#its organized chaos ok

[todayisafridaynight]

looking back on all my y7 comics is so funny but now im compelled to organize them 'chronologically' and see what that looks like

[goldfades]

WHO DID THIS TO YOU?──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request, for my lovely jo! @wanderlusturous

─ summary | you and rafe are consumed by an obsessive love, where their madness is fueled by each other. you find exhilaration in pushing boundaries, testing each other’s limits, and the deeper you fall into your shared insanity, the tighter your bond becomes. when rafe finds you crying in your bedroom one day, he loses his shit and is thrown into a silent rage, seeking revenge. and you don't mind, not one bit.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

─ warnings | oh my god, where do i even begin?? obsessive rafe, like insane but reader reciprocates it. a few kisses but mostly just insane stuff. mention of drugging (not to reader), hacking (?), idk what else but this is lowkey insane...

─ ev's notes | im gonna be honest, i don't know if i like this... but lmk if yall enjoyed it. it's a little too dark-themed for me and i got into it until i reread it and realized that it was lowkey insane but hey!!! whatever!!! anyway, pls lmk if this was too dark.. or if you enjoyed it. also, sorry to any becca's out there, it was just the first name that popped up. any feedback is always very appreciated!

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

The night is suffocating, thick with tension that mirrors the pulse racing in your veins. Every sound, every breath, seems amplified, as if the world knows what’s coming. You stand by the dock, your eyes on the dark water ahead, but your thoughts are elsewhere—on him.

Rafe.

You can already feel him, even when he’s not here. The way your skin hums when you think of him, the way your pulse skips in sync with his name. No one gets you like Rafe does. No one makes you feel like the world is spinning off its axis just by looking at you. He’s chaos, destruction wrapped in a pretty face, and you... you crave it.

The roar of an engine breaks through the night. You don’t turn, but a slow smile curls on your lips. You feel the heat of his presence before you even hear his footsteps.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Rafe’s voice is a low drawl, but there’s something manic beneath it, something that sparks against the madness in you.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch his eyes. There’s that look again. That wild, possessive look that sets your blood on fire. He’s close now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him, feel the tension in the air tighten like a noose around your neck.

“Neither could you,” you reply, your voice low, daring.

He grins, a sharp, dangerous thing. “You’re right. I can’t.”

His fingers brush your arm, just a ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to ignite something violent between you. This—this is what you live for. The thrill. The madness. The way Rafe looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him sane, and maybe that’s what scares you the most.

Because you’re not sane.

Not anymore.

You can’t even remember why you broke up with him a few months ago, but all you know is that it got overwhelming. There was something suffocating about it—about him. The way he always knew where you were, who you were with, what you were thinking before you even said it. At first, it was intoxicating, the way he could read you like no one else ever could, like you were the only two people on earth and no one else mattered. But then… it was too much. His intensity felt like drowning in quicksand, slow but relentless. And for a moment, just a moment, you thought maybe you needed air.

But standing here now, with the salt stinging your nostrils and the wind howling like some kind of omen, you can’t remember why you ever thought you could leave him.

Because there he is—Rafe Cameron, walking toward you like the world is his and you’re his prize, eyes locked on you in a way that makes your chest tighten, your stomach coil in knots. He’s dangerous in all the ways that matter. Not just because he’s reckless and violent (though God knows he is), but because of how he makes you feel. Alive, in a way that hurts. Like the rush you get standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing one wrong step and it’s all over, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, just to feel the thrill of almost falling.

He doesn’t stop walking until he’s so close you can smell the gasoline and smoke on his clothes, the wild energy pouring off him in waves. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, like you’re the oxygen he’s been deprived of for too long, and suddenly it all makes sense again. The madness. The break-up. The inevitable pull back to him.

“Why’d you leave me?” His voice is low, rough like gravel. His eyes burn with something fierce, and you can feel it sinking into you, clawing its way under your skin. He’s not asking because he doesn’t know. He’s asking because he wants to hear you say it.

You stare at him, heart pounding, pulse thrumming in your ears like a warning. But instead of stepping back, you step forward, closing the small gap between you two. Your breath mingles with his, the night air thick with unsaid things, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something irreversible. Like if you take one more step, there’s no going back.

But isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? The danger. The thrill. The sick, twisted excitement of being so intertwined with him that you forget where he ends and you begin.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, even though that’s not the full truth. You do know. You left because you were scared. Scared of how much you wanted him, needed him, even when it hurt. Scared of the fact that the line between love and obsession blurred so fast with him that you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

His jaw tightens, and his hands, those rough, calloused hands that have touched you in ways no one else ever has, reach out. He grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and for a moment, you swear you can see the wild, unhinged thing lurking just behind his eyes. It’s the same thing you see in yourself when you look in the mirror. The madness that ties you to him, binds you like a curse.

“You do know,” he says, voice dark and demanding. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, slow, like he’s testing how far he can push you before you break. “You just won’t say it.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not fear. It’s something else, something deeper. Something that feels like surrender and power all at once. You lean into his touch, letting his hand curl around the side of your face, the heat of him soaking into your skin like a drug.

“I couldn’t handle it,” you admit, the words thick and heavy in your throat. “You. Us. It was too much.”

Rafe’s lips curl into a smirk, but it’s not a kind one. It’s dark, possessive. “Too much? You know you liked it. You loved it.” His hand tightens slightly on your jaw, just enough for you to feel the edge of his control, like he’s reminding you who he is. What he is. “You loved me because of how fucked up we are. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

You swallow hard, heart thundering in your chest, because deep down, you know he’s right. You’ve never felt more alive than when you were with him, caught up in the madness of it all. The fights, the passion, the way you both pushed each other to the edge and then pulled each other back, only to do it all over again. It was twisted, dangerous, and wrong in every way, but that’s what made it irresistible.

“I did,” you confess, and it’s like a weight lifts off your chest, even as you feel yourself falling back into him, back into the chaos. “I do.”

The smirk fades, replaced by something darker, hungrier. His eyes search yours, looking for any sign of hesitation, any crack in your resolve. But there’s nothing. You’re not the same person who left him. Maybe you never really left at all.

Rafe’s hand slides from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his lips hover just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, and before you can respond, his mouth crashes into yours, hard and demanding.

It’s not gentle. It’s never been gentle with Rafe. His kiss is all teeth and tongue, like he’s trying to devour you, claim you all over again. And you let him, because deep down, you crave it just as much as he does. The fire, the chaos, the way he makes you feel like you’re spinning out of control but somehow exactly where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, your lips swollen, your pulse racing like you’ve just run a marathon. His hands grip your waist now, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the heat of his body searing into yours.

“Tell me,” he says, voice low and dangerous, his eyes boring into yours. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, but you don’t hesitate. “I’m yours.” And you are, completely, utterly, unashamedly his.

And just like that, you’re back where you started.

───MONTHS LATER . . .

“God fucking damn it, if you don't tell me right now, I'm gonna lose my shit!” Rafe shouts, his voice cracking like thunder in the small living room as he throws the beer bottle against the wall.

Glass shatters everywhere, scattering across the floor, but you don’t even flinch. You’ve seen this before. Hell, you’ve lived it. The rage, the temper, the chaos—it's like a script you’ve both memorized by heart.

You lean back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him like you would a caged animal—wild and unpredictable. He’s pacing now, his movements sharp and erratic, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if they might snap. His eyes are wild, blue like ice but burning with something untamable, something dangerous. He’s teetering on the edge, that fine line between fury and desperation, and you know it won’t take much to push him over.

But you don’t care. Not right now.

“Rafe, calm the fuck down,” you say, your voice steady, almost bored. You know that’ll get to him. It always does. Nothing makes him crazier than when you don’t give him the reaction he’s fishing for.

His head snaps in your direction, eyes narrowing as he stalks toward you like a predator honing in on prey. He stops just inches away, towering over you, his chest heaving, breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. He’s so close now that you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the heat radiating off his skin. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, looking up at him with a calm that borders on defiance.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he spits, voice laced with venom. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. “I’m sick of your bullshit! You think you can just stand there like you’re better than me, like you’re not a part of this, but guess what, baby? You are. You always have been.”

You tilt your head slightly, eyes narrowing as a slow smile creeps across your lips. “You’re being dramatic, Rafe,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What, you gonna break something else? Or are you actually gonna say what’s bothering you for once?”

That does it.

He slams his hands down on the counter behind you, trapping you between his arms, his face just inches from yours. His eyes blaze with fury, but beneath it, you see something else—something raw, something that makes your stomach twist in knots.

“Don’t play games with me,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “I know what you’re doing. You think you can just push me around, mess with my head, and I’ll keep coming back like a fucking dog, huh?”

You meet his gaze, unblinking, heart racing in your chest but refusing to show it. You can feel the tension crackling between you like electricity, the air thick with it, suffocating. This is what it always comes down to with Rafe—this toxic push and pull, this need to break each other just to see what’s left after the pieces fall apart.

“You think I’m the one messing with your head?” you say, your voice low, challenging. “Maybe you should take a look in the mirror, Rafe. You’re not exactly innocent in this, are you?”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to explode. But instead, he just stares at you, eyes flickering with something dark, something primal. Then, slowly, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

“Innocent?” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “Baby, I’ve never claimed to be innocent. You knew exactly who I was when you got into this.”

You don’t flinch. You don’t pull back. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your lips grazing the corner of his jaw as you whisper back, “Yeah, and that’s why I’m not scared of you.”

His breath hitches, just for a second, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. You’ve always known how to push his buttons, how to throw him off balance, even when he’s at his most dangerous. It’s a game you’ve played a thousand times before, and you both know how it ends—chaotic, messy, with both of you circling back to the same place.

But this time feels different.

There’s something darker in the way he’s looking at you, something that feels more like possession than anger. Like he’s not just mad because you’re fighting—he’s mad because he can’t stand the thought of you slipping away. Because he knows, deep down, that no matter how hard you push him, he’ll always want you. Need you.

“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Rafe says, his voice low, deadly. “Not this time.”

You feel his grip tighten on the counter behind you, his body pressing against yours as if he’s trying to fuse the two of you together, like if he holds on tight enough, you won’t be able to escape. But he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand that you’re already too far gone. That the very thing he’s holding on to is slipping through his fingers, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say softly, a cold smile on your lips. “I can walk away whenever I want. I just choose not to.”

And with that, you duck under his arm, slipping out from between him and the counter. His eyes follow you, wide with disbelief, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. You know he’s about to lose it, to completely unravel. But you don’t turn back. Not yet.

Because this time, you want him to come after you.

And he always does.

Rafe’s eyes darken as you slip past him, and for a moment, the room goes deadly silent. The tension is thick, heavy like a storm cloud waiting to burst. You know exactly what’s coming, and it sends a thrill down your spine. You can almost feel it—the moment he snaps, the second his control shatters. It’s a twisted game, one you’ve played too many times before, and every time, you push him a little harder, a little further, just to see how far he’ll go for you.

You take slow, deliberate steps toward the door, your back turned to him, feeling the heat of his gaze sear into you. You don’t need to look back to know he’s watching, every muscle in his body tensed like a predator stalking its prey. The air feels electric, charged with a violence that’s always been just beneath the surface between you two.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and biting. You stop, but you don’t turn around. Not yet.

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice calm, almost teasing. “I thought I could walk away whenever I wanted, remember?”

The silence that follows is deafening. You know you’ve hit a nerve. He hates when you challenge him, hates when you act like you have the upper hand. But that’s what makes it so addictive—pushing him to his limit, watching him unravel in front of you, knowing that no matter how hard he fights it, he’ll always come back to you.

Because he can’t help it. Neither of you can.

Suddenly, you hear his footsteps behind you, fast and heavy, and before you can react, his hand grips your arm, yanking you back toward him with a force that nearly knocks the breath out of you. He spins you around, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing with fury.

“You’re not fucking going anywhere,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightens on your arm, fingers digging into your skin, but the pain only makes your pulse quicken, your breath hitch in your throat. There’s something about the way he looks at you—like he’s on the verge of losing control, like he’s barely holding himself together—that sends a thrill through you.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you say, your voice daring him, even though you know you don’t really want him to.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand gripping the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him. His chest is heaving, his eyes wild, but there’s something else there, too—something desperate, like he’s terrified of losing you, like he’s clinging to you with everything he has left.

“You think you can just walk away?” he snarls, his breath hot against your face. “After everything? After all the shit we’ve been through? You really think I’m just gonna let you go?”

You meet his gaze, unblinking, your heart racing, but there’s no fear. Not with him. There never is. Instead, you feel the pull again—the twisted, sick need to see how far you can push him, how deep his obsession goes.

“I think you don’t have a choice,” you say, your voice steady, even though your pulse is hammering in your ears.

His grip tightens, his jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscles twitching beneath his skin. For a second, you think he’s going to snap—really snap—but then, just as quickly, something shifts in his expression. The anger doesn’t fade, but it’s joined by something darker, something raw and consuming.

“You’re wrong,” he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with danger. “You don’t get to decide when this ends. I do.”

Before you can react, his lips crash against yours, rough and demanding, as if he’s trying to prove a point. It’s not a kiss; it’s a claim, a reminder that you belong to him, whether you want to admit it or not. His hands tighten on you, pulling you impossibly closer, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained violence simmering just beneath the surface.

But instead of pulling away, you kiss him back with just as much fire, matching his intensity. It’s always been like this between you two—this chaotic, messy whirlwind of emotion that neither of you can control. You push, he pulls, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you find something that feels like love, even though you both know it’s something darker, something more dangerous.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen and bruised. His hand stays on the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that’s both possessive and tender, like he’s reminding himself that you’re still here, still his.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough, eyes blazing as he stares down at you. “You’ve always been mine.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s a part of you that wants to fight it, to push him away and run as far as you can. But there’s a bigger part of you, a darker part, that knows he’s right.

