#it's kind of funny they're like...nesting

[bereft-of-frogs]

it's cool to do....*counts*...3 takes on the same concept right?

[skrunksthatwunk]

actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.

he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.

a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).

but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.

and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.

he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.

and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal

[sanguineterrain]

Hi Sanne! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if you're up to it I'd like to request red hood x reporter! Maybe reporter reader is getting too close to a case and is starting to become a target and hood takes her protection into his own hands? ((Including lots of midnight rendezvous and rooftop bump ins))

i love this prompt sm! i've been thinking about a reporter reader ever since i read task force z :) thanks for requesting!

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: reader is attacked (but they're okay), guns, violence, fighting, jason being both a force to be reckoned with and a big softie. 2.5k words

****

"I don't need protection."

The Red Hood crosses his arms. You cross yours right back.

"Yes, you do," he says.

"No, I don't. I've lived in Gotham my whole life. I can take care of myself."

"Living around and being in the thick of violence are very different. You're already chasing this story; they will come after you."

And what a story it is. The story of the decade, at the very least. A task force of formerly-dead Arkham patients wielded against Gotham by a mysterious benefactor.

It's terrifying. It's dangerous. It's sure to win you your first Pulitzer.

And it all means absolutely nothing if the Red Hood keeps wrapping you in red tape.

Your jaw ticks. "This is my story, Hood. You can't turn it in, so I will. And I won't be scared off by some slimeball."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't even have known about this story if it wasn't for me, smarty."

Smarty. His favorite moniker for you because, according to him, you think you know everything.

Working with the Red Hood has been an unfortunate side effect of chasing your prize-winning story. Not only is he wanted in twenty-six countries (you Googled it) and is a ruthless crime lord (supposedly formerly, but you're doubtful), but worst of all, he's got an attitude to match yours.

He's also built like a tank, which is why you can't just. Outrun him.

"I can't just not publish the story," you say.

"I don't want to stop you from publishing the story. Hence the protection."

"I can't afford a bodyguard."

"Well, it's a good thing I already paid my rent this month."

You scoff. "The Gotham Gazette has a strict 'no armed and dangerous' policy. I'm afraid we all have to leave our gun-toting vigilantes at home."

You open the driver's door of your car, ready to end the conversation here and now. Hood calmly closes the door with his hip and leans.

You glare. "Get off of my car."

"Fact." He holds up a finger. "These kinds of people always strike before the story comes out. They know you're scared and stressed, and they wanna do it before the story gets out. Otherwise, it's obvious who killed who."

"And where did you read this fact? Crime Lord's Digest? We don't even know if they know I'm the reporter who broke into the lab."

"Listen, smarty, I've been in this game a lot longer than you. I know how they operate," he says, finally getting off of your car, only to lean on the hood. Jerk. "It's only a matter of time before whoever's behind this snuffs you out."

"I am not letting a wanted criminal nest in my apartment!"

"That's why I'd be there."

"I was talking about you, Hood."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate your... help." You try not to show your exasperation. "But there's no way I'm inviting you over to my apartment. That'll set off more alarms. If anything happens, I'll call you. Until then, stay away. Deal?"

Hood looks you over.

"Hm. You're awfully comfortable with giving me orders, smarty."

Your adrenaline spikes for a second. But it quickly calms. You've worked with Hood for a month now. Sure, you were petrified the first week, but it quickly dissipated. You've fallen into an odd camaraderie with him.

It's actually kind of nice, having him on your side. No one at the Gazette gives you the time of day. You've become used to having a partner. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"You take orders so well, I can't help but dole them out," you say, only a little smirky.

"Watch it," Hood rumbles, only half-serious. Probably.

You beam and wrench open your car door, sliding into the seat.

"See?" you say, turning the ignition. "No snipers waiting to take me out. I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and slides off the hood. "Ten bucks says they'll try by the end of the week."

You close your door. "You're on."

****

As it turns out, Hood doesn't need the end of the week to earn his tenner. Trouble breaks down your door the very same night.

You're on your couch with some well-earned Lebanese takeout when your door is ripped off of your hinges. You shoot up from the couch, chest immediately tight.

Your assailant is masked and isn't that typical, giving masked men everywhere a bad name.

You run to the kitchen, hoping you can grab a knife. But you're grabbed before you can get there. You slip on the carpet and trip further into your assailant's arms.

"Keep still so I won't make a mess," is all he says.

You start screaming. He covers your mouth and you bite his hand. That earns you a thump on your cheek, so hard your vision blurs.

Bang!

You freeze, expecting the warm drip of blood and the excruciating pain to accompany it. Instead, your assailant falls to the floor, clutching his ribs. You stumble backwards and see Hood at your door, gun still aimed. He stalks over and kicks the assailant in the chest as he does. The assailant groans.

"You okay?"

You're still staring at the man who very nearly killed you a minute ago. Blood roars in your ears. You think you might be close to fainting.

"Hey." Big, gloved hands hold your face. You flinch and hold the owner's wrists. Hood comes into view once more.

"Are you okay?" he asks firmly. "Look at me, look at me, sweet. Breathe. 'S okay. Does anything hurt? Did he—"

Hood cuts himself off as he touches your cheek, where you were hit. He lightly runs a thumb over what is probably a budding bruise.

Hood lets you go and whirls onto your attacker. He hauls him up and presses a gun to his stomach.

"Go ahead, shoot me!" the attacker shouts.

"If I shoot you, it won't be out of mercy. You won't get a quick death. You don't deserve it," Hood snarls, and you suddenly remember all of your good reasons for fearing the Red Hood.

"I ain't telling ya shit!"

"I don't expect you to," Hood says, and fires again.

The man crumples to the ground, but he's clearly still breathing. Still alive. Hood drags him to the door by his collar.

"You go back to your boss. And you tell 'em that they're fucking with the Red Hood now. And, in case I'm not being perfectly fucking clear through all that blood loss—" Hood grabs the man by his hair and wrenches his head back. "If you come for my reporter again, you'll wish I was kind enough to put a bullet in your head."

Hood hauls your attacker outside. You hear a car start a minute later, and it tears down the street.

You look at your guardian angel, spattered in blood.

Not nearly as much blood as I expected, you think manically.

Your body aches and shakes with adrenaline. You can't even get enough control to move to the couch.

"How–how did you get here so fast?" you ask, staring at your now cracked coffee table.

"I've been monitoring your apartment since you got home. One of the traffic cameras picked up a stolen vehicle turning onto your block, so I came here."

You look at Hood. He seems very collected, all things considered.

"You—how did you find my apartment? Have you been stalking me?"

"Please. Lend me a little credit, smarty. I don't need to stalk you to find where you live," he says, holstering his gun.

"Are you insane?!" you burst. "That is such a gross invasion of privacy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hood looks at you.

"What's wrong with me is I just saved your life," he says evenly. "And on that note, you owe me ten bucks. Maybe even fifteen, considering it took less than a day for them to do exactly what I said they would."

