#like the reason i made the old man option is because when i see people call him an old man

[saline-coelacanth]

I find it so interesting how so many people seem to have different interpretations for how old Cinder is supposed to be (which to be fair the show doesn't really tell us so I don't blame people) And now I'm curious what the general opinion is

[danadaria]

Steddie Olympic AU where Eddie gets on his first Olympics for BMX freestyle, and it's so weird because he has been in competitions for many years but nothing like this, something so big and with so many rules.

His background was being a hyperkinetic kid who didn't really care about his life, and somehow being fearless and doing acrobatics became his career. Still, even then it wasn't so serious.

His thing were the X-games and open exhibitions, with fire, hard rock & metal, tattoos, and having RedBull as a sponsor.

Behind the adrenaline he and his friends are a bunch of clowns who just wanted to fly and have the bones of a child forever.

But now he's here: in the middle of a giant line in an ocean of other athletes, wearing a fucking blazer from Ralph Lauren and with the lamest jeans he had to wear in his entire life.

And everything is kinda awful, because he lost sight of friends (Gareth and Max, both skaters, but they train in the same place), and he just heard there's no McDonald's at the Olympics this year.

He doesn't even like McDonald's so much, but god, he grow up hearing about athletes eating hundreds of burgers and mcnuggets for free, and sue him, but his inner child was super excited about it.

"Are you ok, man?"

Eddie opens his mouth to give a snarky remark when he sees the most beautiful man in existence – GORGEOUS v-shape, honey eyes, pink pouty lips, and kissable moles– looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is okey-dokey" He says lamely.

The most beautiful man in existence snorts at him.

"Okey-dokey? What are you? Five?"

"Probably. I was sad because I found out today there's no free McDonald's this year. Now that I know I'm not sure if it is worth being here"

Eddie's future husband looks surprised for a second and laughs at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. I read some people ate so many nuggets they left the Olympics cackling like a chicken: I wanted to be one of them!"

"Oh, yeah. I ate lots of them post-competition"

"See?!"

"Ok, I give you that. But this year there's going to be international cuisine and all that jazz"

"Knowing me, I'm going to get too overwhelmed with the options and I'll end with the saddest oatmeal every day."

"You have lots of food opinions for someone that's on a sports event"

"Well, is either that or thinking that my biggest rivals are a bunch of 15-year-olds from Brazil and Japan."

"Oh? What's your sport?"

"BMX freestyle"

"That's the race in the mountains?"

"That's literally BMX racing."

"Right." He looked ashamed.

Eddie needed to fix that look, now.

"And you? What's your poison?"

"Poison? You mean my sport?" Eddie nods at him encouragingly. "Gymnastics."

"I can see it." Eddie looks at him approvingly, "You have the arms of a gymnast, big boy."

The face of Eddie's future husband turns a beautiful shade of red. And Eddie is just a second away to ask for his name, and his number to change the course of his life, when he feels a hand on the jacket's collar.

"Here you are, loser. We need to go this way!"

And before Eddie can say anything, Max Mayfield (his new arch-nemesis) takes him away from the love of his life.

He says bye with a hand before being cruelly separated, disappearing into a sea of people.

"Do you want to be murdered before or after the opening ceremony, Red?"

"Oh, shut up loser."

____________________________________________________________

Steve is going back with his best friend to their apartment, feeling super frustrated. Somehow, 24 hours ago, he thought it would be a good idea to give his phone to his best friend for the inauguration night to avoid getting too excited and watching videos of the event until 4 am.

And now he was regretting ALL his life choices.

"You don't understand Robin, I met a super cute guy, but I couldn't get his name! I'm only going to search that and nothing else"

"Steve, you made me swear I wouldn't pass your phone on inauguration day, no matter the reason. You need to sleep"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't meet someone when you didn't have your phone!"

"I would understand better than anyone! I met the cutest girl competing at air riffle, aaaand I didn't have my phone either!"

"You gave her your presentation card, didn't you"

"Yes, sorry."

"See? Why didn't you make me buy some for me, too?"

They arrive at their floor. Steve knows they're a little obnoxious, but it was the first night and it's still early.

"Good night, neighbors! Isn't it too early in the event to be fighting?"

Steve looks up so fast, he probably hurt his neck a little bit. At the end of the hallway, sitting on the floor next to a very closed door, was Steve's meet-cute: All smiley, charming, and inviting.

"It's you!"

"Oh! Hi Mr. Gymnastics, and hi unknown lady."

"It's Robin Buckley," She says and goes straight to her apartment, "we probably going to see each other again, so good night".

And she closes the door firmly behind her.

"I didn't have. I mean. I don't have my phone to search for you."

The other boy looks at him, almost evaluating him, before giving Steve a big smile and offering his hand to stretch.

"Eddie Munson."

"Steve Harrington."

"So, would you-"

"There's a McDonald's near where I compete tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"

Eddie stands up and walks until he's in front of Steve. He smiles.

"Would love it. After all, it was my childhood dream."

Steve smiles too.

[almalvo]

About An Official Spiderverse Artist...

Please do not just scroll past this post; read it.

If you guys follow me on twitter, you probably already know.

But if you dont or still want to read this anyway - here you go:

I aint big, but I got a growing platform that I see as important for me to use as a force for things that matter.

So here I am.

And I got something to say about a certain "artist".

There are so many fucked up people who call themselves artists who are so heavily worshipped by us who both get and or dont get outed in the world for things they do and for their general piss-poor behaviours and persons.

Im here to talk about one in particular (and certainly wont be the last).

There is an artist that basically EVERYONE here has seen art from before, printed in the official Sony artbooks too.

If you have seen this:

Then you have seen this artist before.

His name is Alberto Mielgo. He goes by @/pinkman_himself on twitter.

He is a HUGE part of the art direction and stylisation of the spiderverse movies, if that isnt already obvious. Because he was the former original art director of Into The Spiderverse.

Yes. Former.

Cuz he got "mYsTeRiOuSlY fiReD" from Sony 2 years into pre-production and completely removed from the project.

You may have also seen this character before:

Yes. THAT asian character from Netflix's Love Death + Robots, from the episode "The Witness".

Familiar? Yeah. Because this episode was also made by the same guy, Mielgo.

I aint going to talk about what happens in that episode and hesitate to encourage anyone to watch it - cuz all it basically is is a megalo-misogynistic, assault "glorified for the sake of aRtT", racially fetishised showcase of this crazy makeup/haired bdsm stereotyped asian girl sex worker who essentially gets murdered over and over and over after running for her life completely naked through the city for all of us to see for some fucking reason.

BUt yeah anyways, you can see it in the first pic, but Ill put it here to show more clearly - this here is NOT the character from LDR. But I can understand why you might think so:

Yeah. You read that name in the bottom right corner correctly. This is Peni Parker. His concept art of Peni Parker. A 13 YEAR OLD CHILD. Lookin suspiciously like and dressed as the adult person from LDR with ALSO the crazy hair, make up - WITH AN O-RING CHOKER AND BALL-GAG LIPSTICK (BDSM).

13. year. old. child.

This man only sees east asian women this way.

He likes them crazy, sexy, broken--

and young.

Cuz this man also wrote this on a now-deleted post on his website:

Yeah. He, this whole ass middle-aged white cishet male spaniard thirstin for kids since he was 18 for 12 year old girls.

Cuz 12 year old girls are a fuckin "KNOCK OUT" when they grow up, when they ripen up into adulthood, to this man Alberto Mielgo, aka @/pinkman_himself, this creature.

And if auctioning NFTs isnt bad enough (cuz yes, ofc he does that too - its literally the first option on his website) -

His entire fucking portfolio is of drawing women he had sex with.

His fucking PROFESSIONAL PORTFOLIO is all of painting and drawing women in very compromising, questionable ways of the VERY SAME WOMEN HE HAD SLEPT WITH THROUGH HIS LIFE.

They look as creepy as they are.

But the scariest part?

While I myself had only just found out about this some days ago as of writing this, some of us have known about this man and his antics for years.

And he keeps getting greenlit by the industry, over and over and over; winning awards, getting respected, praised, admired, even by fellow at-home artists like many of you out there if you dont already do so.

And nothing will happen to him cuz he is a white cishet male artist who has money and a following and connections and influence and power.

So yeah.

I just wanted to talk about a certain official Spiderverse artist to just let yall know there are freaks everywhere, and that no matter how small it is, it's people like me and you who need to do what we can to keep up awareness and warn our communities and protect our most vulnerable.

My suggestion is to take heed of what I said, ask questions about everything you will ever see again from anyone around you, no less the industry, THINK for once, and actually give a fuck.

Keep away.

Do not support this man.

But the decision is ultimately yours.

Stay awake, yall.

-------

(His face, publicly available as his imdb profile):

scary.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Avy jorrāelan

req: full request here.

warnings: smut, canon typical targaryen incest, male! brother!reader, bottom!r, top!jace, this is longer than i expected, smut with plot, hand job

MASTERLIST

As much as you adored your brother, he had always been distant. When growing up, he didnt do much with you, always off training or something. But he was always sweet, and kind to you when you were together. You remembered many fond moments you shared during your childhood with the boy.