You’re his. You always have been.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m yours.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick and heavy, and for a moment, everything else falls away. The anger, the tension, the broken glass on the floor—it’s all background noise now. All that matters is the two of you, standing here in this twisted, fucked-up mess of a relationship, knowing that no matter how many times you try to break free, you’ll always end up right back here.

With him.

Rafe’s grip on you softens, just slightly, and for the first time in what feels like hours, the intensity in his eyes eases. But it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next time one of you decides to test the limits again. Because there will be a next time. There always is.

“You’re not leaving me again,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less serious. “Not ever.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Because deep down, you know that no matter how much you might want to, no matter how many times you tell yourself you can walk away, you won’t.

You never could.

And Rafe knows it, too.

───

You don’t usually cry. Not ever. Tears are something you’ve learned to bury deep down, hidden under layers of indifference and biting sarcasm. But tonight, they come, hot and angry, streaming down your face as you sit curled up on the edge of the bed, hands trembling in your lap. The weight of the evening presses down on you, your mind reeling from everything that happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not tonight.

Your phone buzzes again on the nightstand, but you ignore it. You can’t deal with it right now. You don’t want to see the messages or hear the apologies. You don’t want to relive what just went down.

You wipe at your face roughly, trying to pull yourself together, but it’s no use. The shaky breath you let out only betrays you further, and you feel the tears well up again. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound, not wanting him to hear you.

But, of course, Rafe hears everything.

The door swings open, and Rafe steps inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. He looks at you, really looks at you, and in an instant, his expression darkens. His blue eyes narrow as they sweep over you, taking in the tear-streaked face, the hunched shoulders, the way your body is wound tight like a coiled spring, ready to snap. His jaw tightens, and you can practically feel the shift in the air around him.

“What happened?” His voice is low, dangerous, barely restrained. It’s not a question—it’s a demand.

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Rafe. Just forget it.”

But you know better than to think he’ll let it go. The second you met him, you realized Rafe Cameron isn’t the kind of guy who “forgets” anything.

He moves closer, the tension in his body palpable. He’s not pacing like he usually does when he’s angry. This is different. Controlled. Focused. Like he’s honing in on the source of your pain, ready to eliminate it. He crouches down in front of you, one hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. His touch is firm, possessive, but not rough—not yet.

“Tell me what happened,” he says again, his eyes boring into yours. “Who did this to you?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even bring it up. You know how Rafe gets—how he reacts when someone hurts you. And this time, it wasn’t just anyone. It was someone close. Someone you thought was your friend.

“It’s—” You start, but your voice cracks, and you quickly bite down, trying to steady yourself. “It was…Becca.”

“Becca?” The name drops like a lead weight between you two, and you can see the recognition flare in his eyes. Becca, your friend for years, the one person outside of him you’ve always trusted. The one person he’s always been wary of.

Rafe’s grip tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over your jaw in a way that makes your pulse race. His voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper. “What did she do?”

You hesitate, but the words spill out before you can stop them. “She—she said some things. At the party tonight. She called me out in front of everyone, said I was using you, that I only stuck around for the money, the attention. She tried to turn everyone against me, Rafe. She made me look… weak.”

His face hardens instantly, and for a split second, you see something flash in his eyes—something dark and lethal. The kind of rage that makes your breath catch in your throat, even though you know it’s not directed at you.

“She said what?” His voice is so low now, it’s almost a growl.

You nod, swallowing hard, feeling the burn of humiliation all over again. “I don’t know why she did it. I thought she was my friend.”

Rafe lets out a slow breath, and the air around him feels like it’s vibrating with the intensity of his anger. He stands up abruptly, pacing the room, running a hand through his hair as if trying to keep himself from completely losing it. But you know it’s too late for that.

“I’ll fucking kill her,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear every word. “I’ll ruin her life.”

“Rafe—” You start to protest, but he cuts you off with a sharp look.

“No. No one talks to you like that. Not her, not anyone.” His voice is clipped, sharp, like he’s barely holding back the full force of what he’s feeling. “You don’t deserve this shit. Not from her, not from anyone.”

His protectiveness borders on obsession, but you can’t help but feel a strange comfort in it. It’s twisted, but there’s something about the way Rafe reacts to these things—like the whole world can burn as long as you’re safe—that makes you feel… seen. Important.

“I’m going to fix this,” he says, more to himself than to you, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She thinks she can talk shit about you? In front of everyone? Humiliate you? Nah. She’s going to regret it. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Rafe,” you say softly, trying to reach for him, but he’s too far gone. You can see it in the way his eyes have glazed over, already plotting, already deciding exactly how he’s going to destroy Becca.

And part of you wants to stop him. Part of you knows that this isn’t the answer, that maybe you should handle it differently, like a normal person would.

But you’re not normal. Not anymore.

“I’m serious,” he says, turning to face you again, his expression deadly serious. “No one fucks with you. Ever.”

His intensity washes over you, and for a second, you feel like you can’t breathe. But at the same time, it fills you with a sense of power, knowing that he’s willing to go to these lengths for you. That he’ll protect you at all costs, no matter how destructive it gets.

You stand up slowly, crossing the room until you’re in front of him, your hand resting on his chest. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Rafe’s eyes flicker down to you, and for a brief moment, you see a softness there, a flicker of the boy beneath all the rage and chaos. “I won’t. But I’m not letting this go.”

You nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him. This is who he is—who you both are. Twisted, obsessive, reckless. But it works. Somehow, it works. And deep down, you don’t really want him to let it go.

A few months later, and somehow everything goes to shit for Becca.

It starts small—things that could almost pass as bad luck. First, her new car gets keyed, deep scratches across the side that no amount of buffing can fix. Then her social media accounts get hacked, posts disappearing, weird comments being left on other people’s pages, like someone is deliberately screwing with her life piece by piece. She brushes it off at first, because Becca’s tough. She’s the type of girl who bounces back quickly, who doesn’t let things get under her skin.

But then things escalate. Quickly.

She gets benched during a big volleyball game when her coach suddenly pulls her aside and questions her attitude. The team captain claims Becca’s been talking shit about the coach behind her back, stirring up drama with teammates. The problem is, Becca never said any of it. But now, she’s got a reputation, and people are starting to look at her differently.

Still, she fights through it, determined not to let it get to her. Becca’s always had her eye on the prize: her full ride to UC Berkeley, where she’s set to play volleyball at the college level. That’s her future. Her escape. Nothing can touch that.

Until it does.

The call comes one morning, out of nowhere. Becca’s shaking as she listens to the voice on the other end of the line, her heart plummeting as her coach tells her the news.

“We’ve received the results of your recent drug test, Becca,” the coach says, his voice stern but somehow apologetic. “I’m sorry, but you’ve tested positive for a banned substance.”

Becca’s head spins, her mouth going dry. “That’s impossible,” she blurts out, panic rising in her chest. “I don’t do drugs. I don’t—”

“I know this is hard to hear,” the coach cuts her off, his voice firm. “But the results are what they are. This disqualifies you from the scholarship and the team. UC Berkeley has revoked your offer.”

The words hit her like a sledgehammer. She feels the ground tilt beneath her, everything she’s worked for slipping through her fingers in an instant. She argues, pleads, tries to explain, but the decision is final. There’s nothing she can do.

And that’s when she starts to see it, to feel the weight of something much bigger pressing down on her. This isn’t just bad luck. It’s not a coincidence that her life is unraveling at the seams. No, this feels orchestrated, like someone’s been pulling the strings behind the scenes, watching her fall apart.

That someone is Rafe Cameron.

Rafe can be physical—he wouldn’t hesitate to swing on anyone he deems a threat. But Rafe isn’t a dumbass. He knows that not everything should be dealt with by violence. Some things are better handled with precision, with patience, with slow, deliberate destruction. He knew that punching Becca in the face wouldn’t satisfy him, wouldn’t give him the kind of control he wanted over the situation.

So instead, he used his connections, his money, his influence, all of the tools at his disposal to dismantle her life bit by bit. A hacked account here, a few whispers to the right people there. He didn’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy her. He just needed to plant the seeds of doubt, to set off a chain reaction, and then watch it all come crumbling down.

The drug test? Easy. A little slip of something into her drink at a party when she wasn’t paying attention, followed by a tip-off to the testing agency. The rumors about her trash-talking her coach? Carefully spread by a few well-placed texts to her teammates, pretending to be her. Her social media? That was just for fun, a way to throw her off balance and make her feel like her world was spiraling.

And it worked.

You know all of this, of course. Rafe never bothers to hide things from you. In fact, he’s proud of it, proud of the way he’s dismantled Becca’s life without so much as breaking a sweat. He tells you about it one night while you’re lying together, his arm draped lazily over your waist as he whispers in your ear.

“She thought she could fuck with you,” he murmurs, his voice dark, satisfied. “But now she knows. No one touches what’s mine.”

You should feel guilty. You should feel something for Becca, after all those years of friendship, of thinking she had your back. But all you can feel is a sick sense of satisfaction, like the universe has finally corrected itself. Becca messed with the wrong person, and now she’s paying the price. And as twisted as it is, you can’t help but feel a little thrill at how far Rafe was willing to go for you, how meticulously he destroyed her without you even asking him to.

“You really did all that?” you ask, your voice low, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Rafe shifts beside you, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your neck. “I told you, baby. No one fucks with you and gets away with it.”

You turn your head to meet his gaze, and there’s something dangerous in the way he looks at you, something possessive and wild. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. Not anymore.

Because the truth is, you like it. You like how far he’s willing to go for you, how far he’s willing to take it. There’s something intoxicating about the way he loves you—twisted, obsessive, and all-consuming. It’s not healthy, not normal, but it’s yours. And that’s enough.

You press your lips to his, kissing him fiercely, feeling the heat between you two ignite once again. Rafe kisses you back just as hard, his hands gripping you tightly, like he’s reminding you that you’re his and no one else’s.

As you pull back, your breath ragged, you glance at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“She won’t come near me again.”

“No,” Rafe says, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “She won’t.”

And in that moment, you both know it’s true. Becca’s done.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[boopshoops]

C'mon now, we don't HAVE to stick to one set genre. Music is about self expression!~ ...Though I wouldn't be against one-upping some competition.

Yuu Shi is strutting on down to debut as a vocalist and backup dancer for GLOWCHAIN! With eccentric flare and powerful vocals, she's here to push the boundaries of EDM and pop to new heights. After all, if it isn't experimental, it isn't her.

Part 2

Ragu Music Week is a fanevent by @raguiras!!! :D

Set to home screen: Mic check, one two!~

Groovification: ???

Home transition 1: Day three of asking Allen to let me join Hazard, no such luck as of yet. Is this how Epel feels about Savanaclaw? Maybe a bribe would work...

Home transition 2: Ohh I just love this boa! It's so cute and fluffy! Come here and touch it, it's so soft that I could use it as a pillow.

Home transition 3: No need to worry much about your performances, hon, I'll make sure to outperform you regardless! You can take that as a promise and a threat.

Home transition/Groovification: ???

Tap home 1: You think I'm getting a bit competitive over this? Hmm, Maybe, maybe. Well, this is finally my chance to show off my prowess! I didn't go to performing arts school for nothing.

Tap home 2: I'm able to keep up with Vil fine enough, but after the chaos that was VDC, I'm beginning to feel bad for my other group members... but not bad enough! Let's go again!

Tap home 3: No, no, no- That's not it. Your movements aren't big enough! You need to gesture enough for the whole crowd to see. Remember, the people in the back row want a show too. You need to hold out your arms like so!

Tap home 4: As much as I enjoy an organized, set performance, I much prefer to go with the flow. I want to get the whole audience involved in ways you haven't seen before, you know? Make it feel more authentic? It'll leave a lasting impression of me in their minds!... Oh, and the rest of GLOWCHAIN, of course.

Tap home 5: Hahaha! What, am I towering over you in these heels? Should I kneel down, is that what you'd like? What? I'm just teasing!

Tap home/Groovification: ???

Home after login: As much as I love this outfit, I could do with a little less sparkle... When the stage lights hit me and the other members, I can't help but feel like a damn disco ball. What do you think?

ALRIGHT RAMBLING TIME. Yuu shi is having a hard time abandoning her instruments for GLOWCHAIN. Therefore she takes every chance she can to be petty about it and be another headache for vil (sorry bbg). She is very jealous of Hazard/Riff due to this- but she's not letting that stop her from trying to outperform other groups or even vil himself.

As for music- I did a lot of research into KPOP i never had before KJGDSBKGJSD and I think mamamoos vibe fits Yuu Shi very well!

also I listened to the inspiration playlist, saw lady gaga, and blacked out

Charli XCX fits her more experimental style too- its her way of pushing the boundaries of the genre

KIMPETRASKIMPETRASKIMPETRAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for dancing- ive had Royal Family brain rot lately. THEY ARE SO TALENTED AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Theyre flowy, energetic, fast paced moves fit yuu shi very well imo!!! Though she would definitely need a lot more practiced to be as organized as them sob. 3:25 in particular drives me insane:

OK RAMBLING OVER TAG TIME

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @techno-danger @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @twsted-canvas @qsoap @prince-kallisto

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Everything Went a Bit Weird Allasudden

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

BL OLYMPICS! Week 2

I'll be passing out metals in various sporting events, as part of the weekly updates (through mid August) just for funzies.

Aug 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) eps 11-12fin - THE STAIRS ARE BACK and now they’re evil! Frank is truly great. He's out acting everyone else, but I'm just happy to see him pine. OK yes, the ending wasn’t awesome but I still really enjoyed this show. 

