#it's also a really nice looking cane

[softness-and-shattering]

So I put on this netflix show, in their tradition of being extremely obvious with names its called Mech Cadets, and its an alien-mecha human-pilot fight-the-giant-bug-aliens story. My first complaint is that the alien mechas are called Robo's. Wow exciting /sarcasm. Anyway thats totally forgiven because 1 the story actually makes choices and puts the characters through consequences instead of like hinting at oh it something bad gonna happen psych we dont have the guts for that. Its a kid/teen show so its not super dark but it follows through and goes the places it needs to.

2, and maybe most importantly, I gotta talk about the disability rep. There's four teens chosen by the alien mechs to be their drift-compatible pilots (I think im using that correctly? Im not super informed on the genre but I know some), and we see straight away that one of the guys has a prosthetic leg from the thigh down, and uses it as an example to tell the main protagonist, hey none of us are perfect we dont have to be perfect we just need to be human. The next episode the mechas are given human-designed weapons to fight with, and the disabled kid gets these flippy sticks I cant quite work out. One of them gets a staff, the other gets this glove for punching, story moves on. Then a bug-alien-antagonist gets into the teens dorm and while fighting it, the alien dismembers the guys prosthetic. He immediately grabs his crutches and goes to town on it with his crutches, and balancing on them to kick with his one good foot*. Then they disconnect the rest of the prosthetic and use its sharp edge to kill the alien. And then he just moves around on his crutches with no comment and Ill cut myself off there so I dont spoil the whole thing.

Except, a couple episodes later, Im watching him in the mech fighting and moving around, and I realise that his giant fuck-off monster attacking weapons ARE A PAIR OF CRUTCHES. Theyre his fucking WEAPONS. Thats cool as fuck!

[misterradio]

HE SUCKS JONATHAN ON STAGE ?!???!!!!!!??????!!!!!????

[cuntyromero]

Spurs win Bristol rovers win went swimming in the harbour great day all round I think

[cronchingsquips]

.

[rosepinks-world]

𝐃𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇! | house x fem!reader

summary: in which the team won’t stop talking to house about the new doctor who operates in the morgue…in the depths of the hospital.

warnings: a lot of death talk, house flirting, possibly ooc, unspecified age gap, joke about necrophilia, a lot of medical inaccuracies

“Just got results back from pathology. Patient had tb.” Cameron announced as Chase threw the file onto the table.

“The guy died like an hour ago? They already got the results back?” Foreman asked confused yet also impressed.

Cameron nodded. “Yeah. The unit got a new doctor. She’s really good.”

“And hot.” Chase added.

Foreman and Cameron rolled their eyes and House smirked.

“Pathologists are always freaky…and not the good kind.” House mentioned.

Cameron frowned irritated. “Yeah? How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“How do you not? Come on! Someone who wants to specialise in cutting dead people open doesn’t scream freaky to you?”

Cameron looked disgusted with house whereas the two men made faces that showed they were hearing house out.

“You guys are ridiculous. And we’ve got another patient. 35 year old gentleman who is quite literally the pinnacle of health had a heart attack this morning.”

“Fun.” House sounded sarcastically. “Page me if anything interesting happens.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

House was having his normally scheduled lunch with Wilson when the freaky girl was brought up again.

“Have you met the new pathologist she’s great.”

House rolled his eyes so hard they may have gotten stuck in the back of his head. “What is with this woman? Are you having an affair with her or something?”

“You’re a real dick sometimes.”

House waved him off and took some fries off of Wilson’s plate.

“I’m not having an affair with her. She’s nice and an extremely competent doctor.”

House rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah I get it she’s amazing stop before I vomit.”

Wilson chuckled, “Oh! Cuddys looking for you. She looks pissed.”

“She always looks pissed. She really needs to get laid.”

House was seconds away from making another comment when his beeper sounded making him bid Wilson farewell and walk away as quick as he could.

He walked into the heart attack patients room and was met with Chase announcing the patients time of death a weeping wife and brother standing next to them.

“Great you killed the guy.” House sounded sarcastically.

“We didn’t even start treatment he was completely fine until-“ Cameron tried to reason.

“Until he wasn’t.” House finished.

Cameron looked sheepish and stopped talking exchanging a shared angry look with Foreman.

House made a confused look as the nurses began to prepare the body for the morgue and walked away making a visit he knew he wouldn’t enjoy.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Carefully making his way down the morgue stairs House took in the new area he was in. It was well in the depths of the hospital, no sunlight, no voices, no commotion. It was creepy yet also calming. He saw a white lab coat rush by, seeming to be the only colour in the place. He watched intently as you poured various chemicals into test tubes and expertly prepared the autopsy almost dancing between steps.

House chuckled, “The guys not even cold and you’re dancing around his corpse.”

You let out a shriek in surprise almost dropping the test tubes you were holding. You turned in the direction of the voice and were met with a man likely in his 40s propping himself up with a cane. House chuckled at your reaction not being able to help finding your widened eyes cute.

“I know I’m no Brad Pitt but I can’t be that hideous.” He joked making his way towards you off the stairs.

You laughed clutching your heart. In all honesty you found the stranger rather attractive so his self deprecation made you laugh in disbelief.

“No! You see no one ever comes down here so you just scared me.”

He nodded pointing to the body on the table. “He was my patient-“

You frowned, “Oh I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I don’t care.”

You made a confused look bewildered by the man as he made his way to the man on your table.

“What I do care about is why he had a heart attack when there was no medical explanation as to why it happened.”

You grabbed your scalpel, “I should have an answer in an hour or two. Fancy making any predictions?”

House smirked slightly, “With a guy this size he had to be taking steroids.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Well what do you think?”

“Poison.”

House made a face of disbelief. “Are you serious you think steroids is a reach but poison isn’t.”

“Wanna bet?” You asked.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Maybe it was disrespectful, betting on the cause of death of a patient but that’s what you and the mystery doctor had decided to do.

With a cool $100 on the line you began cutting into the man the doctor watching you intently as you did.

“Who are you?” You asked the him.

“Greg House.” To that you made a noise of recognition to which he questioned.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Dr House.” You said as you began to cut out parts of the organs to test.

“All good I hope.” He replied

You laughed dropping the samples into the prepared test tubes, “Yeah… not really.”

He shrugged. “Can’t please them all.”

“It doesn’t seem like you please anyone.”

You paused after thinking about the double meaning of what you just said. By the look on his face he was thinking the same thing-his next words confirming it.

“Oh. You’d be surprised.”

The two of you made eye contact as he said that you being the one to break it suddenly feeling rather hot under his gaze. You averted your eyes to the body under you, immediately remembering you were performing an autopsy and that now was not the time to flirt with the infamous Greg House.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Dr Death.”

Swirling the test tube around you raised a brow, “Like what? And Dr Death. Really?”

“Just that everyone adores you. It makes me sick.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” You replied sarcastically sewing the patient up.

“I try to be as positive as possible.” He answered playing on the joke.

“Well Dr House the names Y/n L/n. And I’m telling you because you should know the name of the woman you owe $100 to.”

His eyes widened. “You’re lying prove it.”

You explained that the heart had very clear signs of stress typically seen on those with heart conditions and to confirm your initial theory you held up the test tube with the heart tissue sample explaining that the reaction that took place confirms the presence of poison.

He was speechless. You were really good at your job. God he hated when Wilson was right. Even worse he hated that Chase was right because Wow, you really were hot.

“Did the guy have a wife?” You asked.

“Yeah. He did.”

You shrugged, “It’s always the partner. If she’s still here I’d check if she has anything on her if I were you.”

Everything pieced together in Houses head. The hug the wife and the brother shared the crocodile looking tears the sudden death with no symptoms. House stormed back up the stairs as quick as his cane would take him and you followed hot on his tail curious to see if you were right and what would go down if you were.

The wife and the brother looked as if they had just completed the paperwork and were just leaving when House shouted at them.

“You poisoned your husband!”

You widened your eyes at his boldness. You were so fucked if you were wrong.