You’re not quite sure when this innocent crush on him started. For most of your life, you had only been around your family, clinging to Jace most of all, following him around like a lost puppy. You grew up around him, you knew him more than anyone else had. You only wanted to serve him, to be loved by him.

Jacaerys was none the wiser about your infatuation with him, of course, he was always confused by the sudden gifts that sometimes flooded his room, the compliments, the staring, and the affection you showed him. He brushed it off as an innocent fascination and adoration from his brother.

Jace didn’t know that everything he said to you replayed in your mind constantly, overthinking every little word and sentence he uttered, breaking the sentences apart to understand what he had meant. Jace didn't know that you held onto every little crumb of affection he gave you, that those crumbs had given you more hope that perhaps your brother shared the same love for you as you did him.

And so, as the war began, time passed and lives were ended, the council talked and talked about alliances they could make and how. That is when they came up with an idea that for some reason, infuriated Jace. 

“Prince Jacaerys, sir, he’s old enough to be wed, and this alliance would help, I do not see why n-” one protested, thinking the idea to be a rather smart one.

Jace shook his head before interrupting the man. “I do not want to hear about it anymore. There has to be better options.” He ignored the odd look that Rhaenyra gave him, turning his head the other way. 

Later that night, in his bed. He sat staring at his high ceiling, wondering over and over why he cared so much about whether you should be married off or not. Nothing he did distracted him from his thoughts, and he struggled deeply to sleep, tossing and turning throughout the entire night.

The next morn, you walked with one goal in your mind. With the war raging on and people counting on you all, you knew what you had to do. You breathed heavily as you stepped into the dragonpit, Silverwing in the middle.

You took a deep breath, walking closer and closer to the large silver dragon. She huffed in your face, staring curiously at you. You had decided that she would be the best dragon, because she tend to be more docile and kinder to strangers.

You had lessons as a child on how to claim a dragon, just never made no actual effort to claim one. But you knew that today was the day. Her tail whipped around, you yelping, ducking under it so that it didn’t crush you and fling you to the walls.

“Y/n!” You heard a voice shout from behind you, your brother. You didn’t glance back at him, gulping before you attempted to mount her, putting your hands on her sides, gently petting her.

“Lykirī.” You murmured to her, watching her head stare at you, move closer to your figure. You shut your eyes, feeling her hot breath near your face. Your breathing was erratic, and you knew you had to calm down before you did anything.

The creature let out a loud roar, you slightly stumbling back, but regaining your balance. You turned to the dragon now, staring at her, your brother far behind standing with Rhaenyra. “Lykirī.” You repeated to the dragon.

Rhaenyra held out a hand in front of the boy, like he made an attempt to get you away from the dragon.

You turned your attention back to the dragon, large beady eyes staring into yours. You calmed your breathing, reminding yourself that this dragon would help your mother, would help your brother. And that was all the reason you needed.

You took a deep breath, slowly climbing on top of the dragon, who let out quieter noises now, still following your every move. You mounted the dragon successfully, smiling widely as you stared down at her. You grabbed onto the reins at her sides tightly.

“Sovès.” You told her, and she took off into the air. With the wind in your hair, and the clouds below you, you felt peace. That was until you went back onto the ground, your smile falling when you hopped off of silverwing, being met face to face with Jace, who didn’t look as happy as your mother did.

She spoke a congratulations, Jace glaring at you and not speaking a word until you both were alone, and he gripped your arm, pulling you aside.

"What were you thinking?" he asked urgently, his furrowed brow revealing his frustration. You stood there, confused, unable to understand why he was so upset.

“Wh- what? Why are you mad?” You asked the boy, shoving his arm off of you. He huffed, glancing around.

“Because, that was an incredibly dangerous thing to do. You didn’t even think to tell us? To tell me? You just marched on in here! You could’ve gotten hurt! What if we hadn’t been there and something happened? I would’ve never been able to forgive myself!”

“I wanted you to be happy for me, proud of me!” You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest, trying to fight the tears that dared to fall.

“It was stupid, y/n. Gods, why must you be so…”

You looked at the boy, the tears falling once you couldn’t help it anymore. “So what, Jace?”

“Nevermind.” He sighed, shaking his head, glancing down at the floor and avoiding your teary eyes. He hated when you cried, but now he had no one to blame but himself.

“Say it!” You told him, bringing your hand up and shoving his shoulder. “Say it! I’m so what, Jace? I’m stupid?”

“Your decisions are stupid.”

You bitterly laughed at his response, shaking your head. “I am stupid. I am utterly stupid for thinking that you would be happy for me.” You mumbled, he attempted to stop you when you turned, hearing his shout your name.

The next few days, you sulked around, everyone had noticed it, and was confused at your odd behavior. You hadn’t talked to Jace since then, avoiding him like the plague. You simply glanced at each other when you were at the table, but not uttering a word.

Jace had enough. The silence between the both of you was killing him. You being upset over him was killing him. So, he took a deep breath, before quietly knocking on your door, as to not wake or disturb anyone else.

You walked over to the door, opening it and peeking out. You opened it more upon seeing Jace.

“What?” You murmured to the boy, not quite wanting to see him.

“Can you come out?”

Your eyebrows raised, tilting your head in confusion. “W-what?”

“Please. Just come out of your room. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” You responded.

“I have our dragons ready for us.”

This piqued your curiosity, you opening the door wider. “Why?”

“I thought we should go out and fly.” He shrugged, glancing around. “Come on.”

You sighed, silently closing the door behind you and following Jace outside, where Silverwing and Vermax sat, waiting for you both to mount them.

You shook your head, smiling at your brothers idea.

“Does anyone know?” You asked him quietly. He smiled back at you, shaking his head, walking over to Vermax while you walked to Silverwing, both of you mounting the dragons at the same time.

You held onto the reins, glancing at your brother as you spoke to your dragon. “Sovès.”

You took off into the sky, your brother not far behind. After you were above the clouds, you stopped her, and you were drifting now. Jace caught up, your dragons side by side.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. The other day.” He told you, you turning to face him. His face looked guilty, like he had held his regrets.

“I am sorry as well.” You admitted.

“Don’t be. It was me who was being unreasonable.” He shrugged, small smile gracing his features now.

As he stared at you, and you stared back, Jacaerys had come to a realization. He was in love with you. That’s what’s been eating at him forever. He’s kept his feelings down in his chest, pushing them away anytime the thought came up. He realized it now.

You swallowed, turning to face the sky again. His gaze remained on you. You both talked, about honestly everything and anything you could. You had missed his smile, his laughter. Your heart was slowly mending back together with each moment you had with the boy.

After a while of talking and riding both dragons, you both landed outside, handing the dragons back to the dragon keepers outside. You both laughing as you ran down the halls, you opening your room doors after sneaking past some guards.

Your brother stood in front of you, leaning in your doorway when you entered. You quirked an eyebrow at the boy, he swallowed, stepping closer to you, his hands going to your face.

Your mouth went agape when his hands cupped your cheeks, his eyes boring into yours. You slowly leaned in, shutting your eyes, his lips meeting yours halfway.

You both melted into the kiss. He closed the doors behind him, gently pushing your further into the room, and then onto your bed.

His hand was on the small of your back, he panted for air when he pulled away, looking down at you underneath his body. You smiled up at the boy, heart racing at what was about to come.

His pace was slow once he was inside of you, you clutching tightly onto his back, holding his body closer to yours. You let out grunts and groans, both your noises filling up the room.

“I love you.” He mumbled to you, the confession making his heart feel lighter. You looked at the boy with all the adoration and love he swears he’s ever felt.

“Avy jorrāelan.” You replied softly, his eyes searching yours. His hand went down too your cock, you letting out a moan. He leaned down, pushing his mouth onto yours again as he began to tug at your member, your pre-cum falling onto his hands.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He muttered against your shoulder blade, kissing the skin there as well. His breath fell hot on it.

“I’ve waited longer for you.” You chuckled lowly, feeling his lips quirk up into a smile against your shoulders.

“Mayhaps.” He breathed out, feeling that familiar coil build in his stomach. You looked down where you both connected, before looking back at him.

“Jace…” you cried out at a particular thrust, his hands working at your cock faster.

“I know, I know.” He sighed out, feeling his release close as well. He placed a kiss on your collarbone, shooting his cum inside you with a groan, and yours spilling onto his hand.

[missblissy]

Domestic Astarion x Reader HCs

A/N: UwU just wanted to add to the married life headcanons after the events of the game. Fluffy good stuff below. GN!Tav, no class/race. Enjoy!

Some days always started better than others. But that’s only to say because someone didn’t need as much sleep as you, and had a life time left to learn new skills. One of them being cooking. Sure Astarion can’t taste and it’s a useless skill to him. But you? He would do anything for you. And that includes learning to cook for the sheer simple act of spoiling you with a warm and home made breakfast in bed.

It’s strange to say you two never had a wedding. That’s not to say you two weren’t married. “Oh…?” Astarion isn’t sure how to explain this when someone asks, “Well, you see, my darling little love here found this-” He holds up his hand and wiggles the ring in his finger, “On a rotting old skeleton then found the matching one, get this, on another smelly corpse!” Most people wouldn’t look fondly on something like that. But no, Astarion wasn’t most people. He’d smile and swoon, “And I suppose since then we’ve been married,”

It doesn’t help that back then when you did find those rings, you quite literally told him, “We’re married now,” As a joke. It wasn’t joke….

