep doing that for however long he has to.    Because he’s right. Without the spirits, you’ll never stand a chance.

   As if knowing you’re thinking about her, Caelum comes to your side and lands in the sand beside you.

   “We can’t let him drag this out,” you say through the tears and the snot which has accumulated in your nose, while you follow your enemy’s departure with your gaze. “I don’t know how, but we need to free your sisters and we need to do it soon.”

   In your periphery, you see her nod decisively, probably also aware the longer this takes, the more people will eventually succumb to the darkness no matter how diligently you try to safeguard them. And perhaps even more importantly; the more of nature will be destroyed.    As you stand there, a plan begins to take form inside your mind, and you wonder if she somehow speaks to you, because you don’t feel like all of this is coming from you.

   “Has it ever been this bad before?” you ask her, turning to meet her eyes now.

   She holds your gaze for a few moments, but if she replies, you can’t tell. You don’t know if she even remembers things from as far back as the last dark one, but you also feel like whether she does or not, she’s no longer the same thoughtless entity of raw emotion she’s meant to be.    Her stoic stillness somehow feels like an answer, though, and not a good one.    But however bad you might try to imagine things could get from this point; nothing could’ve prepared you for how truly awful they would become.

--=¤=--

   You sigh heavily as you feel another person die. Not by the Darkling’s hand, though, this was natural causes. A young man somewhere on the northern Australian continent, you’re not sure exactly where.    It stopped being important a while ago. The exact locations. They’re all just losses.    Caelum senses it too, and you feel her sorrow, which annoys you. You’re not sure when you stopped being able to grieve the lost ones anymore, but it seems like a long time ago.

   You still care, perhaps even too much. Because each and every one who dies feels like your failure, but after so long and so much death, it’s gotten harder and harder to let yourself feel it. To let your love for the world carry your burdens and lighten your heart.    It’s so hard when you’re connected to everything, because people die, in all sorts of ways, every minute of every day. And even if it isn’t traumatic or horrible, even if they just die in their sleep, you feel all of them as they leave the light.

   How long has it been? How many deaths have you felt at this point?    The fight takes you all over the world, so time-zones have stopped having any meaning to you. You battle the dark for as long as you can, and then you find a place to rest, sleeping for what you assume are a few hours, and then you get back to work.    That’s the routine. Day after day.

   The world fights with you, holding off the black hurricane and the senseless death it protects, even when you sleep. Determined not to fail, feeding off the light you still pour into it with as much hope as you can muster.    But for all their courage and strength, Simon’s power has not been weakened. You’ve made almost no progress in recovering anything he’s already corrupted, leaving the American continents his adult playground.

   He’s frustrated, though. You can tell. His need to consume makes him crave fresh bodies. Living things to torture the light out of so he can feed his stale existence and give it purpose.    His army is restless, spending its time tearing at itself in search of relief from such a pointless existence, needing to tear, rip, destroy something. At times it gets bad enough that they even start dismembering themselves, further mutating their bodies as the removed limbs grow back even more distorted.

   Time, it seems, is no more their friend than it is yours.

   Caelum has changed as well. She’s no longer limited to non-verbal communication, having learned not just how to speak telepathically with you, but how to remember things from one moment to the next.    Ordinarily, she shouldn’t be capable of thought or reasoning of any kind, but circumstances have forced her to evolve.

   “Please, stop,” you ask her without saying a word out loud, when she continues to grieve for the dead man, and her sharp eyes refocus on you.

   “You are the one who recognizes the strength of caring,” she chides, not for the first time.

   “I’m aware. But lingering on the dead won’t help, will it?”

   She doesn’t respond to that, but something about her gaze makes you feel guilty.

   “I just mean we need to keep looking ahead, find solutions. We’re not a single step closer to ending this war and it’s been… how long now?” you ask, genuinely trying to work it out but coming up short.

   “Three and a half years,” she replies, and for a moment you just stare blankly at her.

   Your own assessment was off by about an entire year.

   “Fuck…” you sigh, bowing your head in recognition of your absolute failure.