It took barely any provoking before the wife burst into tears admitting to the crime blaming the brother for planting the idea in her head so they could be together. Hospital security seized the two before the man could attack House and you stood in shock.

This had been the most commotion you’d seen in years. You should really get out the basement more.

House shook his head disgusted at the criminals as he walked away. “Well done Dr Death.”

You rolled your eyes following him. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Seriously? You’ve got to get out of that basement more.”

You nodded hearing him out. And he turned to the side asking a question he was dying to know.

“Why be a pathologist of all things? You a necrophiliac or something?”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you held a finger to his face to which he just smirked. Before you could say anything in return your boss interrupted.

“House!”

House stopped dead in his tracks turning around to meet Cuddy with a fake, sweet smile.

“Cuddy! New blouse? May I say it really flatters your breasts-“

Her eyes widened in anger. “Clinic. Now.”

She made eye contact with you. “I’m so sorry for him.”

You smirked. “He’ll be sorry if he doesn’t give me $100 for our bet.”

“I’ll make it up to you honey.” He winked to which you grimaced. “No I’d rather just have the $100.”

Cuddy looked disgusted by the two of you. “Please don’t tell me the two of you bet on a patient.”

House feigned outrage “Lisa! I would never do such a thing.”

Cuddy shook her head and walked away. Leaving the two of you alone.

“I wasn’t joking by the way. I can make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah? How?” You smirked.

He leaned in closer and went to speak when the two of you were interrupted.

“Viagra!”

You both furrowed your faces turning to look at the man.

“I need another dose of viagra. That stuff is great me and my wife have been at it like we used to when we were teenagers.”

You grimaced as did House. You pointed at the viagra dependant man and explained, “You see this is why I decided on pathology I know nothing about their sex lives because they’re dead.”

House nodded, “Yeah I’m starting to envy you Dr Death.”

Nonetheless House began to write the man his prescription and you took it as your cue to walk away.

“Oh! And to answer your question I can make our bet up, with dinner this Saturday.” He shouted handing the man the prescription.

You scoffed, “If that’s the case you should probably write yourself your own prescription old man.”

You smirked at House and turned on your heel walking back to the basement but you could still hear his voice from behind you.

“Is that a yes or no? L/n! You can’t leave me high and dry!”

[bitchface24-7]

Hii! I've been scrolling through all your works and I just want to say I am ✨obsessed✨ so I saw a post where you were asking for fluff or angst request and I really really REALLY wanna see what Viktor and jayce would do if they're jealous or being protective! Like they saw reader at one of the parties and was being incredibly hit on. Would also be nice if it would be like pre-relationship! Like they're gonna confess or something, I don't really know this is my first time asking for request acckkk

(I really really want it to be jayvik x reader too pls 🙏🙏)

GREEN EYED - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: everyone knows the three of you are together. It’s no secret either. So imagine their surprise when the three of you go to a council party and a few guests flirt with you. They're not very happy about that…

warnings: unwanted flirting, Jayce and Viktor saving you, pre-established relationship, Viktor hits/trips people with his cane, Jayce is a bodyguard, fluff, suggestiveness, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. Oooh this was fun and funny to write. I'd be so flustered if they acted this way toward me. Hope y'all like it! Love ya ❤️

This party is horrendous. The food has no flavour, the alcohol isn't strong enough, and too many people are trying to flirt with you.

Viktor angrily sips on his champagne, his knuckles white at how hard he's holding the glass. Jayce's eyes are narrowed as he picks at the food he's attempting to eat.

All because some middle aged man with a heavily receding hairline is looking at you the way a lion looks at an antelope. Like your his prey.

“Whos turn is it now?” Jayce asks, eyeing the man down as he pops a cube of cheese into his mouth, “Mine.” Viktor states as he shoots back the rest of his champagne.

Jayce nods and Viktor casually walks over to where you're awkwardly standing. He completely understands why so many people are flirting with you. You have a sparkling personality and a gorgeous look. Beautiful on the inside and out.

Especially right now. You're wearing form-fitting black slacks, a billowy white shirt with an embroidered corset, showing off your waist and black loafers. Your hair is framing your face in a lovely way.

Your face is in a slight grimace as you sip champagne, leaning back away from the older man.

The man grunts in pain as Viktor whips his achilles tendon with an amazing aim, “Oh I'm so sorry,” Viktor apologizes, his tone full of fake concern, “I didn't mean to hit you, it was an accident.”

You huff lightly as your eyes glimmer at your lover, the older man looks cross. His face worsens at Viktors next words.

“I was coming over to see my partner and I accidentally stumbled. My bad.”

You hide your laugh behind your glass as the old mans face turns red in both anger and embarrassment. “You’re dating them?” He questions you, pointing incredulously at Viktor.

A hum is heard as you sip your champagne again, “I told you that five minutes ago, and you completely ignored me.”

The man sputters and essentially runs away. You and Viktor stand there in silence for a bit before the two of you laugh, and you continue to laugh as you walk back to Jayce.

Jayce's dark look has completely vanished, and he looks like a puppy now. Big smile, sparkling eyes, dimples out. If Jayce had a tail it'd be wagging a mile a minute.

“My heroes.” You croon at the two of them. A smirk on your lips as the two men fake innocence.

“I don't know what you're talking about?” Jayce says, his tone light and joking. You laugh and the two men smile at you. Ironically enough, now a woman comes up to talk to you. You groan in irritation and before the man can start talking to you, Jayce moves in front of you, the only thing you see is his deliciously broad back.

“They’re taken.”

The woman sputters, her eyes wide as her mouth opens and closes, “But—”

Jayce repeats himself, his tone firmer, darker.

“They’re taken, go away.”

The woman huffs and stomps away, her heels clacking harshly against the marble floor. Jayce sighs and falls back towards your side. Both you and Viktor smirk at the tall man. He looks confused.

“What?”

“Babe that was so sexy.” You tease.

“Got me hot under the collar.” Viktor adds, jokingly fanning himself. Jayce flushes all the way to his ears, grabbing a glass of champagne off the table and throwing it back.

“Shut up.”

The two of you laugh and Jayce's playful irritation melts away. He loves seeing the two of you laugh.

When another person comes up to talk to you the three of you groan. Jayce blocks you and Viktor again as you go to leave the party, the man doesn't read the room and goes to follow you two. Viktor subtly moves his cane a bit further out than normal and the man falls on his face.

You don't see anyone's reaction to his fall since you're already out the door, going back home.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You sigh and try to take your corset off. You get mad at have a mini-tantrum. You're tired, you want to relax with your boys and slouch lazily on the couch. You can't do that with this corset.

You feel a large hand settle on your waist and slowly untie the laces in the back. You sigh in pleasure as the corset is loosened. It’s fitted to you perfectly, and its super comfy, but you don't have the best posture. So being forced to stand straight for a few hours has made your back sore.

You groan as you roll your shoulders, your back popping. You turn your head and kiss Jayce on the cheek.

Jayce smiles as you plop onto the couch next to Viktor, your shirt now much looser falls down your shoulder slightly. You untuck your shirt from your pants and it damn near falls down to mid-thigh. You unbutton your pants and shimmy out of them.

You're at home with your lovers, you're getting comfy goddamn it.

“What a show we're getting.” Viktor jokes as he lays a hand on your thigh, watching intently as you drop your head onto the back of the sofa. Jayce joins the two of you on the couch and kisses your bare shoulder.

“The amount of money those people at the party would pay to see you like this.”

“Theres not enough money in the world for me to leave you two.”

Viktor hums, “Is that so?” and brushes his nose against the crook of your neck, kissing, biting, and licking; leaving a dark hickey.

Jayce follows suit onto the other side.

You sigh in pleasure, “You two putting a claim on me? What? You two jealous of the people at the party?”

Jayce growls and Viktor chuckles, “Not jealous darling, possessive. We know you're ours, but it seems others don't.”

“So we’re rectifying that.” Jayce adds, nipping your jaw.

You just smile, wrapping one arm around each of them, “I’m not complaining. Rectify away!”

