#like they both just stood there and let them think they'd gotten away with everything they'd done

[flysafepapi]

Oscar Tully said "I accept you as my vassal, Willem Blackwood, but I am Lord Paramount of all Riverhouses and there is only one answer for the crimes you have visited upon your neighbours."

But all I heard was "You stand accused of murder. You stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges, Lord Baelish?"

[totalswag]

Love your writing! So good!! Could you do one where the reader and Rafe have not been dating for long, only for about two weeks or so, and she is very insecure and doesn´t understand why he ever approached her to ask her out in the first place. She isn´t the most outgoing and thinks she is quite plain looking, comparing herself to all the much prettier girls (in her opinion) at parties that she evidently thinks he will leave her for and so she she starts to distance herself to make it hurt less

unworthy doubts — RAFE CAMERON

authors note first off, thank you so much. you don’t know how much that means to me. to all of you reading this right now; please know how important you're in this world. youre beautiful on the inside and outside in your own unique way 🤍.

summary questioning and comparing yourself to other girls while wondering why your boyfriend, rafe cameron, chose you.

warnings insecure, comparing, mentions of parties, crying, doubt.

Rafe Cameron and you started dating for almost a month; it’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a relationship. Although it’s in the early stages of your relationship, you haven’t felt this way.

However, your insecurities felt like they'd been with you forever.

Rafe's confidence and charisma seemed to effortlessly command whatever room he entered. You felt invisible; blending into the background. Comparing yourself to other girls at parties; pretty smile, makeup, etc.

What could rafe see in you?

The worries had recently gotten stronger, a constant voice in the back of your head. When you saw Rafe taking to someone or laughing too hard at someone’s joke, the voice whispers became louder.

You stood against the railing of Tannyhill watching at the sunset in your own thoughts. The breeze felt nice and it felt like good time to enjoy the moment.

"Hey," Rafe's voice interrupted your thoughts, making you jump slightly. He joined you at the railing with a troubled expression on his face. "You have been quiet recently. Is everything alright?

Rafe noticed your change in attitude in the previous three days. He had asked if everything was fine, but you refused to talk about it. Tonight, he wants answers. He's concerned about you.

You forced a smile, but it did not reach your eyes. "Yeah, I am fine." Just... exhausted, I suppose."

Rafe did not appear convinced. He stretched out and carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know you can speak with me, right? If something is bothering you, please let me know.”

Your heart sunk as you heard those words. Deep down, you want to open up to him and express your feelings. You don't want to come across as undesirable and make him think differently of you.

You felt words spilling out, but you remained silent.

"Y/N, I feel like you're pulling away from me." "Is it something I said or did?" He creaked "Please let me know, baby."

"It's not you, Rafe," you eventually confessed, the words rushing out before you could stop them. "It's me." I just don't understand why you chose me. I am not like the other gals. I'm not as attractive, outgoing, or—"

Rafe cut you off, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Is that what you think? That I don't realize how magnificent you are?"

Rafe's thoughts were all over the place. Seeing tears gather in the corner of your eyes caused him to cry.

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling tears form in your eyes, and down your cheeks. Not bothering drying them off.

"It's difficult for me to not to think about that when I'm constantly comparing myself to these girls" you ramble on when Rafe cuts you off.

Rafe approached, holding your face in his hands. "Look at me," he murmured quietly, waiting for you to meet his eyes. "I asked you out because I like who you are. You are nice and intelligent, and you make me laugh like no one else can. You are attractive to me both inside and out. And if you can't see it yet, I'll spend as much time as necessary to show you."

His words struck you like a tsunami, removing any doubts and anxieties that had been building up. You took a nervous breath as tears finally poured over.

You bury your face against his chest, letting out your sobs and putting your arms around his body; Rafe gently strokes your back, rocking you both side to side and whispers nice words into your ear to calm you down. 

"I can't afford to lose you," you whine against his chest.

"Baby, you will not lose me; I will be with you every step of the way," Rafe says before kissing the top of your head several times.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@runningfrom2am @winterrrnight @chenslucy @rosezza @solanathascientst @diqldrunks

[ruins-of-a-lover]

Beyond The Limits

Hero and Villain had been trapped in a sort of dance. Both of them liked to have the upper hand, but they couldn't have it at the same time.

And so, they were left with a cycle of getting revenge on whoever made the last move.

Problem? Villain was well... a villain.

Villain could get carried away.

When Hero's knees hit the ground, all they could hear was their own heartbeat in their ears. It felt like pain lit up every nerve in their body as blood dribbled from their masked chin.

Villain stood over them, their hand painfully holding their head back by their hair so the camera had a good view.

"Well, well, ladies and gentlemen, shall we see who your mighty Hero truly is?"

Hero let out a whimper as Villain's hand wrapped around the clasp of their mask, "D-Dont."

Villain chuckled under their breath, "Pretty pathetic, Hero. You know there's just over ten thousand viewers watching at this very moment, right?"

"Shut... u-up.." Hero mumbled.

Villain hummed, "On with the show, then." They ripped off Hero's mask, and their face was revealed, "Maybe this will teach you not to wreck my laboratory."

The words bounced around in Hero's skull as they stumbled into their apartment a few hours later just shy of passing out.

Typically, Villain wasn't so cruel, but they'd gotten caught up in the moment. They didn't stop to think.

Hero braced themself against the wall as they shuffled to their couch before collasping, blood and sweat still stuck to their skin.

It seemed like Hero had barely even closed their eyes when there was a pounding on their door, "OPEN UP!" They heard the voice of their Landlord shout.

Hero groaned as they swayed up to the door, everything hurting and their muscles screaming in exhaustion.

Despite their mental fog, Hero remembered paying rent for the month, so why was Landlord just short of breaking down the door?

Hero unlocked the door, "Listen, I appreciate what you do for the city, but you need to get out. I can't have you here any longer now that the whole city knows who you are."

Well, this was just great.

"You can't... just kick me out." Hero mumbled.

Apparently they could.

Hero stumbled into an alleyway and collasped in the corner, too tired and pained to try for anywhere better to sleep.

Carreer ruined.

Homeless.

Friends and family all abandoned them now that the secret was out.

Surely in the morning they'd be completely jobless.

If everything didn't hurt too much and they weren't so tired, Hero was sure they'd be sobbing as they curled into a fetal position and their eyelids grew heavy.

They woke up to a figure standing over them blocking out the morning sun.

"Hero?" They recognized the Villain's voice.

Hero merely groaned in response and tried to sit up. The sun was far too bright, and everything was a little fuzzy as the world tilted and turned.

"What are you... doing out here?"

"I was sleeping." Hero mumbled groggily.

"Well, yeah. But why? Don't you have an apartment not too far from here?"

"Did." Hero fumbled to a sitting position and put a hand on their pounding head as they cursed under their breath.

"What? What do you mean?" Villain was way too calm for Hero's liking. There was way too much concern in their voice for all the violence and ruin they'd brought to them just the night before.

"Got evicted."

"Y'know, even I usually pay my rent. What's the matter, your precious agency not pay enough these days? Or did they give you a pay cut after your wonderful performance last night?" Villain was almost rambling at this point, and they didn't even notice until they heard the soft squeak come from their nemesis.

Hero was crying. Hero was actually crying.

No one had ever seen Hero cry. Hero was strong. Hero was brave. Hero was everything the Villain pretended they were and their stomach sank.

Hero let out another hiccup and pulled their knees to their chest, hiding their face as they wish they could've last night.

"H-Hero?" Villain's voice shook and their blood felt like ice in their veins.

"Shut up! Will you SHUT UP! WAS RUINING MY LIFE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU!?" Hero glared up at them and spewed their hatred, their vision going dark at the edges as they gasped for breath.

"I didnt– No, what are you talking about? I didn't... I mean, I didn't ruin your life... right?"

Hero hiccuped again, and Villain saw their eyes beginning to roll back. They pounced to catch them before they fell backward and busted their skull, and Villain was left with this awful guilt deep in their stomach.

Part 2!!!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 148 (Keeping a Promise to Ben and His Dog)

cw: death

The sun had barely risen when Heather and Conrad took Ash and Gord to Deadgrass Isle. Ben Gordon's old lighthouse towered over the isle from the point, and they found him waiting by the anchor statue in front of the museum.