In conclusion: (deep breath)

This was a sports romance Thai BL pulp with everything I could have asked for given this sub genre. More, actually, since MeenPing are both great basketball players and the team component really did form part of the connective tissue of the show (vital in a sports romance). Meen has his shirt off within the first two minutes which is all I needed but he's still pretty great as the sullen secret keeper against Ping's cheerful survivor - childhood sweethearts torn asunder and now reunited. Then Frank sweeps in to give everyone a bad case of second lead syndrome. I always try to judge BL for what it is AS BL, and what it’s trying to do within its own territory and purview. This did exactly what it claimed on the tin: gay boys play b-ball and fall in love. That was all I wanted from it. Sure there was random kidnapping and a light bought of mass murder, but what’s a BL in 2024 without a touch of the mafia? You do you little pulp, I’m disposed to be pleased.

Thank you, Rebound, for being exactly what I wanted. Is this gonna be anybody else’s favorite BL of 2024? Probably not. But there is a real good chance it’ll be mine. Is it perfect? No. But for me, it got as close as a pulp can get, so I’m giving it 9/10.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 9 of 12 - Them being boyfriends is so damn adorable. Like PondPhuwin I think I could watch G4 just be boyfriends for 16 eps and not fuss about anything in life. They're my emotional support pair brand. Back to the show:

My goodness Atom is such a frenetic high strung babygirl. He is a near constant emotional pingpong.

Gold in Table Tennis

K is a teenage saint. The lights thing, and the hands to head (reminiscent of certain previous characters from this pair), all made me coo and laugh. 

However, this ep was mostly about the hets. It’s always funny to me when the gays have their shit figured out in a show but the hets are in chaos.

Also they're touted as "a teacher and a baker" but they're playing the gay dads of this narrative and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. More gay dads in BL!

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 8 - I’m just gonna say it, because no one else is, this pair kisses like they’re in a Taiwanese BL. There’s no other way to put it except there’s a whole body genuine interest and enthusiasm to the way they do physicality that’s comparatively rare in Thai BL. This kind of on-screen sexual maturity is my favorite, especially in grown-up characters like these. The side couple = awesomesause. JJ is a very appealing character. He hates Methas, he likes him, he loathes him, and also... he definitely wants to see him naked. 

All praise aside? I have questions about why half the hair in this show is so absolutely ghastly. Like bad enough for Japan. Enough of that now, Thailand. Tut tut. Cut cut. Style style. Please & thank you?

Then again who cares when we get...

They already won silver last week, but I guess they're going for

Gold in Weightlifting

Century of Love (Weds Gaga) eps 7-8 of 10 - Well THAT is an interesting take on a Faen Fetale. As expected, a somewhat doomy ep 7. I did enjoy the doctor punching San tho.

Bronze in Boxing

Meanwhile, that camel jacket is a sin against all things, especially Daou. But I eventually got a crying kiss. I love a crying kiss best in the world. Next week looks good! But I miss my nine tailed fox nod. Will we get back to that or was it just a brief weird thing?

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 5 of 12 - It’s kinda great actually. The romance is the only bit that isn’t really hitting for me. Gun’s smile at the "oppa" is so adorable. His little dimples.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - I really do not like the pet name in this one. Khun Dad is too weird for me. But I do think their relationship is ridiculously cheesy and endearing in a terrible way. These two are the equivalent of that couple that always speaks in baby talk. It’s a good thing they’re pretty because they’re not so bright. Wait! No Christmas music in my BL! That's far too weird. 

Bronze in Diving

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 12 - I’m liking this a lot better now. It’s still a little slow for me but since the bullying has stopped relatively quickly I’m not as upset as I was. Also, look at those eyes, our P'Seme is IN LURV. That said, I’m not wild about the sudden suicide plot line. That feels... weird.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) - TutorYim are back and so far this is better than Middleman's Love - but that's not saying much. For a second there I thought they were going to open on the REAL blindfold scene from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. But then I remembered that that’s more Mame than anyone else. On a completely different note, I do like this pair. And I’m willing to give them ever more chances. That said this is very, I don’t know, weird? I’m not sure what is happening, and I’m confident that’s not my fault. I hope it makes sense eventually.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - Peak's dad is so completely frustrating and kind of psychotic. It’s annoying to watch. So I spent most of this episode upset. I'm glad he came around in the end but it was a lot, mostly unforgivable, from this side of the screen.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 8 of 10 - It's committing the greatest sin of all (in the realm of entertainment). It's mind numbingly dull. I'd sooner be offended than bored. Trash watch

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - I don’t remember the camping trip from the manga, but I really enjoyed it in this series.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - The bit with the kid was cute but I’m still finding this rather slow and the central relationship unappealing. I think the balance of power has to shift for me to engage, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

It's airing but...

Bad Guy (Korea YT) - yeah, erm, no thank you.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun ????) 10 eps - OMG a uni student who looks too young and a... COP. GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. Please SOMEONE pick this one up?

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me how it goes.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - it's your funeral (or, more likely, one of the main characters'). You can argue but... statistics. You know my feelings on this matter. MY BLOG, remember?

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Up This Month!

8/6 Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) 8 eps - office romance around the makeup counter featuring a younger seme and sexual blackmail. I'm intrigued. DFTUJ (don't fuck this up, Japan).

8/8 Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) 12 eps - I am so DAMN excited to see Big finally lead a BL. I can't even with this, one of my most anticipated of this year. He's a great kisser ya'll, he's kissed a lot of boys as second lead. I can't WAIT.

8/12 First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) 12 eps - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan stars Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn tean. I can't wait. With thier powers combined!

8/13 Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues YT) - supposedly Jinlo with air this on their YT channel. Stars August (Love Sick) so I'm excited despite Jinlo's poor reputation. From the trailer it looks like it's following the original pretty closely just Thai style.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

Addicted Heroin (Thailand adaptation) is also supposed to release this month. GIVE IT TOO MEEEEEE. I don't care about anything else but August back on my screen. It's been almost a decade since he did BL.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

This is the kind of jealousy I like to see. Boys getting pissed about the stupid stuff.

Also, more counter making out. I'm not complaining, but babies the bed is way more comfortable.

All from Long Beans.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

Sports in Play (the jokes write themselves)

Boxing

Breaking

(That's Not) Cricket

Diving (yes, for that)

Fencing (yes, with those)

Handball (exactly what it says, no, read the word.. again)

Rhythmic Gymnastics (obvs)

Squash (snicker)

Surfing

Swimming

Trampoline

Table Tennis

Weightlifting

Wrestling

[huevobuevo]

I CANT FUCKING SLEEP SO IMMA JUST POST THE SCU COUNCIL DRAWINGS AND HOPE TO THE GODS IT LETS ME REST.

Erm I really like pantheons and shit so uh. I made lore

Essentially each council member are gods similar to the Aspects from APOTHEOSIS, except instead of aspects of humanity they’re aspects of the universe. They each are gods of their respective campaign-worlds, the other council members can only interact with them through the creation of their player characters. I made three designs for these fuckers- their initial godhood form during the Hardest Difficulty Video, their present forms after their respective churches & worlds have been established, & their Higher Divine Form that’s basically just their fursonas (except Slimecicle since he’s just like. A Slime Hybrid already so now he’s just Cooler Magical Slime Guy yipey!)

Much like the aspects, the Council Members are referred to by their domains instead of their original names. In the case of Condi he has a secondary name, Yonder; in the case of Charlie, he can be referred to by either Fortune or Misery- more on that in a bit

the gribble -> Bloom

🍃bro is in charge of the biomes of the Overworld, including the tools and weapons that are crafted using its resources

🍃Bloom is ONLY in charge of the Flora, NOT the Fauna. The creatures of the Overworld are owned by Evolution

🍃weather phenomenon and natural disasters are also his strong suit

🍃MYTH TIME!!! Bloom hasn’t learned to change into his Higher Divine form until after his first Fall, thus his bright red and black wings were never appreciated. After he arose again, the ash of the Nether stained his wings and hair, turning them a deep grey. Many birds of the Overworld had grieved his loss, so after his return most of them had rolled in the ashes that fell from his skin in tribute- thus the Grey Parrot was born.

🍃he grew an affinity for the sea after the creation of his first universe (Mana; Riptide), thus a majority of his time is spent in the Overworlds ocean, where his presence is spotted through the whirling winds of a hurricane.

Condifiction. -> Yonder

🔥god of the Beyond- any of the upper and lower realms in any universe belongs to him, including;

🔥The Nether

🔥The End

🔥The Spirit World (prime defenders)

🔥The Chaos Zone (prime defenders)

🔥The Faewilds (riptide)

🔥The Celestial Plane (apotheosis)

🔥The Land Between Time (prime defenders)

🔥Yonder is also in charge of all the interdimensional creatures and entities that live in these domains. Potions are.. also technically his deal since to make them one must acquire interdimensional items such as blaze powder

🔥the boundaries between worlds and the magic to traverse them also fall under his rule

🔥Yonder has a spear called the Aether Piercer, a blade strong enough to even cut through the fabric of reality. It is the strongest weapon in the entire multiverse, and the boys use it for their “dnd campaigns”

🔥he is also called the Quartz Dragon

🔥 FUN FACT! He actually has TWO outfits- the Nether Regalia & The End Regalia. However my stupid ass drew the End one first despite the fact that the Nether outfit is his main one (molten lava dress and cape with deep reds and brilliant whites & gold). That’s why the end suit doesn’t really match his dragon form, but I ran out of time so I couldn’t draw it out. Also im never gonna use these designs most likely so honestly it doesn’t matter but STILL FUCJ IM SORRY :[

the bibbl -> Evolution

📡ok this one was hard to figure out but bear with me

📡Evolution is the protector of all living creatures and time- he can see the past, present, & future, and is in charge of the development of every single organism that can breathe. Humans, especially fall under his command.

📡Evolution is also the patron of technology, society, and history

📡he can personally control how mobs & humans evolve and adapt

📡his higher divine form is usually a strange gryphon like creature, but he can just about change into whatever form he desires. He is the only God who can truly shapeshift with no limitations- Yonder & Bloom only have their Higher Divine Form, while F&M is still pretty visibly Slime no matter what form he takes. Speaking of

the slible-> Fortune/Misery

🎰the god of many things, but can all be simplified into one word- Luck. Everything has a risk, and F&M can make it happen

🎰gambling, yes, is a part of his domain, as it involves a risk of either a win or a loss

🎰destiny & fate are intertwined with his powers, due to how extremely fluid they may be

🎰harvest & agriculture TECHNICALLY are his thang as well, since he’s not really in charge of the PLANTS per say but rather the possibility of either a plentiful harvest OR a miserable famine

🎰F&M have two different names for two different occasions- Fortune, for instances of prosperity, & Misery, for instances of disparity.

🎰he is also called The Great Gambler, Magician Of Chance, He Who Reaps, The Debt Collector, The Slime Lich, and The Nightmare King

🎰he’s like a Lich but not dead lol. More on that later

[ FORTUNE ]

🎰wealth

🎰dreams

🎰arcane wisdom and enchantments

🎰skills in crafting and smelting

[ MISERY ]

🎰nightmares

🎰plague

🎰curses

🎰loss of control

🎰debt

🎰punishment and penance

🎰yeah so haha if someone has cheated and exploited their way to fortune then Misery with a capital M comes down and basically sucks their life force out and turns them into goo, which is what he uses to sustain himself like a Lich. Luckily for him, greedy men spawn like rabbits

Some extra notes for the council in general plus some insight in how their religions work

☀️Yonder and Bloom are both patrons of Travelleds, Adventurers, and All Who Voyage On. However, Bloom offers protection from the world itself such as wild animals and weather phenomenon , while Yonder helps ease the passage itself. Basically Bloom helps people not die in a storm while Yonder focuses on getting to the destination in the first place I.e. not getting lost in the fucking woods

☀️Evolution y F&M are conceptual gods while Bloom y Yonder are more physical. Bloom y Yonder are everywhere, omniscient and omnipresent, encapsulating the world around us- meanwhile Evolution and D&M control the hidden sacred systems of the world such as time and luck/magic

☀️Evolution and F&M have highly selective religious followings, only specific followers are trained and perfected to wield the power of their gods domains. In the same vein, Evilution and F&M have two symbols- one for prayer and one for summoning. Unlike the other two gods who just have one for both of these purposes, the powers of time and chance are far too chaotic in nature to be possessed by many. Instead of being able to talk to plants and go to a funny new world, the highest followers of the Conceptual Gods can literally harness time itself and perform the Ultimate Spells that could level cities- thus not only are these followers specially picked and trained, but in Eder to actually USE them they must first reviver a blessing by their respective gods which requires a summoning. This requires their summoning sigil which not only requires EXTREMELY rare items BUT are also forbidden without express permission from elders. The summoning sigils are kept secret, sharing the sigil to others is punishable by death. The symbol for prayer is used to just represent the Concptual Gods following, much like the symbols for the other gods are used to represent them as well. the Pjysicak Gods need no summoning since they’re technically all around us soooo-

☀️slimecicle, bizly, and grizzly haveANOTHER outfit for their other campaigns (blood in the bayou, wonderlust, and total monster kill) BUT once again I had No More time Left so I sorta just Didn’t draw them my bad homeboy

This took an hour to type out dear god im exhausted

[robertseanleonardthinker]

house and wilson r both autistic and on complete opposite ends of the spectrum

(bear with me here i'm autistic myself and it's hard to articulate my thoughts)

wilson masks heavily. he knows he's different than everyone else and he tries so desperately not to be. he wants to be seen as a normal guy. he's the furthest thing from it but nobody needs to know that if he can help it. he knew he was different since he was a kid and it upset him. he worked so hard to create an image of himself that is palatable. he is very concious abt it. he clings to normalcy. his knuckles r white and his nails r digging into it. the only person he is ok with letting go of it for is house. house is is safe space. house is the one person he knows will not care if he acts a little different.