They both stop giving you hickies and both kiss your cheek at the same time, your face squishing together. Then the litter your face with kisses, making you giggle in elation.

Why on earth would you ever go from one of those people at the party when you have the best partners in the world?

No one could ever compare to them. No one.

You're the luckiest person in the world.

(On the other hand, Viktor and Jayce think they're the luckiest people in the world.)

Oh to be their partner in the arcane world. Why can't they exist irl 😭😭

Hope y'all enjoyed it, love ya ❤️

[honey-pages]

Tea and Biscuits - Viktor X Reader (Study Date Part 3)

This is part 3 to Study Date - as requested and crossposted to Ao3.

Description -

You awake in Viktor's bed after the adventurous night before.

1.1k words

F/M. 18+. Fluff. Brief Mention of Sex. Mostly SFW.

You wake up in Viktor’s bed the next morning. It is large and empty, prioritising comfort and space. His room is quite dark, lit only by lamps and small light sources. This was not the kind of sexual encounter where you wake up in an unfamiliar bed in a blur - you remembered exactly what happened the night before.

After the sex in the lab, Viktor held you tightly, not wanting to let you go. His smug cockiness in the library had given you the impression that he was perhaps more confident than he actually was in his acquisition of you. As he began to untangle himself from you, he learnt down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

In the closeness he spoke, “I want you to know (Y/N), that I would not get into this kind of entanglement if I did not intend to keep at least a part of me attached.”

You took a second to read further into what he was trying to say.

“I am not in the science of casual encounters.”

You allowed him to continue, providing no response.

“I have feelings for you.”

You felt almost as frozen as you did in the library. It was not that you did not reciprocate, you did. It was just that this confession came on so suddenly.

“It feels as though I have always had this passion for you, and I can’t hold it back anymore.”

You allow more time before realising that this is not what Viktor needs. Reassurance.

“Viktor, I feel the same.” You reply.

His face softens and his brow relaxes. He returns, “I always thought you were so special. Special enough that I was content to watch you and be around you, even if just from afar. I didn't know if my attention was what you needed.”

“What I needed?”

“You are so full of potential. So much power and emotion. I have seen you work, and I am interested in you far more than for just your brain, I assure you, I have not seen such passion in someone. You really are a rarity.”

You smile. It feels nice being seen. You knew Viktor on a work time basis, and it was nice to know you were not just more work for him. You had always imagined that he struggled to switch off, and he sometimes did, but when there is nothing to switch off and relax for- why not keep working? It was why you visited the library so often. Why you were so focused on your project. Shit. The project. Your mind focuses on the present. Your work is due Wednesday, and you need to defend it before the council panel. You wonder where Viktor is right now.

Looking around the room, you notice your clothes from last night are folded and draped over a chair next to his bed. You had slept naked in the end. You had not initially planned to, though the room was cold enough that when the two of you finally climbed into bed, you shed your clothes to press against each other. You skin to skin contact was electric and you held each other until now.

There’s a rattling sound coming from behind the door.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Viktor calls.

He walks in through the door backwards, propping it open with his back as he tilts down the door handle, juggling his cane and balance in the process. In his other hand precariously balanced is a tea tray.

He places down the tray on the nearest available surface - the end of the bed- and turns towards you.

“I made us some breakfast tea.” He beams.

He looks happy. His hair is fluffed and dishevelled and he wears just a loose pair of pyjama bottoms. He has been waiting in his lounge so as to not wake you, though to be close enough that when you did wake, he could go to the kitchen and make you-

“Breakfast tea! It’s made with tea (obviously), but also sweet milk and (optional) caffeine!” He looks proudly over the tea set he has put together.

You giggle, “Viktor that’s just regular tea”.

“Aha! You have fallen into my trap Miss (Y/N), regular tea is not served with…” He makes an anticipatory gesture with his hands. “Biscuits!”

You don’t correct him that tea is quite often served with biscuits. He looks so incredibly proud of his work. He has neatly arranged the pot, milk and cups and has served them in pristine fashion with accompanying small sweet brown sugar biscuits. You realise that this perhaps is a luxury Viktor does not have time to normally allow himself, you fill with gratitude and warmth. The teacups are mismatched. Living alone, it made sense as to why. He has never had to cater to anyone alongside himself, he only owns one of each set.

“Viktor it’s amazing, this all looks amazing!”

He sits himself in the chair, shifting your clothes onto the pillow behind you for when you need them. You become aware of your nakedness now your clothes are beside you. He stands once more, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. He covers you both back up to the waist with the bed sheets and pulls the tray onto the flat of the both of your legs.

“How do you have it?” He asks.

You describe it to him, he pours it. You nibble at one of the biscuits, being careful to hold your hand underneath so no crumbs get into the bed. After he pours a drink for himself, one that’s very heavily milky, he wraps his arm around you, and you cuddle with your backs to the headboard. The world is warm again.

“Wednesday” Viktor states.

You look up at him, clueless.

“Your project. You need to defend your project to a board on Wednesday.”

“You remembered?”

“I’m on the board.” He grins.

Viktor spends the rest of his day running through techniques regarding presentation. He himself dislikes giving presentations, but he is experienced by proxy through the amount of projects he has seen go through the panel. You are not allowed to disclose the full details of your project to Viktor, now knowing he is on the board; however you allow vague descriptions of the concepts and rough ideas through the filter. He is very much interested and onboard- convinced you will succeed. It is only a few days until the presentation is scheduled and you are growing nervous.

“I have an idea that may ease your nerves. It is untested and it is one of my own creations, but I think it will help you remove some of the nervous associations you have with the boardroom.”

“That sounds like exactly what I need” You chime.

“It is slightly unconventional, but I think you are the perfect subject.”

[aureatelys]

snowflakes in my stomach

pairing: aaron hotchner/non-bau!reader rating: teen+ w.c.: 3k summary:

You work as an elf during photos with Santa at the mall and you spot the extremely attractive man with his son in line.

cw: christmas! fluff! christmas fluff! meet cute, jack hotchner being cute and a little shit, some language, age gap as reader is mid-20s, mentions of haley, working retail, no y/n

also posted on ao3 or below <3

“Where the fuck is Santa?”

You try not to roll your eyes, and you turn from where you were staring at the giant candy cane statue that’s nearly falling apart near Santa’s chair to the man standing several feet away, held back by a red velvet rope barrier. He’s starting to turn red in the face, fists clenching, while his daughter that looks almost way too old to still be taking pictures with Santa is tapping away on her phone.

It's the day before Christmas Eve, thus the last day of Santa and his elves taking pictures with screaming children at the mall. You were already working part time at the mall while you’re in classes and your manager somehow convinced you to help out with the photos for a couple of weeks. Although it was nice to get away from working in retail during the holiday season, you’d much rather be folding clothes for a table you just fixed up 5 minutes ago than deal with these annoying rich parents and their children.

It's nearing 8pm, which means only about 30 minutes left until you’re finally free and can go the fuck home and get out of these ridiculously itchy tights.

“Sir, please don’t curse in front of the children.”

The man’s daughter scoffs at that, barely throws a glare at you, before focusing back on her phone.

You try not to pointedly glance at the other people behind them in line. Since it’s almost closing time, there’s only a couple of people left who are starting to get just as antsy. There’s a woman with a boy who looks about 2-years old and a group of teenagers. What really catches your eye, however, is the older and extremely handsome man at the back of the line with possibly the cutest little 6-year-old boy.

He's very overdressed for the mall; a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, an expensive-looking tie, and a suit jacket thrown over an arm, so you assume he just got off work and rushed here after scheduling last minute. He’s tall, nearly towering over everybody else, intimidating, and has dark and stern eyes as he glances at you and the man at the front of the line, eyebrows pinched in concern.

“That doesn’t answer my question! We’ve been waiting here for 15 minutes!”

You grimace. He does have a point.

Your Santa went on break 15 minutes ago, claiming he was taking a 10-minute break, and you tried not to notice the photographer had skipped to follow him. You definitely tried not to notice the obvious ass-grabbing that Santa did on the photographer either.