Your lip wobbles. You don't know what triggers it; maybe it's your scratched up door or torn sofa or the fact that the Red Hood is in your living room right now with blood on his suit.

The tears form quickly. You can't stop them.

You cover your face but a sob claws out of your throat. Soon, you fall into big, heaving cries.

"Whoa, hey." The floorboards creak under Hood's unsure footsteps. "Hey, I didn't mean that. Shit. I was just kidding about the bet part. Aw, don't cry, smarty."

A hand lightly touches your shoulder. You lean in, but don't dare to initiate more contact. So Hood eases you into a side hug, awkwardly patting your other arm. He's extremely warm and solid with muscle, but his chest is soft enough to rest your head on. He unclips his holster so it doesn't dig into your body.

"I was just kidding," Hood says quietly in your ear. He rubs your arm. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make y'cry."

You sniff and shake your head. "No, it–it's not that, I'm just—God, I'm t-terrified, Hood. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? They're gonna kill me! I'm gonna die before I win my first Pulitzer!"

You try to suck in deep breath but it's not working. Hood leads your unsteady feet to the couch. You sit, fingers gripping his jacket. Hood carefully loosens your grip.

"They're not gonna kill ya, smarty. I won't let 'em. C'mon, let's have a seat. Where's your kitchen?"

You point, lashes still thick with tears. Hood leaves and returns shortly. A glass of water is held to your lips. You drink it, breathing stilted.

"'S okay. Take it easy. Breathe. That's right."

You swallow half of the water, and he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Hood hands you a wad of tissues.

"This is pathetic," you say, wiping your tears. "Can't believe I'm being nursed by the Red Hood."

"I think nursed is a strong word. But it's more than I usually do for my informants. Then again, they don't usually burst into tears."

"Don't make fun of me. I'm fragile."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Hood says, gentler than you've ever heard him. He puts the tissues aside and rests a hand on your shoulder. You turn into it, appreciative of the weight. "You handled this better than most people would. You didn't even pass out. Hell, I've passed out."

You're sure that Hood is leaving out important details behind that anecdote, like fighting off a hundred men or being swallowed by a whale beforehand. You're grateful nonetheless.

You turn to him, fresh tears in your eyes. "They're gonna kill me, Red."

He shakes his head. "No. Listen to me. Nobody is gonna do anything to you, okay? I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you, smarty pie."

"That's an impossible promise," you say. "One of these days, something will happen. You can't be everywhere at once. Especially not while I'm at home."

Hood tilts his head. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

He rubs his throat. An old injury, he'd once told you. The pain flares up sometimes.

"I could call in a favor. Get you into a safehouse."

"You would do that for me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask. Shouldn't look a generous vigilante in the mouth. But you can't help it.

"I can't very well publish the story myself, can I?"

You shrug. "I doubt that. You have your ways. Once you have the evidence, you don't need me."

"That's not true," Hood says fiercely. "I do need you."

Your eyes widen. Hood fumbles for a moment.

"That—I mean for the case. Obviously. I don't have any journalistic links besides you. And I wouldn't want the story to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh." You have a strong urge to wrap your arms around him. Weird. "Well, um, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. It'll take me a few days to get the safehouse," he says.

You deflate. "Oh. So I have to stay here until then?"

Hood is quiet for a long time. So long, you briefly revisit your original theory that the Red Hood is actually an AI remotely controlled by a billionaire.

"Hood?"

You reach to touch him. He flinches, a tiny movement. You immediately draw back.

Nope. Still a man.

"Sorry," he says, hand slipping from your shoulder. "I was, uh, going over options. No, your place is toast until we find whoever's behind this. But, um, it would be possible for you to—if you want to, 'cause if you don't, y'know, I understand, but I—it would be doable for you to, uh, stay with me. Until I get the safehouse."

"Stay... in your apartment?"

"'S not far from here. And it's a hell of a lot better protected than your place. And, y'know, I'd be there most of the time, so like..." Hood clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. It'd be safe. I promise."

"I wouldn't want to impose," you say, nervously scratching your arm.

"Mm. If you're scared of staying with me, y'can just say so. I won't take it personal."

He does kind of sound like he's taking it personally.

"No, Hood, it's not that. I don't... I'm not afraid of you. That, uh, went away a while back," you say. "I just... I don't want to burden you. After all, it's your space."

He makes a sound that tells you he's rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

"Saving your life is important, smarty. Why you don't think so, I'll never know."

You make a soft, pleased sound. "Got a real bleeding heart there, Red."

He sighs. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

You grin. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Part of the job. If you don't wanna stay with me, I could..." Hood hesitates. "With your permission... I could get the Bats involved. Ask one of them to house you."

"You mean Batman?"

Hood grunts. "Preferably anyone but him, but yeah, if it comes to that. He'll probably get involved anyway. Fuckin' busybody."

"The Bats would protect me? But they don't know me."

"Don't matter. If I asked them to, they would. If that's something you want."

You think. Is it something you want?

Sure, any reasonable person would prefer Nightwing or Batman to protect them.

"I don't want to stay with them," you say. "I'd rather stay with you."

He jerks like you've told him the sky is falling.

"You do?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I know you, Red. And I know you'll keep me safe."

"At any cost," he says.

That simultaneously frightens and thrills you.

"Then I'd like to go home with you," you say. "If you'll have me."

"'Course, smarty. Anything to keep you safe. Go pack some stuff. I'll be out here. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." You stand and turn before he can see what he does to you.

Yes, it's an odd thing, being partners with the Red Hood.

You're starting to fear that you can't have it any other way.

(pt 2)

[fatkish]

Good day~ I'd like to request some fluffy fluffy abo HCs for Shoji x Reader please! It's the first time he's taken his mask off around his omega, either pre-planned or accidentally, your pick. But omega is ultra affectionate and accepting, aaand gets a little scent-drunk from getting a pure whiff of his pheromones without the mask in the way, so they're just face-planted into his neck, purring.

Thanks for your time!

(I hope you don’t mind that I decided to make a short drabble about this)

Alpha Mezo Shoji x Omega Reader

On a cold afternoon after school, you and Mezo were snuggled up together inside your nest. Mezo had made you both some hot chocolate as you both got cozy and snuggled together under some soft warm blankets. Mezo had been debating with himself whether or not he should remove his mask in front of you. Mezo didn’t want to frighten you, he also didn’t want to be rejected, although he highly doubts that you’re that kind of person. He was afraid that you wouldn’t like the way he looks.

Earlier that afternoon, you had decided to make giant soft pretzels in your dorm together. You had taught Mezo how to make them and had put them in your toaster oven to cook them. Now you both were snuggling and waiting for the pretzels to be done. As you nuzzled into Mezo’s shoulder, he purred and wrapped his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his cheek into the crown of your head. You both were so warm and cozy that it was almost not worth getting up to retrieve the pretzels once the oven went off.