house, however, doesn't mask very much at all. if he wanted to, he probably could (although i also partially think he couldn't) but he doesn't. he just doesn't give a shit. he doesn't care abt what ppl think and he doesn't rlly care how he affects them either. he says what is on his mind. he is the way he is and he feels no shame for it. social rules r stupid and he doesn't respect them. he doesn't respect any rules.

wilson is primarily sensory avoident. he likes peace and calm. he especially doesn't like visual overstimulation. he likes things to be neat and pristine. when his space is organized, he can function. his environment influences the state of his head.

house is very sensory seeking. he thrives in chaos. he needs the outside world to be as fast and loud and hectic as his mind is. he needs noise and things to look at and something in his hand (his stupid red autism ball). he's never doing nothing when he's thinking. he likes soap operas and crappy reality tv partially because it's good background noise. it doesn't take up much brain power, but it's still a constant noise.

wilson has big body language. he is very expressive. i know this is rlly bc rsl is a stage actor and that's what they do but. let me have this. but that's just how he is. every symptom of autism exists on its own spectrum. some autistics have a very flat affect, very little body language, and very little expressions. some (wilson) have the exact opposite.

house doesn't outwardly show many of his emotions. he definitely feels them, they're very intense, but he doesn't display them. he isn't expressive, and it's not by choice. that's just naturally how he is.

this is more of a headcanon but whatever. wilson likes stim toys. he stims subtly (part of him trying to cling to normalcy. he needs to stim and he knows that but he won't do anything like hand flapping or rocking.), like with a fidget cube or one of those spinny rings. when he's alone, he'll sometimes let himself stim in bigger ways and it's a great release. he doesn't rlly need to stim as much as house does tho. also i think he'd love pressure and cuddling for stimulation. he'd like to be squished.

house is always stimming. this isn't a headcanon. this man is always doing something! pacing, playing with his ball, listening to music, he's always doing something for some sort of stimulation. he likes vestibular stimming and big full body stims best. he likes to move and do things. he likes to be busy. a fidget toy won't do much for him. he was a pretty active person before the infarction, and that was a great release for his emotions. but now he can't do the things he used to so he needs to constantly be moving. he doesn't get a big release so he's just constantly letting it out.

they're both very particular abt their ways of living, but they do not live the same way. wilson likes calm, house likes chaos. if this is disturbed, they get upset and distressed.

wilson has more shutdowns, house has more meltdowns. not to say they don't have both, tho.

also i feel the need to say this: house's special interest is humanity. he loves puzzles and humans are the greatest one of them all. everything he does is motivated by his need to know why people do what they do. oh and also monster trucks.

[glitterincandles]

smiling friends as discord mods ; ☆

crazy ass idea

— glep (8/10 discord mod)

actions ☆

i think of him as the social media manager of the company and if mr. boss trusts him that much to maintain a positive image of the company online then being a discord mod would be a breeze

can control some semi-complicated stuff in the server like role-setting with reactions and unlocking different channels by reacting to a message, definitely improves this function if he thinks its faulty

^^^ any technical difficulties within the server are

takes being a discord mod pretty seriously yet he has the ability to be lighthearted about it sometimes

often mass bans people over spamming or any other offense without alerting everyone else, so like no context banning

^^^ ppl initially had a problem with it but then they lightened up a little when they noticed that those mass bans actually improved the server

^^^^ he still scares the shit out of everyone though

always online and monitoring the server

profile ☆

has definitely splurged money on discord nitro and those discord profile decor and effects

his profile would be decked tf out and follow a purple/green aesthetic

^^^ he has the clyde invaders icon skin and his account profile is purple

^^^^ idk if he has an anime girl pfp or not bc on one hand he would definitely have one but on the other hand he'd have a profile pic of a character he likes from a game.

one thing's for sure tho is that he never felt the need to change his discord profile picture unless he was in a server made for his job then he'd just change that server's profile pic to put his face and that's it lol

discord username is probably like theamazingGlep69 or something

his discord bio is definitely a random video game quote and that's it

his spotify, xbox, and steam account are the only things connected to his discord

extras ☆

always energized by those gamer-advertised energy drinks

^^^ no specific preference for like g-fuel or gamer supps or something he just grabs whatever he can get his grimy little hands on

selectively sends friend requests to people and never accepts friend requests from randos

^^^ in fact he INSISTS on being the one sending the friend requests to people instead of it being the other way around

^^^^ as a result he has less than 15 people on his friends list and he's happy with it

he definitely unadds ppl he hasn't spoken to in a while though to keep it ~fresh~ or something

— mr. boss (6/10 discord mod)

actions ☆

ok so like

he isn't TERRIBLE at modding he knows the basics

he's just very... lax. he's the type to not see anything wrong with spamming or other similar offenses just because he genuinely doesn't think it's a big deal

^^^ he'd be like oh what theyre just expressing themself idk

^^^^ or like when it comes to random ppl dming mods he'd be like idk what if they just wanted to ask a question but were too shy to do it in the main server YKWIM?????

he already lets his employees do what they want during their shifts so it wouldn't be very different in a discord server

because it's online, he already doesn't take it very seriously lol he'd just find any chaos amusing

it's like a giant group chat!!!!

BUT DESPITE ALL THAT, he's really good at organizing server events like giveaways and movie/game nights

he'd always make sure to make the events fun and accessible for everyone

as a result most of the server usually participates in the events

he's just not good at... moderation in general

he also doesn't enjoy the banning/warning ppl aspect bc it makes him feel really bad

profile ☆

he has an anime girl pfp and/or has matching pfps with ppl for a certain amount of time ONLY if they match his profile theme

his profile is a cutesy kawaii light pink anime girl aesthetic

^^^ he'd have the cat ears icon skin and his profile would be pink

^^^^ an evil part of me wants to say he has a sailor moon pfp

yes he also has discord nitro

what else will he do with the money he earns

he has cutesy kaomojis in his bio too and probably has the initial of someone in a text heart like < b 3 (b for brittney LOL)

only his spotify is connected to his profile

extras ☆

also brittney was his discord kitten

^^^ they had matching anime couple pfps

^^^^ they'd always vc

^^^^^ have fallen asleep on vc once

he uses cringe text faces like uwu or owo just bc he knows everyone hates it

^^^ he thrives off of the negativity idk

everyone in a server he moderates would probably feel the safest dming him out of every other mod

^^^ his dms r always open

ok so i know that he has normal ass headphones but hear me out. give him pink cat ear headphones. it's perfect

he has more than the usual amt of discord friends

he always has aesthetic ass discord statuses

has his online status set as idle bc its cuter

— allan red (7/10 discord mod)

actions ☆

he's the mod that everyone complains abt

definitely rewrites the rules and makes sure they're enforced at all times

he's the typa person to call someone out if they break the rules in any capacity

"@/feetlicker Please change your name, that is not appropriate"

"@/charlienipples No memes in general chat, go to #meme-channel."

unlike glep though, he gives a lot of context as to why he'd ban someone

^^^ maybe 2 much context

^^^^ in fact he very rarely bans ppl, the most he sends out is a very detailed warning in dms

always types in full sentences

most server members are afraid of dming him actually he's sorta intimidating

he definitely keeps the server in order but his reputation is just not the best

but he is very confrontational so if someone is causing a problem he isn't afraid of getting it dealt with

he's usually tagged during disputes bc he's level-headed enough to deal with them and offers good points

^^^ that doesn't stop others from thinking he's annoying though :((

very misunderstood but has good intentions

he has a set schedule on when he logs in and moderates, then gives himself free time

so basically he isn’t online all day

profile ☆

he’d have one of those blank discord profiles

like he’d make it normal-ish but he wouldn’t care too much abt sparkly text themes or connecting any of his other socials to it

uses a picture of himself as his icon and has a matching red background that is randomly generated by discord

^^^ (he didn’t pay for discord nitro)

^^^^ (everyone point and laugh)

^^^^^ (he just doesn’t find it necessary since he isn’t online THAT often)

his username is either his full name or a very absurd npc name (like scaryantelopes2536) theres no in-between

he never has a status set

clean profile but its boring to look at basically

extras ☆

takes online status very literally— if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, he puts dnd, if he’s online, he sets it as online, etc etc (so surprisingly very honest)

his profile pic looks professionally done in a studio then unfortunately it got very pixelated as a result of discord itself so its kinda funny looking

his friends list is only the 4 other ppl from smiling friends

doesn’t know or like brainrot or modern internet slang so when ppl say skibidi toilet or sigma rizz he genuinely has to get up and walk around outside to stay sane

is usually the one being trolled/pranked

IS the one that cringes at mr. boss using uwu or owo

— charlie dompler (5/10 discord mod)

actions ☆

HE'S THE TYPE TO be really good at it first then he'd lose interest

he'd get a high from it bruh

just the idea of having power would be enough to get him rolling

for the first couple months he'd be all up in the server channels being hella active

he'd stay up all night just moderating bc its exciting to give someone a warning if they act up or whatever

^^^ if he gets sleepy he drinks an energy drink

*someone fucks up in a server* "Ooh, oooh-- this is my favorite part, man. Watch, watch." *sends a 2 word dm to the person that just says 'warning One'* "Oh, haha! that--that was so fun."

yea he'd be riding on dopamine hits of doing good for the server

since he'd be sleep deprived he'd misspell a lot and send short answers so if someone asks why they were banned he'd give very short answers

"hey why was i banned lol" "bad" "what" "yeah"

i don't think he'd do much in the server other than moderate and make new channels

then he gets bored.

uh oh

all of a sudden he's very relaxed about everything so he would probably stop moderating so much

he would probably be doing the bare minimum now lol

5/10 bc he goes in and out of caring and not caring so i guess sometimes he's pretty good

discord is probably one of the only socials he is really active on

he would give himself dumbass roles just bc

profile ☆

some sort of meme/cursed profile icon with flaming sword icon skin

would definitely have an orange-themed profile in general bc he thinks its a color with an unfair reputation

every social he has will be linked to his damn profile

has a dumbass username

^^^ probably one of the only one of the 5 who doesn't use his real name on discord

^^^^ he would change his dn every once in a while JUST BC to be funny or something

its so stupid he would call himself the Poo Meister after letting a smooth one out

he's always on DND

uses his discord status to ask someone to play a game w him

extras ☆

he joins random meme servers just for the emotes

he's already a discord mod for like 3 servers rn and he's given up

he has a lot of online friends which is why he doesn't use his real name

he's always in a vc with someone

he's very very social online (i bet he has a popular twitter gimmick account too)

he made his current discord account when he was really young and he just stuck with the same one

he adds all the bots to servers he moderates bc he thinks he has amazing taste

— pim pimling (7/10 discord mod)

actions ☆

he would be the one doing all of the accouncements and questions of the day

he takes those jobs so serious

he types with caps on and uses encouraging gifs and emoticons (yes emojis too)

he never really moderates, he's the one just announcing things tbh he has a lot to say

even when he conveys bad news he'd do a little :P at the end just to soften the blow

(he's also the one who usually kindly lets people know why a certain mod banned them just in case said mod doesn't wanna elaborate)

his positivity pisses ppl off sometimes

don't shoot the messenger

he just logs in every morning, and writes a whole paragraph in announcements to wish everyone a happy day! then he types up the question of the day and logs off until the night

pim pimling is a very busy man

checks his notifs throughout the day tho (just in casies)

he just spreads positivity

one of the most important people in the server he's in at all times

he does intimidate ppl sometimes just bc of his role but he does try to be as not-intimidating as possible

if he's confronted on anything he does wrong he is quick to take responsibility for his actions

^^^ doesn't depend on the person's role, like if he bans someone's friend and the person pleads their case, he's very quick to apologize

^^^^ might cause him to be perceived as someone with no backbone but he's just very empathetic and understanding

profile ☆

his icon is definitely a picture of his face, probably some sort of cute selfie

similar to allan, he uses his full name in his discord dn and user

he does have nitro but he only uses it to change his discord background to a picture of nature

his bio would be long as shit. "Hi! (grin) I'm Pim Pimling and I'm 34 years old!" etc etc etc

^^^ definitely overshares in his bio too

has no socials attached to his profile at all

very straightforward profile

he uses his status a LOT to say the most random things?!>>W "Currently eating a bowl of cereal!"

extras ☆

he has a lot of people on his friends list bc despite everything ppl do have a soft spot for him

he had discord for a while like charlie did but he only ever used it to text friends and thats it

really interactive and responds quickly to dms

his dms r very open

he loves emoji reactions so much

he helps mr. boss with server events a lot

^^^ he also participates in every one

he likes using video calls in a vc

hallo ^w^ i just want to end this off by saying i now have an ask box to submit any headcanon requests if needed!! yayy

[danibee33]

hostage

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (goes by “Saint”)

based on a post by @call-me-doll-face! your vision for this song (“hostage” by Billie Eilish) was just too perfect😭 I couldn’t get it out of my head. I hope you love it as much as I do.

tags: angst & smut, ok it’s very angsty, did I cry? yes

word count: 5.7k (sry I got carried away)

+++

The files strewn across your desk only come back into focus at the sound of three crisp, concise knocks on your door. You blink away the dryness, eyes darting toward the open window to see its pitch dark outside now- shit.

Two more knocks resound through the room, they're a little more forceful this time, urging you to push away from the organized chaos, crossing the short span on tingling feet. You hadn’t meant to lose track of time like that, but after the debrief you needed something to distract you, get your mind off the bitter taste the meeting had left in your mouth-

“Target’s in the wind after the attack in Yemen-”

You change the map, zooming in on a tiny Bedouin village- the settlement no more than a speck in the vast desert, “But we’ve intercepted and translated some chatter from local law enforcement that are on Abaza’s payroll.” – the room goes dark for half a second before the next slide flashes on the screen- “Seems he’s following his pattern of hiding behind civilians.”