You try not to sigh too loudly and put on that well-practiced customer service voice and smile. “I’m sure Santa is just taking a cookies and milk break! He’ll be back soon.”

If possible, the man’s face gets even redder. You could almost see the steam blowing out of his ears if you tried hard enough.

“Well, can I get a refund or something? I had to pay a direct deposit on the website and I’m not waiting another 10 minutes,” he gripes, nearly shouting directly in your face.

Your ridiculous elf hat is falling down into your eyes, but that fake customer service smile doesn’t budge. “You’ll have to contact the North Pole for that, sir.”

The man stares at you in disbelief. You smile at him, years of practice of working in retail coming in hand. Customers like him don’t bother you anymore, especially since you are definitely not getting paid enough to wear pointed shoes that are too small for you and jingle every time you move.

You hear a cough from further down the line and when you peer around the man who is absolutely fuming now, you see that older handsome guy cough into his fist, something like a smile quirking at the corners of his pretty mouth. He looks at you then, makes eye contact with you over the head of all the people in line, and quickly looks away due to his son tugging at his sleeve to make him lean down and whisper something in his ear.

You feel giddy all of a sudden. You made a cute guy laugh, and not only that, you can tell just by looking at him that he doesn’t hand those out very often.

Get it together, you’re at work, you think to yourself.

You clear your throat. “I’m sure Santa will be coming back any minute now.”

And because you have no choice until you were done with the very last person in line, you wait.

The Christmas music blaring throughout the mall has faded into white noise at this point. You’re staring at the ridiculously large Santa chair and wishing you were sitting in it, giving your knees and back a break after standing for several hours, and wondering what you’re going to have for dinner tonight when you feel a tug on your dress.

You spin around, about to have some not-so-nice words for that angry man if he’s putting his hands on you, when you look down and see that cute blonde boy peering up at you with pretty brown eyes. He’s dressed in a red and black checkered flannel with his hair sleekly done in a way that you can tell he’s just itching to mess up.

You blink down at him before bending your knees so you’re at his height. You ignore the very audible crack. “What can I do for you, little man?”

“Why aren’t you at the North Pole?” he asks, so innocently that it warms your heart and definitely not stirring up the baby fever you’ve been trying to ignore for the past year.

You genuinely smile at him because, well, how could you not? “Well, Santa wanted me to work here this year, plus I get to see some of you kiddos!”

“My uncle Derek said all the short adults have to work at the North Pole, so why aren’t you there?” he blinks at you.

Before you could react, the little boy is being lifted up and tucked into the arms of his dad. There’s a light dusting of pink on his stern face, softening it, and a comical panicked look in his eyes.

“Jack!” He reprimands, before turning to you. “I’m sorry, he knows better than to repeat things his uncles have said to him.”

His voice is low and deep, almost mesmerizingly so, and your knees almost buckle at the thought of him whispering in your ear. You have to crane your neck up quite a bit to look at him from where you’re still squatting. You put your hands on your knees to stand back up straight, only grunting a little bit from the effort.

“It’s no problem,” you say. “It’s nothing I’ve heard before.”

Even standing to your fullest height, this man towers over you. He’s much more handsome up close, with some loose strands from his gelled hair falling into his forehead, creases at the corner of his eyes, and the sharp slope of his nose. You can barely detect the hints of his cologne, something clean and like sandalwood.

“It’s a good question,” Jack says, surprisingly very sassy than he looks.

His father seems to huff a laugh, like it escaped him before he could control it. It’s a very nice sound, something you would be fine with hearing over and over again.

You nod. “I’m sure it’s not Jack’s fault since he’s around very tall people all the time, right?”

Jack nods emphatically while his father looks exasperated but extremely affectionate at the same time. He bends to put Jack down, now sure that he isn’t going to cause any more trouble. The glint in the boy’s eyes tells you otherwise.

You break your gaze from the way you can see the older man’s biceps flex underneath his sleeves, his forearms because holy shit, and notice that everyone else in line besides Jack and his father were gone. Even the infuriating angry guy.

The last-minute Christmas shopping crowd has started to dwindle down as well, with some stores even starting to close earlier than usual so the employees can assumedly escape the traffic and spend the rest of the night at home.

And yet, you’re still here wearing striped leggings that you are sure is what’s causing your rash on your thigh, a green dress that is absolutely doing nothing for your figure, and a stupid fucking elf hat. Standing next to probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“I’m sorry about the wait,” you say, because honestly this is getting ridiculous. How long can they be fucking for?

The extremely hot man looks up from where he’s tapping away a text. You try not to ogle at how his hands dwarf his cellphone and instead try to make polite eye contact. He has warm golden-brown eyes that make you feel only a little stupid.

“It’s fine. As long as we can get his picture still taken.” He nods towards Jack, who is definitely starting to look a bit restless by the way he’s shifting his weight back and forth and wringing his hands.

“I’ll make sure we stay and get you guys, I promise,” you say, despite the fact that you have no authority to promise or make everyone else stay late. You’re feeling a little flustered, okay, you can’t help it.

You’re thinking that this guy is going to go back to his phone or completely ignore you to talk to his son, do something that shows he’s not interested in talking to a 25-year-old wearing an elf costume, so you’re awfully surprised when he gives you a devastating handsome smile and showing off an equally devastatingly cute dimple and says “Jack’s been waiting for this all month.”

“Oh yeah?” You smile down at Jack who looks suddenly shy. “A family tradition, I assume?”

The little boy nods, making some pieces of his hair come loose and fall against his forehead. “Daddy always makes sure we don’t miss it ever since Mommy died.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you say. You flounder a bit because, although you understand that kids at this age are unapologetically blunt and you’re used to customers oversharing while working in retail, you were not expecting to learn about this family’s trauma today. “Well, your daddy must love you a lot then, huh?”

You look up to see his father looking absolutely horrified, embarrassment clear on his face. There’s a faint shade of pink again on his face that disappears underneath his shirt collar and you almost feel bad for him, however you can’t deny that he’s cute when he looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Yep,” Jack responds cheerfully, and then is instantly distracted by that damn horn blaring through the mall, signifying the arrival of that godforsaken eyesore they call an indoor train. It takes up nearly the whole walkway of the mall, causing him and his father to scoot further in line and closer to you. The back of his hand brushes against yours.  

“I am,” the man says again, slowly, as if he was in pain, “so sorry.” From the expression he was wearing, you would probably think he was.

You wave his apology off with a jingle. “Really, it’s fine. I know how kids are. You’re just lucky he’s so cute.”

The man says nothing; however, you can see the mortification melt from his face as both of you watch Jack’s eyes slowly following the train as it wraps around the area roped off for pictures. He’s nearly jumping from how much he secretly wants to ride the train, a smile wide across his face and sparkling eyes that match his father’s. Oh, you need to get a grip.

“So, any plans for tomorrow?” you ask and nearly cringe at your awkward attempt to make conversation. It’s getting late, Santa is who knows where, and you’re basically holding this attractive man and his son hostage at the mall.

His gaze breaks from where he was watching Jack, the fatherly warmth and smile on his face still lingering. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. You try not to squirm under his scrutinizing eyes. “We’re just spending time with some family and friends, something small.”

You feel a bit envious. Of course, this man has a family and friends to spend time with for the holidays, he probably has a life as opposed to you. You definitely don’t have plans, unless you count staying in your pajamas for two days straight in front of the TV to watch bad Hallmark movies a plan. You almost wish the mall was open so you could work and keep yourself busy and not think about the aching loneliness you feel every year.

“The more people you see at Christmas, the more presents, right Jack?”

“Right!” Jack says, attention captured as the train disappeared out of view. “And I’m seeing Santa right before he comes to the house so he can’t forget about me!”

You laugh, because he’s just so stinking cute. “And what are you wanting this year?”

Jack immediately starts rambling about how he’s hoping to get a Spiderman action figure with the matching racecar, a scooter, a nerf gun, and other toys a typical 6-year-old would want. You nod along and pretend to take notes on the prop clipboard you were given.