   It’s the fifth time since that day you’re back on Faial Island, standing in front of the lighthouse and looking out over the Atlantic.    You had eventually figured out how to heal the ocean, and all water, once Simon had left, so today it glistens blue against the horizon to the west. It turned out that all you had to do was change the wavelength of your light for it to travel through water.    But that’s also about as much as you’ve accomplished.

   The plan you’d once had, to try and sneak back into the States and covertly reach some of the spirits by using your conviction to gain control over a darkened creature and use it as cover, had failed on multiple occasions, leaving you scratching your head for some other idea.    Brute force wasn’t gonna work, because as much as the world would stand behind you, they couldn’t operate offensively and would be of little help to you. And powerful though you are, even if you could muscle your way past an entire army, you still can’t kill Simon.

   But somewhere deep inside you, there’s a glimmer. A truth, or knowledge, you’re not sure which.    What you do know is that this glimmer is the answer, if you can just tap into it and learn what it’s trying to tell you. Because there is a way to win, you’ve never doubted that, and you never will. You just need to find it.

   “Hey,” a voice quietly greets from behind you, and you recognize it as Andreia.

   She comes to stand next to you, and you glance at her with a polite nod and small smile. She always comes to see you whenever she sees you arrive by the lighthouse where she still works.    That’s another thing which seems very odd to you. How the world still has to keep going as usual, even with the truest evil trying to devour it. How the stock market has been affected by Americas destruction, how the politics of the world have shifted.

   It feels like all that should’ve just stopped. Been put on indefinite hold while you all band together and fight. But that’s not how it works.    Oddly enough, the planet has probably never seen a more peaceful time in all its existence, with the entire population so devoted to hope. There are no ongoing conflicts, virtually no crime even on the smallest scale of offences, and people are generally behaving more helpfully and tolerantly.

   What a strange world this is, where the end of this war will see it return to those darker traits in very little time.

   “Any progress?” she asks, following your gaze across the sea.

   “No, not yet. I’m… stuck. In my head, you know?” you ponder, grateful to have someone other than the owl to talk to, just because humans relate to you better and understand things which no spirit can. “I keep trying to look at the problem from new angles, looking for something I could’ve missed, but as much as I know in my fucking bones there is an answer, I just can’t find it.”

   “Maybe you need to write it down.”

   At first, you dismiss her suggestion, since you can’t see what difference it would make, but when she continues to explain her reasoning, you start to come around.

   “It activates a different part of your brain, which sometimes helps with problem solving.    Singing does too, but I don’t think there is a song for this situation.”

   “I don’t know. People have been making music for ages, covering every topic under the sun. I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could find something eerily appropriate,” you shrug, laughing lightly at the subject.

   Ever since you lost Oberyn, laughter hasn’t come as easily for you as before. It’s harder to let yourself be happy when he can’t be there to share it with you.    But it’s also so important that you do hold on to the good moments and allow their brightness to infect you.

   “How about… Ironic by Alanis Morissette”, she offers, making you snicker.

   “Definitely. Or Everybody by Backstreet Boys.”

   She hums approvingly, and a few more songs are exchanged between you, getting more and more ludicrous.

   “Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I mean, come on, both the song and the group are appropriate,” you suggest, and by now you’re both struggling against incessant giggling.

   “Lose Yourself…” Andreia replies, but then forgets the artist for a second, “…by uh…Eminem!”

   But your laughter dies then. Partly because while the song does fit the theme overall, the message you’ve always taken away from it is simply about living in the moment and appreciating what you have, however unimportant or insignificant it might seem to someone else, which doesn’t really fit with going to war against ancient evil.    And partly because of how the woman herself doesn’t seem to know why she chose that song at all. The moment she said it, confusion flashed over her features and with every second since, she looks increasingly befuddled.

   “Lose yourself,” you repeat on impulse, but this time saying it as a suggestion to yourself.

   Immediately, there’s a strange little click inside your head, and then the glimmer suddenly comes into full focus, so distinct now that you know it.    How did you never think of it before? Oberyn even said it to you, in your final conversation on your way north from Antarctica.