Astarion has a habit of leaving you poems to find in the most hidden of places. Like little lost treasures. Or maybe he just knows the looting demon you are at heart with your little grabby fingers going for anything they can touch. So it always comes to a surprise to you when you open a book and a poem written years ago flutters out… but the love and truth still rings pure despite the yellowing of the pages.

Crimson sons, vermillion daughters. Quivering maroon, burgundy, cardinal. Short fainting strokes Fester a broken carotid Free from feathers Unbound By the serpent's head no more.

His way of saying thank you for everything you've ever given him. And then some. No matter the message you cherished each treasured poem you would find.

The man had a knack for spoiling you, unconditionally, and most importantly, endlessly. If you saw something out in a shop that caught you eye, but you were just to stubborn to get it for yourself. Surprise, surprise when you get home and find it there with a man beaming proud like a puppy with his bone.

But that didn’t mean affection was off the table either. Astarion spoiled you with kisses, big ones, little ones, some on the back of your hand as he opened a door for you. Others on your cheek, gently but with sorrow as he left for some few weeks for whatever reason. He had his own things to do and sometimes you couldn’t go with him. But that just meant when he got home you could throw your arms around him, breathe him in and share the long awaited kiss of his return.

Married life strangely suited you both, from the little grabbing of hands under tables, the protective placement of an arm, the look of pride when the other did something extraordinary. And Astarion would always be the more boastful in pride when it came to talking about you.

And he couldn’t help but show off, sure he’s loud and arrogant about it. Saying he was best option of course, no one else stood a chance… blah blah blah. But when no one was around he can look you in the eye and practically grovel, “I am so lucky you chose me,”

There were many other things that came with the long life of being married together. The two of you were quite dedicated to learning to… dance. Astarion hadn’t a clue wether his left foot was right, and you may have been no better. It was your idea really. You heart would swoon watching other couples and with an eager voice you pointed a finger and declared, “I want to do that too!”

And so you did, but behind the close doors of your own home. Seeing as Astarion didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of so many people. Where you both could trip and side step and laugh, giggle and make the most out of learning something new together.

It seemed the two of you had a habit of learning things together. From silly little drawings, to paintings, perhaps an instrument or two. You both always found a way to share your hobbies and passions together.

And it was the mornings, where these happened most often. Naturally Astarion couldn’t be in the sun but that didn’t stop him from enjoying what little light he could. You’d find him in the dusty dusk right before the sun actually broke the horizon.

He had been teaching himself to play the piano, so to wake up in the morning and not hear the soft echos of keys down the halls would be a bad sign. It’d be another bad sign if you didn’t sit down beside him, stroking the keys as the two of you played a song that was always in the process of being made and never done.

Surely soon he’d go off to sleep, sharing kisses and affection. You wouldn’t see him again until the evening, when the sun was starting it decent. Day-phobia was real in vampires no matter how much they loved the sun and he didn’t have a worm anymore to help him fight that. But he managed, enjoying every sun rise and sun set he got to see just as the world of night came and went.

Despite staying up all night sometimes just to be beside him, it was fairly often that Astarion would have to nag you to go to sleep. You’d barely have even one eye open, drifting back and forth between dreams and you’d still tell him, “I’m not tired, I’m just resting my eyes,” All because he was up late in kitchen and you didn’t want to leave his side.

He often compromises though, making deals and barters, “If I go upstairs with you, will you go to sleep?”

“…” Surely you aren’t going to say no? “Will you be the big spoon?”

“Of course,” How could he say no to a face like yours? And such a sleepy one too?

He didn’t mind, not really. Some nights he’d stay in bed with you until the morning. Even though nothing would get done, or things he had planned were set aside, he wouldn’t sleep either, he truly really didn’t mind. He could lay there for eternity holding you close and be at peace.

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

one thing I haven't touched upon yet is how well the showrunners handled the time jump between Camp Cretaceous and Chaos Theory and more specifically - how well they handled maturing the campers.

At least to me the transition is nearly smoothless. Like, a couple of years have passed for those kids and those included years when people tend to change a lot - from children they grow into young adults. And the show did a fantastic job of shaping their adult forms in terms of personality. Because all of them have the core traits that we associated them with in Camp Cretaceous but at the same time they are more mature and carry their experiences on their back - both the experiences that we know of and those that could potentially fill up the time jump space if you know what I mean.

I look at Kenji for example and I still see remains of the boy that he was - a little bit arrogant (it still shows! he is very proud just of different things!), someone who doesn't shy away from an argument; but at the same time I see a man who has spent hours teaching kids and adults how to rock-climb - he can be patient too; I see someone who had to re-evaluate a lot in his life, and I can see that it wasn't easy, that it took a toll on him.

Or for example Sammy! Someone who loves her friends and family dearly still, a girl who was willing to fight for those she loved. But at the same time I see a young woman who knows that sometimes a compromise is the best option (like that situation with her neighbor). I see someone who still learns when her love and affection need to take a backseat for others to develop. I see someone who knows that sometimes being apart, even if it hurts, may be a good thing. I see someone forgiving but persistent.

Ben too... A boy who went through severe trauma that made his personality do flip and then, once time passed, he started rebuilding what was left of his old core. Anxious he is, a little boy still, but also a fighter - because he had to be one. At the same time, I see a young man who is a little torn on where he stands, who still figures out the details of his personality but who also knows his strengths and capabilities. In the end, he is energy-unbound, and he is eager to learn about the world in so many ways.

Darius, a boy who lost so much, and a young man who lost just as much. Life hasn't been easy on him. In jwcc grief encouraged him to attend camp, fulfill his father's dream. In jwct that aspect of his personality develops even more - now grief spins him into action, he doesn't wait for things to happen, he acts. He can work with others but he can also rely on himself, he grew up; he knows that he can handle himself, he still learns that he can reach out and ask for help, but he's getting there. He really is.

Not to mention Yas who has always been a creative person. Yes, it may be surprising that I mention that first but look at her now - inventing stuff, conducting projects? Remember her sketchbook in jwcc? Yeah, look where that creativity took her, look where her compassion took her - she helps people by helping herself. It was such a problem for her in jwcc (esp at the beginning) and look at her now - she's miles ahead of her old self.

Their personalities make so much sense because they are a clear continuation of their personalities in jwcc, and that's one of the reasons why jwct is so freaking good.

[peakyswritings]

Lullaby || Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: It’s been almost a year since (Y/n) has started to work as Charlie’s nanny. For the first time, she finds herself in the position of breaking one of her boss’ rules, but his reaction might not be what she was expecting.

Warnings: mentions of death, age-gap (it’s not specified, I imagine (Y/n) to be in her 20s).

A/N: this is a mix of two requests by anonymous. I changed them a little bit to make them fit another thing I was already planning to write. I hope you like it🤍 Also, I couldn’t restrain myself from using Once Upon a December from Anastasia as the lullaby (Y/n) sings.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST

Dividers credit

“C’mon, Charlie.” (Y/n) whispered with a soft voice, gently rocking the three-year-old. “It’s late, you need to sleep.”

Despite all her efforts, the child seemed to have no intention of going back to sleep. His cries resounded in the silence of the night, desperate, probably caused by a nightmare. It wasn’t the first time he woke up in the middle of the night, and surely it wouldn’t be the last. It was quite a common occurrence, but there was nothing surprising about that. At such a young age, Charlie Shelby had already been through so much pain.

(Y/n) had been Charlie’s nanny for almost a year now. She had moved to Arrow House shortly after the late Mrs Shelby, Charlie’s mother, had died under tragic circumstances. As for her boss, Thomas Shelby, she rarely saw him. He didn’t spend much time at home, and when he did, he locked himself in his study until it was time to go out again. Everyone could see that the man was still grieving, that the guilt of his wife’s death was eating at him day by day. And Grace Shelby was everywhere in that house. In the portraits, in the photographs, in the very air the people who lived there breathed. It was as if her ghost was still lingering inside those walls, restless.

Truth was, some part of (Y/n) was glad she didn’t have to see Mr Shelby too often. His cold eyes gave her chills, and she always felt small under his expectant stare. It felt like he could read right through people. But she couldn’t complain, because despite his exterior harshness and his coolness, he was kind to her. She figured the reason why was that Charlie had become fond of her right away, just like she had become fond of him.

On the other side, Thomas Shelby piqued her curiosity. He was a peculiar man, she had never met someone who even remotely resembled him. She knew who he was, what his family did, and before meeting him she was expecting to find herself in front of someone entirely different. When after putting an ad in the papers she received his secretary’s call, she had considered refusing. But the pay was good, and she needed to get out of her house, to be independent, and the general terms of her contract were to good to be ignored. So she mustered up the courage and attended the interview, and to this day, she could say she made the right decision. Charlie was lovely, the staff was friendly, and she felt relatively safe in a house surrounded by men who protected it night and day.