His dog, Captain Whitaker, had joined them in his translucent form - the better for him to enjoy an ambrosia treat, they understood.

The morning had finally come for the old lighthouse keeper to hand his beloved pup to these Gordons before his final journey.

Both dogs smelled the treats in Heather's jacket pocket, but she sated Gord with a Buttercup before letting him run off to chase a flock of birds. She could see Ben, finally, just like Conrad and her son, and the old man's smiling explanation was simple. "You're a Gordon now."

Conrad looked between the dogs and his family - both living and dead. "Are you ready for this, Ben?"

The old man nodded. "I've been ready a long time. So's the Captain."

"You're not afraid of what happens when you cross over?"

Ash's innocent question made the ghostly lighthouse keeper smile. "I've seen enough in my time that nothing would shock me. I'm ready."

"I'm sorry it took us so long to come back here." Conrad glanced apologetically at the ground.

"Do you mean for you and your family to pick up the Captain, or the long overdue return of the Gordons to Brindleton Bay?"

The Gordon men shared a wistful smile. "If fate decided to bring me back to Brindleton Bay in the form of my gorgeous wife, then fate is too good to me."

"Fate didn't make you a good enough man to deserve everything you have. That came from somewhere else."

Conrad nodded in agreement. "My parents."

Ben laughed. "Good genes."

Captain Whitaker barked, accepting the friendliest introduction as Heather reached for the ambrosia treats. Though she'd made more than a few, she'd never actually used one, and hoped more than anything she'd gotten the complicated formula just right.

The ghostly Chesapeake Bay retriever gobbled the ambrosia, and almost immediately began to glow within a prism of light. Ash watched in awe as the dog floated above the dirt, spinning rapidly before landing on four legs. "Wow! He's really coming alive again!" Ash cried with excitement.

The Captain didn't look much different now than Ash remembered him from the snowy day he first met Ben and his dog on Deadgrass Isle, and the reanimated pup barked joyfully in his new form.

"I haven't seen him this excited in over a century."

Captain Whitaker's new humans bent down to give him pets, welcoming him into the family with Buttercups and friendly hugs. Gord had returned from chasing birds covered in mud, but he excitedly greeted his new four-legged friend, too.

The excitement of the moment almost masked the weight of everything they'd come to do, but Captain Whitaker couldn't forget about Ben. They'd been companions for over a century and a half, but Ben was ready to move on, and the Captain knew it.

The retriever marched away from Heather, Ash, and Conrad, finding his longtime best friend glancing wistfully toward his old lighthouse on the hill. Blinking back a tear from his eye, Ben bent down to scratch behind the Captain's ears for old time's sake.

"Nobody could've had a better friend than you. Be good for the Gordons, and young Ash. And that sweet little girl I know you can't wait to meet." Captain Whitaker barked - high pitched and happy, but long and mournful at the same time. "I'll see you some day, old boy."

Ben stood, his form already shifting as he slowly left this simlandian plane. Though he made himself visible to others in a form they recognized most readily, his body now glowed with the same translucence as most ghosts.

"What happens now?" Ash wondered. "Does Grim come?"

Conrad shrugged. "I don't think so, buddy. But I think Ben knows what to do."

With one final wave, Ben floated to the small custom stone grave Heather and Conrad had commissioned for him. He laughed warmly at the inscription.

Ben Gordon (1835-1901) Your watch is finally over. We've got the Captain from here.

"Did you have to tell everyone how old I was?"

Conrad raised his hands apologetically. "The local historian insisted on it before we placed it on the isle. I know Gordons don't crave the spotlight, but he said you're an important part of town history and should be remembered properly now that the Brindletons aren't here to erase our name."

Ben blushed. "Tell him thanks, if you think of it."

With one final glance to his surroundings, he tipped his cap and somersaulted into the air. In a puff of white smoke, he disappeared into the gravestone, and Ash looked on in awe.

"So that's it? He's really gone? We really helped him?"

Captain Whitaker barked in the affirmative, bringing the awestruck Gordons back to earth. Ash raced off to school, leaving Heather, Conrad, and the dogs for a moment of contemplation.

Lighting candles to honour Ben's spirit, they vowed to uphold the promise on his epitaph.

But more than adopting a new dog, they'd accepted an unspoken promise to keep safe the town Ben had guarded from his lighthouse for so long. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: This was such a headache, I'm still so annoyed that EA made Captain Whitaker a living dog in the middle of me playing through the adoption arc. I thought I had the solution when I downloaded a ghost version of Captain Whitaker from the Gallery, but when I put the ghost in game he was alive again! Why?!

I had to steal a random NPC ghost dog they'd met once, change him to a Chesapeake Bay retriever in CAS and add the telltale bandana. So that's the dog Heather is actually reanimating, before I switched him out for the real Captain Whitaker who Conrad befriended with Gord back in the winter.

Also, because Heather is pregnant the house already has eight sims. So I technically cheated adding Captain Whitaker to the family because even though I have 10 set for my max house size, when I have eight sims I can't adopt or ask to move in as normal. But this was a bonus gen goal which I can cheat if I want, and I wanted to - especially after all the trouble I went through to play out the arc!

[theoceanoasis]

Dratchrod questioning having a sparkling with rodimus only for it to be discovered rodimus can’t have sparklings.

They separate from rodimus when rodimus secludes himself too much and what rodimus thought to be a one night stand with megatron and mininus end with rodimus living with the two who want him and its discovered he’s sparked a few weeks later

They cuddled together in bed like usual when Drift finally broached the subject.

"We've been thinking."

He looked over giving them a confused look.

"We want to have a sparkling."

"Really?"

He looked at both of them in excitement because he's always wanted to have a sparkling. He just wasn't sure they wanted the same.

Both of them nodded and he hugged them in excitement. Which turned into them trying for one.

Months later he was looking at the test in his hand with tears in his optics. It was another negative and he was starting to feel defeated.

Ratchet suggested they all take a test and the thought made him nervous. He knew he was the problem. There was something wrong with him and taking the test was nerve-wracking.

When they finally got the results he couldn't look but looking at Drift and Ratchets face he felt his spark drop.

Tears fell and he broke down sobbing devastated that he couldn't carry. He apologized over and over again begging them not to leave him even though he was broken.

They promised they wouldn't but afterwards their relationship wasn't the same. They seemed distant and at the same time so was he. Lost in his grief with no one to pull him out.

The first time they tried interfacing with him after the news he'd freaked out and ended up sleeping in another room.

His spark was broken. He felt like a failure and he knew it would only be a matter of time before they left him. He was right when he found the two packing their bags.

They'd "generously" let him keep the apartment but both of them were moving. Their relationship was over.

It had destroyed everything he had left. At first he laid in bed staring blankly at the wall wanting to die. Then he found himself walking along a bridge. His mind made up as he looked over the edge.

It was Megatron and Minimus who stopped him from jumping. They'd desperately grabbed onto him pulling him away from the edge. Their optics wide with terror as they looked him over.

He just stood there tears falling down his face mind empty. He didn't feel anything at all in that moment.

Megatron and Minimus took him back to their apartment. They refused to let him be alone always watching over him.

With their care and support he began to heal. He started to go out and enjoy life again. They'd gone to a bar so he could get out and socialize. They also wanted to celebrate how far he'd come.

They'd gotten drunk and done something that was stupid but none of them would regret it.

They had what they first thought was a one night stand. A lapse in judgment and a mistake. Until he started to get sick and they became worried that he was relapsing. Only to get the amazing news that he was sparked.

All of them were excited especially Rodimus who looked at the ultrasound in awe. After that he moved in officially and the three of them began courting wanting to be together.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 437: GRWM Tia

I don’t like the way you’ve been looking at her recently.

Those words, words of his wife, snaked into his head once again, judging him, making him feel small and filthy. They'd been echoing in his head since that late September weekend, and they did so again as he sat here in the early evening,  by himself, in his living room. That weekend the family had been at their neighbors’ pool, he could remember it so clearly - the two families, boys playing video games inside, the girls bathing in the last sun of the season. Bikinis, it was hard to keep his eyes where they should be: anywhere but on Tia and the shocking way she filled her swimsuit, the way she had grown. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and his wife had noticed. She scolded him when they returned home that afternoon:

She’s your daughter. 