   You cannot possibly think that anything but giving it everything you have is going to be enough to free them all.

   Every word he ever spoke to you or around you, lives in your mind, remembered in such vivid detail you can even recall the slight tremor in his voice as he’d said it.

   “Andreia,” you say, turning to face her and pulling her into a tight hug which she bewilderedly reciprocates. “Thank you. You may have just saved everyone.”

   You pull back and smile at her, but before she can say anything, Caelum picks you up and flies off with you, having heard you call out to her in your mind the moment the realization hit you.

   “Am I to head west, then, Lightbringer?” she asks even as she aligns her beak to the shrouded horizon.

   “Yes. It’s time to end this,” you answer out loud, because these words should be heard. The time for sneaking around and whispering between shielded minds is over. “I finally know how to free your sisters.”

   Your once again brimming confidence rubs off on the owl, and she sets a nearly impossible speed, excited by the prospect of seeing her fellow spirits restored to their rightful glory.    It doesn’t take long before you’re back underneath the poisonous cloud, and right away you can tell that it’s changed since your last visit, maybe a year and half earlier.    The air is so thick with soot and ash that it clings to your skin and colors you black, while also wreaking havoc on your lungs in mere minutes.

   Undoubtedly, this is what the entire world would eventually become, once all life had been consumed and all that was left for the armies of death to occupy themselves, was to torture each other, flooding the air with their oily blood and mutated skin cells.    You’re grateful to know that this will never come to pass, while you cough up some of the black goo which has already begun to accumulate in your throat and lungs.    It doesn’t harm you since you’re continually healing the damage it does, but it hurts more than one might imagine.

   Looking up, you can see that Caelum isn’t affected by it, beyond how it obscures her sight, so you do your best to help her navigate by trying to get a sense of where Simon is.    You find him quite quickly, detecting a massive surge of energy as he realizes his enemy is back. Which is probably the only thing he’s had to be excited about in a very long time.    Directing the spirit there, you instruct her to drop you from an altitude high enough that she’ll be safe even if Octopus should be around and attempt to reach her with its enormous tentacles.

   “Such a fall will break many of your bones,” she notes, not really out of concern, but more like she’s just making sure you know.

   “I’m aware. It’ll be fine.”

   The weightlessness is strangely liberating. Instead of falling, it makes you feel like you’re soaring, maybe because of how hopeful your realization has made you. But still no more than a trick of the mind.    Hitting the ground removes the illusion when your legs completely shatter, all the way up to your hips, and fractures to your spine, ribs and arms make themselves known moments later.

   You can still move, though, and as you feel Simon approach, you manage to claw yourself up to a seated position, finding that ignoring the pain is easier than you’d thought this time, which gives you comfort even as your enemy reaches you, sporting a large smirk on his disfigured face.    Whatever’s been going on here for the past three years, he’s clearly begun to mutate himself, because his features aren’t entirely recognizable as human anymore.

   He still has two legs and arms, and only one head, but the true shape of the Darkling has started to emerge, and it’s fucking hideous.

   “Eww… the hell happened to you?” you ask, breathing hard through the pain, but otherwise mostly disgusted by his appearance.

   Unlike his minions, the dark one is dry. His skin is a pale grey and where it’s cracked from the lack of moisture, mostly on his arms and hands but everywhere else too, there are miniature faces growing out of his flesh. Not like images of faces, but rather as though tiny people are actually trapped inside of him, trying to crawl out through the gaps but held back by some thin, partly transparent film.    He’s at least ten feet tall now, so there’s much more space for these trapped people to crowd around, but they’re still fighting each other for room.

   “You don’t like it?” he asks, and even his voice is unrecognizable. “This is my collection. The ones I like the most get to live inside me. The ones who are the most frightened… they make such delightful music inside my mind.”

   You were hoping it wasn’t what it looks like, but clearly, it is. He probably grows larger with each soul he devours, and since he couldn’t have infected any new people for a long time, these must be his own creatures.    Which would mean, once the mutated body is destroyed, the original human soul is still there, to some extent.    But not in a way that would enable them to be restored. Their bodies are gone and no power on earth could bring them back. But at least the destruction of the Darkling will set them free.