You got up and decided you wanted yours with cinnamon sugar so you melted some butter in a small bowl and mixed some cinnamon sugar and brown sugar in the butter, Mezo wanted a savory pretzel so he melted some shredded cheese on it and had a small bowl of marinara sauce. You both returned to your nest as you set your food in front of you both. You then grabbed your remote for your TV and pulled up Netflix to continue watching your guy’s show. While you were busy pulling up Delicious in Dungeon, Mezo had removed his mask.

Mezo was worried about how you were going to react. When you smelled the increase in Mezo’s scent you turned around to see Mezo had removed his mask. You stood still for a moment before jumping on him and snuggling into him. You kissed him all over face and nuzzled into his neck. Mezo could only smile with a soft look in his eyes as he wrapped his many arms around you as you both cuddled.

“I love you Mezo, Thank you for showing me your beautiful face” you spoke as you smiled

Mezo just purred and took the remote to start the show. You snuggled into Mezo as you both ate your pretzels and watched your show. You became a sort of giggly mess as you snuggled into Mezo and engulfed more of his scent and became somewhat scent drunk. Every time you thought something was funny you giggled, Mezo just smiled and chuckled seeing you drunk off his scent. You and Mezo continued to snuggle together as you watched TV that afternoon, all cozy and warm.

[rambunctioustoons]

The celestial bot thrumming so intently, convinced anymore strain he'd pop a metal joint. Eyes fixated down to the shaking movements of his palms.

Today had been a terrible day, but nothing out of the ordinary. Fussy kids eating up the time needed for the other kids. Sun stretched out further than his fingertips could reach and wrangle the troublemakers out of harm's way in time. All it takes is one booming shrill of a voice advocating for chaos for all hell to break loose.

Every attempt to heed the storm and aid him met with a snappy strained pleasantry. He's got this, he's made for this! You've only got one fleshy squishy body, don't push it now. Some kid puts a little too much strain on his wrist joint, that's just show biz! And these crazy kids demand an encore!

Every attempt so far in the early evening air to talk to him met with a question about your well being. A comment about that funny thing you were both there to witness but not actually all that funny! How many minutes he had left before Moon would take the reins, and did you really really wanna spend the next half hour talking about how he feels? Silly, feeble, kind friend. He's just fine.

But he's not. Sure if there had been a way to see Moon flickering in those bright vacant eyes, you'd be giving each other the look.

No more chores left to do, none that he'd let you do anyway. Too high strung. Things snatched from your hands as he forcibly twists fate on the limits of his abilities. Trembling himself apart.

Little you could do to evade the inevitable parts & service visit if he kept pushing like this, so you've hatched a plan.

“Laundry-”

“Done and done! Done twice!”

“Folded sheets-”

“Pristine and crisply folded. Would you really need to check that?”

“Books-”

“All put away and alphabetical like they should be!”

You grin. “... Fairy lights?”

“Put away insideee theee closeet-....” Words dragged out in a dwindling song-songy tune, his faceplate whipping around to face you. “-why are you asking that? They're out of season, Friend.”

“I'll put ‘em to good use then!” You chirp, hands placed on your hips. “Closet?”

Sun squints skeptically. “Yes. Closet.” Eyes fixated on you, suspiciously. You ignore this, of course. Waltzing your way over to the Daycare storage closet. Gathering up the supplies in your arms. Awkwardly leaning down in the naptime nook as you pass by, nabbing a book at random. Using your foot to toss a few throw pillows atop of the pile.

Sun squints at you. “Whateeeever it is you think you're doing, just know, it won't. Work!”

“I’m taking a reading break, don't care what you do. ” You chime. An offended gasp piping up behind you. You duck into one of the corners on the ground level of the play structure. Tying the flat sheet to the gridded bars inside the small space. Weaving the corded battery powered lights inside, flicking them on. Flickering flimsy bulbs of light, shimmering a yellow hue on the play structure bars still visible. It wasn't perfect, but. Cozy enough to hopefully lure a creature right into the trap.

All you had to do was wait. Plopping yourself down in the makeshift blanket fort. Carefully cracking open the book, nesting the hardcover against your thighs. Not actually reading the words of course. Too focused on the shuffling outside the play place, jiggly footsteps alluding playing a game of who cracks first, and you intend to win.

Every fiber of your being trying not to beam with a grin, when Sun eventually ducks his head into the space, craned down to observe the hurried fruits of labour.

“There's still a lot to do, y’know.” He says. Tone wobbly, uncertain.

“I know,” You say, turning the page. “And there's even more to do tomorrow.”

“Sooooo,” He drags on, one hand gripping the caged siding. “We should keep going.”

“Sure.” You hum. “Five minutes.”

A disgruntled sound reverberates from your friend. Shoot. He's on to you. All or nothing now. You cheekily pat the remaining space on your legs. Worth a try, but not at all expecting him to take you up on it. A gesture of sincerity of course, glancing up at him. Pulling you into his lap aplenty times in moments of distress, or sorrow. Or to impishly move you aside because whatever you had been doing, was taking much too long.

Difficult as always to follow his eye line. Making a guess his gaze is fixated on your torso. Hands folding to his chest, restlessly squeezing his intertwined palms. Faceplate trained slightly down, you recognize this. A conversation you're not part of, and very little business pondering on. Turning back to the book, rolling your shoulders.

Sun, careful and hesitantly steps into the space with you. Kneeling down in front of you, paying him little mind. He's exhausted sure, but one wrong jeering word from your mouth and he'll scamper right back out away from you. Quiet whirring and rhythmic tapping atop of one bell. Words a blurry haze along the page to read at all, terribly distracted by the striped pants lingering above the peripheral. Sure if he made any sudden movements, you'd equally skitter out of the play structure too.

Sun reaches hesitantly for the book. Index and thumb pinching the pages on either side of the hardcover book. You let him, smiling up at him gently. He never really indulged in much book reading, much more of a collaborative storyteller. Eagerly adopting any silly, outlandish detail a guest would pipe up with during play time.

Pulled from your musing as he closes the book, setting it aside.

Careful movements as he closes the space between the two of you. Contorting himself down with much less graceful ease than you'd ever seen, and flops right in your lap. Faceplate pressed flat against your tummy, gangly arms quick to encircle your torso. Slumping his weight down as he lets out a shaky faux breath. Full heartedly admitting defeat, solidified as he speaks up.

“Today was bad.” Words lightly muffled, for effect of course. His speaker box didn't reside in the mouth rested against you.

“It was.” You affirm gently. Resting your arms along the backs of his shoulders, met with a small twitch underneath you. His arms squeezing you tighter after a good few moments.

“How much longer?” He inquires hesitantly, tilting his head up to see you.

“Lost count.” You tease softly.

His rays twirl once, in place of an eye roll. Plopping his face to rest back against you once more.

“Five more minutes then.”

“Five more it is.”