(Y/n) sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was three in the morning. She had been trying to get Charlie to sleep for over an hour, but nothing seemed to work. She had tried everything: she had cradled him, given him water, she had even taken him to take a breath of fresh air in the garden for a while. It was all useless. There was just one thing she hadn’t tried, she hadn’t dared try, for if her boss found out he would probably fire her for breaking his rules. It was the first thing people would do to help a child fall asleep, and yet it was not allowed at Arrow House. Because Mr Shelby didn’t allow singing. But she was running out of options, and her boss was still out.

Just one song. One lullaby wouldn’t hurt anyone.

She hesitated, sending a look at the door of Charlie’s bedroom, then she quietly started to chant the lullaby her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a child.

“Dancing bears

Painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

Tommy closed the front door behind him, exhaling a deep breath. Another long day was over. However, not even the comfort of being home was enough to lift the weight pressing on his shoulders. Not anymore. It was always there, pushing down on him, waiting for him to bend, or to break. But he had to keep on marching, relentlessly, pretending that the burden wasn’t there.

He took off his coat and hanged it, trying to be as silent as possible in order not to wake the whole house up at that hour. As he walked further into the dark parlour, Charlie’s loud cries came to his ears. He was having troubles sleeping, again.

He made his way towards the stairway, squinting his eyes in the semi-darkness to see better, when something caught his attention. It was a voice, a soft, soothing voice singing a song upstairs.

Someone holds me safe and warm

Horses prance through a silver storm

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory

Tommy began walking up the stairs, step after step, drawn by the beautiful sound. He knew who that voice belonged to. (Y/n) was disobeying his orders, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be angry, far too fascinated. Soon Charlie’s cries faded, and the only thing that could be heard was her enchanting voice.

Far away

Long ago

Glowing dim as an ember

That hauntingly beautiful lullaby brought him back to over a year ago, when his late wife’s voice used to reverberate through the walls. Ever since her death, the silence had been haunting him, only broken by the echo she left behind.

Things my heart

Used to know

Things it yearns to remember

Tears welled up in Tommy’s eyes, but he was quick to push them back. He stopped at the entrance of is Charlie’s bedroom, watching as (Y/n) tenderly held the child in her arms, unaware of his presence. His son had finally fallen asleep, and the peaceful expression on his face reflected how safe he was feeling.

“And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

She finished her song, and there was silence again. She placed Charlie back on the soft mattress and tucked him in, careful not to wake him up again. When she turned to leave the room, causing their eyes to meet, fear dawned on her young features. It was clear she wasn’t expecting to find him there. For a few seconds, neither of them did nor said anything. Then, as if remembering where she was, (Y/n) slowly exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her arm accidentally brushed against him in the process, the contact almost burning through his shirt. As they stood face to face in the hallway, she avoided his gaze, probably waiting for him to scold her, or fire her, or something worse. And a question popped into Tommy’s mind. Was she that scared of him?

(Y/n)’s heart was racing inside her chest as her boss’s unreadable gaze rested on her. She had never found herself in the position to fear him, nor had she ever had a reason to, but she had never broke any rule before, or crossed any line. And she had no idea how he would react to disobedience. The last thing she wanted was to get on the gangster’s bad side.

“It was a nice song.” His low voice pulled her out of her thoughts, making her gulp. Suddenly, she realised how close they were.

“Mr Shelby, I…” she stuttered, taking a step back. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, shifting her eyes on the ground, finding it way more comfortable to face him without having to look at his impassive expression. “It’s just… nothing was working, and…” she started to ramble, but the words got stuck in her throat. “It won’t happen again.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, studying her, and his calmness made her even more nervous, for it made him unpredictable. Then something changed in his eyes. His features softened, and she could swear his lips curved into a small smile. “Go to sleep, (Y/n).”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it right away. He wasn’t angry? He wasn’t going to fire her? Was it an emotion, the one that had just broken through his ever-unfazed face? She blinked, trying to recollect herself, deciding that it would be better to listen to him before he changed his mind.

“Goodnight, Mr Shelby.” She politely said, before walking past him to go to her room.

“(Y/n).” He called her, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around, her nervousness coming back again as she waited for him to speak.

“You’re allowed to sing, if you want.”

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[fatkish]

Hiii

Im new to ypur blog and i saw you write for dadzawa so i wanted to know of you could write a platonic Aizawa in which his daughter (she is like 16 years old) gets really sick and im the hospital she is dignostised with a weir or with out cure illness?

If this request makes you uncomftable feel free of ignor it 🩷🩷

Thanks 🩷🩷🩷

So this took some time because I had struggled to come up with an idea for what the illness would be. It might be kinda short so I hope you enjoy it. (Not Medically accurate)

Aizawa x Daughter Reader: Anemic

It was a mystery how you had gone so long without being affected by your Anemia. You had always seemed so healthy. Unlike the other kids in your class, you didn’t dream of becoming a hero. You dreamt of creating a bakery/cafe/coffee shop that was run at night to support people like your old man, Aizawa. You wanted to be able to be open at night and give nighttime Heroes a place to eat and get their coffee fix. You had entered into the business course at UA. You can’t imagine how happy your dad was that you weren’t going to become a hero and risk your life. Not that he means anything bad by it, he just doesn’t want to have to bury his own child.

It was during the first year’s sports festival that your condition came about and started to affect you. While your classmates in the business course were handling out and selling food in the stands, you were one of the students who were making the food. It was while you were chopping up ingredients for Takoyaki that you accidentally stabbed your wrist really deep. One of your classmates had been telling you the orders, while you were listening and not paying attention to your hands, that was when the accident occurred. The moment you realized what happened, your classmates tried to help you stop the bleeding.

While you struggled to stop the bleeding, your friends helped guide you to Recovery Girl’s office. While you and someone else held your wrist and applied pressure to the wound, another made sure to guide you guys. When you were halfway to her office, you started getting dizzy. There was a small blood trail that some people noticed which lead to the number 2 pro hero, Endeavor, to stumble upon your nearly unconscious form being supported by your peers. When he asked what happened, he realized you may have lost too much blood and decided to rush you too the nurse’s office himself.

When he open the door to Recovery Girl’s office, she immediately recognized you as Aizawa’s daughter. She quickly went to work on you and asked Endeavor to please find and Notify Eraserhead that his daughter had accidentally gotten hurt and that she’ll likely be in her office until after school. Endeavor begrudgingly accepted and went to tell Aizawa, but before he could leave, she asked him what his blood type was. When Recovery Girl discovered that you were anemic after looking into the reason for you to faint without having lost too much blood, she asked Endeavor if he would be willing to donate her some of his blood since they were same blood type (if you’re not then just pretend you are)

After being told about your anemia, Endeavor agreed seeing as it’s part of his job to help people. After giving some blood he left and ended up finding Aizawa in the hall during a break. When he told Aizawa, Recovery Girl’s message, Aizawa quickly thanked him and headed straight for her office. When he got there, Recovery girl sat him down and talked about your condition and what treatment options you had.

Since the underlying issue and cause for your anemia was your body’s low production of red blood cells, Aizawa had talked it over with you and decided that you would start taking vitamins and supplements with a change in diet to include the necessary proteins and minerals that are crucial for red blood cell production. After the sports festival, you and Aizawa went home and started cooking together as a means to spend time together and for him to make sure you took care of yourself.

[jrow]

May Prompts (28)

Day 27 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 29 here.

Empty

He stares at the empty box.

Sherlock isn’t saying anything.

Sherlock opened the gift a good two minutes ago and still hasn’t said a word.

He watched Sherlock for the first minute or so, and saw only a blank expression. So now, he stares at the empty box because he’s terrified about what that blank expression means.

God, he had been so relieved that this was finally happening. His plan coming to fruition. He wanted to wait until Rosie was having her nap for obvious reasons but the past few hours have been excruciating. To be honest, it had taken quite a bit of will power not to thrust the gift in Sherlock’s face the second they arrived at Baker Street.

The hopeful glances from Molly this afternoon hadn’t helped.

But, he made it. And a few minutes ago, Sherlock removed the paper, opened the box, and pulled out the silent violin, various accessories and case. And then said nothing.

So, John is staring at the empty box. He was wrong, the wait this afternoon was a cake walk compared to this.

Finally, after another minute of silence, he looks up tentatively. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief at what he sees.

Sherlock, standing perfectly still, staring at the instrument in his hand.

This is an expression he’s seen before—back when he asked Sherlock to be his best man. It’s a sort of far away look that means Sherlock isn’t angry or busy thinking of how to weasel his way out of this conversation. It’s a look that means Sherlock has made a deduction he can’t quite believe.

It’s time to force Sherlock to say that deduction out loud. Make it real.

“Happy birthday, finally. What do you think?”

“It’s a silent violin.”

“Yes.”

“Top of the line. The London Philharmonic violinists use these to practice.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“You like when I play my violin.”

“Very much.”

“And Rosie loves it.”

“Yes.”

“So, this isn’t a gift for when you are here during the day.”

“Course not, you have your Strat.”

“And, if there is no one to disturb, I can play my Strat at night.”

“True.”

“Mrs. Hudson can’t hear it from her flat.”

“Hmmm.”

“I would only need a silent violin if there was someone else here at night. Sleeping.”

“Yes.”

“Your old room—it’s Rosie’s now.”