Fuck, I know, he now scolded himself, reflecting as he sat on the couch on this mid-November eve, Tia’s become a…a…fuck. Face it. She’s a fucking wet dream. Back in September, in her bikini, she was strikingly voluptuous and, if anything, his daughter had grown since that day at the pool. In less than two months she’d gotten taller by inches and bustier in spades - making his struggles only harder. His daughter was busy upstairs readying herself for some party, and with her mother - his wife - out for the evening, Tia had promised him a fashion show, a look at the  dress she’d be wearing.

But first she’d been sending him pictures. They were coming through on his phone.

He cursed himself at how his heart fluttered…

…

Omigod Omigod Omigod I love it. 

Tia McMahon could not believe that the girl in the mirror was her. This dress…this dress that Ms. Samuelson from Far Horizons let her borrow fit perfect. Better than perfect, it transformed her. Squeezed into it like a glove, Tia felt now a little less like a teen that would have to fake her way awkwardly through an evening among adults at this event she’d been invited to tonight. She didn’t feel like a little girl anymore, and she certainly didn’t look like one. She looked, and felt, like a woman. 

Jesus my boobs are huge. He’s gonna melt.

She knew he was downstairs, she knew he’d gotten her text - silly man hadn’t known to turn off his read receipts. He hadn’t responded, though, and in a naughty moment she couldn’t help but picture him on the couch doing the same thing to her picture that she knew he did to pictures of other women late at night, or to that interview of Melissa Monroe he’d recorded off the news. 

She loved how it made her heart flutter. She loved thinking that her dad found her hot. She loved picturing him getting - omigod - hard in his sweatpants for her, down there in the living room. Just like all the boys in Ms. Fielding’s APUSH class, she knew she could make him squirm for her. Dad’s already a simp for mom, she thought, and I outgrew her last week. 

He still hadn’t written her back. 

Maybe his hands are busy haha. 

…..

Jesus Christ. 

He’d heard his daughter stepping down the stairs. He tried, suddenly, to look casual. He arranged the thin throw blanket strategically over his lap, and readied himself as much as he could. Nonetheless, he was pitifully unprepared for the tall, blonde young woman that stepped into the living room, between him and the tv. Had he been smart he would have stayed speechless as she stood there, posing her perfect body for him in the revealing dress she’d be wearing out tonight. waiting for his reaction. He, however, was not a smart man, and uttered the one word which told her everything she wanted to know:

“Wow…”

His heart fluttered again when he saw how Tia smiled. Her mother - his wife - remained far away. There were no other eyes in the house to judge them, both knew that. No one there to catch him ogling his own daughter, no one there to tell her that she needed to cover up. He screamed at his eyes to tear themselves off of Tia’s big chest, or away from the swell of broadened hip that announced itself out of the high slit of her dress, but they ignored him. Tia, for her part, seemed happy to just stand there and let him stareing, watch his best efforts as his jaw hung gaping. 

“You like it?” she asked, doing a slow, half-spin to show him how her dress hugged her pert rear. 

Jeremy McMahon’s eyes goggled. A swimmer, Tia had always been fitter in the upper body than most, but her legs and hips were now becoming quite remarkable as well. He’d snapped pictures of her in her running shorts, weeks ago, and knew he should've deleted them from his phone. If Eva ever saw them she’d have questions. Now, though, that ass was right in front of him and he-

“Hm?” she followed, wrenching him from his reverie. Looking over her shoulder, and down at him,  she saw him nod, and she turned back towards him. 

He gazed up at her, and knew he should say something, but he just couldn’t. 

Emboldened by her father’s paralysis, Tia’s smile widened. In a bold move she’d seen others do - she slowly leaned forward, at the hip, bringing her hands to her knees and using her elbows to squash together her big, big breasts. She almost giggled when her father’s eyes fell helplessly down to her cleavage. Since joining Ms. Fielding’s class, she’d been learning a lot of things, including that her breasts could be weapons. 

“C’mon, Daddy,” she purred, “tell me I’m pretty.”

Jeremy McMahon, if anything, froze harder.

Tia used the moment to lean in further so she could give him a peck on the forehead. Seemingly innocent, she knew the kiss brought her breasts right in front of his face.

Still the poor man said nothing. Tia lingered there for a long moment, letting him drink in the sight of her chest as she waited for his response. Something to think about after I leave. Mom’s out of the house. You can do whatever you want.

“Y-you look beautiful, Tia,” he finally said, right into her E-cups. 

Heart rushing, beginning to stand, she giggled and smiled at the glossy lipstick mark left behind on his forehead, a lurid print of her lips. Will Mom see that? she wondered, in a moment of willful vanity. I hope so. 

 He’d raised his eyes to meet hers. His own heart had nearly stopped. 

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, smiling down at him, “I’ll be home by eleven...”

...wait up for me. 

============================================

thank you thank you to ItsThePitts for the Tia character, and to RiF for editing.

[kierras]

@pogueish (cont.)

kiara knows what it's like to be in sarah's position. at one point, that had been her, hadn't it? a mirror image of this plays out in her mind, a memory of her desperate to prove herself, drinking until she blacked out in an attempt to fit into the kook-shaped spaces that her parents had carved out for her. from the moment she walked into the academy halls she knew how different she was, how they all saw her as south side trash because no matter where she may live now, no matter how hard her father had fought to claw his way off the cut — pogue was just in their genetics, pulling her mother down with them. it had been equal parts humiliating and infuriating, the only relief coming when sarah cameron herself had extended an olive branch.

but that hadn't lasted long either and then everything had gotten even worse, but kiara doesn't dwell on those memories. not anymore. she's older now, knows exactly who she is and doesn't let anyone make her feel inferior anymore. now she watches as sarah stumbles through a party on the cut, fair features flushed from the alcohol and her words slurring as whispers of murderous fathers, unstable brothers, kook princesses and not belonging around her. kiara frowns, feels bad for her and tries to intervene before things go too far.

her heart cracks right along with sarah's voice, shaking her head and honeyed eyes move from her friend over the crowd and back again. "you are strong, sarah. you don't need to prove that to anyone — especially not a bunch of local salts who don't know what you've been through." but kiara, better than anyone else, knows that is easier said than done. it's what she had told herself once too — that it didn't matter if her peers hated her, she didn't have to prove herself to a bunch of stuck up kooks. but she had still wanted to.

"you're just as pogue as any of us," she says and she means it. she'd fight anyone here on it if they tried to argue it. point out that both of them were cut from the same cloth — ward cameron and mike carrera had grown up together, dragged themselves into fortune on figure eight and tried to set their daughter's up for better. the difference was sarah had embraced it and kiara had been pushing it away for as long as she could remember. but when it had really counted? sarah had stood with them. chosen them. done the right thing. if kiara can be accepted here, sarah can too as far as she is concerned. "more so than some. you think half those guys in there would stand in front of a gun for their friends? that they'd turn down your old life if they were given a shot at it? they wouldn't. but you did — without even thinking about it. that's some real pogue shit."

[moralesmilesanhour]

Hi! I'm currently reading all your works cause i've fallen in love with the way you write. I was wondering if maybe you were interested in writing some kind of deep interaction between Rio and Miles G (42)? I really like the way you portray him, and I feel like Rio would be against him taking the responsibility of being the man in the house. Like (i think) she'd be thankful, right? But I think she'd be telling him that she's able to take care of them both, that he's too young. But, idk, I'd just love to see how you think they'd interact.

Tysm, that means a lot :')) and yes I haven't gotten the opportunity to write extended familial interactions yet!! (apologies for the lack of Spanish, I am not a native speaker and this is very dialogue-heavy. I wasn't about to risk it lol)

Miles carefully peeled open the envelope of cash that Uncle Aaron had given him at the small dinner table.

"Here, let me," Rio reached over to try and take it, but the boy held it to his chest.

"Lemme just count it real quick."

The woman chuckled as the boy rapidly sifted through the crisp bills with the expertise of a salesman.

"Whose money is it that you need to count it?"

"Just makin' sure," Miles said with a grin before sliding the envelope over to her.