[via-l0ve]

Hello! I've been binging your fics/imagines lately and I just can't get enough! I don't know if this was ever done before, but--

Could you do a general, platonic (perhaps mildly romantic, like how I see Dean kinda gushing over Y/N idk, your choice!) imagine on how the men (Sam, Dean, Castiel, maybe Crowley [which would be funny]) would react to Y/N being some kind of powerful angel, like that sits at a pretty high rank and has the power to do all sorts of stuff? Healing, destroying, anger being so destructive it could kill a human (but albeit a peaceful being). This angel would probably serve as a guardian to the Winchesters, or a superior to Cass or a complete surprise and maybe unlikely companion for Crowley? I imagine it'd be a scenario where they're saved last second during a massive fight, probably get to know er type deal. This sounds kind of cheesy as I ask someone else to write this but I hope it doesn't sound too weird, I almost wanna go anonymous HAHA. I know this is VERY specific but I don't wanna confuse you! It's something I wanna write out into a fic myself but the way you write would make it super interesting! :)

So sorry if this was too much, I'm very descriptive!

Angel. (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: stop omg. this idea is so cool! also - thank you for the kind words!! i appreciate you so much!! i hope you enjoy this!

warnings: slightly romantic!!

Dean:

Dean met you on a hunt

he was being himself and basically bleeding out, but he was still fighting

you, being in charge of the dink, had to come down and help out

when you appear, a bolt of white light strikes the ground and your voice projects through the atmosphere

“you will not hurt this man.” you say, hair blowing in the wind and eyes glowing

dean was flabbergasted, also a little scared, but also a little bit in love

eventually you just kill the entire vampire nest because they’re stupid and you turn to dean.

“are you okay?”

he’s even more confused because this angel just came down and slaughtered the threats to him and now they’re talking so.. nice.

you heal his wounds and boom. now he’s your friend

he follows you around like a lost puppy and also brags that he’s friends with not one, but two angels, and one is even more powerful and higher up than fucking CASTIEL.

as he gets to know you he knows how sweet you are and it inteigues him even more because - as i said, you’re a powerful angel who can kill anyone but you’re so nice to him, Sam, Bobby and Cas.

the first time he sees you angry he literally gets all red and falls for you

—

Sam:

You first met sam when he was basically bleeding out in a motel room

Dean had gone to get food and sam had been hiding a pretty nasty gash from him

so now he was sitting alone trying to patch himself up (and being unsuccessful)

so, you made your appearance and tried to keep him calm

you appeared and he saw you and went 👁️👄👁️

“it’s okay. i’m an angel. i will not hurt you.” you say softly, stepping towards him

sam is still a little wary but he lets you heal him

you press your fingers to his forehead and he’s all good (albeit a little scared hahah)

he always has the smuggest little smirk on his face when you get angry on his behalf

he likes the feeling of having such a powerful being watching over him all the time but it also makes him nervous because of… his past💀

addicts recover

—

Castiel:

When you came down from heaven to help the Winchesters and Castiel, he was happy to see you

he knew, despite rebelling from heaven, you wouldn’t judge him

he spends a lot of time near you

like, standing right next to you

i like to think that you have better “people skills” than him for whatever reason (it’s just funny) and he just kind of sticks to you ykwim

he thinks you’re so cool

he dosent step in to help you in fights because he knows you can handle it and kill anyone you want

he’s blushing and kicking his feet when he sees you🤭🤭🤭

absolute power couple if you guys got together like omg

but yeah

he always defends you if anyone says shit

he’s just such a cutie pie

—

Crowley:

you popped in when crowley was holding dean and sam hostage

you came into the room, eyes rolling already.

“let them go.” you said, voice sounding bored as you’d done this multiple times already.

crowley looks at you

“oh god, you again.” he scoffs

BUT he dosent even bother to argue and lets them go

which shocks the boys because that’s not like crowley

but he’s smitten for you

it’s giving enemies to lovers

but anyways

you guys have many encounters and end up talking a lot

crowley talks about hell and you talk about heaven

and he finds himself not hating you

and suddenly he wants to be around you more and learn about you and watch you be a badass angel

[suzukiblu]

Burning

"Do we know who sired Todd's pup?" Pup Brother asks warily as he ferries back the nesting pillows just a little awkwardly. It takes him a few trips to get them all, but Jason doesn't mind. There's no rush.

"He hasn't said," Grandpa says.

"Surely we should inquire, then," Pup Brother says. "It seems . . . important."

"Damian, you and Bruce are literally the only people in this pack living with any kind of a blood relative," Loud Sister tells him wryly. "Except for Jason and the baby now, I guess. And also that is a super-rude kind of question to ask somebody who's in feral drop anyway."

"Well, they could be someone dangerous," Pup Brother grumbles. "Or a civilian, in which case they would need to be retrieved as soon as possible."

"Retrieved?" Little Brother asks with a frown. "Why?"

"They would not be safe outside the manor," Pup Brother says. "The sire of the first pups of our pack's next generation would be a valuable target for our enemies."

". . . okay, good point there," Little Brother mutters as he and Loud Sister both wince. "Uh, Jason? Who'd you spend your last heat with?"

"Mine," Jason says, contentedly fluffing the new layer of pillows in his nest.

". . . your what, exactly?" Loud Sister tries.

"Mine," Jason repeats, really more absorbed in the process of nest-building than anything else. They can talk once his nest is done, he figures. "My . . . mmmmm. My sun. And my arsenal."

"Please don't mean a Kryptonian when you say 'sun'," Little Brother mutters under his breath. "Or an assassin when you say 'arsenal'."

"I love them," Jason replies in satisfaction, and lays down another blanket. This one smells like Grandpa. It's so nice.

"Oh wow, Jason just actually admitted an emotional attachment willingly and in cold blood and without triggering the pit," Loud Sister says, her eyes wide. "Yeah, okay, we reaaaaally shouldn't have asked about the sire."

"No, Damian's right," Little Brother says, shaking his head. "This is important. They could be in danger. Or, uh, planning to attack us. Depending. Are your sun and your arsenal civilians, Jason?"

Jason laughs.

That's such a funny question.

"They're gonna burn down Gotham for me," he says dreamily.

"Not the most reassuring answer but noted," Little Brother says. "Are they going to burn it down with, I don't know, specifically heat vision?"

Jason laughs again.

"I'm just gonna call Kon real quick," Little Brother says, pulling out his phone.

"Isn't he an omega?" Loud Sister asks doubtfully.

"Yeah, but Supergirl's an alpha," Little Brother says. "And, relatedly, so is Power Girl."

Jason takes a moment to think about Power Girl. Just, like . . . as a person and everything. And as an experience.

He purrs.

". . . yeah, definitely call Kon," Loud Sister says, half-eyeing him for some reason.

Little Brother calls.

[radio-writes]

Oh my lord.

If the reader were ever to meet the Hazbin gang, she would start to feel like she built genuine connections with them (and she is!) but Alastor is getting jealous that his precious wife’s attention is being diverted from him. So what does he do?

A. Be happy that his wife is finally making genuine friends that she always lacked.

B. Gaslighting her into thinking that they’re not actually her friends and make up a story about how they hate her.

B is the correct answer 😭

Alastor would so be like:

“My dear! Do you really think these people like you? They’re just pretending they like you because you’re my wife! Silly girl!“

Oh he would have a field day ruining her hopes if she ever made friends, Hotel Gang or not.