The room is silent, save for the rapid clicking of Soap’s pen against the desk- one of the restless man’s many tics, and Price’s furious scribbling. Gaz is eyeing the map studiously, his lips twitching as he muses through the routes and planning- no doubt trying to predict what the Captain will do.

Ghost is just.. Looming. Perched in his usual corner, arms crossed over his chest as he contemplates the information and intel given, eyes lazy and half-lidded even when Price stands, coming to stand at your side.

“Bloody good work, Saint.”

He pats your shoulder, taking over your spot as you settle in a seat at the table, and you try to listen intently- short-handing a few notes you might have missed as the Captain dives into the plan. The others pitch in ideas along the way, logistics and safety for the civilian population; but, it was extraction that gave you pause.

“There will be no cover- that encampment is too exposed.” You only realize you had spoken the thought out loud when you hear a soft huff from behind you,

“Very perceptive, Sec.” Ghost grumbles, his usual sarcasm somehow thicker, more exasperated.

Could you have held back your overly dramatic eye roll? Of course. But it’s fucking Ghost, and all you can hope is that he sees it- just like you know he sees your middle finger held up over your shoulder.

He knows you hated the way he ignored your call sign in favor of using the belittling, diminutive of your rank instead. It’s always been ‘Sec’ for him, short for Second Lieutenant, never one to let you, or anyone else, forget that he outranks you-

But, you’re used to it. That’s just the relationship you and him have had from the start, always this brutally competitive tension between you- which never made sense to anyone else. Especially considering your specialities are on opposite ends of the spectrum, each of you serving your own unique role to make the team function and perform like the well-oiled machine it’s been honed into.

And, to be honest, you’re not sure why you ever let him get under your skin either. You’ve worked with plenty of egotistical superiors and subordinates alike, and it’s never stopped you from reaching and surpassing every single goal you set for yourself. If anything, it’s only pushed you to work that much harder- usually at the cost of any sort of personal life, which is actually how you got your callsign-

“Saint” - ‘the only officer in the SAS who might make it to heaven’

You thought it was silly, but over the years it grew on you. And now, it just feels like what your name has always been, even if everyone knows you rarely make it far in the military by being an actual saint-

“Yes, extraction will be the most difficult part-”

Price’s voice brings you back to the present moment, head snapping up when you sense the giant presence standing next to your chair, “It’s a two-person job, then?”

Ghost’s voice has lost all its amusement and sarcasm, and his gaze feels heavier somehow as he looks over the screen. You watch him for a moment, catching all the nuances in his outward body language that are so imperceptible to others- though, you sometimes wish you weren’t so in tune with him. Wish you didn’t know exactly why you could pick up on these things when no one else could..

“That’s what I was thinkin’-” Price nods, looking between his two sergeants, “Soap, you’ll be second, running interference with some well place distractions?”

You watch Johnny practically vibrate with excitement, shooting you and Ghost a wink,

“Ka-freakin’-boom, baby. You an’ me, LT. The dream team!”

But again, you notice Ghost’s lack of snarky response, verbally and non-verbally, it unnerves you-

“Saint, you’ll be with them-”

“No.”

It takes you a second to react, not sure if you had heard it correctly- maybe you had missed something and he had barked the word over another matter entirely. But then, you hear Gaz and Soap be dismissed, and suddenly you’re standing beside Ghost, you and Price speaking the same question at the same time,

“No?”

Ghost shrugs, refusing to look down at you, “Don’t need ‘er there, Boss. Nothin’ she can’t feed us over radio.”

“First, I’m right here- and second, you don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do-”

Price looks at you, his expression only hinting at confusion as he watches you cross your arms now, mirroring your lieutenant's posture, “Captain-”

Something flashes through the stormy blue of his eyes then, something you can’t even begin to place. But it doesn’t really matter, because you don’t get to finish your protests- cut off instead by an apologetic hum,

“He’s right, Saint-”

“What!?”

You’re not in the business of challenging authority, at least not the authority of a man you genuinely respect like John, but you can’t help it- this wasn’t the first time you’ve been benched, and you know it’s not the first time it’s been Ghost the one ordering it.

Price glances at his watch before scrubbing a hand over his face, “Bloody hell-”, he rounds up the files and tucks them under one arm, holding his mug with the other, “We’ll finish this later, clear?”

Just like that- he’s gone. And you’re left with the suffocating shadow still staring at the image on the wall,

“Don’t take it personally, Sec.”

Your hands clench and unclench, nails leaving stinging little crescents in your palm before turning on your heel, “Fuck you, Ghost.”

You know who’s on the other side of your door. You always do. It’s been your routine for the last year and half- You do have to give it to the insufferable fucking prick for coming to you so soon after what he had done, though.

But, sure enough, the door swings open and there he is. Simon Riley, towering in your doorway, covered head to toe in a black hoodie and dark jeans, his face even further obscured under the hood- all you can see clearly are his eyes. And they’re intensely focused on you.

“Don’t worry, Price called.” You say, leaning against the frame-

He gives you nothing, seconds ticking by as he stands there like a statue, slowly scanning your face like he’s done a thousand times before. It used to make you uncomfortable, how he would look at you that way, like he was peeling you open, layer by layer- and it still does, like now. But, you’ve gotten used to his idiosyncrasies, at times even find them oddly endearing, if he weren’t such a dick.

“Can I come in?”

A sigh fills the air between you, followed by you glaring up at him- you want to say ‘no’, give him another big ‘fuck you’ middle finger and slam the door in his face; maybe even say fuck your arrangement all together, because now it’s becoming a pattern, him sidelining you.. But, you do none of those things. Because it’s him. Always fucking him.

So, you roll your eyes and turn back into the room, not bothering to invite him in because he knows the open door is your way of allowing it.

Instantly, your cozy abode feels ten times smaller and a hundred times warmer with him in it- it causes your skin to flush and your fingers to twitch, that restlessness you tend to feel when you were alone with him, crawling over you, burrowing itself in your chest.

“You’re mad.”

“Very perceptive, Ghost.” You throw his words from earlier back at him, crossing your arms because you honestly never knew what to do with your hands when you talked to him.

They always wanted to reach out for him- you were no better than Pavlov’s salivating dog when it comes to Simon fucking Riley. He had trained you so well without ever even having to try.

God, you hate him. And you hate yourself even more for know that’s not true in the slightest- “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doin’ what?” He shifts on his feet, fists still shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie.

You throw your hands up, “Benching me like this! There’s no reason I shouldn’t be on the ground with you and Soap, just like I usually am.”

“There’s no reason you should be, either.”

That awful itch creeps down your spine, tickling your legs and feet. The need to move, to exert some kind of energy before you implode forcing you to pace. You’ll never understand him, no matter how much time you spend together, or how many nights you waste sweaty and clinging to each other, words never meant for the waking world spoken between you- you will never understand him.

Never understand why he can’t just be hot or cold, why he can’t just be mean to you all the time, because at least that way it would be easier to separate what is, and what isn’t.

“You said this wouldn’t change things- I’ve held up my end of the deal. But you.. We can’t do this if you’re going to jeopardize my career.” Simon watches you just as intently as before, eyes tracking your war path back and forth, “I mean, I know we’re competitive and petty, but I didn’t think you would start fucking blacklisting me-”

That seems to catch his attention, head perking up, “That’s not what I’m doin’, Sec-”

“Well then enlighten me, lieutenant.” You spit back, eyebrows furrowing when you see him reach for you.

He gently tugs you closer, gloved hand wrapped around your forearm- closer and closer until you can feel that unbearable heat he exudes, smell the spice of his cologne, the one he only ever seems to wear when he comes to your room. Like he wants to lay claim to you somehow-

“Don’t..” The command comes out without even a hint of conviction, his finger tilting your chin back,

“I don’t want to talk, Saint. Please, not right now.”

It must be comical, how wide your eyes grow at the sound of your callsign in his gruff voice, the way he breathes the small plea- something you’ve never once heard him say. You just barely catch the way his eyes crinkle at the very corners in your stupor. The audacious bastard is smiling like he knows you would melt for it.

He knows you so well.

But the smile isn’t mean, it isn’t to spite you like he does sometimes- no, this feels warmer, like you could reach out and wrap yourself in it.

“Simon.. This isn’t good for us.”

“For us?”, he leans down then, the arm around your waist pulling you close enough to feel his covered lips on your neck, “Or for you?”

Your exhale feels labored and too heavy in your lungs, cursing yourself over and over for how effortless it is for him to unravel you. How just the feeling of his big hands splayed out over your ribs, slowly traveling up and down your body, makes your legs weak- and the heat of his breath condensating on your skin has the familiar pressure steadily growing low in your belly- begging for more.

When he pulls the mask off this time, you can’t help but notice the gentility in his expression. A certain relaxed nature about it that seems so out of place for him. Most of the time, when you would find each other at the end of the day, he would be frustrated or annoyed, or he would be carrying that familiar brand of apathy written all over his face.

Not that it never cracked, you’ve gotten the privilege of seeing him show softness, even if it’s in his own way. A playful wink here and there, a genuine smirk that would reach his eyes for a fleeting moment, or when you got to see the deep dimples on either cheek- the ones that give his features an almost boyishly handsome quality.

But right now, you swear he looks.. content.

And when he kisses you, it’s languid and sweet- the softer skin of his lips contrasting to the way his five o’ clock shadow scratches your chin and mouth. He kisses you like you have all the time in the world, like there’s no place he would rather be than right here, tangling his fingers in your hair- tasting your tongue as it dances around his.

It confuses you, because this is not how it’s supposed to go. There’s rarely ever time for such thoroughness, not that Simon wasn’t incredibly adept when it comes to giving pleasure- it just tended to be like a flashfire, like throwing a lit match into gasoline, volatile and explosive. That’s what you agreed on though, agreed to use each other- use your attraction merely as a means to an end. Blowing off steam. There’s no need to be soft and languid when you could just take the emotion out of it all together.

And that’s just how you’ve always assumed it is for him. You’ve never minded, not really- you were a smart woman, reasonable and logical, but.. You were still only human. Of course you craved that connection, the physical touch; you would never admit that you wanted him to hold you until you fell asleep afterwards, that you wanted to run your fingers through his hair, or memorize every delicious curve and vein and scar on his body-

No, that would mean you thought of him beyond sex, and that was very strictly forbidden.

He walks you backward, lips and hands never straying far as you take turns undressing the other- his shirt is on the ground first, giving you not nearly long enough to revel in the sight before yours is being lazily pulled over your head.

The backs of your knees hit the bed frame, which feels like a reprieve at this point with how utterly weak you feel in his arms; so, you let yourself sink into the foamy cushion, casting your eyes upward for only a second as you quickly work at his belt.

You’re forced to stop though, leaning back when he moves, crowding your space by bending over you on the bed and propping himself up with a massive arm on either side, his face close enough to graze his nose over yours, “You in a rush tonight, baby?”

Petulantly, you lift your chin- capturing his bottom lip between your teeth, you give it just enough of a bite to hear him hiss before laving the tender spot with your tongue. But before you can kiss him again, before you can pull him down on top of you, or your hands can make their way back to his buckle- he easily lifts you up, placing you further back on the bed.

“Simon, what are you doing?”

The question comes out more harsh than you were going for, but he’s not making any fucking sense, and you feel like a top wound too tight, overly conscious of the slick staining your underwear, and the ache in your core that only he can fix-

And maybe for a second, you see a flash of anger in his eyes, standing at his full height while you stare up at him,

“What does it look like we’re doin’, Sec?”

You huff out a incredulous laugh, scooting off the mattress- eyes searching the floor for your shirt, hell, anything to cover up with,

“Oh. Back to Sec, huh?”

Scrubbing a palm over his face, he watches you purposely not look his way, “Fuckin’ hell, do you always have to have it out with me? Can never just let it be-”

“Let it be?”, shirt be damned, you turn back to face him- “Let what be, exactly, Ghost? This is how it’s been for over a year. I mean, fuck, longer than that! You hated me, I hated you- it was perfect. We could fuck each other, and it meant nothing-”

“Past tense.”

He cuts you off, and you feel like you might actually throw something until your brain finally registers what he said,

“What?”

“You’re usin’ the past tense.. ‘Hated’, ’meant’.”

You shake you head, hands coming up before plopping limp at your side, “What the fuck are you on about?”

When he takes a step forward, you take one back, “Words are important, love..” – another step closer, another step away, “‘Hated’ implies that you did, but you don’t anymore.”

“What is this? A language arts lesson?” You try to bring back that anger, that bitterness, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice is lower, brassy and rich- it’s hard to feel anything other than him.

A wall halts you, your bare skin protesting against the cold, smooth surface. You wish it would swallow you whole. But, he gets closer, and you’re still there, once again looking up at him,

“I don’t hate you, Saint. I’ve never hated you..” The back of his finger carves a slow path over your cheek, his head tilting to the side, “You were right though, about this not bein’ good.. But not for us- for you.”

“Ghost- I..”

“I’m not good for you. Never have been- I came into this selfishly, thinkin’ that it would be easy, that you would be like all the rest, get tired of me when I wasn’t able to give.. enough. And then it would be over.”

You’re held rapt by his admission, hanging on to every syllable- because you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say so much at once. And certainly never imagined it would have to do with the way he feels about you, bad or otherwise.

“Why did you stay?”

It’s because you’re so lost in the novelty of him in this moment, that it takes an awkwardly long few seconds to realize that you need to actually answer the question-

“I stayed..” — you blink, fighting to make your racing thoughts make sense, “Because you never tried to trick me- or be anything other than what you are, Simon. It was- is, enough. You’re enough.”

His eyelids flutter, a deep, soothing sigh blowing through his nose as he turns away- almost composing himself, in a way, if you know him as well as you think you do,

“You never wanted anythin’ more?”