Rio took it and rose from her seat to store it in her room upstairs.

She set it on her nightstand, next to a framed family photo and a blown-out scented candle. A younger Jeff had his arms wrapped around her and an eight-year-old Miles, who still smiled with all (or most) of his teeth. Rio had hardly known what to do with his hair, so he sat on the high stool with a little afro. The little boy's hair had stayed like that until he came home crying from school one day, fussing over 'his hairline'. By fifth grade he had gotten a fade. By tenth grade, he came home with freshly-braided cornrows and two shiny studs in his ear.

The sound of sizzling and popping in the kitchen broke her out of her reverie.

"Miles, what's going on in there?" the woman called out as she hastened down the steps, fully prepared to put out a fire if need be.

But there stood her son, now tall and wiry, looking up at her with a pan full of simmering vegetables and meat in one hand, and the other hand on his hip.

"I'm just making dinner, mami."

The boy pressed his lips together. Rio had that far-away look on her face that she got when he was about to be bombarded with baby stories. Again.

"Do you...need something?"

"No," she replied as she leaned against the entrance. Watching.

Waiting for him to overcook something or forget an ingredient, providing an opening for her to take over. He had homework to do and yet, here he was, worrying about dinner and counting money.

...Unfortunately, he was currently preparing everything just like she had taught him.

"So? How's school? You still talk to that Lee kid?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"You hang out still? I haven't seen you with your skateboard in a while."

"Sometimes-"

"You know, now that I think about it, don't you think that thing's getting kinda old? We could see about getting you a new one."

The boy shrugged, his gaze fixed on the pan in front of him.

"Don't shrug at me. You know how I feel about that," the woman padded over to the kitchen cabinet, carefully removing two dishes before setting them on the counter. "and stand up straight, you're slouching."

Miles ignored her and took a plate, scooping rice into it. He added in some of the contents of the pan before offering it.

Rio looked at the plate. Then at Miles. Then the plate again.

Her son's brows furrowed in concern. "Is it bad? Did I screw it up?"

She gave the boy a sad smile before taking the dish, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"It's fine, it's just...you know you don't have to do this, right?"

"No offense, mami, but you had McDonald's for dinner last night," a grin played on Miles' face, "and the night before that."

Rio gave him a playful smack on the shoulder.

"Miles, I'm serious. Your uncle and I are working so that you don't have to worry about anything. Understand?"

The boy looked unconvinced, but he nodded anyway. "I got it."

Before turning to leave the kitchen, the woman stopped.

"One more thing,"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to take you to that skate shop on Saturday, seriously!"

Miles laughed, "Copy."

-

I free-wrote this instead of outlining, so I hope this is deep enough of an interaction! Thanks so much for reading <3

[hazzybat]

Jan/Jure for 24?

24.. in danger

Loved doing an uncommon pairing! This was silly and fun and I really enjoyed it.

This counts as in danger right?

"Why the fuck are we here again?" Jan asked, clutching onto Jure's arm tight enough he knew he would leave a bruise.

"Because we're stupid," Jure responded his voice trembling. The room they stepped into was no better than the last, the walls covered in grime and gore, the furniture slashed and destroyed. They took another step before they heard a loud bang and a door to their right slammed open. A huge, hulking figure stood in the doorway, brandishing a very loud and very large chainsaw. The figure revved the engine and that spurred Jan into action.

He grabbed Jure's hand and sprinted through the next door, not even bothering to look where he was going, only thinking about getting away from whatever the fuck that thing was.

He heard Jure's footsteps behind him along with the chainsaw engine sounding much too close for his liking. He ran faster, not once letting Jure's hand drop as he burst through another door.

They were in a dark room, a small wondow only letting in enough light for Jan to see it was  maybe a kitchen of some kind. He didn't bother to take in the scenery, instead he raced to a large cupboard and threw open the doors to find just enough room for both him and Jure to hide in.

He dragged his friend inside before shutting the door behind them.

Their terrified breathing filled the tiny space, their hearts racing as they held each other close. Tears streamed down Jan's face as they waited in the dark, listening out for any sounds that they were followed. It felt like an eternity passed. They slowly caught their breath but were still trembling, to scared to dare break the silence that settled around them.

"What the fuck," Jure finally whispered out, his arms tight around Jan's body, trembling.

Jan jumped out of his skin as they heard the door to the room open and heavy footsteps began walking around the room. Jan's heart lept to his throat.

He found the back of Jure's head and pulled him close, their breath mingling together in short sharp pants. The footsteps stopped right outside the cupboard and Jan thought his heart might explode from how fast it was racing. He was going to die, they were going to be killed in a closet and he had so much he still wanted to do, so many regrets. He turned to Jure, the blonde man's eyes large and shiny in terror.

"In case we die, know that I always wanted to kiss you," Jan said before pulling Jure close and kissing him hard. Jure responded a second later, kissing him back and running a trembling hand through Jan's hair. It was messy and hard and Jan wished he'd kissed him sooner.

They heard the door open but both were too terrified to look and fact their doom.

"Why are you making out in a cupboard in the staff room?" Nace asked them.

Jan turned to look at a very confused bassist standing in front of them. The lights in the room has been turned on and Jan could see now that the room they'd run into was not somewhere they were meant to be.

The room had no themeing, no blood and gore and ruined furniture. It was a perfectly normal staff room with a few worn couches and a small kitchenette.

Jan sheepishly stepped out of the cupboard, still holding Jure's hand.

"We got a bit lost," Jure offered as explanation. They both felt a bit silly now. They'd agreed to go with the others to the haunted attraction, everything starting off fine until they'd gotten separated from Kris, Nace and Bojan. Evidently in their haste to escape the madman with a chainsaw they'd entered a staff only area.

"That doesn't explain why you were making out," Nace chuckle as he lead them back out towards the exit, having been allowed back in to find his friends.

"I didn't want to die a virgin" Jan joked, grinning at Jure who leaned in to give him another quick peck. Maybe Jan could kiss him again even when they didn't think they were about to die.

[fourwingedwriter]

Magical Signs - Part VIII (8)

AN: We're back to the point where I remember the average person doesn't know roman numerals to the extent I do. Anyways life update: I have rabbits and one of them is not doing so great, so if I end up not writing, it will likely be because she's died or gotten even worse.

First Part - Previous - Next - Master Post

----

Helion sat at the kitchen table with his mug of coffee, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, digging a hand through his hair.

They'd been through so much together, and things had been fine for a while. He loved Luna, but she could never seem to catch a stroke of good luck.

From the weeks she was in a coma on a ventilator to the months spent learning sign language to the years of processing trauma. She had finally caught a break and was back to what she loved the most. Helion couldn't help but resent this boy for ruining this for her.

Luna would never abandon anybody in need, which was a quality he always admired in her. But to see her breaking down over it? That hurt. He couldn't just sit idly by while she suffered, so, Helion started planning.

He figured he would ask Luna her opinion on letting this boy stay in their spare bedroom for a short while. Helion stood, taking his drink with him and taking a long sip of the dark liquid, it was about to be a long week.

-

Millo woke up a mess, still in the previous day's clothes and hair tangled to all hell. He started with the hair, furiously brushing it out for a few minutes before settling down.

He was shaky getting out of bed, simply sliding off the side and onto the makeshift stool he used. Millo rummaged under his bed for a moment before pulling out a box of easy food he kept stored.

Inside was a few packages of cheap noodles, granola bars, a small container of candy he needed to throw away, some canned soups, and a bag of small cubes which made a broth he didn't mind too much. Breakfast foods be damned, he got some of the noodles and one of the small cubes.

In a different box, he pulled out a small, surprisingly good pot he found at a thrift store. It was one of his favorite tools because it consistently worked well. Millo cast a heating spell, not even realizing he had done it in sign until he was halfway through.

Summoning water was easy enough, but all it did was remind him of Luna. The way that girl smiled was quite possibly one of his favorite things in his current life. She was everything he could ever dream of and more.

Millo quietly waited for his water to boil, thinking about the last two days. They started off like he had been in paradise, but the previous day would likely haunt him for years to come. He didn't want to reveal how bad his living conditions were.