"Oh I'm sure, they're genuine, kind, people dear. I'm sure they only asked you about our marriage out of curiosity. I doubt they'd be anything like those damn nosy papers back in our lifetime—you'd bee too smart not to notice if they were."

"They're so funny, your friends. Why, I even overheard one of them the other day joke about how your hair looked like a bird's nest. HA!"

"Since you're all such good friends, perhaps they should know just how many people you've ripped to shreds with your bare hands? I'm sure they're open-minded and accepting people!"

He would enjoy watching his dear wife ruin those friendships herself. He would love to have a new way to get her to dance for him—specially since the old ways are bound to grow dull through decades in Hell together.

[flamedraco]

On that note, let's talk about shrike Quackity.

The first thing that ever got me thinking about Quackity as a shrike was the fic "how to spot a butcherbird" by nononameme-Library (sparrowsong07).

Sparrow had apparently written about Shrike Q before but I can't remember if I ever read that fic or not. As far as I can tell: This was the original creator of Shrike Quackity. Everyone say thank you to Sparrow because they were brilliant for thinking of it.

Shrike Quackity is an interesting concept to me because it adds another layer to his character and just fits. Both because of his Butcher Army arc and the idea of his turn to villainy being an almost self fulfilling prophecy in a way.

Quackity was a kind person who liked making people laugh, but imagine under all that, the jokes, the laughter, was the instincts of a predatory songbird. A songbird that wanted to hunt. To impale prey to make up for dull talons. A bird that wants to nest in brambles and thorns to defend itself, with the guts and attitude to rival a raptor, a bird of prey. That turns his arc from a steady decline, to the slow wear and tear of trying to repress violent instincts just begging to be released.

He is the leader of the Butcher Army. A shrike's namesake, specifically the Loggerhead and Northern shrikes, being Butcher Bird. A bird that uses its environment, its tools, to make up for its own weakness. A clever, cunning type of bird.

"Nature's Serial Killer," I remember reading once. Which makes sense. A shrike is the type of bird to display its brutality for multiple reasons. To mark territory, to attract mates, and to store its prey. Impaling smaller birds, insects, rodents on these sharpened points in nature. Northern Shrikes court their partners via mock chases, hunting their potential partner down until the other decides they've had enough. Loggerheads share food and hunt for their partners, again, attracting through their open displays of kills. Showing that they are a strong, successful hunter.

Shrikes are bloody and brutal little songbirds with a lot of attitude and generally unafraid to try and take on threats that are much bigger than them. They're the kind of bird that gives me that same "I've drank five redbulls, snorted a line of crack, and I'm ready to fight god or die trying" energy that Quackity does.

It works especially well because usually I slot him into a more "villainous" role in my stories. Villain, demon, etc. Generally a creature or title that implies more malicious intent.

This is the same guy who canonically ate the heart of a past lover and tortured a man just because he could.

Also I find the idea of him chasing Wilbur around and calling it romantic funny. Sooo, there's that.

It's not my fault shrikes are the yanderes of the bird world /j

[the-kr8tor]

More Minotaur Hobie! X reader because I'm feeling funny. Btw Reader here is mostly undisclosed whether they're a demigod, mortal or etc. so you do you with your imagination honestly;

And as you stand in front of him, he already waits for the words he knows will come out of your mouth just as everyone who's seen him previously said: monster.

“...you're…”

And before he knows it he replies at the same time as you;

“Hideous”

“Gorgeous”

…And he stands there baffled. You would've had the time to try and attack him with how long it takes him to actually do or say anything. And yet you stand there admiring him with a softened gaze and a warm smile, excited to meet the man of the myths and legends you've dearly loved ever since you were younger.

Every night your father would tell you the same story. Yet he never made Hobie out to be cruel for his actions, he wasn't a monster in your father’s tale. Instead he was but a creature, but a man as any other. You look him over in all his glory, noticing the bruises, the scars, his eyes and how they dance over your form with untold anger and sadness.

He doesn't raise his voice at you any more. Seeing no point in fighting someone who clearly has no wish to. Not with the way you're looking at him, it makes him feel bare, vulnerable, if anything it only further upsets him about how he looks. Instead, he backs away, finding himself wanting to flee your emotions and kindness. His heart and soul aren't used to kindness.

“Wait- please. I just want to know you.” And your voice is just as tender as your expression and gestures. He hates it, oh gods how he hates it. He stays still, wearily letting you approach him as he stares at you, his form tense as he wonders when you'll hit him. When will you raise your weapons at him? When will you tell and scream and run away?

And yet you don't, in a small and innocent tone slowly asking him a few questions about himself. Making sure he knows he truly doesn't have to answer them if he doesn't wish to as you sit down in front of him. A sign of blind trust. A sign you truly want his time more than you want his end.

And so he stays standing up as he stares at your form, he stays standing, he has to be or else you'll think he isn't strong and might try something against him. And Hobie slowly starts answering your questions, being careful to not reveal any weak spots. And to your pleasure you listen to his words and voice.

There's always something soothing about someone who's stronger than you yet speaks to you like you're nothing but a fragile glass statue. He knows his strength, how easy it is to actually get rid of you if he so needs to. But eventually after a few hours of conversation he sits down with you. Having needed time to convince himself and you that you won't attack him in any way possible.

You who wears no fine clothes, no dreadfully heavy armor, you barely have any on, only a dagger at your side which you haven't bothered to even try reaching for. There is no need for it, not with a friend. And Hobie is your friend, at least he has been in his own way while you were but a child. His stories made you feel less lonely as you had been estranged with society all your life.

He feels it too, the slight similarities. How two hurt doves are now in the same nest trying to make home in a small budding friendship. And he waits for it anxiously. Wondering if you might turn out to be a praying vulture. But you never bare your claws to him, gentle with everything you do and say. Your jokes, your laugh, your smile…as time passes by he starts to feel better. He has someone finally. Is it foolish thinking perhaps? Maybe he's not seeing right. But then you hold his hand, no one's ever done that before. No one else would dare to. And yet you do. And you take his monstrous hand in yours and hold it as if it has meaning.

-🪦 wow actually mildly proof reading what a thing (I barely did)

In that darkened room, he finds his light 😭😭

Ngl i was trying very hard not to shed a tear while reading this 😭 you wrote this so well and in just a few words you made me feel both of their emotions 😭 ly this was so good

[skeletinmoss]

Ruffled feathers

Chapter 3: Nails and claws

Ships planned: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeciet

Patton and Virgil are brothers in this one

Thanks @lovelivingmydreams for being my beta

First chapter | Previous

Emile hoped out of the van his hooves tapping against the gravel road.

He was glad to be back after his sudden vacation.

The halls were filled with a familiar smell of moss and metal with special addition of food aroma near the kitchen and fresh laundry near living quarters.

He missed it. It was his second home, sometimes it was more comfortable than his actual home.

Logan and Janus were about to leave for their undercover mission and they only got to exchange greetings. This ment the facility was left under careful supervision of the twins. The fawn felt a bunch of goosebumps at the thought of that.