   “You’re using them to protect yourself.. aren’t you?” you ponder, trying to buy time for the spirits to reveal themselves, but also hoping to understand more about him, since that will help you take him down. “You cover yourself with them to make it harder for anyone to reach your dead heart.”

   “Well, of course. Who’s gonna try and reach into this mess of scared little people, so desperate to escape their hell, they’ll crawl into the skin of anyone who touches me, driving that person mad.    Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”

   “I suppose. In a devilish sort of way.”

   “You will make a very nice addition to the flock…” he pauses, and puts a finger to his lips as if trying to think of something which evades him, “…oh, what was it Oberyn called you? I only heard it once, but it was something Egyptian, wasn’t it?”

   You don’t really wanna hear that name spoken by anyone else, but since you’re still not sensing any spirits, you play along.

   “Kaivalya.”

   “Ah, yes! Freedom. How insulting a name to give to a creature whose entire life has been doomed to this ending from before she was even born,” he laments, putting on a very noticeably fake tone of compassion just to irritate you.

   His voice already grates your eardrums. It’s so dry and course he can’t get much volume to it, but it still manages to cut straight into your brain with how it breaks on the high notes.    The fake sentiment only manages to mildly annoy you in comparison.

   “It was a promise…” you spit through teeth held tight against the pain of your legs trying to realign themselves so that the bones can be set, only to hurt more when the angles they’re trapped in won’t allow the movements.

   “A promise? That old prince promised you freedom, and you believed him?!” Simon squeals before starting to laugh, further abusing your ears.

   “No,” you counter, once you’ve adapted to the new level of pain. “He didn’t promise me freedom… He couldn’t have, because I was never his prisoner.    He named me Freedom because that’s what I gave to him. A heart free to love again.”

   You can tell he’s about to counter, it’s easy because his smirk returns every time his own thoughts amuse him, but you’re done with this distraction so you continue before he can.

   “That’s what you took from him. I gave him this amazing gift… and you ripped it out of him.”

   “Prince Martell sealed his own fate by allowing his fears to rip him apart,” he challenges, no longer smirking, though. “He was so scared for you. So worried you’d lose and he’d have to live on without you.    And so, the coward you loved, the man who knew better than anyone how important it would be to keep hope alive in the time of the Darkling, chose to die rather than fight for you.”

   Fuck. He’s found your weak spot and thrown a knife into it.    You shouldn’t care what he says but you can’t help how his words cut through you, because they’re the same ones you’ve battled with in your nightmares. The same ones you’ve been unable to answer ever since it first dawned on you that he’d turned.    Why did he give in? He knew what would happen. How could he leave himself so vulnerable?

   But this is why you’re here. To set things right, no matter what happened in the past. You’ll never get those answers, so all you can do is let the questions go.    And just as you begin to calm yourself, you feel it.    They’re coming. He’s summoned them to watch as he devours you. And to protect him, should you have some trick up your sleeve.

   “Tell me something, Si…” you start, giving them time to come closer before you get this over with. “Did you really think you’d ever get me to surrender to you?    Is that what all this flaunting of your achievements is meant to do? To win me over?”

   He sours while he listens, clearly unable to think of a witty comeback because you’re right. He absolutely thought that this, beating you, would be such a triumph you wouldn’t be able to resist admiring him.

   “I’m the fucking goddess of all light, you prick. I was never gonna bow to you, you’re nothing but a shadow under the bed, a cockroach hiding in the bottom of the sink.    You named me Boo, remember? Because even back then, I was better than you.”

   You’re not actually trying to antagonize him, you just really wanted to give him a piece of your mind before you get this show going.    But true to form, he’s enraged by your insults and comes at you with his arms raised and ready to beat you into the ground.    The nine all are there, too far away for your eyes to make them out in the dark and dusty air, but close enough that you can feel them, standing in a circle around you and their master.    And Caelum circles directly above you, just as you’d asked her.