Luna probably wouldn't want to see him, so he just stayed home. The van couldn't leave him at least. Maybe he should go to the next town, check if they have a food pantry and take some from there.

Millo dropped in the noodles and small broth cube, appreciating the smell of the broth. It was both comforting and depressing. This meal was simple, reminding him he could make something edible without going broke. But even then, this being one of his best meals was concerning at best and depressing at worst.

He grabbed one of his pillows, placing it in his lap and hugging it. He burried his face into it, nearly falling asleep before he heard a knock on the door.

----

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mellowwhumps @mellowwhumps @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whumperofworlds

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 41 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly) , physical abuse (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 1,230

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying this story as much as I’ve been writing it lol. They’re just so FLUFF Stated as always this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. Dean woke to find Julia still asleep beside him, her hair fanned out across the pillow, her hand resting on his chest. He smiled slightly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

It was peaceful here—something he wasn't used to.

Slipping out of bed carefully so as not to wake her, Dean got dressed quietly. He stepped outside onto the small porch of Julia's place, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. It felt good—normal, even. A rarity in his life.

As he stood there, watching the world wake up around him, he felt the weight of everything he was carrying start to creep back in. The Mark of Cain still lingered on his arm, a constant reminder of the danger that loomed ahead. But he had to believe that, with Julia and Sam by his side, they could find a way through it.

When he went back inside, Julia was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on her clothes. She looked up when he walked in, smiling softly.

"Morning," she greeted.

"Morning," Dean replied, leaning against the doorframe. He hesitated for a second before saying, "Was thinking... maybe we could hit the road later. See if there's a case or something. I need to keep busy."

Julia raised an eyebrow, standing and walking over to him. "Back to the grind already, huh?"

Dean gave a small smirk. "You know me."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Alright. But only if we stop for pie on the way."

Dean chuckled, a genuine smile on his face for the first time in what felt like ages. "Deal."

And just like that, things felt a little more normal.

After leaving Julia's place and swinging by the bunker to pick up Sam, the trio hit the road. Dean drove, his usual classic rock playlist blaring through the speakers. Julia sat in the passenger seat, leaning back comfortably while Sam was in the back, going through their intel for the case they'd picked up—a string of disappearances in a small town a few hours away that fit the description of a vampire nest.

Dean, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, was in good spirits. He'd even gotten his pie after they made a pit stop at a diner on the way, and Sam couldn't help but notice how different his brother seemed.

"Alright, so the sheriff in town says six people have gone missing in the last two weeks," Sam said, glancing up from his laptop. "No bodies, just gone. But the disappearances all happened near an old industrial district."

"Sounds like our bloodsuckers," Dean said, taking a bite of his pie as he steered the Impala down the open road. "We take 'em out, rescue whoever's still alive. Should be a quick job."

Julia glanced at him with a small smile. "You always make it sound so easy."

Dean shrugged, licking the fork. "It usually is."

They arrived in town by late afternoon and checked into a motel, agreeing to head out to the industrial district after sundown. The plan was straightforward—Sam would check out the area for signs of the nest while Dean and Julia would secure the perimeter, ready to go in guns blazing if necessary.

As they prepared to leave the motel room, Dean turned to Julia, tossing her a machete. "You good to go, sweetheart?"

Julia caught the weapon with ease, spinning it in her hand before sheathing it at her side. "Always."

Sam shot them both a glance. "Let's keep this simple. In and out, no distractions."

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "We'll be back in time for round two of pie."

The industrial district was eerily quiet as the trio moved through the darkened alleys. Sam had found a lead—a nearby warehouse that had been abandoned for years and recently showed signs of activity. The strong, metallic scent of blood hit their noses as they neared the building, confirming their suspicions.

"They're in there," Sam whispered, glancing at Dean and Julia. "You guys ready?"

Dean gave a curt nod, gripping his machete. "Let's end this."

They moved inside, the moonlight barely illuminating the large, dusty space. Rows of old machinery lined the walls, casting long shadows, but it didn't take long to find the nest. In the far corner, the vampires were gathered around a few terrified captives, who were bound and gagged. The vamps were too busy arguing over their next meal to notice the Winchesters and Julia sneaking up.

Dean smirked, giving the others a nod. "Showtime."

They launched their attack swiftly. Dean swung his machete with precision, taking out the first vampire before it even had a chance to react. Julia followed suit, fighting side by side with Dean, her movements quick and practiced. Sam focused on getting the captives out, guiding them away from the danger while Dean and Julia mowed through the remaining bloodsuckers.

One of the vamps made a break for it, but Dean was faster, grabbing the creature by the collar and decapitating it in one swift motion. Blood sprayed across the floor, but Dean didn't flinch, his focus sharp.

In less than ten minutes, the nest was destroyed, and all the vampires lay in pieces around the room.

"See?" Dean said, wiping the blood off his machete. "Easy."

Julia shook her head, laughing. "You make it look that way."

Sam approached, leading the freed captives out. "They're safe. I called the cops—told them we found them wandering outside. Should cover our tracks."

"Nice work, Sammy," Dean said, slinging his machete over his shoulder.

As they left the warehouse, Julia walked next to Dean, bumping his shoulder lightly. "Not bad for your first case back, huh?"

Dean smirked, glancing down at her. "Not bad at all."

Back at the bunker later that night, the trio settled into the library, a much-needed sense of calm returning after the successful hunt. Sam buried himself in research, while Dean and Julia sat across from each other, going over the details of the case with a sense of satisfaction.

Sam eventually looked up from his book, eyeing Dean. "You seem... different."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"

"I don't know. Lighter," Sam said with a small smile. "Happier."

Dean shrugged, glancing over at Julia, who was trying to hide her smile. "Maybe I'm just getting my groove back."

Julia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Or maybe you're finally realizing that you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time."

Dean shot her a look, but there was no denying that she was right. Ever since Julia had become a bigger part of his life, things felt... easier. The Mark of Cain was still a looming threat, but with Julia and Sam by his side, Dean felt more equipped to face it.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, waving her off. "Let's not get too mushy, alright? We've got work to do."

But despite his usual tough exterior, there was no hiding the small, genuine smile that crept onto his face as he looked around the room. For the first time in a long time, things felt... good.

And for now, that was enough.

[beyondedenton]

Toy Fangs || Charleson || November, 2023

Mason: "Baby, why."

Charles: "'Why', what?"

Mason: "Halloween was a month ago."

Charles: "I didn't get to enjoy it! Let me have this."

Mason: "What ya want me to be?"

Charles: "Hmm. The knight I stole this sword from."

Mason: "I need some chainmail."

Charles: "You could go for a nice, leather jerkin."

Mason: "Excuse me?"

Charles: "Are you opposed to leather? I figure chainmail would get uncomfortable very quickly."

Mason: "...I've worn it, once. Ya know I love leather. That's fine."

Charles: "Pardon? You've worn chainmail before?"

Mason: "Aye."

Charles: "...On what occasion?"

Mason: "In Hell."

Charles: "Oh."

Mason: "Ya wanna see that?"

Charles: "... I'm curious, but worried."

Mason: "About?"

Charles: "You've never shown me anything from Hell, before."

Mason: "It was a... an interestin' bit. Crowley's makin'."

Charles: "Let me see, then."

Mason: "You'll see someone else."

Charles: "Who?"

Mason: "An angel," he said, refusing to look away.

Charles: "The one who..." He gestured behind Mason, to where his wings would be, if they'd been visible.

Mason: His nod was slow and singular. "Toby."

Charles: He slipped arms around his husband's waist and squeezed. "Show me."

Mason: Charles' face was gently held, caressed in both hands. The memory was offered with a delicate touch. Beginning first with laughter. Eyes were closed in this memory.

"Just wait!" insisted a bubbly, feminine voice.

"My shoes are wet! I know we're there!"

"Fine!" she giggled, "open them!"

The same man. Same face. Somehow, despite Hell, his features were softer. Hair rich and thick in texture. There he stood, staring at his own reflection in a crystal clear pool. A platinum chainmail shirt and dark trousers. The angel by his side covered her mouth at his expression, dressed similarly in a sleeveless chainmail dress. Rusty cuffs constricted each wrist, bruised and bloody. Her hair was nearly as bright as the chainmail.