You ignore the older man’s curious stare you can feel boring into the side of your head. You thought it wasn’t noticeable that you clearly avoided saying what you were going to be doing for the holidays, though when you finally meet his eyes, you have a feeling that nothing gets by this man.

You jump at a sudden clatter to your left, and when you tear yourself from the man’s pretty eyes, you see your Santa and the photographer stumbling through the props and knocking over the fake presents stacked on top of each other. Santa is thankfully wearing all of his costume; however, his beard is crooked, and the photographer’s clothes are inside out.

“That was a long milk and cookies break,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

Jack squeals when he spots them, jumping up and down and tugging on his father’s hand. The man gives him that affectionate smile again and you just want to melt.

Santa, you call him because you don’t remember his name but also you definitely shouldn’t call him by his real name anyway, fakes a deep and hearty laugh. He sits down at the comically large armchair and discreetly fixes his beard. “I just had a big ol’ craving. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Jack ducks underneath the barricade and starts running at Santa, leaving his father flustered and jogging after him.

“Sorry about that,” the photographer whispers to you and doesn’t even wait for your response before she’s behind the camera stand and adjusting the settings.

It doesn’t even matter, because you’re watching Jack hop onto Santa’s lap, already continuing his rambling about what he is wanting for Christmas. He’s clearly ignoring his father’s gentle suggestions on how to pose and to fix his shirt, altogether sounding very endearing and fond.

You watch as his father ultimately gives up, surprisingly looks at you with an exasperated smile, and takes out his phone to take his own pictures of Jack. The boy eventually finishes what he has to say, almost looking out of breath, and gives the camera the toothiest and silliest smile you have ever seen.

“Great job, buddy!” you exclaim and then feel your heart being squeezed when Jack runs up to you and gives you a hug around your shins.

“I hope you have a good vacation after Christmas,” Jack says seriously. He looks up at you, death grip on your legs unwavering. “You’ve worked hard this year.”

If Jack wasn’t clearly talking about you working as an elf at Santa’s workshop, you probably would’ve teared up.

Instead, you give him a smile and a pat on the top of his head. “Thanks, Jack. Merry Christmas.”

His father is behind him a second later, folder in hand with Jack’s prints. He’s looking at the both of you now with that soft expression you’re starting to become familiar with. The love he has for his son is clear as day. “Hey buddy, we gotta get home.” 

“Can we get pizza on the way?” Jack gasps excitedly, letting go of your legs to reach a hand out for his father’s.

He hums and pretends to think about it. “We’ll see. I just have to talk to our new friend here.”

And then he’s stepping closer into your space and meeting your eyes. You get a whiff of his cologne again and you feel like you’re about to combust on the spot.

“I’m Aaron, and this, obviously, is Jack. I wanted to see if wanted to go out for dinner or a coffee sometime? After Christmas?”

You stare at him, a million emotions and thoughts racing through your head all at once. This man, who is at least 15 years older than you and is way out of your league, is interested in you, a college student who has no friends and is currently wearing a frumpy green dress and red and green striped leggings?

Aaron doesn’t break eye contact with you, most likely to indicate to you that he’s being sincere, however you can tell he’s blushing again. Nervous.

You stammer out your name, though you can barely hear yourself over the rush of blood in your ears. “I would love that.”

You watch as Aaron nearly sighs in relief and the action, the thought that he feels relieved because you’re showing equal interest, is exhilarating. He hands his phone to you and you punch in your number. You’re almost tempted to add your contact info as something silly or funny, but instead just adds a smiley face at the end.

Aaron chuckles when he spots it and pockets his phone. The softness and want in his eyes are almost overwhelming, and the way more of his hair flops against his forehead makes you want to put your hands all over him “I’ll call you?”

“Sure,” you breathe. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Both of you pointedly ignore Jack’s giggle as he watches.

[talekinesis]

I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again

Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.

She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.

So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her

Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.

Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)

THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK

The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.

They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."

When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.

Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.

Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.

Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED

She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become

Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental

Caryn: You made this?

Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-

Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'

And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.

I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.

Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.

Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.

I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.

[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[pumpkinrootbeer]

okay.. for all the canes fans here's a quick Mikko rundown

^thats him.

Back to back 100 point seasons, back to back to back 90 point seasons. He has the record for most goals scored in a season for the Avs, 7th all time point scorer, 6th all time goal scorer in avalanche history. 619 games played 682 career points. He was the leading goal scorer and second in points for the avs this season! (Part of the reason the trade blindsided us) He's a really good hockey player.

His number is 96, but I guess that may change now. He chose it because Crosby was his favorite player growing up so, like Sid, he went with his birth year. He was with the Avs for a decade, was their first round draft pick in 2015. He was an alternate captain and a lot of signs pointed to him being their captain if Gabe never came back. His nickname is moose. He's not a very physical player, never had a 5min major or suspension or gone gloves off, despite the fact he's a 6'4" giant and will absolutely scuffle with people he doesn't fight. He's also incredibly silly and kind hearted and full of love. And he falls a lot on the ice, he's like a baby deer. Or moose.

There he is... my boy.

Everyone who talks about him talks about how he's incredibly nice and friendly, the reporters even gave him a homemade award for "media tolerance"

He's also, uhm, not bad to look at.

Please be kind to him 🙏🙏🙏

[dyns33]

Family's dog

The Solomons family is composed of three members and it was time to focus on the tiniest.

A dog's life wasn't an easy life.

Born on the street, hungry, sleeping in the cold, he had been happy the first time he had a master.

Some might say he wasn't a good master. He sometimes forgot to feed him, he didn't let him inside when it rained, considering that the kennel he shared with the others was enough and he forced him to fight when he didn't want to.

But as a dog, he was grateful.

Still, it was a shock to be adopted by his new master.

"Hello, love." the man had said when he saw him, putting his cane behind him and leaning down with difficulty to pat his head. "No, it's not a toy, and it's not a weapon either. I don't want to hit you, you don't hit nice boys. Don't you, Mr. Collins, nice boys like this don't deserve to be hit ?"

"Yes, Mr. Solomons, certainly."

"Certainly, innit ? Then why does he have marks all over him ?"

"The other dogs, sir. For the fights."

"Ah, yes, those barbaric spectacles. In our fair country, what a disgrace. Poor boy, is this where you sleep ? Mr. Collins, it takes no heart to make such a brave dog sleep in such a place."

"I can bring him inside if you…"

"Nah. He's coming with me, on top of what you owe me."

Mr. Solomons gave him a new home. A real home you could say, where he could walk everywhere, with food and water every day, gentle pats on the head, a basket for him, the right to climb on the sofa and the bed, and a name. Cyril.

Well, as for the bed, Cyril wasn't sure he understood. His master growled as soon as he jumped up near him, mumbling 'no', a word he knew well, but then he put his arm around him and fell asleep without trying to get him down or punish him.

Everything was wonderful with Mr. Alfie Solomons.

He also took him outside with him. At first, Cyril was afraid that it would make him fight or abandon him somewhere, but no. Holding him with a leash and swearing obscenities while asking him to slow down because of his back, they only went around the neighborhood or on the beach before going back.

There was the car too.

"Yes, stick your head out, it'll be better for you and me."

"Woof !"

"Isn't that right, love ?"

There were times when his master would have clearly wanted Cyril to be more aggressive. He would sometimes growl when strangers approached in a threatening manner, which was often enough to scare them off.

But most of the time, he would sit next to him, salivating, simply happy to be with his master.

"Cyril, I'm going to ask you to be a perfect gentleman, okay ? A perfect gentleman, even nicer than usual. If there's a bite, a bark, anything that ruins it, I should get angry, and I don't want to get angry."

The request was strange. Tilting his head to the side, Cyril watched as Mister Solomons got ready for an important meeting, as he often did. Except he looked nervous.

Not nervous like he could be, mumbling nonsense or complaining about his back, really nervous. His master didn't seem to be afraid of anything though.

For the first time since he had arrived in his new home, his master brought someone home in the evening.

Y/N Shelby, he introduced her with great ceremony. They obviously knew each other well, because the young woman ignored Alfie's long, wacky tirades to crouch down in front of Cyril with a huge smile, offering her hand for him to sniff.