   “Don’t hesitate,” you tell her, as you watch Simon measure his first punch.

   “Your sacrifice will not be in vain… Kaivalya,” she replies, and unlike the Darkling, her use of your most beloved name shows you just how much she respects you.

   Nothing else is said between you. Nothing more is needed.

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@harriedandharassed @kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

[meekmedea]

Iphigenia Moss

Ok, she canonically has a bad relationship with her dad

Though that might be an understatement if she’s starving herself as revenge 

So her situation doesn’t quite cross Clemmie’s mind yet, also at this age back then, she’d have been a child and not really have noticed 

This time around, she's a bit more observant

Maybe there’s bruises and Clemmie now is like - "Wait a second, Nia (Iphigenia) isn’t that clumsy..."

And then it hits her. She feels terrible for not realizing it sooner because in the original timeline she probably learnt about it a few years down the road. And that'd only been because Nia had told her

This now takes priority because everyone else happens a lot later, Nia's matter is an ongoing thing

There’s some plotting

She can’t do much as a kid, yes. But certain places don’t quite care if you are a kid or not…Clemmie she does what any sane child? adult? would do. She goes to the black market 

As long as you have money, nobody cares whether you’re 15 or 50. Much less if you're like 9/10

Her pocket money is probably pretty hefty due to what investments her and her father get up to 

First purchase: a wig → blonde? (as she was buying it, she was like - this reminds me of Livia. It’s kind of cute?)

Wandering around the area and some people are side-eyeing her when she goes to the most sketchy booth ever to hire them for a job - no, she’s not hiring someone to kill him. That’s like Plan B 🙂 

Anyways, Clemmie is prepared to ruin the Minister of Agriculture’s life + get Iphigenia out of this situation 

Around this time: Iphigenia’s parents are starting/in the midst of a fierce custody battle?

~~~~

Random Moss family lore drop:

Iphigenia's parents didn't marry for love, it was purely business so her father could get a leg up in being promoted to oversee the entire Agriculture Department

Divorce isn't impossible, but amongst the wealthy, it's just rarer

While I hc the Moss family as an old family, I like to hc Iphigenia's mother's family as a minor house amongst the old-guard. Due to this slight status difference, her mother has no qualms leaving her father

The divorce was the talk of the year when it happened, people gossiped and it was hardly in favour of Iphigenia's father

Swann for Iphigenia's mother's house? (as a nod to the myths since myth!Iphigenia's grandmother had her children with Zeus when he appeared as a swan

Undecided if Iphigenia has younger siblings yet in this AU. Maybe he's already remarried at this point and she's got younger half-siblings that he DOTES on?

~~~~

Clemmie's plan 

She learns his secrets and oh boy, are there a lot. Just your stereotypical corrupt politician who also happens to be a terrible person to her friend

She debates for some time on what to do - at one point, Clemmie considers some straight-up psychological warfare before deciding it'd take too long. She wanted Iphigenia out ASAP

So she arranges for a nice package of his secrets to show up in front of the Swann Estate - there's enough to condemn the man to prison or like you know convince him to give up full custody of Iphigenia to her mother 

Custody agreement suddenly goes a lot smoother, and oh! Iphigenia's mother gets full custody because her father suddenly decides to relent on that front

In this universe, Iphigenia and her mother never have to deal with the man again.