"We look ridiculous," the demon sighed, shaking his head.

"No! We're brave knights out to rid the world of bad writers!"

Charles: His eyes refocused once they were his own, again. Laughter and playfulness seemed completely incongruous with his mental image of Hell, but the surprise was a pleasant one.

"She was right. You looked so handsome. Noble."

Mason: "The two of ya woulda gotten along," Mason said, softly. "But ya get along with everyone."

Charles: "Untrue. But she seemed to care for you, and that means we'd have gotten on well."

Mason: "Think of her as... the angel of forgiveness. Angels do everything extreme."

Charles was kissed between the eyes.

"Where are we goin', sword thief?"

Charles: "That sounds lovely, actually. We could all do with a bit of forgiveness, I think."

He grabbed the sword in question and hoisted it over his shoulder.

"Upstairs. If you're cooperative, I won't bite you. Unless you'd like me to, of course."

Mason: "Got a few places in mind."

He raised his hands in submission, entertained and willing to play along. "Don't hurt me, thief."

Charles: "Oh? Do share. I'm very obliging."

He laughed softly, before schooling his expression into something passably sinister. He turned the blade to point at Mason's chest.

"I can't make any promises, if you keep calling me 'thief.'"

Mason: "Yes, sir." Hands remained up as he turned, marching leisurely to the bedroom. "You're welcome to my neck, shoulders, my tongue if you dare."

Charles: "If you dare, Sir. I'm the one with fangs."

The dulled blade of that sword was still pointed at his would-be knight.

"You seem remarkably calm about that fact."

Mason: "I haven't felt your fangs t'fear em," he smirked.

Charles: "Oh, I see. The brave knight needs to feel the pain to fear it. That can definitely be arranged."

He waved the sword toward the closed bedroom door.

"After you, handsome. On the bed."

Mason: "Naturally." Having Charles on the other side, he wondered if that aided in his recovery.

The door was open and held; a gentleman for his captor, before kicking off his shoes and crawling onto the mattress.

Charles: His mind was far from recovery. Far from that would-be hospital. This was a quiet moment with his husband. A moment to be playful without the burden of the rest of his life.

"I admire your courage, if it is ill advised. Make yourself comfortable."

Mason: Comfortable was on his stomach, but he wanted to see Charles' face, so made himself at home much the same as he would those cold nights, ready to read the next chapter of their current book.

His arm rested on a raised knee, brow arched.

Charles: His tongue probed at the fangs glued firmly over his canines. They were quite sharp, for having been ordered from an online costume shop. He'd need to be mindful.

Already barefoot, he crossed to the bed and climbed atop the mattress, balancing the sword within reach on the nightstand. Mason's knee would have to come down for Charles to straddle him properly. He gave it a firm push, and situated himself.

Cold fingers unfastened the top three buttons of his husband's shirt and pushed the collar aside. His fangs latched onto the exposed bit of shoulder without further warning. They pricked the skin, but not nearly deeply enough to draw blood.

Mason: Mason did his best to keep smiling to a minimum. This was role play, after all, and he was the captive. Some things were universal. Whether dominant or submissive, Charles was going to find a way to his lap.

Even for a demon, feeling fangs where they normally weren't gave his body a start, gasping in Charles' ear. Both hands latched to his brave captor's hips, nails digging despite the thin layer of clothing.

Charles: The reaction was unexpected, but Charles delighted in it. Grinning, he pressed a kiss to that punctured bit of skin before shifting an inch closer to Mason's throat and biting down once more.

"Are you frightened, yet?"

A question mumbled against skin that he soothed with another press of lips.

Mason: Charles was not the only one caught by his sound. There were more to follow as Charles nibbled at his leisure. A submissive noise one wouldn't believe belonged to the demon, accompanied by a familiar growl as short nails scraped over the telepath's back.

"Mmhmm," he hummed. "Terrified."

Charles: "I'm not convinced," he murmured, marking a path with fangs and lips from Mason's shoulder to the fragile artery in his throat. No blood, of course. Despite their game, Charles didn't have taste for it.

Mason: Just below his ear was quite sensitive. He held fast and growled again. A sure predatory rumble hit the depths of his chest.

"Careful not t'drain me," he smirked.

Charles: "You're a big, strong knight. I think you can take it."

He felt the steady drum of Mason's pulse beneath his lips and felt what he thought was a very vampiric thrill from the sensation. His tongue swept over this latest bite mark and he pulled back to meet Mason's gaze.

"Kiss me."

Mason: His hesitation was only for show. Charles would see the truth in his eyes, surely. Reluctant to release this man in any capacity, his hands remained below his ribs, enjoying the subtle rise and dip of his breathing. He offered his kiss timidly to the count of three, and offered his tongue.

Charles: He knew Mason, of course. Knew him to his core and enjoyed the game for what it was.

He took the opportunity presented by that tongue to deepen their kiss. His fingers tangled roughly in his husband's thick hair.

He was still clumsy with the unfamiliar teeth, and when he made to nip lightly at Mason's tongue, he tasted the faint salt of blood.

"Sorry," he breathed, pulling back and breaking character for a moment. "I'm sorry, love."

Mason: His demon only chuckled, licking his lips and smearing a little crimson along the way.

"A knight with a conscience? You're bluffin'. Trickster."

No need to apologize. He would live to fight another day.

"Now you've had a taste, ya won't get enough."

Charles: He swiped at that bit of blood with his thumb and reburied his fingers in Mason's hair.

"You should really hope that isn't the case."

Reassured by his laughter, Charles nipped at his husband's lower lip with his fangs. Gentle, but reproachful.

"Mind that tongue of yours."

Which would be simple enough to do, when Charles claimed his mouth again.

Mason: Charles was pulled closer by a fistful of his shirt. Their hips pressed together just to see what this little game had caused. Wondering if the taste of his blood had softened his desires.

But such was an easy fix, giving a few nips of his own, sucking Charles' tongue and tugging at his lip.

"You'll have me?"

Charles: No loss. Charles was as firm and wanting as ever. But he welcomed Mason's efforts, regardless.

"Of course."

He flashed a grin, fangs sharp and white.

"I didn't bring you here to kill you. Seems a bit too cruel."

Still, he'd carve a path of bites along the other side of his throat, to match the first. Fingers worked and popping buttons free and exposing scorching skin.

Mason: "A benevolent vampire. How 'bout that."

An effort was made to temper his lust, bite down on his growls, and play the part of passive victim, but it didn't come naturally to him. All he wanted was to throw Charles onto his stomach and have his way with him. Make his beloved writhe and whimper and mouth off to kingdom come.

But the feeling of cool fingers on feverish skin yanked his thoughts away with a hiss through his teeth.

"Ya really are a vampire."

Charles: "Whatever I am, I'm still your Charles."

And could he be anything else? His lips curved into a crooked grin, and whether it was due to the direction of those thoughts or Mason's reaction to his icy hands, he'd never tell.

His palms skated over his husband's ribs, seeking heat.

"It's been cold. It's nearly winter."

He'd start decorating, day after next, but that was a thought for another time. When he'd sapped enough warmth, he set to unfastening Mason's belt.

"You don't have to be too gentle," he promised, pulling the leather free of its loops with a wink. "Vampiric strength."

Mason: "Ya always will be." Better to whisper this out-of-character revelation.

Those frozen hands were their own sexual torture this time of year. The time of year when Charles' hands became weapons of his demise.

"I wanna know what a vampire'll do, when he can do anything he wants."

Charles: Hm. Well, that would require some thought. But the not-vampire was at least quick on his feet.

"Whatever he'll do, he wouldn't share his plans with a mere mortal, I'm afraid. You're along for the ride."

Which wasn't a bad idea, all things considered. It was easier to set the pace. The thought of being pinned down was still... distressing.

He made swift work of trouser buttons and slipped a demon-warmed hand inside, palming at Mason through his underwear.

"See? Nice and toasty. Benevolent, indeed."

Mason: That very reason was why Mason kept his fantasies to himself. There was still time, much time if ever, before Charles was inclined to old habits. The 'if ever' had altered his demon into something gentler.

"Mere mortal. Cheeky bastard." But not too gentle.