“Absolutely.”

“We made that decision during the rebuild. A child’s room. She naps there sometimes. Plays there a lot.”

“Yes, she loves it.”

“Your old bed and dresser are gone. The room upstairs just has a little toddler bed and that child-sized table and chairs. And toys.”

“That’s true.”

“Plus the bookshelf Mycroft made but pretended he bought. All the books he filled it with.”

“Yes. It’s the perfect room for her.

“We could fit a little dresser in there but not much else.”

“No. That’s all she needs though.”

“You can’t sleep there. Couldn’t sleep there.”

“No, it’s Rosie’s room.”

“You can’t sleep on the couch in here either. It would have been awful for your shoulder before your fall. Now it’s out of the question.”

“Agreed.”

“If Rosie is sleeping here regularly, I could use the silent violin so I don’t wake her.”

“Yes. Every night.”

“But that means you would be sleeping here too.”

“Of course.”

“You would need to sleep in a bed. That only leaves one option.”

A deep breath. “Correct.”

“Well, two options. But, you would never ask me to move from here.”

“Course not. This is your home.”

A pause.

“People would talk.”

“Good. I’d expect no less.”

Another pause.

“You have assumed I am gay for some time now.”

“Yes. Is that assumption correct?”

“Yes.” A sharp inhale. “I have assumed you are not entirely straight from the beginning.”

“I think that’s a fair way of putting it.”

“You rebuked people when they assumed we were a couple.”

“I did. Years ago. Haven’t for some time now. You said you were married to your work, but that’s not true anymore either, is it?” He knows he needs to push Sherlock, just a bit.

It works. Sherlock shakes his head, as if coming out of a daze. “I … what’s that?”

He blushes. Sherlock has spotted the case. Was that too sentimental? “It’s errr…the case. For the violin.”

Sherlock slowly runs his hands over it. “It’s her handprint.”

“Errr … yeah. I know pink isn’t exactly your thing, but I let her pick.”

“Her hand is so small.”

“Yeah. But soon it won’t be.” He takes a deep breath. “Thought it would be a nice snapshot of how small she was when she moved in. Because I hope we’ll be here for … well, as long as you’re here.” In for a penny. “If you’ll have us. If you’ll have me.” He smiles. “If there’s space for me in the room down the hall. ‘Cause you’re it for me, Sherlock. I think you always have been.” A feeling of relief washes over him. Whatever happens, at least it’s all in the open now. At least the box is empty.

A long pause. “I think I am going to faint,” Sherlock finally says and then promptly crumbles to the floor.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[thezombieprostitute]

Lloyd Hanson - Soulmate AU

A/N: I swear, I tried to ignore him but that only made things worse. @alicedopey didn't help!

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Reader is kidnapped. Smut. Sub/Dom dynamics vs Dub Con?

The bag is removed from your head and you're finally able to get a look at your surroundings. It's a dark room with one light above the table. It looks like one of those police interrogation rooms in TV shows. The duct tape is ripped from your mouth and you hiss from the pain. You test the bonds around your wrists, tied behind your back, but they're too secure to wiggle out of.

The chair across from you is abruptly pulled back and you're face to face with a tall, broad, blue eyed man with a porn mustache. He's smiling at you. You say nothing, letting your confusion show on your face. He rolls up his shirt sleeve and you see his soulmate tattoo. It's an exact match for yours.

"You couldn't have just bought me a coffee," you ask, trying to keep from snapping.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you're my soulmate. I have to get you used to what the rest of your life is going to be."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "I'm going to constantly be kidnapped and talk with over-the-top idiots?"

He laughs at your comeback, "not quite. But I do have a lot of enemies and I gotta make sure my soulmate doesn't panic, cry and rat me out if they get picked up." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "And I gotta say, you are a champ!"

"I'm good at getting kidnapped," you deadpan. "What a wonderful compliment."

"Not easily scared, sassy and sarcastic," he croons. "You really are my soulmate." He winks and you roll your eyes.

"How did you find me," you ask. "I rarely, if ever, let my soulmate tattoo show."

"Someone used a rare photo of your mark to draw me in," he admits. "Imagine my surprise when it was someone trying to kill me."

"And from there you were able to find me," you nod. "Any chance of untying me, now that you know I'm not trying to kill you?"

"I dunno," he leers, "I'm kinda getting hard at the thought of you being so helpless to stop me."

"I swear to whatever deity will listen, I can and will bite you. Literally and metaphorically."

"Metaphorically?"

"The reason you like me being tied up is because your limp dick needs to feel like it's actually capable of leaving some kind of imprint."

"Ouch!" He moves his hand over his heart, "you weren't kidding, Sunshine. That really hurt!" He leaned forward even more, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "do it again."

"The only reason you don't shave your mustache is because you enjoy getting looks from people because you're a needy man-baby who needs the attention."

"Ooooh, that feels so good," he leans back, chuckling. He makes a motion and someone comes up behind you and undoes your bindings.

"Thank you," you nod, rubbing your wrists.

"Ah, I was wondering where the niceness was." You raise your eyebrow again, silently asking him what he meant. "You work with people a lot and always get such glowing customer service reviews. That means you can at least pretend to be nice. But when I dig further, I find that you're a good neighbor who helps the old lady carry in her groceries. Helps the kiddies with their homework. All that wholesome stuff."

"I have social skills," you retort. "Kinda required for the job."

"You don't have a job anymore." You don't try to hide your surprise at that statement. His tone goes stern for the first time, "I can't have my soulmate wasting her time on other people. All of that goodness you do for others? You're gonna do it for me and only me from now on. I get to be the only outlet for your kindness and you're gonna pamper me every time I'm home."

“No I'm not.”

“Excuse you? I don’t see that you have much of a choice here Sweetie.”

“Not my fault you lack the imagination to see my options.” 

“Your options are to either tend to my every want and need or wallow in a basement on starvation rations.” You smile at him and enjoy the momentary drop in his confidence. “You will give me everything I want. In return, I’ll give you everything money can buy.” You throw your head back and laugh at that. He’s squirming a little, wondering what the hell is going on.

“You can have my submission when you earn it,” you coo. “And you don’t earn it by buying it.” You lean forward, putting yourself in his personal space. 

“What the hell is going on?”

You roll up your sleeve to show Lloyd the matching soulmate tattoo and put your arm next to his. At the first touch of your hand, you both feel the electricity that confirms the two halves have met. You reach out and gently rub his cheek with your hand and he leans into it, gently moaning before he catches himself. 

“You see, even though I don’t know your name, I can see right through you. Your reactions to my snipes and my politeness were quite telling. You do crave attention but you’ve only ever been good at getting negative attention. A soulmate could give you that positive attention you long for. Why else would you actually come looking for me? You could keep up that attention seeking behaviour without involving me but you put yourself at risk for the chance at meeting someone who might be kind to you. Who might like you, if only because they have to.”

“My name is Lloyd,” he grumbles.

“Thank you, Lloyd. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you definitely started on the wrong foot.” 

He goes silent but he doesn’t stop your hand rubbing his cheek. He wants to be angry at you. He wants to follow through on his display of force. But he can’t do that. He makes another hand motion and a door opens. He stands up, comes around the table and lifts you up out of your chair. 

“I don’t appreciate not being in control, Sweetheart,” he growls at you. “I may want all of your affection but I will not hesitate to use force if you try to take control from me ever again.”

“As I said, you can have my submission when you’ve earned it.”

“And how do I do that? You turned down my offer of everything money can buy.”

“Treat me like a queen or goddess, not a pet.”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the door, taking you with him. You manage to keep pace as he leads you through several hallways, up some stairs and finally emerging into, what you can easily assume to be, a mansion. He doesn’t stop to let you take too close of a look. He leads up the wide staircase, to a set of double doors. He pushes them open and you see a giant, canopy bed. You also see things that, while you can’t name them, you're pretty sure they’re meant for BDSM activities. 

He pulls you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, and forces your face up to look at him. “You’re not the only one who can read people, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You enjoy being a bratty, submissive slut. You want someone who can properly dominate you, satisfy that craving your cunt aches for.”

He walks you to the bed as he keeps talking, “you always tried to hide your tattoo because it was your one rebellion against a world that makes you feel helpless. You are kind to your neighbors because you’re too stubborn to let your customer service job kill your soul.”

He pushes you onto all fours on the bed and smacks your ass. “And your unusual calm at being kidnapped? You expect the world to fuck you over.” He smacks your ass again and you bite back a moan. “You expect things to be out of your control so you don’t sweat it when you’re proven right.” He smacks your ass a few more times and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. As soon as he hears it he chuckles. “You don’t want to be treated like a pet? Fine.” He spanks you again. “But I won’t treat you like a goddess or a queen.” Another slap. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty slut you’ve always wanted to be.” Another slap. “And I’ll make sure you never feel you have to be more than just the cock hungry whore you really are.” 

The spanking continues, hard, fast and painful, until your arms give out. Lloyd reaches his arms around you and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his muscular chest. One hand holds you up by your neck. His other hand reaches under your clothes and smirks at how wet you are. He gathers up some of the slick and starts rubbing circles over your clit. You start whining and gasping at the sensations but you don’t dare move your hips. You’re certain he’ll stop if you do anything he doesn’t tell you to and you don’t want this to stop. 