(and finally in one universe Clytemnestra and Iphigenia get a happy ending 😭 - guys I just really like the myth)

~~~~~

Masterlist of other hcs and rambles in this AU

[infinity-or-oblivion]

so my loa batkids au has gained a little traction and i’ve hit a bit of a wall when it comes to writing new stuff so here’s an infodump to hopefully kill my writers block xoxoxo

first of all, jason. my forever number one blorbo. there’s a bit of a role reversal here because compared to all the rest of them, jason arguably had it the easiest. like we’re not going to compare traumas but an argument could be made. i honestly don’t remember if i mentioned it at all in the actual series yet, but the story i have for jason is that his childhood with willis and catherine was about the same as canon/commonly accepted fanon, meaning he was homeless around nine years old. however, instead of living on the streets for years, it was only a few months tops before meeting bruce.

and bruce! this is very fun to me, but basically i was thinking that if he didn’t raise dick, then why couldn’t this version of bruce be younger? so bruce becomes batman in his early twenties, which is also around the time that he visits the league of assassins for training and damian is conceived. (for a little more about that, here) and bruce is roughly 25 when he finds a tiny 9-10 year old jason trying to steal his tires. just imagine that it’s so fucking adorable and heartbreaking ANYWAYS bruce, despite being overall a disaster, doesn’t let a malnourished 10 year old out to fight crime right away, so there’s a couple years between when jason first meets bruce and when he becomes a child soldier yayyyy!!!! but legit, it makes a lot of difference to jason, because you know how canon!jason has some self-esteem issues (for lack of a better term) around bruce not really loving him/seeing him as a son because bruce started training him as robin (and as dick’s replacement) immediately after adopting him- you know that whole thing? yeah well here, despite jason actually offering to help bruce as a vigilante, this bruce is like hell nah you’re literally ten years old and the size of a six year old no way, and those few years in between really stick in jason’s mind as solid proof that bruce really does love him, not for what use he can provide, but simply as a son. also being the only child definitely helps with that

(that little detail of jason and bruce’s relationship is slightly inspired by minimum height requirement, which is absolute batfam gold btw)

okay so. slight pet peeve of mine is in aus where dick isn’t the first robin, the legacy is still called robin for whatever reason (lookin at you reverse robins aus) because!!!!! how dare you erase mary and john grayson’s importance!!!!! (look there’s more nuance to it than that i know but. to put it simply it feels like flying graysons erasure to me) so in this au, jason can’t possibly be called robin. the real robin has been missing for roughly seven years at this point

and listen. i tried to be creative and come up with something cool and original for jason’s vigilante name i really did, but apparently i used all of my naming talent on nighthawk (fucking love that name for dick it’s so fantastic) so we just have bluejay. womp womp

also! on my list of things to expand on: main timeline stephanie!!! i’ve had an absolute blast making myself cry while writing every heart sings a song, incomplete and those who wish to sing always find a song, but spoiler steph will always be my babygirl. and duke!!!! i have not written barely anything for duke in this universe but believe me i have some Thoughts. perhaps even Ideas. basically a lot of steph&duke and steph&babs and steph&duke&babs because i love my little underrated trio

also just more babs in general, because like. i’ve had so many tiny little snippets of cass and babs and their sweet little relationship just sitting in my notes for literal years now that i really just need to organize and expand into their own fic. and yet. i have not done that. but rest assured cass&babs are very very important to me

such is the curse of female fanfic writers: always destined to fixate more on the male poor little meow meows than the female bad bitches. seriously what the fuck is up with that guys i don’t get it why does this happen

[daitranscripts]

Iron Bull: Warm Approval

Tell Me About Your Troops

Iron Bull Masterpost

Available after meeting the Chargers and if they are not sacrificed.

PC: I’d like to hear more about the Chargers.

After Demands of the Qun Iron Bull: They’re good. Riding high after we hit those Venatori. Glad they made it out alive, too.

Iron Bull: Always happy to talk about my guys. What do you want to know?

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: How did you start? [2]

Investigate: You must have crazy stories. [3]

Investigate: Your group is diverse. [4]

Investigate: Tell me about Krem. [5]