Eyes closed, head falling back against the headboard with a soft thump. Thick and aching he was. Without thinking, he pressed that villainous hand against his pulsing cock.

Charles: He laughed, but wouldn't consider it a breaking of character. The gentle kiss that he pressed to the corner of his beloved's mouth may have been, however.

Charles was happy to stroke him through thin cotton as he finished marking his neck. The red splotches would fade, soon enough. But they were pretty while they lasted.

When satisfied with his loving "attack", he released Mason's cock. He left the warmth of his lap for only a moment to peel fully out of his own trousers and collect a near-empty bottle of lube. He was back on his favourite perch before his skin had time to cool, pressing the bottle into Mason's palm.

"I assume you need no instruction?"

Mason: Already healing, of course, but not instantaneous. Charles could admire his work until dawn. There was a reluctance to allow Charles his hand. Just seconds without, throbbing and impatient, satiated only by the promise of his return.

He half expected to be rolled onto his stomach, legs spread and clothes torn.

His expression said it all. Adoration, humor, and lust. Cheeks tight from fighting a smile.

"You're a brave villain."

Charles: Don't fight that smile. Charles was always prepared to lavish affection upon that dimple.

He shook his head.

"A villain? Me? Nonsense. I'm taking only what you give to me."

His hips rolled pointedly and he flashed those fangs in a wide smile.

"And something tells me you don't mind."

Mason: And give he would, grabbing Charles' hips with authority and pressing their cocks together. The thin layer of cotton another fulfilling and frustrating sensation. One to be rectified.

"Put your mouth in it, vampire, and mind the teeth."

He needed no instruction. Only the willpower to bide his time. For that moment Charles put his ass in the air to slap a hand print on bare skin. To circle and tease a lubed finger around tight flesh.

Charles: He'd have been happy to chase friction just as they were, pressed chest to chest and sharing breath. But Mason had provided a delicious challenge.

"Careful," he cautioned, hiding a smile as he lowered himself. "Mortal."

He flinched at the sudden strike, and might have been driven to distraction by those hands, if he wasn't so focused on pulling Mason's cock free. The thick length of him was difficult to accommodate when he wasn't sporting fangs. Slowly, mindfully, he sucked the head between his lips.

Mason: Those teeth were bound to scrape. It wasn't life or death, but he was mindful of his strength, and determined not to hiss when the inevitable happened.

Only when Charles had managed half of his length did he begin burying his finger to the second knuckle.

"That careful enough?"

[invisiblegarters]

Micro (or not) BL Reviews

It's that time again. Seeing as how a couple of things have ended recently and I let my obsession with a certain drama sort of take over everything else of late, I dedicated this week to catching up on all the things I've been missing and doing a quick round up (or not so quick, as it's me).

So let's get started, shall we?

Recently Completed

Stay By My Side - Oh Taiwan. I just love you. I think we had like eighteen "fall into you" moments in the first three episodes alone. The premise was fun - it reminded me a lot of Master's Sun, but the execution of course is totally different. The leads were cute. The chemistry was chemistrying. I loved the sister and that basketball boys. It was mostly fluff, which I am not complaining about because I love me some fluff. That said, I don't think it did anything particularly revolutionary and it never really did manage to grab me.  7.5/10

Wedding Plan - A MAME offering, but…not bad? I mean, not great either, although I will put up with a lot for the premise because I eat shit like that up, but I've seen way worse from MAME. However, it's not going to become a guilty pleasure show like LITA or an unexpected comfort show despite myself (at least the AePete parts) like Love by Chance. It was fine.

Things I really did like:  Nuea's family and his workmates (I loved how fiercely both sets of people stood by and supported him through everything from his huge mistake in sleeping with the groom to running back home to deal with it to basically adopting Lom into the group when they worked it out ("we have a new brother in law"). The lesbians - I could have used a bit more heat but I'll take it for now. Let's work on normalizing GL in our BL (frankly I'd love it if we started doing more of that and less of the token straight couple or three)! Was a little annoyed by how they had to fix everything but I won't pretend that the bits with them in episode 6 didn't get to me - I may have teared up a little when Marine was being treated so horribly by Yiwa's mother - that whole thing was so upsetting on a number of levels. And I was happy for them that they could afford to run away to their own happy ending. Also the gag of Lom pretending to be devastated when he was anything but was kinda funny, I will give the show that. And I did like the way that Lom's mom came around - realizing with time that losing her son the same way Yiwa's mother lost her could be a very real result if she kept being rigid. I also liked that she didn't just suddenly become a PFLAG member (or whatever the equivalent would be here) but simply told her son that she would work on it, because that felt more realistic.

The show also got me with how fucking lonely it must have been for both Lom and Yiwa, to know that they were gay and that they could never say anything, and how overwhelming and relieving it must have been to find someone who understood in each other. No fucking wonder they'd do anything for each other. I would have too, if I'd had someone like that growing up.

So yeah. It was fine. I mostly had a good time, even if I got a little bored once or twice. Frankly when it comes to MAME, being a little bored is preferable to feeling like the top of my head is about to come off because I'm so annoyed. Final verdict 7/10

Jun & Jun - Korea keeps making office BLs and I will continue watching them until the end of time. Especially if they keep on serving good kiss while they do it. And this one had bonus scent kink! I honestly don't know what's gotten into Korea lately but I am very much here for it.

This was a fun little office BL.  I liked how flirty it was from the get go, the way that both Juns danced around each other with the full knowledge that they were flirting. The intern group was fun, too. I really enjoyed the boyfriend episode at the end.

Everyone was very cute in this, but Simeon was my utter favorite. He totally stole the show for me. Him and Young. Young especially was a surprise, since she drove me bonkers when she first showed up. But she grew on me. I liked how fast she decided to embrace Lee Jun, and her and Choi Jun's friendship was cute.

I shipped Simeon and Hyung Hyun Jae too. Hard.

All in all this was cute, even if it didn’t manage to grip me as hard as I hoped. Like I said before, I'm not sure what's gotten into Korea lately but I hope it continues. 8/10.

Laws of Attraction - When I first saw the trailer for this, I decided to skip it. The leads were attractive enough but to be honest it seemed kinda poorly made and like it didn't know what it was going to do with itself. And I was feeling surly and judgmental and decided that it just wasn't for me. Also it was on iQIYI and I had no interest in signing up for another subscription.

But then I saw someone had stuck it on youtube and I was bored one Saturday an there were a few eps already out, so I thought, eh, why not?

And I've not regretted it for a moment.  I loved this show so much my god. Even when OF started (and you all know how much I obsess about OF) this was still the thing I looked forward to most on Saturdays. I adored Charn and his shark smile from moment one, and that adoration did not cease throughout the entirety of the show's run. His character development was by far the best on the show, and I loved the slow, stumbling way he regained the person he used to be, while still keeping the ruthlessness of the man he allowed anger and bitterness to let him become (up to a point). I loved that the show began and ended with his shark smile, but for very different reasons. And he and Tinn were adorable.

I appreciated them banging the marriage equality drum, too, and especially Charn's very pragmatic reasons for wanting it to be legal (as a lawyer, he would think like that, and I appreciate that the show kept him in character even when he was sappy). I also loved his wedding jacket I want four.

I also loved Tinn, and I have to give credit to Jam for the way he portrayed him. While Film totally ate as Charn I do think that in some ways a character like Tinn is harder to portray, because it would be very very easy for him to become preachy because of his morality and rigid sense of justice. But Jam played him with enough nuance that he never slid into that for me - he was willing to occasionally be at least slightly underhanded when the situation called for it, and while he expected Charn to be better (and read him to filth when he caught him out lying to and manipulating him), he thankfully also seemed to understand the fine art of compromise. Plus he's really pretty. Both of them are really pretty.

But the thing that I never expected was just how hard I turned around on Thaenthai. He drove me absolutely bonkers for the first few eps, and I was loudly annoyed by the fact that after about ep three (if not sooner), it became clear that he was not the one who had hit Tonkhao but that he was being made to take the blame. It felt to me like the show wanted me to excuse how vile he was (acting like Tonkhao's death was nothing, beating the crap out of Tinn when he was already tied up and helpless, just generally acting like a spoiled, entitled, horrible shitstain of a human being) because his father beat him. And while that was horrifying and I wanted him to get the hell out of there as soon as possible I still felt that a worm is a worm is a worm, even if the worm's father happens to be worse.