He whispers in your ear, “so long as you never try to wrestle control from me again, I’ll treat how you really want to be treated.” His fingers move faster and you whimper from how close you are. “Not like a queen or a goddess, no. Not a pet, either.” You’re focused on not moving, trying to make sure that his fingers continue to work their magic. “I’ll treat you like my dirty little slut who will do anything so long as I let her cum.” 

His grip on your neck tightens and he whispers, “cum for me.” Your orgasm hits you harder than you ever thought possible. He keeps his fingers moving as he whispers “such a good slut.” As the ecstasy ebbs your legs start shaking and he lays you down on your back. 

Lloyd licks his fingers and moans appreciatively. He pulls off your pants and underwear, whistling appreciatively at the mess you’ve made of your panties. You try to lift yourself on your elbows but he pushes you back down. “You move when I tell you to, Sweetheart,” he orders, his tone making you whimper. He winks at you, “now let me show you the real reason I keep this mustache.”

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 11

WC 1326, Masterpost CW: anxiety

“Hey, kid,” Flash the older said as he raced up beside Danny.

“Still not a kid, old man,” Danny replied. It was already a well worn argument by this point after several dinners or weekend meals over at the Flash’s household. Sure it was used before that, but once Danny had started seeing Barry out of the mask, he’d only been worse about it. Danny guessed it was their thing now. It was weird to have ‘things’ again with people, but a good sort of weird.

“Still not an old man, kid. I’m not even a grandpa yet!”

Danny almost dropped the tablet he was working on. Barry didn’t have any kids, not aside from Wally who might as well count. Did that mean…?

“I’d tell you to watch your sass in your new position,” Barry continued, unaware or uncaring of Danny’s sudden crisis about the idea of children, “but one, I’d be a hypocrite and two, it’s a solid third of the reason I recommended you.”

“Well, that’s good because the sass isn’t going awa— wait, what new position?”

Barry grinned under his mask in a way that just felt dangerous. Not, like, dangerous in general, but dangerous for Danny who was the focus of that smile. “You’ll see. Flash Two will pick you up Monday at nine am. Don’t worry, you’re cleared off work already.”

“Fla— and he’s gone. That’s great. What the fuck,” Danny said to himself. It was a struggle to focus on finishing up the post event check in and then his reports and then going over his team’s report and then some more paperwork, but Danny managed. As soon as he got home he was immediately was texting Wally.

After the Reveal, Danny had gotten Wally’s civilian number too, but there were strict rules for using that number. Danny understood the caution. Apparently the first number he had been given was encrypted by Batman’s crew, which was crazy to think about, even when he was dating a Flash, so there were less rules other than no civilian names. Just for the ease of it, Danny mostly stuck to the old number unless they were planning a purely civilian date. Or if Danny wanted to say things that he knew would make Wally blush. Things Danny would very much never want anyone else to read. They may have mostly kept to kissing in person, but teasing Wally was just too much fun.

Danny: Why is Big!Flash having you pick me up on Monday??? What did he mean about a ‘new position’?????? I like my job! FLASH!

Quick Boy: You’ve got to give me a second to answer, dude!

Danny: You’re supposed to be fast. 😑

Quick Boy: Who’s always telling me electrical signals can only move so fast?

Danny: FLASH 🤬

Quick Boy: Sorry, babe, I’m not allowed to tell! But you’ll love it! Promise!

Danny: 🥺

Quick Boy: Don’t make those eyes at me! Trust me, babe, just wait until Monday.

Danny: Fine. But know I’m pouting.

Quick Boy: 😭

Danny behaved. He didn’t bother for updates. He sent more cats dressed as Justice League members and finished off the last Percy Jackson book, sending Wally updates along the way. But the whole weekend the fact that he apparently had a new job he knew nothing about and would be taken to Monday churned in the back of his mind.

It made him anxious in a way that he hadn’t been since he left Amity Park for Central city.

He didn’t much like it.

-

“Please at least tell me that I’m dressed fine for this new job?” Danny asked when he opened the door to Wally’s knock.

He didn’t really have many other options if Wally said no, he already had on his best dark jeans, cleanest boots, and his new cross body bag. He might have a button up shirt he could change into instead of the long sleeve one he was in, but that was as good as it was going to get. He just didn’t have business casual clothes with the jobs he had.

“You look fine,” Wally said.

“Not exactly a supersuit,” Danny said with a sigh, taking in Wally’s uniform.

Wally pressed a quick kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Not the kind of hero you are.”

That was something Wally had been doing, insisting that Danny was a hero. Whenever he protested, it only seemed to make Wally more insistent so Danny mostly let it be. Plus, the cute smile Wally got for ‘winning’ was nice to see.

It was gracing Wally’s lips now as Danny stepped out of his apartment, locked the door, and shoved the keys securely in his bag. One lost set of keys due to super speed was enough to make sure they were safely clipped in from then on.

“Okay. Right, let’s get this over with.”

“It’s a good thing,” Wally insisted as he squatted down for Danny to climb onto his back, “not your execution or anything.”

“I just don’t like not knowing,” Danny said.

“You love surprises.”

“Little surprises like picnics and presents, not life changing ones.”

“You’ll love it,” Wally insisted and then they were off.

-

“I’ll love an abandoned warehouse?”

“Apparently abandoned warehouse,” Wally stressed with a wave of his hands, like he was a two-bit magician.

“Convincing appearance. Once again, Flash, it’s a good thing you’re a hero because this as serial killer vibes.”

The windows were blacked out. There was a heavy layer of dust on most surfaces. The stairs to the foreman office were long rusted away. It was a mess.

But there was that feeling of being watched that crawled up Danny’s spine. None of the dust actually moved as they crossed the floor over to Barry. And the doors were either welded shut or solidly reinforced.

“Ready kids?” Barry asked.

“Still not kids,” Danny replied almost absently.

“Still don’t care!” Barry pressed one of the bricks on the wall and the whole thing shuddered and pulled back like some massive pocket door to reveal a… a portal behind the wall.

“Ta-da!” Wally said, complete with jazz hands.

Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal to look at him.

Did they know? Was this…?

“Danny?”

“What?” Danny started, forcing himself to look over at Wally who was beside him again.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Danny winced. He just couldn’t hold back the twitch of his body at that word. “Sorry. Um, so what is that?”

“A Zeta tube, it’s how we travel to the Justice League. It’s like a transporter,” Barry explained.

Okay, right, not a portal to the Ghost Zone. No one knew. He was safe. Danny closed his eyes. It was just a transporter that looked a lot like a portal.

Wally rested his hand on Danny’s arm and Danny almost jumped from the light touch. “Babe?”

“Um, remember how I told you there was an accident in my parent’s lab when I was a kid? Yeah, um, sorta similar look, is all. It just freaked me out for a moment.”

"Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Wally said. He squeezed Danny’s arm gently.

“No way you could have known. Who has a phobia over portals, right?” Danny said as he summoned his best attempt at a smile for Wally.

“Are you okay to…” Wally glanced from Danny to the portal nervously.

“I, yes? Can you just explain to me how it will go?” Danny asked. He pressed himself close to Wally, doing what he could to scrape together his frayed nerves. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone through the actual portal that had killed him all the time. It was just that now all that felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime no one remembered but him.

“Of course, babe,” Wally said, twining their arms together before he launched into a passionate explanation of the Zeta tubes.

It would be alright.

He could do this.

He had Wally.

-----

AN: Wally and Barry: We have something so cool to show you! Danny: *has portal based ptsd* ._.

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

[k-llama-llama]

In the Hotel

Seventeen AU: 14th member

Rei x Seventeen

Rei tries to stand up for herself....with mixed results

A/N: I'm going to be honest...i think this was a patreon post back in the day but I just found it in my drafts and realized I should be posting it for everyone.

IDK if I'm back or not but I would love to catch up!

Requests are OPEN!!!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

Rei wasn’t a particularly violent person.

But tonight, that was going to change.

It was well past midnight, and she could barely remember what city they were in, because she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep. Usually on tour their management reserved the entire floor of the hotel for them, but for some reason that hadn’t been possible at their current hotel. Which meant they had been sequestered in their rooms, sneaking from door to door in case a fan happened to walk by.

But that wasn’t even the main problem. The current issue was the obnoxiously loud music playing from the room next to Rei. It had started around six in the evening, which had been tolerable, but it hadn’t stopped since. Rei had tried everything to block it out. Headphones, earplugs, pillows, and she could still feel it shaking her walls. Then she had tried to call down to the front desk, but she’d panicked when speaking English on the phone and hadn’t been able to communicate the problem.

Which left only one option.

It was at times like these that Rei missed the days where she had always shared a hotel room with one of the boys. Now she was old enough to like her space, but she definitely still missed having them around to stay up late watching movies, ordering local food, or, as she was currently having to experience, knocking on her neighbor’s door.

She checked her outfit one more time. Her pajamas were just a bralette and sweatpants, and so she had pulled a sweatshirt overtop and smoothed her hair out. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her room key and stepped out the door.

Her room was at the end of the hallway, down a little alcove, with only one other room across from her. That was the room currently making all the noise, which it turned out was muffled in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she lifted one hand and knocked loudly on the door.