“No.” You say, and it’s not a lie, you could leave it there- but there’s just something in his eyes that’s begging for more- “Not at first.”

“But now?”

“What do you want me to say, Simon? Of course, I want more. It’s kind of hard not to when you’ve had what we have, had sex with a person, and only that person, for over a year-”

His eyes widen, pupils consuming the honeyed amber that surrounds them right before his lips catch yours in that bruising sort of kiss you know so, so well. It’s full of every single thing he can’t put words to. And for a moment, he nearly gets lost in it, that finely threaded tether on his control slipping further and further- control he’s never been good at reining in when it comes to you.

***

I whisper your name, letting the taste of it linger over my tongue as I try to pull away, try to prolong every second I can get- quietly pleading with you to just slow down. Because I know what comes after-

But the way you chase after my lips, your nails clawing at me, my skin burning under your touch- fucking hell.

You shouldn’t be here, should’ve never agreed to this, with me. You’re too good for someone so broken. You have so much life to live, and I hate that you’ve wasted even a moment of it caring for me- wanting me.

Hm.. Saint. How fucking perfect- because only a saint could bring a devil to his knees.

And that you did. With every lingering touch, and every sweet smile you gave me, everytime you moaned my name, I let you in deeper and deeper. Until I started to hate when you left, hated that I only felt whole when I had you in my arms-

No, I’m no good for you.

Because if I had it my way, I would want to hold you hostage here, right where you belong. Where the world couldn’t touch you, couldn’t hurt you.

I would want you to crawl inside my veins, live in my bones- like you don’t already own the terrible void that’s been in my chest for longer than I can remember.

Might as well take it all. It’s as good as yours anyway.

I love you. I can’t say it- that wouldn’t be fair to you. My love is tainted and ruined, a blasphemous and dangerous thing- it’s only ever killed those I’ve given it to. So, I won’t curse you with those words.

But I hope you can feel it.

“Simon.. Please-” You frame my face in your hands, tugging at my hair, “I want you.”

***

Hearing his name, or maybe it’s the traitorous desperation in your voice, urges him to act. A small squeak escapes when he lifts you up, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms looped over his neck,

“I’m yours.”

It stuns you, how fluid and thoughtless he says it, like it’s nothing, like he’s said it a hundred times before. Like he didn’t just tell you exactly what you had mindlessly dreamed of hearing from him for months now.

He doesn’t pause though, kissing you again, swallowing your thoughts in his lips- and time slows as your back sinks into the covers. The comfort of his weight settling over you, his hips nestled between your thighs. It’s all so much, too much and not enough at the same time; but you think you could stay here forever, pinned under him, be the object of his desire for as long as he wanted, have him tell you that he’s yours over and over-

The bed dips as he breaks away, working your button and zipper open with practiced movements-

“Lift up, baby.”

You lift your hips, helping him gently tug your cargo pants down before standing and stripping out of his own. And like so many times before, you can’t help but to very disrespectfully let your eyes rake over his bulky frame- your bottom lip trapped between your teeth,

“Jesus, Simon.. That’s not fair.”

“Not fair for who?” He coos, crawling over you again, pressing chaste kisses over your torso as he goes.

A sharp gasp echoes when he latches onto your nipple, his teeth grazing across the sensitive bud, the thrill of blissful pain simmering through you-

“It’s just not fair..” You whine, back arching as he does the same thing to your other, the wet skin cooling too quickly when you feel him chuckle.

“‘M sorry, lovie.”

He teases you for what feels like an eternity, having learned your body better than you know it yourself anymore- only Simon knows how to turn you into putty in his hands, make you soft and pliable, keening and whimpering, a teary eyed mess. And usually he never takes it so far, never ruins you so thoroughly before you’ve even had his cock- but tonight he does.

Tonight, he seems determined to map out every inch of you, even allowing you to do the same in small doses. He lets your fingertips trace over his scars, lets your lips kiss all the broken parts of him-

“Will you tell me about them one day?” You ask, the question muffled against his neck.

It’s an innocent inquiry, honest and genuine, but you don’t miss how he tenses above you before pulling away just enough to see your face. Maybe if you knew him better, had more time with him like this, you would be able to discern the anguish in his eyes- but you don’t see it. Even though you’ll remember it.. this particular moment, it will stick with you far beyond just tonight.

“One day.”

You aren’t sure why you don’t believe him.

All too quickly the thought is lost when you feel him readjust, leaning up on his knees- and your mouth waters at the view, how his chest heaves, already covered in a satiny sheen of sweat; how he strokes his length before looking down to watch how he sinks into you, how you take him so fucking perfectly-

Just like in everything else tonight, he moves at an achingly languid pace- thrusting forward inch by inch, and pulling out just as slow- reveling in the way your slick glistens, all for him.

“Simon..”, you reach for him, needing him close, needing more, “Mh.. Simon- please..”

He comes to you, lets you pull his face down to yours, “Please what, baby?”

When he pushes into you again, it takes your breath away, your muscles clenching as he drives right up against the fleshy wall of your cervix, “You want more?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut until you feel him cradle your face, “Mm-mm, I want you to look at me, Saint.. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Without another thought, you open them, your brows knitting together as you search his face. You expect to see something close to his usual bravado, maybe even a devious smirk, or a wolfish gleam; but it’s none of those things. His expression is one of longing and adoration- his demand wasn’t being made out of a desire to control you, he simply wants to see you.

He wants to be seen.

“Ok, Simon..”, you place your hand over his, turning into his palm to plant a kiss to the rough skin there, “On you.”

His next thrust is harder, causing your legs to tighten around him- and even when he finally gives in, driving into you faster and deeper, each time hitting that spot that has you clenching and whimpering, he still holds your face, still keeps his eyes steady on you- entranced at the way you fight to keep your own open for him.

“That’s it.. fuck-” He grunts, crushing his lips to yours, “My good girl.”

The praises he whispers next are far sweeter than anything he’s ever said before, punctuated and interrupted by his own breathless moans. His words and each building noise he gives only drives you toward your end- dragging him right along with it until you’re both falling over the edge.

And it’s your name he says as he spills deep inside you, your name said again like an answered prayer when you hug him closer- both of you holding onto the other like if you let go for even a second, you might drift away.

“I’ve got you..” You say it without really knowing why, but knowing that it feels right. Knowing that he has you, too. At least in this moment- and that’s enough. He’s enough.

How long you stay that way, you can’t be sure- long enough for your bodies to grow limp and the sweat on your skin to dry before he finally peels himself away. And you could cry from the abrupt absence of his warmth, his weight, him.

Thankfully, he’s back just as quick, a warm cloth in hand and a tender touch to clean you up- which isn’t new, Simon’s always taken the time for aftercare, but it’s never felt so.. intimate. He goes about it just as tenderly and thoroughly as he had causing the mess in the first place, his eyes never leaving your skin, lips pressing sweet kisses nearly every place he wipes.

It pulls at you, the pesky prickling of tears stinging your eyes again. Because you know there must be a reason for his stark change tonight- but, you just can’t bring yourself to break the moment by asking why.

He stays with you. It’s not an entirely spoken agreement, he doesn’t ask and you don’t suggest, but when he slips back into the covers with you, you certainly don’t complain. You let him pull you under his arm, smiling into his chest when he kisses the top of your head,

“Good night, Simon.”

You hear him take a deep breath, the muscles under your cheek relaxing as he exhales just as deep and long, “G’ night, Saint.”

***

Watery rays of sunlight wake you, the glow behind your eyelids rousing your mind enough to realize the spot beside you is vacant, the sheets long since cooled. It doesn’t bother you, not really, it’s just Simon. The only clues he left to prove last night wasn’t just some fucked up dream being his scent, still lingering so heavily on his pillow, and the blissful ache between your legs.

And you wish you could stay here, covered in the blankets, wrapped in his smell, reliving the vivid memories as they flash through your head- his words replaying on a loop in your ears.

I’m yours.

I’m yours.

I’m yours.

But your alarm has other plans, your chosen vocation entirely undeterred by your relationships woes and break-throughs. Just another day, right? You would see him at the morning debrief, and again for range training- nothing changes externally. But everything had changed on the inside, for you anyway.

Is it wrong to hope it had for him, too?

You go about your morning routine, joyfully unaware of the decisions made without your knowledge, of the actions taken and the consequences that would follow- you hum along to your music, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

What a lovesick fucking fool you are.

It’s only when you’re reaching for your phone and keys from the desk that you see the piece of paper, carefully ripped from your own notepad and the silver metallic glint sticking out just beyond the corner.

You don’t recall the next seconds, or minutes- not really even the next hour. It all feels like that soft whooshing of TV static, endless and without form. And you find yourself begging for it to have been a dream, silently hoping that none of it really happened, that he hadn’t knocked on your door, that you hadn’t let him in.

That you hadn’t given him everything, and you hadn’t let him convince you he was yours.

Still stuck in that awful whooshing, you grip the piece of metal so hard you think the impression of his name might just brand itself into your palm, your boots stomping against the tile as you pass by all those familiar doors-

“What is this?”

Price looks up at you, and that dreadful nausea settles in the pit of your stomach when you see the resignation in his eyes.

“Saint-”

“When did they leave?”

“0400.”

They could already be there- Price wouldn’t let him do this.. Right?

“Recall them then, there’s still time. We’ll-”

He gives a long sigh, lips set into a thin line, “This might be our only shot, Saint. It’s not perfect, but there’s still a chance.”

***

There was never a chance.

Two weeks later, you stood on the tarmac- hair whipping violently in the wind as you watch the plane land. You stay there ,silently partaking in your own morbid, self-loathing vigil, still somehow hoping it isn’t true.

But there he is.

Simon Riley. His pine coffin draped with the flag he had fought for.

You watch Soap do his best, limping alongside it, his arms shaking and his eyes stained with tears. He gives you a hug afterward, whispering that he tried, he tried to bring everyone home.

You don’t blame him. Not for a second. You knew when you found Simon’s dog tag on your desk that he never intended on coming back. You knew when you read his neatly written note that you would never see him again. You would never hear his voice or feel his lips against yours. You would never get the chance to tell him that you were his, and that you always had been.

You didn’t know then, that a part of you always would be, didn’t know that he had left more behind than either of you could have imagined.

***

When the doorbell rings, you tear your eyes away from the now framed note. Flitting through the cozy flat with a smile growing on your face,

“Saint!” Gaz sweeps you into a bruising hug, your feet coming off the floor and a giggle erupting from your chest.

“I’m glad you all could make it.” You say a bit breathlessly once you're back on solid ground.

Price gives you a hug next, his beard tickling your cheek, “Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.”

“Aye, are ye kiddin’?” Johnny’s kiss lands just at the corner of your lips, his hold tighter, more familiar than the rest- “Miss our big lad’s first birthday? Never, bonnie.”

On cue, you turn at the sound of excited babbling to see the birthday boy in question, looking between the four of you. His copper brown eyes wide with curiosity, and a mess of honey blonde curls on his head.

I was so lucky to have had you..

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.

Your Simon.

+++

well, I’m ruined. and I hope you enjoyed it. I’m really not good at leaving angst too angsty, I’m too much of a hoe for silver linings and happy endings and all that fluffy sh*t.

forever just a lover girl at heart 🥲

[sun-stricken]

Gray & Mira Hcs!

the dynamic (demonic) duo **jazz hands**

* These two are like organized chaos together

* everything perfectly thought out to cause just the right amount of chaos

* They are the biggest instigators

* will lie their asses off to start fights when theyre bored

* Gray has a sensitivity to tears, and Mira can and will play on it at any given moment

* They have the same amount of arrests, its like a game to them, whoever has more wins

* [common conversations involving them]

* Mira: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail. 
Gray: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the police station.

* Judge: Does the defendant have any special requests? 
Gray: Death penalty. 
Mira, from the gallery: Gray, it’s just a parking ticket. 
Gray, whispering into the mic: Please kill me.

* Mira: It’s nice to be wanted.
Gray: Even if it’s by the law?
Mira: Especially if it’s by the law.

* they are the epitome of “i have a problem” “*sigh* okay, put the body on ice ill be there soon” “ok— wait, no! not that kind of problem!”