A lot of humans didn't do that. They touched him without permission or kept their distance.

This pleased Cyril very much, who thanked her by licking her fingers, which made her laugh. A very pretty sound, which enchanted him as it seemed to enchant Mr. Solomons.

Faced with his acceptance, Y/N began by scratching his head, ears, neck, and he ended up on his back, in complete ecstasy, while she took care of his belly.

"You were right, a real menace. A terror. Alfie, I'm so scared of your dog." she joked at the sight.

"I must say he seems to adore you, treacle. It's a good thing, I wasn't joking when I said he was difficult, he only listens to me."

Mr. Solomons called him 'traitor' while continuing to treat him kindly. Strange, because Cyril did exactly what he asked, obeying his new mistress perfectly, probably even better than him. But Mr. Solomons often said strange things without thinking them.

It was the first time that there was a woman in Cyril's life, and in addition to seeming important to Alfie, she treated him with great affection and respect. She also took very good care of the one she called 'her husband'.

So it was very quickly obvious that she was the most important person, the leader of the pack. The one who had to be made proud and protected first.

"He only listens to you, huh ?"

"What can I say, damn woman ? Lovely witch. You seduced my dog, just like you seduced me. There's no other explanation, otherwise why would we both be staring sadly at the door until you come home, then following you everywhere ? One day, we'll fight for your attention, and you know what's worse ? He'll win. He's already stealing my place in the bed and you're not saying anything."

"I don't see you punishing him much either."

"I'm a criminal, love, not a monster."

It wasn't even true that he was stealing Mr. Solomons' place. Cyril couldn't sleep until both his masters were present, curled up against each other with him at the foot of the bed. He only stayed close to Y/N to keep her company until Alfie arrived.

If he didn't mean it when he called him a 'traitor' because he was nice to his wife, Cyril heard real indignation in his voice when he accompanied them to see Y/N's family.

Lots of children, and many men he didn't know, who seemed quite hostile to Alfie while welcoming him with smiles and gifts. How could you not love them ?

"Your dog is much better educated than you, Mr. Solomons."

"Ah yes, dear Thomas, they say that dogs are a reflection of the life their masters could have had, which explains why this one is so pampered."

"Say right away that I mistreat you."

"Absolutely, treacle. Every day. You check that I have done my work, that I eat, that I have my back cushion, it is real daily torture. Hoy ! Cyril, no !"

"He's playing with the kids, everything's fine."

"That little fool doesn't know his strength, Thomas. Don't come blaming me when he makes your boy fall."

Cyril didn't make the boy fall, nor any of the toddlers who were running with him, making all the Shelbys present laugh, while his master was still mumbling under his breath.

He didn't seem interested in being congratulated for having trained his dog so well.

With her sweet smile, Y/N whistled for him to come to her, which he immediately did while wagging his tail.

"Good boy. It's time to go home now. Alfie, stop sulking, come on."

"I'm not sulking, treacle. I whistled for him three times without him listening to me, everything is perfectly normal."

"You love it when he obeys me so well, like you love it when I give you orders."

"In your dreams, crazy woman."

"Alfie, in the car."

"… I'm not going to walk home from Birmingham, that doesn't mean I obey you !"

Cyril barked happily to support his mistress, because he saw Mr. Solomons obeying his wife perfectly all the time, pretending to be offended while staring at her with sad puppy eyes waiting for a caress in return.

Not a reflection of the life he could have had, but of the life he had, Cyril thanked his master for picking him up at the corner of the road when everything was going badly, walking a bit together before having the chance to be both cuddled by Y/N.

"Anyway, I know you prefer him to me." Alfie grumbled, lying on his back, while his wife scratched the dog's head, settled between them.

"He doesn't complain all the time."

"I don't complain all the time, love. If I did complain all the time, you would have smothered me in my sleep a long time ago."

"Hmm. Never mind. I taught him a new trick."

"Let me guess. Steal the cane ? Hide the rum ?"

"Cyril. Please, living room."

Reluctant but not wanting to disappoint his mistress, Cyril jumped out of bed to wait on the couch, as his mistress had taught him, until she called him again so he could come back.

According to her, it would be a nice gift rather than forcing his 'daddy' to get up all the time to let him out and then open the door for him when he wanted a special cuddle.

"A special cuddle. Treacle, he's a dog, very intelligent no doubt, but he's not like kids with their sensitive ears, you can say fuc…"

"Alfie. I can tell him to come back if you want, and send you to the sofa instead of him."

"No, I want my special cuddle. I almost didn't tease Arthur during the party, I deserve it."

It wasn't the mating season, so Cyril didn't understand why his masters and especially Alfie were active so often in the year, but they were happy, and as promised they always called him when they were done so that he could join them, so they forgave their oddities.

It really wasn't easy being a dog, but Cyril Solomons didn't complain.

[weebsinstash]

*sigh* gosh you know, I have to say that one of my favorite things about Alastor is just the romanticism in the aesthetic of the time period he's from, specifically the fashion. I keep thinking of Alastor finding out you're his fated red-string-soulmate and thus, taking it on as his official duty to take care of you, which includes styling you, especially if you're a little, shall we say, homely

I just picture, he rolls up to your front door, following this new red string he hasn't seen in the almost 100 years he's been dead, almost scoffing at the nation he has one at all but being oh so curious anyways, and he's greeted by... you. Shy, quiet, modern you in your cheap modern clothes and your withdrawn demeanor. He's standing there in his suit with cologne and his cane and you've got like. An anime graphic tee and some sweatpants with dirty socks on and your hair is dry as fuck

But he's still instantly smitten. You're like a little puppy left out in the rain who needs a nice warm bath and a good brushing. He's already having so many ideas of how to fix you up like his new favorite doll, and he can tell your self esteem could be much much higher than what he's seeing, so, it's for you as well, isn't it?

He isnt... ENTIRELY intending to be demeaning, but, he sees how little effort you put into yourself (because you hate yourself lmao) and he just tut-tuts, "oh no, this simply will not do, my dear!". He's not much of a capitalist, but, it seems he'll have to take you shopping for some nicer garments, won't he? He'll pay for everything, of course! He definitely has to get you something as lovely as you, and you're a total shrinking violet when he winds up taking you to a tailor for both making adjustments to things he's picked up for you, but also, having something completely custom made.

He gets all warm and fuzzy as he watches you gaze upon your reflection in a full length mirror after he's dressed you for the first time, clearly unused to seeing yourself like this, especially if you're a lady and wearing the long skirt and dresses from his time are completely foreign to you, bringing a gentle feminity that you're unaccustomed to. Maybe, just maybe, it even makes you cry a little bit. You ask him if he's sure he wants to pay for all of this, to 'waste his money on you when you still look "like you"', and he just scoffs. "What are you even talking about? You look absolutely stunning, my dear! I fear I may even have to hide you away so that none of the perverted scoundrels down here get any funny ideas!"

I know this is so... tender but I actually really like the idea of... Reader being really exhausted and run down and, maybe you're even SUPER sick and he helps run you a bath, rolling up his sleeves as he pulls up a stool next to the old claw bathtub he has you in to help wash you and your hair, fingers gently massaging shampoo onto your scalp, dutifully combing out all the knots, putting in more love in dedication to your hair than even you do. He helps you out of the tub and there's a set of brand new modest pajamas with a thin robe that fit you perfectly and are so soft and comfy, the demon maybe even putting your washed locks in a bonnet or getting you a silk pillowcase as he leads your wobbly tired self to a bed with freshly cleaned linens, pulling the blanket up over you, putting an ice pack or cold washcloth on your forehead to help you keep cool, fetching you a glass of water for your parched throat and sitting at your bedside reading a book until you've peacefully drifted off to sleep in your new room. Alastor doesn't let himself get a wink of sleep until you're in deep slumber, but, even still, he can't help but simply sit there and watch the soft rise and fall of your chest, glued to your bedside all night, still finding himself staring at you as your eyes flutter awake in the morning and realizing, as cute as you are asleep, he misses you ever so much when you're not around to talk to

Just in general, you two having matching pajamas as the man has you sleeping in two twin beds in the same room. He may let you develop your own sense of style but he adores adding touches of red to your clothing so the two of you match, and if you have a personal color of your own, you may occasionally spot the Radio Demon sporting an accesory with that same hue.