General: Goodbye. [6]

2 - Investigate: How did you start? PC: How did you start the group? Iron Bull: It’s easy to make a name for yourself as a merc when you’re a head taller than most folks. I spent a year or two working for Fisher’s Bleeders, but their captain was crap. Figured I could do better. The best folks in the Bleeders agreed with me, so we split off.

Dialogue options:

Special: What about Fisher? [Back to 1]

7 - Special: What about Fisher? PC: I imagine Fisher disagreed. Iron Bull: (Grunts.) He came at me. I snapped his sword in half, and we talked things out over drinks.

3 - Investigate: You must have crazy stories. PC: What are the craziest jobs you’ve ever taken? Iron Bull: Besides this one? There’s a lot of violence between the nobles here, but that’s standard work. The fun stuff is when they party. They always want to impress each other, and that means getting something shiny. We’ve hunted wyverns, fought through caves to find some old magical crap, even went giant-baiting once.

Dialogue options:

Special: Giant-baiting? [8]

[Back to 1]

8 - Special: Giant-baiting? PC: What’s giant-baiting? Iron Bull: So this old guy, Comte Vanchess, has some kind of pageant planned, but he needs a giant, which is off in some damn cave. He’s got some kind of rare charm to control the giant, but no way he’s going into that cave himself. So we go in, kill some spiders, find the giant, and wake it up. It attacks us, because of course it does, and we let the big bastard chase us outside, where Vanchess is waiting.

Dialogue options:

Special: You let it chase you? [9]

[Back to 1]

9 - Special: You let it chase you? PC: That was actually your plan? To let a giant chase you? Iron Bull: Yeah. We had to stay out of reach but close enough that it wouldn’t give up. It was tricky. Good news is that giants are slow. Long as my guys ahead could clear out the spiders, we were fine. Bad news is that giant spiderwebs slow you down a bit more than you’d think. PC: But at least Comte Vanchess got his giant for the pageant. Iron Bull: Ah, turned out that charm was a phony. Giant ate the poor guy alive. It’s okay, though. We still got paid. [back to 1]

4 - Investigate: Your group is diverse. PC: You have people from plenty of different backgrounds in your group. Iron Bull: Yeah. Well, when you’re in Orlais and you look like me, you can’t be picky about who you take in. A lot of ’em got turned away from other companies that didn’t want a knife-ear or a crazy dwarf. Their loss. You get my back in a fight and carry your own weight, you’re good with me.

Qunari PC Iron Bull: How about you? You had a company of your own. How did you put yours together?

Dialogue options:

General: I took all kinds. [10]

General: I mostly stuck with humans. [11]

General: I used Tal-Vashoth. [12]

10 - General: I took all kinds. PC: Like you, more or less. I took anyone who could take care of themselves and follow orders. Iron Bull: Great minds… [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 11 - General: I mostly stuck with humans. PC: I only had humans, for the most part. I thought I’d get more work with the nobles that way. Iron Bull: Yeah, that makes sense. Some of them only want the right people bleeding for ’em. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 12 - General: I used Tal-Vashoth. PC: My company was mostly Tal-Vashoth, like me. Iron Bull: (Grunts.) Well, it’s better than becoming bandits, I guess. [back to 1]

5 - Investigate: Tell me about Krem. PC: I’d like to know more about Krem. Iron Bull: He’s a good soldier, and a better second-in-command. The troops need someone to complain to when I’m being a hard-ass. He’s good for that.

13 - Dialogue options:

Special: But you hate Tevinter. [14]

Special: Him being her isn’t an issue? [15]

[Back to 1]

14 - Special: But you hate Tevinter. PC: You don’t have a problem with him being from Tevinter? Iron Bull: Nah. PC: But you hate “the Vints.” Iron Bull: Sure. But he’s not a Vint. He’s just Krem. I can get worked up about a group or a nation just fine, but people… It’s too much work to hate them one by one. [back to 13]

15 - Special: Him being her isn’t an issue? PC: You don’t have any problems with him being a woman? Iron Bull: He’s not a woman.

Iron Bull (Qunari PC): Look, you and I have to walk carefully so we don’t accidentally break the furniture or the elves. Iron Bull (Dalish PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You’ve got pointy ears and those freaky, big elf eyes. Iron Bull (dwarf PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You only come up to my knee, and you can’t dream. Iron Bull (mage PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You can shoot fire out of your ass. Iron Bull (human PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You’ve got a magic mark on your hand that makes demons pop out of the sky.