* They were TERRORS growing up (still are) and while they weren’t necessarily friends they were like tentative partners in crime

* Mira claimed him as her friend after he tried to fist fight a council member

* at first he didnt fully reciprocate but did a 180 when she got into Erzas face and started a fight with absolutely no fear

* Gray still thinks shes one of the most badass people he knows

* Mira typically cooks for the guild and she will have Grays food ready before he even orders it

* Gray brings her tea from her favorite fancy shops everyday

* They bonded over being (partially) demons

* Mira helped Gray accept and deal with the non-romanticized parts of having demon instincts (gruesome intrusive thoughts, impulsiveness, apathy for humans, volatile moods, etc)

* As a side effect of being a demon, Mira (non transformed) has short talons, fangs, and horns (among other things). She truly loves them

* So when Grays started to grow in she didnt fully understand why he didnt; but she still did her best to comfort and reassure him and sympathize with him

* While she tried to hide her excitement at his physical traits while she was comforting him, Gray noticed and it was that that made him grow more comfortable with them

* They have rant sessions that are completely judgment free where they can talk on and on about their ugliest moments/thoughts, and basically most the things they cant tell others. whether it has to do with their demon side or not

* Miras demon has a constant thirst for mayhem, and Gray (being the instigator he is) will give it to them no questions asked

* in turn when Gray gets into arguments and hes wrong, Mira will update wikipedia pages so hes right

* theyre so passive aggressive towards each other

* When they fight everyone within a 8 mile radius needs to be evacuated, no matter how small the fight looks, they get vicious and it’s terrifying

* if you interrupt them you may as well be signing your death warrant

* They always act like nothing happened when they’re done, leaving everyone tiptoeing around them for weeks post

* Grays phone is on dnd constantly, Mira is one of the only few people that is set to come through

* and the local police station, but thats the same thing

* When Mira doesnt answer his calls he’ll leave incriminating voicemails and wont answer her calls for hours after

[dirtyhecker]

i'm sure this has been done already in the hours since these images came out, but i think i've got these companion bedrooms sorted

this one is definitely Bellara. everything we've seen of her so far, with the gyroscopey magical stuff, and that one concept art of her with that exact statue head, makes it seem obvious that this is her room. it also looks like she's into art, given all the paintings, and area rugs? what's with all the rolled up rugs, Bellara. i like her little daybed, and i wonder if her vallaslin are supposed to be for Ghilan'nain, given the halla decoration on the wall.

this one has to be Neve. she's got a whole detective conspiracy wall back there, sans the red yarn. there's some real organized chaos going on with the stacks of books, and the scrolls all over the place. i'm pretty sure there's a pot of tea on her desk, and i see several half-burned candles, despite the several magical lamps and pendant lights, not to mention the enormous windows and ambient Fade-light. i wonder if it gets dark out where they are? also her chair looks very fancy, but i don't see a bed anywhere.

this is Taash's room. they've said she's a gym bro, and there is a weight lifting thingy to the right, in front of that pillar. it's weighed down with sacks of flour, it looks like lol. i wonder if its functional, or just static decoration. i also see crates of weapons, and maybe some kind of forge in the bottom right? and right behind that is a pretty barebones bed. maybe she gets cold, because her bed is surrounded by fire. idk what's up with that table on the left, but everything else looks pretty sparse.

this one i think is Harding's room, but only by process of elimination. the metal bars in the window give dwarven vibes for some reason, but i also see a couple elfroot plants. there's a ton of plants, actually, all over the place, but i don't recognize the others. and there's that sad bedroll on the floor, though the rest of the room looks like my kind of place tbh. maybe it's from years spent as a scout, camping in the wilderness. i suppose this could be Bellara's room instead, but i doubt it.

i thought this was Lucanis' room, even before someone pointed out that it was a larder. i know the devs have said he's a good cook, but i didn't think he'd literally want to sleep in a pantry 😭 this makes me think he's just trying to be as unobtrusive as possible or something. there's also zero personal touches, like i zoomed in and that plywood cot is just surrounded by candles. are you okay buddy??

this one seems like Davrin's to me. he's said to be a monster hunter, and there's like a chandelier made of dragon horns or something up there? and a huge spine? plus multiple skulls of large beasts. i don't see a bed but i think it might be in that far corner next to the hearth. also there's a ton of wood carvings. so many. mostly bears and what look to be bobble-headed nugs, and at least one dragon. if Griffon Dad gives me a nug carving i will cry.

lastly, this has to be Emmrich's room. if the giant skeleton statue on the left wasn't enough of a clue, then idk what to tell you. there are basically the exact same ones in the necropolis, but much bigger. this does look like a laboratory, and an extremely well-organized one at that. i imagine Emmrich's bed is up that spiral staircase somewhere. i keep mentioning the beds because i need to know that these people are actually sleeping between quests, ok.

anyway, that's my professional analysis. i love you, goodbye.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hey how are you hope you ok

I got a request for Tommy Shelby if that ok

So basically you and Tommy are dating and one day in a meeting you was having theses really bad stomach pains and you thought nothing of at than when u got home and I got worse and than u went to Tommy crying in pain still and he said you might be in labour ( u don’t know u pregnant) than he calls polly and then u gived birth to you boy or girl up to you and then next day every one was  Shock and yh hope that make sense u don’t have to do it x

Dear Anon,

Thank you for waiting! I changed things up a bit and I apologize for any mistakes as I'm editing on mobile at work. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: childbirth, mentions of Hugh stress and poor eating habits. Peaky related themes and magic.

Dating Thomas was a life changing decision in more ways than you had originally realsied. Your whole life plan had been derailed by the constant ups and downs. 

Every new accomplishment and high was met with an even more dangerous low. You were along for the ride while managing your position at the book shop you owned. Long days and fun nights occupied these past few months so much that you realised that your period was late. 

Very late. 

You thought about it for a while and realised it was probably what used to happen when you were a teenager. High times of stress would stop it altogether. You had no other symptoms that women had told you about. No weird cravings, or morning sickness. Just lots of drama and stres.

You pushed the thought from your mind as you went about your usual routines. 

________6 months later____

You had come to the realisation that you must be barren. A fact that was difficult to come to terms with, however Tommy had said he wasnt interested in children any way. 

Looking at your self in the mirror you noticed a bit of weight on you and made a mental note to try and correct it by skiping meals for a while. Nothing big to worry about in comparison to another rival family causing chaos. You’d only just gotten sorted from being held captive a week ago. 

You already had so much on your shoulders at the book shop, orders were piling up and you were spending more and more late nights and early mornings. Tommy’s men escorting you and staying by the door while you worked. 

The multiple attempts on your life did nothing but add to the list of reasons you couldnt sleep at night. You were slowly falling apart. 

Cramps set in about mid day and you finally gave up. You called Tom letting him know you couldnt make it to lunch and went right to bed. Taking a much needed nap you woke up to even worse sets of pain. 

You grabbed your hot water bottle and tried to curl up on the couch with a book. Struggling through the sets of pain you began to wonder if something else was wrong. Wasn’t there an organ that could explode in your stomach? 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

____________________________________________________

Sitting across the table from the old woman, Polly thought back through time. Her eyes were dark and she had told her lots of things about her life that night. Gave her the curse of knowledge, knowing all too well that the girl was too weak to fight fate. And Polly had tried, every step of the way to fight it. 

It didnt surprise her that she was once again stuck at that wooden table. That the woman reflected on something said ages ago. 

A child. 

Polly’s heart sunk when she thought about the two children that were permanently out of her reach. A child? At this age. Not likely. 

The dream took a turn and woman shouted at her. 

“Go to her now before its too late.” And image of your face came into her mind and suddenly she was awake. The womans cold scream still echoing in her mind. 

Getting her clothes pulled on she quickly called Thomas. 

“Need to get to her place now” She said trying to pull on her boot at the same time. 

“Pol - why? What’s wrong?” The sound of panic in his voice made her reconsider your place within the family. 

“Just go, I’m on my way now.” She hung up the phone not wanting to waist anytime. On the drive over she thought about you and what this ment. 

There was no way of making sense of the situation. All the things she was told never made sense as a girl and wouldnt likely start to make sense now. She sighed defeated. She liked you well enough. Smart, kept Thomas in line, a bit soft hearted but she could see that changing the more you saw of the world. 

She parked and ran up the steps of your building. Opening the door she ould hear your soft cries as he tried to comfort you. 

“Pol what’s wrong with her.” 

“It’s a child.” Polly said moving into the kitchen seeing what supplies they were working with. 

“Fuck off.” You said a tone of disbelif. Coming back into the room she watched your face cycle through the many stages of panic. 

“Accept it so we can get on with it.” Polly said to the both of them. 

“How?” 

“Part of the prophecy. Flashbacks got me up in the middle of the night.” She watched as Tommy fell under the weight of her words. 

“Alright, love.” He kissed the top of your head. “It’s not going to make sense. So just let it happen.” You looked at up him your fear fading in the warmth of his gaze. 

“I dont think I can do it.” You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“It’s already happened. Pol saw it. That means you certainly can. Just have to make it from here to there.” 

After that you followed instructions, Polly was professional but couldnt help but feel a fondness growing for you. This was also a side of Tom she hadn’t seen since he was a small boy. He did everything without thought, never letting you out of his grip. 

“Tough girl.” He kissed your temple. “You can do it, gotta push again” 

Like many times before. Polly pulled a small little babe from their mother on the living room floor of a dingy flat in Birmingham. 

You collapsed against Tom and Polly went to work ensuring the child was alright. Smallest little girl she’d ever seen. Born too soon, quiet as a mouse as she looked up at her great aunt. Her heart was strong, and Polly knew just by holding her that this child, was significant in something bigger than all of them put together. 

She handed the girl off to her parents. Leaning back against the sofa sitting next to Thomas. He handed her a cigarette from his breast pocket. 

Taking a long drag, she realized she should give them space to enjoy the moment. Her bones had no interest in moving as the night, and previous months took a toll on her. 

“She predicted this? Why didn't you say something?”  Tom whispered stoking the cheek of his first child. 

Polly almost snapped at him, before registering his tone of voice. She’d never seen him this vulnerable. 

“She told me a lot of things, I was small at the time. None of you were born yet. It’s not specific stuff-” 

“Thank you.” You said with tears in your eyes. “I -I Don't know what to say.” 

“You shouldn't say, anything love. You're family now” 

_________________________________________________

You were the most exhausted you’d ever been, but a family meeting was unavoidable. That night was the last night you spent in your apartment. He’d carried you to the car the next morning to take you to his place. 

You watched him move around the massive kitchen. He got you a cushion before letting you sit at the head of the table. A cup of strange tea was placed in front of you as the family started to pile in. 

Ruby slept in your arm and you tried to relax as the family came close. You were friendly and warm with everyone but this was the first time they were seeing you as a permanent fixture in the family. 

“That must have been so scary love. Your body hid it so well” Emse came up to you putting her arm around you in a makeshift hug. “Look at her. So small. Pretty like her mum.” She sat close to you and you knew that it was because of her natural distaste for family meetings. Her posture told you if anyone got smart she’d chew them out. 

Arthur and John started to congratulate Tommy loudly and your stomach turned when they set on you. She was so small you didn't feel comfortable passing her around yet. What if that offended people? 

“Look at that! Next Shelby made a grand entrance like her da” Arthur kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling. “Good job, love.”

“Thanks,” You said softly. 

“God I hope she’s just like you Tom. Finally some payback.” John came over and lowered his voice once seeing her. “Fuck she’s so small. You can call us any time if you need anything. Got a truckload of baby clothes for ya.” 

“Really though, love. Call any time.” Esme said and you hoped more than anything you would get closer to her. 

The meeting started and Tommy made a grand speech. It didn't take long before Polly was rushing you back up to lie down in bed. When you woke up there was a ring on your wedding finger and a note on the bedside table. 

Gone to London for business. Be back tomorrow. 

You went back to the massive set of diamonds on your finger. It was talked about but you hadn't had the chance to think about it yet. 

There was a soft knock at the door and Esme poked her head in. 

“Staying while he’s away, do you need anything, love.” Without knowing what to do you just stuck your hand out at her. 

She looked at the ring. 

“When!” She whispered.

“Just woke up and it was there.” You whispered back in disbelief. 

“Such a Thomas thing to do.” She laughed and sat on the bed next to you. You both talked for hours and you were grateful she let you doze off and nap. 

You and Ruby fit right in.

[mephiles-the-jester]

i drew her in a silly trans dress,,,,also circuit lore dump approaching since i submitted her to @sonic-fankid-showdown and havent talked abt her enough,,,

ok so,,,,circuit is a metal sonic/chaos sonic fankid so im starting there because its not the most common of pairs,, essentially they met when nine found a way to build a portal out of the shatterverse to explore sonic's dimension, and allied with eggman temporally since he was the first person nine found,figuring he'd be as easy to con as the chaos council. nine brought chaos sonic with him as a bodyguard and that was when metal sonic got to become accustomed to and annoyed with the new sonic copy since metal cant sass him back. in his infiltration of the empire,nine also may have tampered with metal sonic when he researched the empire's database and realised how useful a fully functional/independent neo metal sonic could be,and after some fallout between metal sonic and eggman, metal took chaos sonic and nine for her own goals,,,and she fr just wins and even gets her own tails little brother,,,,,also that annoying new robot sonic,

by some miracle and a bit of shared romantic deforestation for her new robotic kingdom,,,metal sonic and chaos sonic found themselves being able to stand each other and got together soon after because why not,,they do understand each other best and i imagine that they can be cute together sometimes,

on her own, circuit is pretty chill,and while shes usually quiet,,she enjoys being silently compassionate and tags along with her friend group.her name is an acronym for "Constructed Individual Revered and Cared for Unconditionally In Tenderness" in a moment of emotional weakness from metal sonic and chaos sonic when they first saw her crawling around,,and circuit seems to have been positively influenced by her having such proud and loving parents,and can be fiercely protective of her family if she perceives there too be a threat to their lives,,which includes nine or the other fankid metal secretly takes care of

circuit comes in when neo metal sonic learned that sonic and shadow were having a kid,,and feeling a bit envious of sonic still,utilizing her shapeshifting liquid metal,neo metal created a way to make a robot that can grow just like an organic being from baby to adult,using randomly selected traits from her and chaos sonic to influence how itd be built and develop. (the pg visual is that she built a slot machine or smth to determine if the baby would get vent freckles or quill patterns,,,,)

circuit was fully constructed into a baby robot the same day mordred hatched,,and metal sonic soon forgot about it completely with how obsessed she became with her new kid,and it took two weeks for her to even leave her castle to brag about it to sonic,

anyway,,with some shared babysitters as they grew up together,circuit and mordred formed their own rivalry,and as they both grew into formidable fighters in their own right,their fights have only gotten more intense and violent,,even if they can casually hang out sometimes. circuit on her own doesnt quite understand or control her need to beat mordred into a pulp,and it can only be blamed on mordred being sonics kid and circuit being genetically programmed with a mission to destroy sonic,,and in this case,his son.

[sephirthoughts]

*Throws golden coin at you like you are a wishing well and I’m a poor country girl waiting for a miracle* Tell us more of your Valenwind thoughts/headcanons PLEASEEE I’m begging you!