No one answered.

She knocked again, more insistently this time.

The door swung open.

Rei didn’t like to judge people, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was not the sort of man she wanted to be talking to. He reeked of alcohol, was missing his shirt, and just the tiny sliver that she could see into the room, showed a group of people, sprawled about, bottles of liquor on the floor. 

“What?” He snapped.

Rei squeaked. “Sorry. Your….your music…” She struggled to find the words, taking a step back. This was a terrible idea. If she couldn’t talk to the front desk on the phone, what made her think she could confront someone in person?

“It’s a party. You need music for a party,” The man scoffed, before giving her an appraising look. “You want in?”

She shook her head quickly. “No.”

“You sure? We have booze.” Rei did not know what that word meant, but she knew that she didn’t want any part of it.

“Sorry,” she bowed her head, stepping away and turning to leave.

“You next door?” The guy asked, leaning out into the hall. Rei shoved her hand back into her pocket. She couldn’t go back into that room now, not with these people now aware that she was staying there by herself.

She heard him call something to one of his friends, and didn’t waste time stepping out of the alcove and rushing towards the first room that she knew held one of her boys.

Still hearing voices from the party room, Rei knocked quickly, growing increasingly panicked. This entire thing was a mistake. If he didn’t answer, would she have to go down to the lobby? She’d been an idiot and left her phone in the room, and now she was—

A bleary-eyed Joshua pulled open the door. “Rei? Is something wrong?”

She ducked under his arm, speaking quickly as she sheltered behind him. “The people next to me were making noise so I went to ask them to be quiet but they were scary and drunk and now they know where I was sleeping and they speak English so I—”

“Hey! You guys want to join the party?” A voice called down the hall.

Joshua tensed, pushing Rei further into the room and leaning out the door. “Not a chance. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hey, your girl is the one who bothered us. We’re just being polite.”

“Have a goodnight,” Joshua shut him down. “Security is already on its way.”

There was a long moment of silence, Joshua still standing in the door, neither him nor the man in the hall saying anything. Rei nervously twisted her hand into the back of Joshua’s t-shirt, trying to pull him back into the room.

After a few seconds, he let her, closing the door behind them and securing the latch.

“You okay?” He asked, moving to flick on the lights. Rei took in just how exhausted he looked, clearly having rolled right out of bed when she knocked. His hair was a mess, his clothes wrinkled from sleep, and a quick glance at his bed showed that the sheets tossed around.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” he patted her shoulder.

Rei thought for a moment. She was exhausted too, and her brain was still a little bit foggy. “I should probably go back to bed.”

Joshua grabbed her wrist. “You’re not going back out there.”

“What?” 

“I’m calling security, and you’re staying here.” He insisted, releasing her to head for the phone.

Rei froze. “Are you…are you sure? I can go back to my room.”

“If you try, I’m going to call Seungcheol.”

That was enough to convince her, and so she made her way over to the bed while Joshua dialed the front desk and explained the problem much more fluently than she was capable of. The left side of the bed, closer to the nightstand, was the most messed up of the two, and so she figured that was where he had been sleeping. She kicked off her slippers and slid into the other side, pulling the blankets up over her lap.

Joshua hung up the phone, flicked the light switch, and then crawled into his side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Rei.”

“Night.” She rolled close to the edge, trying not to take up more space than she had to.

This was weird. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with Joshua. The opposite, really, they’d been close for ages, but they’d never shared a bed before and she couldn’t help but feel like she was bothering him. 

“You’re going to fall off the bed,” Joshua whispered.

“What?”

His arm reached over, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her closer to him. “I can sleep on the floor if you aren’t comfortable, but there’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep like that.”

“Sorry,” Rei forced herself to relax, getting a little more comfortable. “I’m trying not to take up space.”

He snorted. “You’re fine. Just go to sleep.”

Rei closed her eyes, wrapping her hands up in her sweater and tucking them under her chin. Joshua was only a few inches away, and she could hear the moment that he fell asleep and his breath evened out. She was only moments from sleep herself when a large commotion started in the hallway, shouts echoing into their room. Something slammed against the door of their room, and Rei flinched.

Joshua hummed, wrapping one arm over her and pulling her right into his chest. “It’s okay. It’s just security dealing with those guys.”

“Right.” She snuggled closer. “Sorry, they’re just loud.”

“They’re idiots,” he agreed, pressing his chin into her shoulder. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” She promised, finally letting herself relax. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Any time,” he promised. “Now, let’s get some sleep. We have a flight tomorrow.”

Impulsively, Rei pressed a kiss to his cheek, before she finally closed her eyes. “Night, Oppa.”

[sassy-cass-16]

LISTEN MAN. listen. When Essek and Caleb have their conversation at the top of the tower and Caleb tries to tell him that he’s done things on par with his betrayal, and Essek shuts him down, it’s so much more than that. It is so much more than that. 

More under the cut because I could write a whole essay on this one interaction

Caleb starts off with “The one thing that has stayed true, though, is that I—well, I carry a lot of sins, like you do.” It’s emblematic of Caleb’s entire worldview from the moment he got out of the sanatorium. He feels that the things he’s done, the things Trent had him do, are the only constant in his life between when he was Bren and who he is right now. He feels that the guilt is constant and inescapable, which is an idea he first expressed to Yasha earlier on in the campaign. 

And then he throws out a lifeline to Essek. He tries to bind their guilty threads together. He tells him that they are alike. He’s trying to comfort him, in his own way. It’s not entirely wrong, but Essek is three times his age and knows that their situations are not the same. He knows that his own crimes were premeditated. He knows that he made the personal decision, the active choice, to do what he did, with foreknowledge of what was going to happen. 

And so he tells Caleb as much. He says “Not anywhere like I do.” He tries to force Caleb to look at their situations in their full context. By this point, Essek has interacted with Trent, he knows the power and lack of restraint that the Assembly has. Caleb has told him that Trent was his teacher, that he’s familiar with him. It’s not hard for Essek to make the link between how slimy Trent is, and the amount of guilt Caleb feels, and figure out what really happened. And what really happened was that a young man was coerced. 

Caleb knows that, but he also carries that guilt for a reason. He did have other options—not past a certain point, not past when Trent made him a volstrucker, but he did have them. He believed that what he was doing was right, but he knows now that it was deeply wrong and horrific. He did hurt people. So he pushes back, he says, “Don’t be so sure.” He’s not listening to Essek’s deeper meaning here. 

and Essek is having absolutely none of that, because he sees this thirty-something boy whose crimes are heavy but nothing compared to his own, and he shuts it down. He gets Caleb to look him in the eye, and he looks Bren Ermendrud in the eye and he tells him, “I’m pretty sure, young man.” 

And the “young man” is important on multiple levels. Firstly, Essek is literally reminding Caleb of their age difference—Essek’s about 120 years old compared to Caleb’s 33, and for a drow who’s interacted mostly with people centuries or millennia older than both of them, that’s not nothing. That has meaning. He’s reminding Caleb of cosmic insignificance, in a way, which fits with the ninth floor of the tower being covered in stars. And it's not out of nowhere, Essek brings up the point a bit earlier. It's a shallow undercurrent through the whole conversation, but this is the point when Essek makes it mean something.

Essek is also reminding Caleb of their differences in order to absolve him of some of the guilt he’s carrying. it’s a mirror to the “venom in your veins” moment, when Caleb drew Essek into the Mighty Nein, dragged him into redemption, by exposing their similarities. That moment happened in the bowels of a ship, which represents the forced and necessary closeness of the moment. This moment, Essek’s response, happens in a place of infinity, which is a much more natural place of common ground for the two of them. The first one was out of necessity, it was Caleb trying to prove that he’s changed as much as it was him trying to prove that Essek can change. The second one is a choice made because Essek wants to show Caleb kindness, in his own way. 

In addition to that, though, Essek also calls Caleb a “young man” in contrast to Trent. He’s establishing himself as the elder of the two of them in a way that doesn’t imply power, it doesn’t even imply wisdom. it’s not him using his age to assert authority over Caleb in the way Trent abused his authority as his teacher. It’s just Essek making a firm statement about taking responsibility for himself. He puts this metaphorical distance between the two of them not to push Caleb away, but to remind him not to get lost in the guilt. 

Finally, I think Essek was probably a little tired of being dragged around by the Nein. He's been having a week. He might have needed to remind one of these people that despite how he looks and talks and how close they’ve gotten, he’s significantly older than all of them (aside from maybe Cad, although we don’t actually know how old he is) and he can handle himself. This moment also happens a few minutes after Jester put him on the back foot, by asking about his favourite food, so maybe asserting himself a bit helps him feel more at ease.

And Caleb's response?

"I will take you at your word."

It's hands-up, backing-down, letting Essek win. Essek has put his foot down about the severity of their respective crimes, and this is Caleb letting him know that he's finally listening. It's not a full surrender, but it's Caleb agreeing to believe Essek when he says that no matter what he's done, it's not on the same level as what Essek did, and he shouldn't take more responsibility or guilt than he already has.