Iron Bull: We’re probably not the best people to go around deciding what’s normal. Krem’s a good man. I don’t give a nug’s ass that it’s a little harder for him to piss standing up. [back to 13]

6 - General: Goodbye. PC: See you later, Bull. Iron Bull: Nice talking with you, boss.

[cocainegirlsnblunts]

Smoothies In 1991

Jack Harlow - Officially meeting Jack

Interviewer: So can you two tell us where you first met and what were your first impressions on each other.

you started cracking up thinking about that day.

10/27/21.

After 2019 you weren’t so much in the spotlight, only because you chose too. You liked to be as private as possible and your work already got the recognition it deserved. Plus you’ve already done a few interviews here and there.

You were struggling with a lot at the time and the only option you had was to take a break from your career. You stayed lowkey, stopped posting, and anytime you were in a picture or anything it was RARE.

But anyway, 2021 you started to plan your comeback and so your friend Cole posted you on your Birthday

@colebennett ✓⃝

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colebennett happy 22nd birthday twin

And Cole has worked with many people, including Jack Harlow. Who you didn’t even know really but Cole had the amazing idea to take him to the Birthday Party your lovely Best Friend, Kali Uchis was throwing you.

Your Birthday is in late October so you always have a Costume Party. This year it was a Jazz Club/Old Hollywood themed.

Many people that you’ve worked with or have a bond with came. Here are some of the people who attended.

As you’re talking with friends, Cole approaches you with some people you’ve never met and didn’t really recognize.

“Yo Arlette” he yells.

“Cole Hey!!” you say noticing there’s some people behind him.

“Look I just wanted to introduce you to my boys here, you might know some of em, this is Jack, Jack Harlow.”

the world stopped spinning when you looked into his eyes, and you damn near lost your breath when he reached for handshake.

“Happy Birthday.” he says

“nice to meet you☺️☺️” omfg. LIKE WHO IS THIS???!??? you were screaming on the inside, last person you were geeking over was Jordan. (playboicarti)

“And then this is Urban and Druski” Cole continues to introduce you.

you greet them all with a smile and a nice to meet you, because like we mentioned earlier we aren’t so aware of the people poppin at the moment😬 but some knew you

“Hey I really love your work dude, New Choppa was insane” - Urban says

“Thank you so muchhh!” you say with a smile.

Fast forward the night, you took some pictures with your friends and everyone, including Jack because Cole insisted.

Cole posted it on his story and everyone was going crazy because this was your first appearance since 2019. (yk how we freak out when we see frank ocean, this is how everyone was reacting to you)

You: So yeah to break it all down, I wanted Jacks fine ass since the day I met him.

Jack’s Pov

At the time I was on the rise of my Career. The song I was featured on with Lil Nas X was the #1 song in the world. Got Nominated for hella stuff, got hella awards. I was really accomplishing my dreams.

My friend Cole Bennett, creator of Lyrical Lemonde, fucking legend. I’ve worked with him for the music video of What’s Poppin my first hit ever.

He had this friend, and I had known of Arlette because she was a big help in the artistic side of this industry and uh, Urban has mentioned her name to me before when he’d show me some album covers, or a music video but, i never knew the face behind all that was arlette’s beautiful self.

So it’s October, all these halloween parties are happening and Cole had hit me up and said, “Yo I have this friend, Arlette Viotto she works in the same category as me. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her but, she’s having a birthday party today at 9 PM they’re always really sick, i’d love for you to meet her man.

And me like I said I never even seen what she looked like, but I looked her up on google and I was sent to a whole different dimension looking at how beautiful she was. I was also appalled reading everything she was behind like damn I never knew. But I hit Cole back I said I am going to that party, we invited more of our friends and walking into this lil jazz club, they were playing that techno shit, it got turnt.

And I’m walking around I see hella people here, some people are coming to greet me ya know telling me congrats on being number one all that. Cole brings me to go meet this Arlette Viotto. And man was she even prettier in person.

Meanwhile Urban was over here fangirling, i remember. That shit was hilarious, but yeah I used my skills of eye contact and smooth talking. It was love at first sight.

okay first of all sorry for taking forever on this. I have gotten so unmotivated on like everything i been wanting to write about but here is what i have of this Jack Harlow series im attempting to do. I hope you love it and there’s more coming, trust and believe!!