It isn't terribly long after he's met you and brought you into a shared living space at all until he's already looking for engagement bands and wedding rings behind your back. He wants to keep it a surprise after all! He's perusing so many options styled from his time period, delicate silvers with spiraling filigree and modest diamonds, unable to decide on ovals or circles or square stones or even the band itself, something sturdy yet classy. Yet... he just adores you so much that he's not sure he can make a decision! It actually gets him very flustered and frustrated; the ring has to be absolutely perfect, and of course, he'll want to help you pick out a dress as well! And he'll have to decide on a venue! Which of his cohorts does he want to invite? What if you just look so beautiful that some of the guests want you for themselves?? Now he's just getting paranoid

Oh, Alastor will certainly continue to dress you up and take you out to dinner and jazz clubs and taking you dancing, but, unbeknownst to you, he may or may not be hiding an engagement band under his gloves and a little velvet box in his coat pocket. It gives him such an immense joy just to carry them, but he hopes someday soon, he'll be able to look at you in your pretty dresses and your cute little cloche hats and be able to eventually admire the sight of that ring around your finger as he holds your hand. Until then, he's just happy being with you for every moment that he can, even in the moments where you're not even aware that he's there at all, hiding in the shadows and making sure he's doing everything to keep you safe :)

[moonstruckme]

tumblr is hiding the request from me :( but here it is, thanks for requesting!

request: Would you be willing to write about(if you havnt already) Remus X a chronic pain having reader(joint pain kinda similar to his but like all over, maybe reader also has to use a cane from time to time) that's SUPER stubborn about their pain and HATES admitting there's anything wrong with them so they don't take pain killers or use their cane unless forced to.

cw: chronic pain, pain meds

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You can’t get lost in your book. The words won’t pull you out of your body the way you need them to, so you’re watching raindrops race down the window instead. You bet on which one will win, sometimes changing your pick halfway through—because, really, you’re the one making the rules anyway—and then starting again from the top of the glass once the last round’s droplets puddle into the sill. 

You’re not sure who’s more miserable lately; you, or the sky. It’s been dull gray and weeping all week, clouds barely moving on cold winds. As if the weather isn’t making you ache enough, you slipped on the wet stairs outside your apartment yesterday and now have a nice, big bruise on your hip to boot. Remus keeps looking at the tinge of it peeking out of your trousers with a pitying little uptilt to his brows that makes you antsy. 

Remus groans as he shifts from his curled-up position next to you on the couch. He stretches his leg out, propping his ankle on the coffee table. You wince. You know he’s feeling this weather as badly as you are in his knees. 

“Alright?” you ask gently. 

He makes a low sound, halfway between a hum and a grunt. “I’ll live.” 

Remus turns his head your way, and you pretend to read your book again as you feel him scan you over. You try not to look too stiff in your own skin. To ease the grimace from your mouth. 

“How about you?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

“Sure, dovey?” 

You know the endearment is meant to soften you. You look him right in the eyes. “Yeah.” 

He hums, holding your gaze. There’s sympathy in the warm honey brown of his eyes, the sort you can never decide whether to spurn or cling to, as well as a stubbornness to match your own. After a moment, he takes his foot off the table. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says, standing. “I’m getting painkillers.” 

You stand, too, fighting past the protests of your joints. “I’ll go.” 

“I’ve got it.” 

“Remus, you’re in pain.” 

You know you’re pushing it—the limits of this lie, that you’re not in just as much if not more pain than he is—and it appears Remus knows it too. Rather than saying it, he only levels you with a look. You sit down. 

Remus doesn’t have to bring the bottle of pain medication back with him after taking his own dose, but he does. He sets it right on the coffee table next to a tub of numbing cream, which he opens before rolling up the leg of his trousers. One at a time, he massages it into his sore knees. 

You pretend to yourself that your own joints don’t feel any worse for thinking of what relief might be like. The words on your page blur past your eyes. 

“Give me your hand, lovely.”

You look at Remus. He’s finished with his knees, but now he holds his hand out for you, a dollop of cream on his fingers. “Hm?” 

Your boyfriend sighs, exasperation coated in fondness. “Don’t. You’re hurting.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I can see it in your face.” 

You feel yourself frown. “It’s not that bad.” 

“What will it hurt?” His voice gentles. He keeps looking at you, until finally, you extend your hand. 

You know Remus knows how to be gentle with you. He’s good at helping without hurting, touch soothing over your skin and working the cream into every aching crevice. You hold in a sigh. 

“Sometimes,” Remus says in a thoughtful voice, “I catch myself dismissing my pain. And then I look at you, and I think how silly that is.” 

You take the opportunity to watch him while he’s not watching you. He looks peaceful. The furrow between his brows has shallowed, now borne of concentration rather than affliction or worry as he smooths his healing touch over your wrist and works his way up to your elbow. 

“I never want you to just put up with your pain. I don’t know why I do. But thinking about you doing the same thing helps me snap out of it, so,” Remus glances up at you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, “thank you for that.” 

“Are you saying I’m silly?” You mean to tease, but your voice comes out infused with the sigh you’d held back. You sound tender and lovestruck; more vulnerable than you intended to be. 

“You’re silly when you won’t take care of yourself,” Remus answers unapologetically. “Even sillier when you won’t let me take care of you.” 

“It’s not your job,” you say quietly. 

He frowns. His thumb rubs softly over the tender jut of your elbow. “It’s both of our job.” 

“Thank you, but I don’t feel like I need the help. I manage it fine by myself.” 

“Sweetheart.” Remus looks at you. You’re caught like a fly in his honey trap. “It doesn’t make the pain any more or less real to treat it. You’re only helping it hurt you. It’s not a bad thing to take painkillers when you need them. Or to use your cane.” 

You stiffen at the introduction of a familiar argument. “I don’t need to use it.” 

“I know, lovely. You might not have had your fall yesterday if you had been, though.” 

Your hackles must be visibly raised, because Remus only looks at your face before softening his tone further, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. 

“I only wish you’d let us both look after you a bit better. And I hate to see you hurt.” His touch skims over that sliver of bruise showing above your trousers. “My poor girl.” 

You soften. Maybe it’s the tenderness of his touch, or the quiet ache in his voice, but you find yourself leaning over until your head rests on Remus’ shoulder. He continues massaging cream into your joints, diligent and loving. 

“It’s gotta go both ways,” you say, like you’re negotiating an agreement. 

“Of course it will.”

“You can’t just always be right. You have to listen when I tell you you’re being an idiot, too.” 

You hear more than see his smile. “But I so rarely am.” 

“Trust me,” you mumble, “it happens.” 

Remus chuckles and kisses your head. “Okay, dove. I’ll listen to you.”

[ickytreats]

I love love loveeee your icky santa 0///0

what about....what if you're the last house he needs to visit...and he's so tired...so so tired....and he eats his milk and cookies...and then...in the morning....you find him asleep...w a lil tent poking up....and, well, you gotta take care of Santa!!! and he tastes like candy canes and sugar plums...and he's so big....and soft....and now he's taking you on a very special ride...

(also may I take 🧚 as my sign off?)

One Order of Sleepy Santa!

Finding Santa asleep was not on your bucket list for Christmas day. As you walk closer to him, you can feel the warmth coming off of him and how sweet he smells. It's so comforting, and he just looks so cozy. You lean down and try to shake him awake, but it doesn't work. You watch as he just fixes himself in his sleep, the change of position showing off his bulge. Your shocked because you never imagined Santa to ever get hard, and he's big! You can tell he's so tired, and Santa does a lot of things for everyone. Your hands find his belt buckle as you softly start to undo it. shimmying them down enough to where his cock lays heavy on his thigh, all leaky and red.