The conversation turns to Caleb's goals after that, and they return to their usual conversation style, but that handful of lines is just so layered and impactful when you break down how these two got to this point. I love it. The push-and-pull dynamic here, where Essek lets a little of the Shadowhand out, is just... chef's kiss. All of this is improvised so goddamn well.

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road 

Oh, how far you are from home” 

(Enya, May it Be) 

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well. 

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them. 

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work. 

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject. 

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here. 

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family. 

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him. 

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now? 

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight. 

You frowned. 

Next big step? What is he talking about?… 

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it. 

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week. 

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man. 

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown. 

– Don’t you have anything to say about this? 

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response. 

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you? 

Your father clenched his jaw. 

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but… 

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men? 

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you. 

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process. 

You sighed. 

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly? 

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more! 

You scoffed. 

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father? 

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that. 

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it. 

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter. 

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word. 

*** 

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore? 

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before? 

You sighed at the thought. 

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this. 

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back. 

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right? 

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear. 

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage. 

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence. 

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road. 

*** 

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract. 

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this. 

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband. 

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding. 

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men. 

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into… 

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper. 

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back. 

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side. 

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so. 

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it. 

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone. 

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now. 

*** 

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment. 

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time. 

— Why are you doing this? 

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer. 

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent. 

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there. 

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor. 

You were just waiting for the travel to end. 

Chapter 2

[astarions-wife]

I can’t believe it’s come to the point of analyzing Cazador for all of you, but considering the amount of “Cazador can be redeemed!” And “Cazador x reader” I’ve seen, I feel like i need to make this.

So you feel pity for Cazador because he also suffered at the hands of his master. Good. That’s the point. You should feel something for Cazador, he also suffered abuse, and was dragged into the cycle of it by Vellioth. It’s awful, it’s terrible, but it doesn’t mean he’s redeemable.

Very much so, when Cazador kills Vellioth and chooses to start the cycle of power and abuse over again, he was too far gone. He made the choice, the conscious choice to be the same as his old master. Of course he’s suffering internally, somewhere is the soul of someone who lost everything, and became something awful. However he doesn’t even say he wishes for a reset. He wishes for death. Only in death is he free of the cycle of abuse, for his role in it is too far gone at this point.

“Orin and Gortash have apologists!” They do, but they’re also under different circumstances. It’s also justifiable to absolutely hate Orin and Gortash (believe me, even as someone who believes Gortash could’ve been better, I killed him in my initial run). Specifically as the Dark Urge, you can tell Orin that she’s being used just as Kethric and Gortash were. She’ll even break down as if she’s realizing that all this death she’s done in the name of her father/for her God, has been her being taken advantage of. Though she never gets a chance to be better, because she’s forcibly transformed in this ending, it’s just a sneak peak of what could have been. She was being used, and while it doesn’t erase or justify ANYTHING she did (and you’re well within your right, and should hold her accountable), it at least gives the player insight on to what could have been.

Likewise with Gortash, a victim of abuse at the hands of Raphael, with canonical lines on how he was beaten in the House of Hope as a little boy. His own parents sold him out, and he ended up being so desperate to be bigger, to have more power, that he also let himself be used, and in turn lost everything he worked hard for (and sold out Karlach, which is absolutely unforgivable of course). However he wasn’t too far gone. You can see his loyalty to you depending what options you pick, and although death is his inevitable end, it still shows that there was still a person inside.

There wasn’t a person in Cazador anymore. He was trapped behind the wall of abuse that he continued, and refused to even acknowledge it, or try and see reason. Perhaps it wasn’t possible for him, but ultimately his actions brought him here. Those that say Ascension for Astarion would free him of those chains, are simply wrong. Why does Astarion deserve to live, anymore than his siblings? Or the seven thousand people who were turned against their will? Of course Astarion is more, controlled in his hunger—but so are his siblings. Even speaking to them after the fight they’ll all vow and attest that they can control themselves, and they’ll even help the others if brought to it.

Ascended Astarion picks up the abuse cycle, killing thousands of people with just his first command. Ascended Astarion no longer speaks to you, but instead at you. You’re his “favorite” spawn, but then again Cazador had favorites didn’t he? And all of them suffered just as badly as the rest. Ascended Astarion even mentions “covering the world in darkness for his spawn”, which shows him continuing the abusive cycle that got Cazador in the first place.

Cazador dying, and spawn Astarion choosing to break the cycle is the significant ending. The best ending for Cazador, the only one for him, is to let him die. He’s a horrible, cruel, bitter man, and any sense of his humanity died long ago. Only in his dreams is there anything left, and he’s too cut off to even reach them anymore.

We also know that the Szarr’s had family. There are relatives to Cazador (see his niece), and clearly it wouldn’t have been wrong of him as a vampire to have a family if he so chose. But he didn’t seek out a partner, like some of his other (vampire) relatives did. He chose to only live by his spawn, whom he considered his children, showing that he truly didn’t see a need for a partner. Themes of family are a vital part of his story, but the element of a romantic partner never has been.

TLDR—Some villains in this game are understood, and potentially redeemable if given the option. Cazador is not one of them.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Damian has been in the family for a while he has made his peace with Drake understood that no matter what he has a place but he still can't understand the dynamics. Maybe it isn't exactly the most intelligent choice to track down Todd and ask but he figured it was the best option.

Sitting on Todd's couch in the middle of crime alley eating a dish he can only vaguely remember his mother making he isn't exactly regretting it yet.

"So let me get this straight bat brat, you don't get how people work so you came to me?" Todd's confusion isn't exactly surprising but it is unhelpful to his plight.

"No I understand people, well when I have to I do not understand the bats." He at the moment can't bring himself to actually act with the dignity his mother expects of him another way Gotham had corrupted him.

-

Jason can't say he expected to feed and be interrogated by the demon brat he just wanted to relax but this isn't exactly a surprise now that the kid has chilled out he was almost waiting for it.

"You want me to give you a cheat sheet to how our family actually works becusse you are now realizing that Talia didn't understand shit and it fucked you?"

He can't keep the pure joy out of his voice knowing that he is actually gonna get to knock the kid down a peg after today.

"Not in those words Todd but I understand you have a perspective that I may lack."

God demon looks pissed below the joy he understand that this is actually important and he needs to explain this well knowing this could make or break the already pretty fucked up kid.

"Alright listen and don't fucking interrupt me save your questions and bitchness for the end do I make myself clear."

Holding the kids eyes he sees the kid is actually paying attention as he nods maybe Dickie really did find out the secrets housebreaking who knows.

"Ok let's start with me and I'm gonna be sappy for ten seconds and if you ever repeat this I will shoot you and put you in another duffle bag ok, ok good. I'm your brother I love you would kill for you that whole bullshit. I'm also Dick's, and Tim's brother, on days I don't want to kill the old man I'm his son."

God he's gonna need a smoke after this bullshit fuck he sees the kid is nodding good he hasn't lost him.

"Now Dick is my older brother he's not yours you can lie to yourself all you fucking want but he's your dad teaching you how to be a real boy and all that shit."

He sees an embarrassed flush and the start of protests but he's not dealing with it that bullshit the kid can work on in his own time.

" You wanted it your gonna fucking hear it, now Tim-Tam the sleep deprived idiot is a bit more complicated."

He takes a breath trying to put into words what he wants to say.

"Why is Drake complicated wouldn't he be somewhat easy" the confusion isn't a good sign maybe it is better the kid came so he can restrain him if he has too.

"Tim is the best of us alright, he's someone I want to protect I love him truly even if he's an annoying little shit. Now listen Tim is a lot like you when it comes to Dick crossing the line between Dad and Brother. Tim will always side with Dick that's his Robin and Tim is Dick's. You can't be a jealous little shit here because I don't even fully understand them."

"Bruce isn't Tim"s dad at least on his end Dick is, Bruce loves Tim but no one can ever replace Dickie just like you which is honestly half the reason you hated the kid."

-

Damian is now regretting this conversation he thought this would be simple once again he has somewhat lost his mind since coming to Gotham.

Yet he knows Todd's right that the way Grayson looks at Drake is the same look he gets and the same part of him who loves his animals and loves Richard feels guilty because he knew. He just didn't want to admit it.

"Why I don't understand why is Timothy so different to any of us even you, both of us tried to kill him yet he seems to matter so much"

frustration is leaking through but this is what he wanted to know why Drake is so important even to him why, what is so special about him.

Todd is hesitating but slowly steeling himself Damian cant help but to copy him knowing whatever comes out isn't gonna be easy it's gonna hurt but he asked didn't he.

"Tim was the first, the one to really unlock Dick not being well a dick he knows parts of all of us, secretswhatever, the shit that matters. Bruce, Dick, me even you, we don't run shit ok Wayne Entetprises, plans Tim does. Dick and Tim are the glue holding us together without them we would be fucked you know that."

"That's what's so special about him everything we do Tim has a part of he's genuinely irreplaceable and it bothers the fuck out of both of us."

Damian can't breathe he just runs words he never wanted admitted are stabbing through his mind he doesn't stop until somehow he ends up in his bed at the manor he just hides pushing it down the real reason he tried to kill his brother the fact that he almost broke the family he just hides he shouldn't have asked.

Maybe Richard was right being naive was a gift and now he can't go back.