OK but remember, you asked for it. *cracks knuckles*

Physical Stuff: -vincent is half chinese or whatever the FF equivalent is. nothing is ever mentioned about his mother so no one can prove he isn't. (just let me have this one SE) -vincent's cloak/cape and headband are not fabric, they are some kind of organic extension of himself, that he has control over. though sometimes the cloak just does things and vincent is unconscious of it, like a cat twitching its tail -because of his circulation issues, due to his heart being replaced with protomateria, vincent has severe orthostatic hypotension (stand-up dizzies). cid is used to just catching him as he pitches over and moving on, without remarking on it -vincent is a mass of scars and mutilations (replaced parts, missing organs, etc.) which is why he covers his body entirely from the neck down with all that leather armor and gloves. -cid is a huge fan of vincent's monster hand because it has claws and he loves back scratches

Sexy stuff below the cut. And more, I got a little carried away.

Sexy Stuff: -vincent is anxious bordering on panicked to show cid his body, at first, because he thinks it's hideous and repulsive, and honestly there's just a lot of shame associated with being the victim of torture and systematic medical abuse -what vincent does not know is how much cid loves scars. like he fucking LOVES them (to the point where it's almost a scar fetish) -the first time they sleep together, cid slowly undresses vincent, little by little, touches and kisses all his scars, sincerely and fervently adores all the parts of him he thinks are ugly and horrifying, and makes him feel beautiful for the first time in his life -when cid sees vincent completely naked, he tears up because he's so beautiful to him, and he can't believe he got this lucky

-HC adopted from @getvalentined: vincent's already impressive dick was lost or removed during hojo's butchering of his body, but much to hojo's chagrin, it grew back even bigger (my own addition is some slightly monstrous characteristics) -cid is well above average in the dick department (note to self, change ask box title to dick department) but he can't help comparing himself to vincent and feeling a little intimidated

-vincent is a temperate and reserved person, but because of something to do with his chaos-induced fuckery, ever so often he goes fucking FERAL (almost like he's in heat), and cid is the lucky beneficiary of this. he winds up with bite wounds and claw scratches all over his body, over which vincent agonizes, while cid calls them battle scars and proudly flaunts them

Because reasons: -sometimes vincent pulls his hair up into a ponytail, removes the cape and headband, and just wears ripped up black jeans and a faded old black tank top. no one has ever seen him like this, aside from cid, because he has never been able to keep this ensemble on his person long enough to leave the house in it

Family Stuff (I don't usually do kids in fic, but i think these two would be cute with one) -shera is the bro of all time and is their surrogate when they have a baby -projected rendering of what the baby will look like, created by the friend group:

-cid and vincent did that thing where they mixed the sperm donations because they didn't want to know who would 'really be the father' cloud: [looking at their black-haired, crimson-eyed baby] uh…

-their daughter is named olivia. vincent calls her olivia. that is her name. -cid settles firmly and immovably on ollie, which everyone else winds up calling her too

-causing several people to lose egregious sums of money in the group betting pool, ollie's first word is not 'fuck'. that is her second word. her first word is papa. well it was 'bapa' but cid insists that counts

-baby ollie doesn't like anyone besides her daddies but cloud, and sticks herself to him like a little leech whenever he's around cid: hey ollie, who am i [points to self] ollie: bapa cid: who's that [points to vincent] ollie: dada cid: who's that [points to cloud] ollie: mama cid: no--

-sephiroth is vincent's biological child and he has just learned from cloud that he has a little half sister sephiroth: [appears, looks down at the crimson-eyed toddler with deep disdain] i'm still the oldest, so don't get any ideas about taking my place. i'll always be the pinnacle of our genetic-- ollie: gege sephiroth: [kneeling in front of the play swing] here is your juice box, is there anything else you want, my princess? say the word and gege will get it for you. is there anywhere you want to go? anyone you want killed? no? well, you can hardly have enemies at your age, but when you acquire some, come to gege and he'll take care of them for you.

-late one night sephiroth: [appears standing over cid and vincent's bed] cid and vincent: GAAAH! sephiroth: my sister has been crying for twelve seconds, unanswered. DO YOU WANT HER TO HAVE NEGLECT TRAUMA? cid: [grumbling as he clambers out of bed] neglect trauma i'm aboutta have sephiroth jump scarin me in my goddamn house trauma vincent: ….sister?

-they put both surnames on her birth certificate, to give ollie a choice whose surname she wants to use -one day, when she's older, she comes home with her newly printed ID documents reading "Olivia Valenwind" -both dads come down with a sudden case of chopping onions

**i just realized some people might not know that "gege" (pronounced like guh-guh) is mandarin affectionate for "big brother"

@a-schrodingers-fox I hope that was worth your gold coin! NO REFUNDS!

[me-beef]

i am going to finally start posting what I’ve been working on!!!

my girlfriend and I have been world-building together for a homebrew pathfinder campaign that she started running for us and some friends- this is a character i’ve had for 3 years now, but only really started developing her story and whirling her around in my brain at mach speeds in the last couple months or so

i’ll put some lore and a couple other sketches under the cut. i’m also going to try and set up a queue for the other art and sketches i’ve made for the campaign so far, so watch out for that!

--------------------------------------------------------

Have you heard of a whale fall?

Imagine being a creature living on the bottom of the ocean floor- life is hard. It's cold, it's dark, food is scarce. Suddenly, a giant, incomprehensible being floats down from the heavens. You and hundreds, maybe thousands of organisms clamor to the remains of the beast, a sudden beacon of prosperity in this wasteland, desperate to get even a scrap of its of life-giving nutrients. Every creature that partakes will have a piece of that being inside of them forever- fueling them, giving them life, becoming a part of them. Do you think these creatures would worship such a being? Would they consider it a god? Salvation? In the world of Omna, remnants of old gods past have fallen down from the divine realm and settled in the mortal plane. Their remains are what have created the landscapes of this world (mountain ranges, valleys, islands, etc). Mortals who live and dwell upon the remains find themselves changed slowly throughout the generations- changed by the faint fragments of the gods lingering power. --------------------------------------------------------

ok. now for my character Name: Felise Pfeiffer (Fell) Age: 19 Class: Cosmos Oracle Background: Scholar (Arcane) Felise is a cosmos oracle- which means her powers come at the cost of a curse that slowly takes over her body. Instead of something like stars, I wanted her curse to appear as this sort of.... corrupted, glitchy, chaos-y aura. It's very closely tied to her emotions, so when she gets really worked up, the static progressively expands around her. After she was "cursed", if she let her emotions get away from her, she risked hurting herself or other students at her academy. In order to avoid becoming a threat to the other students and faculty, and ultimately getting kicked out of school, she devised a number of strategies to help keep her emotions in check. (mechanically this is her settle emotions/refocus action. I'd like to think she uses the time to focus on slowing down her breathing. She uses her dancing lights cantrip to help- i imagine her spinning the lights around in her hands meditatively, kind of like baoding balls if you know what those are) (also yes, her curse magic manifesting is the equivalent of a panic attack) She's covered up a lot of her body to try and hide as much of it as possible, but her hair is always a dead giveaway. She leaves her fingers exposed since it's easier to channel magic through exposed skin (gloves, unless made of a special magic-conducting material, tend to dampen spells just a bit) - but this means others can see her fingers start to shift into static as she uses her cursed magic. I had a lot of really intense anxiety in junior high/high school/college, so she's become a really neat vessel for me to conceptualize and process those experiences and emotions. But, like, instead of having undiagnozed ADHD and RSD she gets like. cool magical girl powers BIO: Felise was the sole child of local inventor and archeologist, Atticus Pfeiffer. Her father's lifelong devotion was to study and uncover the mysteries of the ancient winged people known as the Featherfolk, who had seemingly vanished some 1000 years before. She grew up in a cottage built on the coast of a mysterious bird-shaped lake, where she and her father would excavate broken murals, walls of hieroglyphs, and other artifacts that hinted at the lives of this forgotten feathered-society. Until just under 10 years ago- when her father mysteriously vanished. From then on, reports of strange attacks began sprouting up all over Aton and other neighboring regions. Attacks fronted by giant, chimera-like bird monsters that would descend from the sky to snatch up unsuspecting victims- carrying them away to some unknown in the sky. Felise did her best to pick up the pieces of her father's research- hoping to find the cause behind the sudden appearance of these monstrous aberrations, the reason for their attacks, and maybe, just maybe, where her father disappeared to all those years ago.

-------------------------------------------------------- you did it!! i give you tasty treat for reading my lore dump! even if you didnt thats ok, you must have at least clicked the read more and scrolled down. you can still have a little treat

an unfinished reference sheet for her dad, atticus

these are my girlfriend @im-ashl sketches - Skraaw, The Carrion King - the BBEG of the campaign, an Evil Bird who is Awful

and finally some sketches of- whos this? the featherfolk princess??

[kydnexploded]

im kinda glad i havent watched gotham. i feel like i wouldnt vibe with dc hatters if i finish that show, they did my man dirty wtf

im so mad im building an au over this because i love benedict samuel and i love jervis OK?? *crying on the floor*

WHYYYY OH GOD WHYY

anyways

please read Who Are We in all of This Chaos? by alpacasandravens on ao3 if youre like me. please give this work some love, its hella good and less problematic

im going to continue my crying session, later

[sssapplebottomjeans]

moon au braindump complete with plotholes! i infodumped this to my friend and it's going here too

so there's roughly four levels of power that you get from the sun and moon as a human

1.) no powers- normal human

2.) born with it- rapunzel's healing magic/glowing hair/likely stays healthier by default. varian has remnants of moon magic from the blast in the dark kingdom 25 years ago through quirin being directly shot by it, but because it was so many years after the blast before varian was born, the effects on him are milder (both due to that and also due to the moon being inherently less powerful than the sun) so, the stripe, more resistant to injury and that's why he didn't die during qfad cuz he was walking through that blizzard for way too long to be fine ok i'm rolling with this. and maybe he has insomnia because of it, and in high stress situations his eyes look a little too blue to be natural. strange but definitely not "my hair glows and heals people" type weird.

3.) stolen magic- both moon!cass and rapunzel's hair being indestructible via tbea fall under this category. (rapunzel didn't want this but since she did inflict it on herself i'm counting it in this category.) VARIAN- buckle up people this is gonna be a long one. so flash forward to cassandra's revenge. varian's cage has been brought in and rapunzel and cass are dueling it out. the moonstone cracks, this time varian catches the shard, but in the chaos of battle no one really notices and varian barely realizes what he did until he's headed home. he experiments on it later in secret, trying to harness its power into something akin to what project obsidian was, but it keeps failing and he doesn't know why. turns out- the moon's power (also the sun's too) only works on living organisms so basicallyyyyyyyy it needs a human host. (SIDE NOTE- in this au quirin stays dead in the amber because of that reason- the decay incantation just doesn't work because the amber isn't alive) varian kind of figures this out but he doesn't really want to try it on himself because a.) the rocks haven't exactly been a high point in his life, and b.) the reason he kept this whole project secret in the first place was because he didn't want team corona thinking he was doing nefarious things with it and turning against them cough cough cass and sporting this wouldn't keep it secret whatsoever

i haven't thought the next part out too well but he turns to trying to summon Moon herself somehow for answers because at least he has a lead with this. and i want it to happen at the great tree but i don't really know why. anyway he summons her, how, i don't know

4.) possession- okay so basically varian and moon don't hit it off at all. varian's extremely bitter about the rock situation that yknow. destroyed his home and indirectly led to quirin's death and moon-

(okay so vague incomplete backstory for moon. when edmund literally tried killing her in that same blast 25 years ago because she was deemed corrupted, she survived but it left her critically injured. gods have no known way of dying ad no one knows how to kill them, but they also have no way of healing from injuries, so that wound is still just as fresh as it was 25 years ago and she's in so much pain. the rocks are somewhat akin to blood/tears, and i think the way i'm going with this is that the only way gods CAN die/be born anew is by making contact with another god, aka the rocks chasing rapunzel/sun. so moon's body is trying to destroy itself as, ironically, a survival instinct but her mind isn't aware of it, to her it's just her blood tearing up the earth.) anyway things get heated and varian gets forcibly possessed out of moon's desperation for someone to understand what she's been through, so in the flash of a few seconds varian gets 25 years of unimaginable pain, all of her memories and thoughts, and the full extent of her powers. but being possessed by a literal god is way more dangerous than, say, being possessed by something from our world, like a ghost or small magical artifact (think: ulla) so i'm REALLY not sure how much damage that would do to varian, the human, even for the few seconds that moon's outburst lasted, but i'm guessing some pretty bad burns (think: cass's charred hand) and some level of mental damage. the longer you stayed possessed by a god, the worse it gets, so eventually you would just. die from the strain

this goes for the other levels too, to some extent. like cass's health will get increasingly worse over the months and if rapunzel tries to use too much of the sun's power, she'll start literally burning up cuz- cuz sun. sun hot. (side note: moon HATESSSSS cass for taking her stone, cuz not only does humans having the gods power drain the gods of energy and health too (sun can stand this more because she's inherently more powerful- she can take it but moon CAN'T), but cass stealing it and telling the sun to take a hike disrupts moon's subconscious decision to try and rebirth herself by colliding with sun) (zhan tiri's pissed off by cass's decisions too and she's constantly trying to make her and raps interact for her portal thing yada yada when honestly all cass really wants to do is get away from rapunzel and never look back)

i think it's possible that if moon realized why she was trying to collide with the sun, she COULD possess him and just ram him into rapunzel like a bulldozer, but that would definitely kill him and rapunzel too, so as long as moon stays ignorant, they're both fine-ish. she might could convince him to take the shard for himself for some reason but idkkkkkkkk. would definitely be a lot safer than outright possession but it would not have the same level of power as someone like cassandra, moon would have no reason to make him do this though and i seriously doubt that varian would take it for himself unless out of severe desperation

i think i'm done. if you've made it this far, congrats, have a homemade muffin <3