He bet he had 3 hours until some kind of disaster. « Doctor! Nice seeing you!» greeted one of the aforementioned twins.

« Roman,» Emile smiled as the human came closer and took one of the boxes from his hands. « How have you been lately?»

« I'm quite fine. Thank you for asking,» came the answer. They kept up the small talk as they went toward the med area.

«How do our guests feeling?» the fawn wondered.

He didn't like the frown that crossed Roman's face, but he waited for the answer.

At their first meeting he thought the twins were pretty easy to read. He soon learned how many thoughts they had, so their emotions could be related to any of them, which made their reactions a tad different from their real opinions.

« They're fine, » Roman finally decided. « Moody is still living up to the nickname. Oh and Patton is finally talking with us! Did you know that he's actually the older one?!» he revealed with excitement.

« We haven't met yet,» the medic reminded him.

« Oh right, sorry,» the twin apologized as they set boxes on the table. Emile smiled at him,

« I was planning on doing it after setting up the med bay. You can help of course.»

And soon the boxes were unpacked. There was some fresh supplies, some medicine in neat antique bottles which the fawn had a special fondness for, and some equipment to replace a few broken ones he left there before going away.

Everything he might need to start his work.

Moody and Sweetie were now adapting to the facility and frequently left their enclosure. Although one of the brothers was gone more often than the other finding them both was a challenge.

Virgil with his loud purple and cyan feathers was surprisingly hard to spot among the trees.

« Oh my goodness! A nest!» Emile exclaimed as soon as he saw it.

« O my goodness! A new friend!» echoed a bird that popped out it of it.

The brown and blue feathered Avian quickly jumped out and bounced towards the new face.

« Hi. I'm Patton. Oh wow I’ve never seen anyone like you!»

« Pleasure to meet you, Patton. I'm doctor Emile. My species is called a Fawn,» greeted Doc and extended his hand for a handshake.

Patton looked at the hand confused. Emile quickly caught his mistake.

« Sorry, I've been working with humans for a long time. It's a human greeting called a handshake. You take it with your hand and slightly move it up and down a few times,» he explained.

The avian excitedly followed the instructions for a handshake. Fawn smiled, « I know avian's usually use their wings or ear feathers for a greeting, but I unfortunately have neither, and I'm not very good at chirping,» he apologized.

« Oh no worries. Handshake is actually quite nice! How do fawns usually greet each other?» wondered Pat, his wings spreading out from anticipation.

Emile was only pleased to show. He stepped with his hoof making a clank sound and bowed his head.

Patton instinctively bowed back and giggled, « I like this one too~»

« I don't usually greet anyone like that. I've grown up among humans mostly,» the fawn admitted shyly.

« That's a waste of a funny greeting right there,» pouted Pat.

Amiable chatter filled the room.

Patton was fine and dandy health wise.

His wings started to molt and some new shiny feathers already popped out.

Then Emile noticed the claws.

« Do you bite them off on purpose?» he wondered gently.

Patton looked down, oblivious at first, but the moment he understood the topic, he immediately paled.

« It's fine! I'm not worried about them,» he tried to reassure the doctor.

The way his wings folded spoke volumes.

They were pressed against his back so tightly it was painful, almost like a binding was back on them.

« It's not healthy Patton,» Doc slowly reached out, afraid to cause a negative reaction, and placed his hand on top of Patton's.

« I know it must have been hard for you two out there. Some habits are a pain to get rid of,» he stroked avians hands with his.

« But I need you to know that it's going to be ok. First step is always to figure out that you have a problem,» he reassured.

Patton relaxed a little still holding this wings behind his back, but not in a painful position like before.

« We're going to work together on it, ok? All you need to do is stop yourself from biting them. And it's fine if at first you can't help yourself, more important is the effort,» the fawn told him.

« Could you do that for me?»

Patton nodded with an apologetic smile.

He was going to try. He knew he would fail, but Emile didn't care, so why should he? He can keep trying.

It was extremely hard to control the urge to bite into his claws when his brother ran into the room at full speed, clearly being chased.

After him, almost missing the door because of a wild drift, came the twins.

« Get him!» yelled Roman.

« The Bastard stole our last spoon!» added Remus.

Here comes the disaster. And it hardly had been an hour.

The black avian swiftly passed his brother and the doctor, and with a powerful jump reached his safe zone in the line of trees.

The twin duo came to a stop, both understanding that they wouldn't be able to follow a bird in its natural habitat.

« Give back the spoon, you thief!» demanded one of them.

« You stole a whole drawer of cutlery already! Where do you even keep those things?» pleaded the other.

Patton lightly tapped the actor's shoulder.

« Can I?» he asked.

After the duo exchanged looks and gave him a nod he jumped and stood on their shoulders with his hand in a demanding gesture towards his brother.

« Virgil,» he said sternly, « The spoon.»

Virgil growled with the cutlery in question between his teeth.

« Now,» Patton insisted until his brother finally gave up and spit it out.

« The other ones too.” The younger avian huffed and disappeared into the little forest that was their enclosure. He returned with a dozen or more spoons. But before he can fully emerge the older brother added «Forks and knives too.»

So he went back to his secret stache and brought back the same amount of other cutlery. « Good,» Patton nodded and hopped back on the ground.

Twins looked at the cutlery bewildered. Some of it was bend as if Virgil had slept on them.

Avians loved shiny things.

With how many avians they hosted in this facility the rescue team knew that for sure.

Many of the avian tribes had a habit or hoarding shiny things they liked.

Patton and Virgil weren't an exception. Although both of them had a different approach on the topic.

The older brother was more careful with the shinies. He played with them where he found them and left them in their place.

The younger one on the other hand. He was a stealing menace.

Janus tried several times to locate his stache of stolen goodies, but all in vein.

Virgil knew how to hide.

After a few first forks went missing from Patton's nest he figured it wasn't the right place to store them in. And since then no one could locate anything.

If the thing went missing there was a fair chance that Moody had stolen it.

Roman already lost five of his rings. Only because he took them of for a couple of minutes.

Janus was missing his expensive makeup brush he forgot to put away. Remus once left his holographic top unattended.

Logan couldn't locate most of their stationery. And they've been gradually loosing cutlery.

The culprit? A kleptomaniac bird with trust issues.

Roman sighed.

Moody looked so hurt after parting ways with his collection.

He took a pocket mirror out of his jacket and handed it to the avian.

Virgil looked at him confused.

« A trade for the cutlery,» he explained.

« We can't have your collection dwindling after all~» he smiled and was delighted to see a soft pink blush spreading on the emo's face.

« Thanks,» Virgil whispered before disappearing in the trees again, likely to hide his new treasure.

Tag list: @aphandgflover @yourdragonwitchroyalty @warcats-cat @aevhee @cyanide-violence @fandomfollowerart

[fauvester]

If it’s not too much to ask…could we get a garashir grand babbe roll call

GARASHIR GRAND BABBEES!