Bringing it into your hand and pumping it his pre-cum more than enough to glide your hand up and down. You watch as his hips buckle in his sleep and he lets out a small groan. You keep pumping his cock, but his pre-cum is just making such a mess, and the room suddenly smells more sweet. You slowly lower your head down close to his cock; no way it's coming from his pre-cum. You just had to try! As you take a small kitten lick at his cock and it hits your tongue, your eyes light up. He tastes so good?! You look at his sleeping face, then back at his cock and take it in your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down wasn't easy; it couldn't even fit him all, but you had fun gagging and choking on it.

He's groaning and moaning so much in his sleep until suddenly you feel a big hand in your hair. Such a naughty girl, a deep voice says as he pulls you off his cock. You feel a little bad being caught Just wanted to give Santa a nice treat. He left me so many presents it's only fair. Giving him the prettiest and most innocent eyes you can. Is that so sugar? Just wanted to give Santa a treat? Pets your cheek and slowly pulls you up to straddle him as he fixes himself. Maybe I won't move you to the naughty list if you ride me. His big hands find your waist and grind you down on his cock. You were shocked that Santa would say something so blunt. And you couldn't take his cock, no way! You had never taken anything so big. But you didn't want to say no; you really wanted to try it. Nodding your head, you go to take off your soaked panties.

He can tell you are nervous You can take my cock sugar Trust me. The magic of Christmas better be on your side as you slowly sink onto his cock with a whimper. It's hard to feel like you're at your limit just barely with the tip. He softly runs his hands over your thighs as he lowers you onto his cock more. Gives you a couple seconds before he is guiding your hips and bouncing you on his cock, giving you a little more with every couple of thrusts. He moans with a smile; it could be music to your ears. Everything about him is alluring and comforting. Placing your hands on his belly because Santa has at least a Dad Bod to try and steady yourself. You feel like you're getting dumber by the second, especially as you feel yourself about to cum.

Cumming on his cock makes it so much harder for you to bounce. Just like that snowflake, Santa groans at how tight you are, and now both his hands are on your waist as he bounces you and grinds you against him—anything he can get you to do. He is so close, and there is just a mess between you two. Finally, he cums deep in you, making you take him whole; you are so stuffed! His cock, his cum—it's a lot! You can't help but collapse onto his chest. He hugs you so sweetly, letting you soak in his comfort before he pulls out. Cum literally gushing out of you. You can barely keep awake, but you feel him get up, and a sudden wave passes through you, and suddenly you're all wrapped up and clean. Till next Christmas, Sugar, and I promise you're still on the nice list.

🧚Anon I literally love you! feeding into whatever I have going on with Santa this season.

[banquetwriter]

i love the way you write viktor sm sm 🫡 if you feel up to it, id love to see some more of your domestic headcanons! also, do you think either viktor's partner and jayce get jealous of each other? lmao i like imagining a silent passive aggression n rivalry between anyone dating viktor and jayce.

keep up the great work!!!!

AN: AHH ONG THANK YOU 🙏 i’m new to the arcane fandom + writing viktor so i feared my depiction of him was super ooc so im glad people like it haha

now i don’t think jayce would hate you or anything, but he would certainly be weary… since i am an avid jayvik shipper and he is def in love w/ his “partner” he would ofc be upset he is with someone else !

however however he isn’t down right mean to you. being blunt with you, dismissing what you say and asking viktor if he is sure about you is the most he would go

that is if you treated viktor good if you treated him bad (which idk why you would) oh boy you’d have a whole can of whoopass coming to be delivered

using his counselor powers he’d def make sure your life sucks lmfao 😭😭

however once you prove that you really do love viktor with your entire heart and your nothing but kind to jayce im sure after a while he will have to face the reality that your not going away and also he actually kinda likes you

you can keep up with all the hextech shit and no matter what always care about viktor and cmon what else can ask for?

as far as you being jealous i’m sure you would even if you aren’t to typically get jealous. it’s clear not only in his words but his whole life viktor loves jayce even if it isn’t romantic anymore (cuz ur there duh)

at first you were super confused why his lab “partner” was lowkey a bitch to you. you understood viktor has pretty much no romantic experience and he’s probably just looking out for his friend

it wouldn’t be until jayce has finally warmed up to you and shared some old story of him and viktor that you would understand that he loved him. like loved him loved him it wasn’t just platonic

“oh y/n! i am almost done with my work for today, just give me a second and i’ll be right out!” viktor said removing an (honestly) goofy looking pair of goggles he was using to make small adjustments to a project he was working on.

“take your time!” you chime as viktor hobbles away with his cane. you are left alone with jayce waiting for your love to be done. you turn to jayce and with a polite smile you nod to him.

jayce nods back not meeting your eye. after a moment jayce sighs. “you know he never used to leave this much until you showed up.” jayce said with a small sad smile. you smile down at your feet. “yes i’m well aware he loves to tell me how much he has a work i can only assume it consumed his whole life” you admit.

jayce looks down before speaking again, “usually it was me pulling him out of his work. forcing him to eat, sleep whatever it was.” jayce sighs almost defeated.

you smile again, brighter this time. “he also told me that.” you say. jayce chuckles before rubbing his hand against his jaw. “you know sometimes it felt like a loosing battle to get him to take care of himself. it still is. i never gave up because he was my- still is my everything.” jayce admits.

his confession lays heavy in the air. realization hits of what exactly he means. your face falls realizing how much it must hurt to be around you. before you can’t speak you hear viktor walking out of wherever he went.

“oh! you two are talking, how nice.” viktor teases as he walks up to you. you shake your head with a smile. “you go ahead i’ll be right behind you.” viktor smiles with a curious expression but leaves you alone with jayce.

you flung your arms around the man. jayce stumbles back confused but eventually hugs you back. “thank you.” was all you whispered to him before leaving returning side by side with viktor. “what were you two discussing?” he asks not meeting your eyes.

“we were plotting evil against you.” you say with a small smile, viktor only rolls his eyes.

anyways to conclude that i think like you said it’s a silent sort of one sided beef on jayce’s part but eventually it ends (for the most part lol)

as far as what viktor feelings on the matter he can obviously tell it’s strained between you too but reassures both of you that either one of you just want the best for him

he does not like conflict and def gets anxious when both of yall share the same space.

however a small (teeny tiny) part of him is grateful. he hasn’t ever had many people in his life let alone two people (almost) fighting over him, but again a small part he is mostly anxious

as far as domestic stuff goes he def lets you fidget with his fingers. in private ofc. you slowly massage his fingers when your concentrating on something and while he pretends he is reading the page hasn’t been turned in the last 5 minutes because he is solely focus on you

you become his whole world and god he cannot get over how you are his. or that he is yours! i’ve talked a lot about how you take care of him which is true

you help him with his brace, cooking, cleaning all the normal life stuff but something i haven’t touched too much on his how he takes care of you

just because he is disabled does not mean he is weak by any means. he always always always makes sure the house and you are at the perfect tempature.

he will braid small chunks in your hair if it’s long enough, he’ll get your toothbrush ready for you, make sure to have all of your favorite things at the house

takes advantage of piltover’s plentiful arts and brings home things of your interest.

i’m a firm believer that viktor looks like an old man when he sleeps with a long shirt and long pants, which is cute till he radiates heat like a damn furnace at night

you resort to sleeping in just a shirt and underwear. which drives viktor a tad wild. seeing you shuffle out of bed and your ass is already out? he is in heaven.

if you do not have a loving family let’s pretend for a second you do (bc same bestie same) and picture viktor getting personally invited to the holidays by your father.

he’s never been so nervous and excited. i’m not sure what holidays exactly but something that required the whole family which includes him.

he of course is overwhelmed at how many people there are. you eventually leave him to fend for himself when your family needs you to help prepare something

he is terrified but when you come back he is getting his ear talked off by one of your baby cousins. so all is well.

he is mostly scared of being judged by your family (and in this head cannon they never would) but to his shock he is accepted! just like how you accepted him.

your family just like you never ever once made him feel bad for his disability or his appearance or anything ever !

domestic life has not been common for viktor but now that he has you, you have fought for it to be his every day