NO GENETIC RELATION TO EITHER OF THEM. BUT THEY'RE GARAK-BASHIRS IN THEIR HEARTS!

Lim and his wife have like.. 5 or 6 kids...... on purpose........ there are many family running jokes about it with varying levels of crudeness. They just want a big family... If everyone was like them the planet would regain its prewar population in a few scant generations. Besides, Lim is a stay-at-home dad and house manager, so there's someone to wrangle them all full-time.

Jocasta eventually gets married at the spinsterish age of 30 and has a reasonable amount of children. There's such a dearth of young Cardassian men after the war that nobody thought it was too unusual that she took that long, but still, societal expectations and whatnot. Garak is heartbroken when she moves out (last one to leave the nest.) He visits a lot especially after he retires.

Idk if Idan has kids! Probably eventually. He's a student though, he's got too much to do right now.

But he is a favorite uncle!

Also idk if Iskra and Rulada have kids haha I don't know if they're the 2.5 WPF type... but very funny to imagine their Klingon/Cardassian hybrid. WHAT kind of chaotic mommy energy is Iskra going to bring to this endeavor

[redux-iterum]

do dogs know Fang?

Some do, mostly strays and the occasional far-ranging pet who learned it from another passing dog or, extremely rarely, a wild animal that could speak canine. But on the whole, it's very rare, and dog scholars are even rarer.

It's not for lack of desire - dogs really love to learn new things that could help them make friends and allies, and most of them are sharp enough to retain a lot of information quickly, so they've got the stuff to learn it. I'm sure you could approach any random dog and ask if they'd like to talk to those funny-looking red dogs with cat-eyes, or ask that black-and-white-faced fellow what his humans are like, and they'd most likely eagerly respond that they'd love to, please, where do we start!

The problem is that the average feral/wild animal's interactions with dogs consist of being chased, barked at, mauled, or losing territory to them and their masters. They're all too closely associated with humans, the most hated creature in the world, and often are the tools used by those humans to eradicate populations of animals just minding their own business. On top of that, they're loud, lumbering (or scuttling, if they're small), and too often thinking with their nose and tongues, not their minds. This leads to poor impressions when a large year-old pup bumbles into a rabbit's nest and excitedly sticks his nose between the kits, trying to discover what they are, and leading some of the kits to die of fright. You wouldn't invite a dog to your nest, even if they are friendly. There's just too many risks involved.

Canine scholars have it rough for this reason. No one wants anything to do with them, no matter how much information they've got or how valuable that information is. They're more often trusted if they're visibly older (white muzzles and faces, etc) and slow in their movements, but it's not a guarantee that they'll be welcomed into a badger-sett to teach the kits about the history of their kind.

[stupidlovergirl]

Levi! The Babygirl Otaku Shut-in!

A small collection of blurbs/headcannons of what it's like to date Levi!

not edited

Leviathan, who streams for money. He’s introverted and a little shy, but when he is live streaming feels different. He is pretty popular too, and people think his expressiveness is pretty funny. He plays all different kinds, but everyone can tell he has a soft spot for indie games and dating simulators. After you guys start dating, he accidentally slips up and mentions you while playing one. It was a simple “Oh! Me and my s/o did something like this the other day lololol.” Chat went absolutely FERAL. Shut-in otaku Levi!?!? WITH A LOVER?!?!?! They were demanding for a reveal. He discussed if you were comfortable or not. If you said yes he would be absolutely ECSTATIC, he would be ok with a no tho, he gets it can be pretty stressful. If you  would just like to be on call, no face that's cool! He gets so happy if you say you are fine with a full reveal, face and all!! Brags about you so much, his chat clowns him so hard. They stop calling him by his name and just call him your boyfriend. Ever since then you sometimes play games with him, your choice! The chat loves you two!!! They call you two couple goals when you start making fun of each other. 

Levi really likes to visit the beach when he gets out of the house. Hope you can drive, he cannot. If you can’t, better start preparing those puppy dog eyes to convince Mammon to take you two to the beach. He really likes collecting seashells for Henry’s tank on the seashore with you. I think Levi would be really good at surfing!! He heard about it from the human world, and really wanted to give it a shot. He kills it!! He also likes having picnics there too. Cute foods or leftovers are all fine with him, he just thinks it's fun. He’s a sap.

He makes mixtapes for you. He knows people make playlists now, but he thinks having a physical one is a little more meaningful. He draws cute hearts and a picture of the two of you on the CD. Are there a lot of anime songs on there? Yes. Your point? Miku didn’t make these to go to WASTE!!!! Also includes songs that remind him of you, and songs you mentioned that made you think of him.

Levi is a little bit more weird on how he shows affection. He never really had a long term relationship (maybe not even short term ones…). He doesn’t always get it. Show him you love him though your ways and he’ll show you how he loves. Making couples cosplay to even outfits you said you wanted but they didn’t have the correct sizes or lengths. He likes when you wear these, as they leave marks of him on you. He also likes giving you items he owns to wear. Bracelets, pins, shirts, whatever you want you can have!! Levi gets a little possessive, especially since he doesn’t attend class in person a lot. He also might bring back fossils. He just thinks they're neat. Also, stuffed animals are a must. He gets them for you on instinct. They're cute like you, and are good for nests! (I like to think demons nest. That is what Levi's bathtub bed doubles as since hardly anyone comes into his room)

Continuing his strange affection streak: physical affection. He bites softly on your cheeks or arms, cuddles almost look like he’s killing you because he wraps around you like a snake, just funny little things that make you laugh sometimes. He also like to cuddle because he is naturally a little colder, because he is a reptile based demon. Will surprise you with his cold hands and laugh at your misery. Kiss him in public and he shuts up. I bet he is so ticklish from lack of touch hnrgh. Tickle him till he cries!!! His laugh becomes so ugly and he snorts and starts crying and it looks so CUTE!!!! He is just a touch starved cutie please give him all the lovings! Do expect revenge for this though, he is not a merciful demon. 

I think he glows in the dark. Bio-luminescent sea creature my dudes(gender neutral)!!!! Night light boyfriend!!! He likes it when you kiss those marks, because for a long time he was insecure of them. Honestly? Loving any part of his demon form makes him feel better, because he still hates them. He has made an uneasy peace with a lot of it, but sometimes he still feels intensely disgusted by them. Ask him permission and Touch! His! Horns! Tell them how it reminds of coral (I think they might be based off of fire coral specifically?). Pet his tail!! He appreciates it, even if you sometimes have to chase it because he gets excited and it starts to wag. You feel like you're fighting a beast trying to catch it some days.

These ones are a little more serious. Please remember he has bad anxiety!! Depression also comes hard on him too. You can notice because his hygiene starts to slip first. Levi might be a shut in, but he doesn’t like to smell. He escapes for little showers, or at least takes rag baths. Please encourage him to shower, sometimes that means being in the bathroom with him, not always necessarily in the bath with him though. He just likes your presence, you never feel overwhelming to him. He might ask you to wash his hair at these times. Speaking might be too much in these times too. Just turn on Ruri-chan or the TSL movies. They’re his comfort shows. Let him take his time. He’ll tell you soon enough.

Back to light-hearted ones now!! Levi really likes terms of endearments. His favorite ones to call you is Henry, Player 2, and when he’s being really cringe “his Waifu/Husbando”. He also really likes calling you “his”, not in a toxic way.  He just sometimes likes knowing that you are his like he is yours. Just calling you “his s/o” makes his heart flutter. Levi likes any name you give him! Obviously there are the ones that are the matching one to it, like “Lord of Shadows” and “Player 1”. Please babygirl him, he loses his mind. He CANNOT believe he’s your babygirl! HIM! He doesn’t like when you say it in public, he can only take so much!!!! Much more prefers being called it in private. He really likes any softer pet names, he’s a soft guy!

[homoquartz]

DA:V is so funny like i genuinely feel so bad for people who pick it up as their first dragon age game, this one is like "OK SO a guy who was part of the inquisition - what's the inquisition? don't worry about. anyway this guy is gonna tear a hole in the veil and kill everyone in the world by unleashing a tide of demons! what's the veil? it's where all the magic is. why does he want to kill everyone? well actually he's an ancient elf god from a time when magic existed everywhere but the other gods were evil so he locked them inside the magic, and now he wants the magic back. and demons are spirits but they're bad but spirits are good. are you following? ok because when he rips open the veil, a bunch of demons spill out, but so does this nasty stuff called blight. what's blight? it's like bad magic that's been corrupted by evil and it kills everything it touches. so now it's suddenly everywhere and the evil gods want more of it. by the way, some individuals of any race can do magic except for dwarves, except all of the sudden one of them can use special rock magic, because she touched a lyrium blade. what's lyrium? it's magic made into physical crystal. it can also be corrupted by blight and turns into red lyrium. it's also blood. but anyway even with the rock magic, dwarves still can't dream because they can't access the fade, which is where magic and dreams are from. no no, the veil is the barrier between the normal world and the magic world, which is called the fade. your base is in the fade but not the part where the evil elves are or where dreams are. yes you go there when you dream. unless you're a dwarf. and the game starts out with you and your two dwarf friends who seem really important, and the older dwarf used to be friends with the main antagonist (the one trying to rip a hole in the veil). older dwarf gets his shit rocked immediately and then just kinda sits around, so don't worry about him. listen, we gotta keep moving, because this city here is not only dealing with demons and blight, it's being taken over by an invading army called the qunari. who are the qunari? an unfortunate mix of xenophobia and antiblackness. they believe all magic is evil because people who use it are more vulnerable to being possessed by demons. however this particular group of qunari are actually defectors from the main religion called the qun. yeah that's why they're called qunari. yes even if they don't follow the religion. but anyway don't worry about that because there's also a monster assassinating gray wardens. what's a gray warden? well they drink the blood of darkspawn - what are darkspawn? darkspawn are creatures born from a woman who has been infected with the blight and turned into a monster called a broodmother. anyway the gray wardens drink their blood so that they can sense them and defeat them when there's a blight - no, like, A blight, which is when a sleeping god (different from the elf gods, probably?) awakens and sends an army of darkspawn to destroy all life. and when that happens, only gray wardens can stop them. anyway the gray warden you meet has a gryphon, which everyone thought were extinct, except this last nest of them. but even though this warden and his one-of-a-kind gryphon are helping you, the gray wardens as a whole aren't on your side. but let me back up because one of your companions is an elf who studies ancient elven ruins. it turns out that two terrifying ancient elf gods got through the hole in the veil also. so not only are we trying to stop the main elf god but also these two other elf gods. so that's the summary of where we are just to start with, no questions please."

[blackjackkent]

All right, time to take Rakha through the South Span checkpoint. As I mentioned last time, I'm running on the assumption that this is about a day after the Gortash reveal; everyone is tired and emotional and Jaheira has made an executive decision that it's time to go talk to the Harpers and get some backup.

So in we go to Danthelon's Dancing Axe.

It occurs to me that among all the other things that Rakha is still learning about the world, Danthelon's is only the second proper shop that she's ever been in (the first being Angleiron's shop). So she definitely follows Jaheira in and just sort of looks around wide-eyed at all the stuff on display. It's a good distraction, at least for a moment, from her preoccupations, as is often the case when something confuses or surprises her.

Entharl immediately locks onto her as the leader of the group despite Jaheira approaching the counter:

"Greetings, saer! Your noble bearing brings a little class to my humble--"

"You can turn off the charm, Entharl. She's with me."

Immediately the dwarf's smarmy smile fades and he sighs. "Blueberries. Thought I had a sale." He quirks an eyebrow up at her thoughtfully. "You look tired, Harper."

(A/N: This is funny because per previous posts, Jaheira is running on about two hours of sleep at the moment and desperately trying to hold the group together.)

"I missed you too. They're already here?"

"Down below. Here's the key."

Rakha has only been sort of following this and cocks her head questioningly. "We were looking for a safe-house," she says. "This doesn't look like one."

Entharl laughs. "Agreed!" he says sourly. "Didn't stop Jaheira's lot from nesting in my cellar."

"Entharl's no Harper,"Jaheira says with a slow smile, "and claims no love for those who are." Her expression has relaxed considerably; even despite the strain of the last few days and the equal strain that lies ahead, it's evident that she has cheered up at the prospect of seeing her people again. This is, in fact, one of the nicest smiles Rakha has yet seen on her face; it's oddly comforting to witness. "But he's been known to shelter us when we need it."

The dwarf scoffs. "Entharl has been known to charge rent. Harpers have been known to ignore him." He rolls his eyes and makes a shooing motion with his hands. "Now go on. The Short Father may send me an actual paying customer today."

Rakha decides, oddly enough, that she kind of likes him. He reminds her a little of Jaheira herself, a gruff exterior over the help he can provide.

"Wait," she says abruptly. "I would like to take a look at your stock."

Entharl brightens up drastically. "To buy?! You're already my favorite."

Rakha, who is turning out to be deeply susceptible to anyone who actively expresses enjoying her presence, smiles almost imperceptibly.

-----

This was where Hector got his first fashion update since the start of the game; however, I still have yet to encounter any clothing-weight armor that works better for Rakha and that I like better on her than her starting robes, so she will continue in them.

However, we are rolling in money, so some of the other main party get an upgrade, because I like Entharl and feel bad that we're about to get blood all over his basement.

Studded Leather +2 for Jaheira and Leather +2 for Wyll.

Minthara and Lae'zel are in Ketheric's Armor and the Adamantine Splint, respectively, and probably staying in them until the end of the game. However, Minthara gets a new cloak (Cloak of Displacement, which gives her Blur at the start of combat) and Lae'zel gets new gloves (Gauntlets of the Warmaster, which gives enemies disadvantage on saving after her maneuvers).

"A pleasure," Entharl says when the trade is complete, and grins up at her. "Jaheira needs more friends like you."

Rakha isn't really sure that's true - but it makes her smile just a little again, all the same.