But then the show went and did something I did not expect it to do: it didn't just tell us that Thaenthai was lashing out because he was caught in a desperate limbo of wanting to run away from his and wanting to please him, but it went and did the work to show it. I started turning around on him after he found out about the gardener his father used as a scapegoat once things started getting heated, because we finally got to catch him before he had time to put on his mask. And it just kept coming, because now we knew what to look for. He's still an ass for beating the shit out of Tinn when he was tied up though, lol.

Another thing I really loved that this sow did with him was show him loving his dad in spite of everything. This man beat him, nearly drowned him, let him take the blame for a murder he did, tried to kill the only person Thaenthai felt was really on his side (because I do think that the intent was always to kill Thee - I'm just not entirely sure why it didn't happen as soon as Thaenthai got on that plane. I guess because we needed a happier ending. I am not complaining), and told him to his face that he could never love him because he killed his mother, and yet Thaenthai still loved him, still wanted his attention and his respect and his love in return. And it just rang very painfully true to me. You don't stop loving your parents because they're shit, and humans for some reason tend to be wired to try harder for love that is hard to receive (or impossible, in this case).  It did not surprise me that Thaentha tried to visit his father in prison, or that he was sad when he died. But neither did it surprise me that something in him seemed looser in those scenes as well, because even though he loved his dad there's a part of him that's glad he's gone.

I love stuff like this, because it's so complicated and realistic and it hurts in a way that only something that resonates with reality can. I ate it up.

Shout out as well to Not Vorarit, because he really did a good job with Thatthep. The way he slowly unraveled as the show went on was pitch perfect, every little nuance from his first intro as the shady but possibly not *that* shady "concerned" parent right up until that last scene with Charn where he's just a cackling monster. Kudos, you created an excellently detestable character. Watching him get his comeuppance was certainly a highlight of the show for me.

I was also really into the way that Tonkhao was very much a main character despite the fact that she died so early. One of the best strengths of this show was the way that it never let us forget what started this whole thing, it showed Tinn and Grandma grieving for their little girl, talking about her, missing her. Being reminded of her around every corner. They kept her in the forefront of our minds exactly the way that they should have, and I was delighted by it.

Other fun notables are himbo ex Nawin and Rose and Maya, our GL couple that I wish had gotten a little more screen time *as* a couple but either way were fabulous. I will love this show forever for introducing Nawin in the final hour and making him such a great combination of ridiculous and ruthless. And the way they let him breathe as a character - they really just stood back and were like "look at this ridiculous man stealing the show" and it was amazing. And Rose was just - she was such a good friend to Charn the whole way through, and both her and Maya's utter delight for him when he found Tinn (and them welcoming not only him but grandma into their little family so readily) warmed my cynical heart. And I will watch Sylvie Pavida in pretty much anything, I think.

All this raving and yet I still have to go with a final score of 9/10. I recommend this show, it's way better than I thought it would be, but there are some questionable choices made, the CGI and the fight scenes are laughable (the fire at Charn's office made me laugh so hard I had to pause), and they pulled out a guitar and sang not once, but twice. And they don't even have the excuse that one of them is supposed to be a singer. Also frankly nowadays every Thai show I watch I have to ask myself "did I enjoy this more than Moonlight Chicken?" which I only gave a 9.5, and for this one, the answer was no. So 9 it is, but a highly recommended 9. This was so much fun and it will be very missed on Saturdays.

Currently Watching

Be Mine Superstar - I really do  not get why they have decided to give the doom eleventh episode to this drama. It makes such little sense from this couple, who are the least dramatic pairing possible. They should have just left the angst to Muang and the doc.

Speaking of which, I have been disappointed with that storyline. I feel like we went from nothing to boyfriends with no real development, and now that they're not boyfriends again we're supposed to care, and I just don't.

Also Title is really out here doing the most. My dude, can't you just bow the fuck out gracefully? Blergh him and the manger stuff is still really annoying. Kevin was a delight though. Even though that's one too many dudes thirsty for Ashi for my personal taste (although he is very pretty so I totally get it).

Hidden Agenda - I actually kind of loved how ridiculous the conflict between Joke and Zo wound up being. Oh sure, Pat helping Joke along was a betrayal of trust or whatever, but it just felt perfect for the kind of drama this is. I get the idea that it felt like a betrayal of trust, but I also don't really get how it was too much different from what Zo was trying to do with Nita. Whatever, I love my low stakes drama on Sundays, keep it coming Hidden Agenda.

Kiseki: Dear to Me - This show is doing what I wanted from Only Friends and giving me all the cameos. The way I yelled when I saw the two from history: make Our Days Count. I think my favorite is Ai Di - poor little ball of adoration and pettiness and jealousy. I adore him. Oh, and that scene in the spa was great - I loved how everyone was looking at everyone else while the episode's guest stars (HI, Be Loved in House I Do guys! Good to see you) side eyed the lot of 'em. Me too, my friends. Me too. They're all messy and in love with everyone else and I am here for this weird quadrangle.

The main couple has less of a chokehold on me, but I like our uptight, traumatized doctor to be. And okay, yes, it got me with his unwilling return to a solitary life after Ze Rui disappeared on him. My guess is we're gonna speed run to the imprisonment and amnesia in the synopsis, and I'm good with that. I hope the cameos continue, but even if they don't I'm really enjoying this.

Taikan Yoho / My Personal Weatherman - I saw this called live action yaoi and at first didn’t really believe it, but no. No, it really is. And I am *here* for it. I can't say it's my favorite thing airing right now but I'm enjoying it.

The Jungle - (not a BL, so I'm cheating here, ah well) I don't know who thought that what we needed was four entire episodes of Pine's manpain, but they were very wrong. At least for my money. On the bright side, August is gorgeous and Pat is killing it. The series has been uneven for me and I'm a little annoyed they apparently want to wrap up Pine's BS, Nathee and Florence, *and* address Hunter's backstory in just two eps. But eh, whatever, I was only ever really watching for the women and Mix and thankfully Hack and Irin gave me all the mess that was promised (and not really delivered on, unfortunately. Not that I wanted a bunch of assholes womanizing, but aside from freaking Pine everyone's stories wrapped up in a couple of episodes of mostly no mess at all). 

Looking Forward To

23.5 - Come on GMMTV get this thing out already I want it. I have been patient but come oooooon. I had three highly anticipated dramas for this line up and this is the only one that hasn't been released yet and I want it. Gimme my GL.

Absolute Zero (Sep 27, iQiYI)- this is gonna hurt but at least I know it going in?

The Box (Sep 22, not sure about where) - Not a BL, but looks like a good time. Plus I'm interested to see Prem in a thriller - I think he'll do well.

I am also wondering what will replace the Monday/Tuesday hole The Jungle will leave when it stops airing or if they plan to do reruns.

And apparently we're getting the GMMTV 2024 lineup in Oct this year, which seems really early but maybe I'm wrong. I didn’t actually pay attention to the 2023 lineup until way after it came out so I can’t be trusted. *whispers* please let Midnight Museum have a season two, please let Midnight Museum have a season two.

[gryfferin-gaybies]

Prompt - My *weapon* is broken

Aurors Draco and Harry stood back to back, firing spells at the enchanted objects advancing from all directions. They'd called for back up 20 minutes ago, where was everyone? Their criminal had made his escape as the Auror partners tried not to get killed by everything in the large storage unit.

"Duck!" Draco yelled as three kitchen knives flew at their heads. The two men moved as one, the knives zipping over their heads to hit the wall and clatter to the floor.

"Draco!" Harry shouted as they stood back up together, still back to back. "We've got to get out of here!"

"You think I don't know that," Draco shot back. He sent a stupefy spell at a ceramic snake that had come to life and was ready to strike at Draco's ankle. "We could just Apparate," Draco offered.

Behind him, he heard what sounded like a heavy book slamming and a crack. "Fuck! That would work except now my wand is broken." Draco knew there was no way Harry could perform wandless magic in his state of exhaustion.

"Shit! Ok, hold onto me. I'll get us out of here." Draco felt Harry wrap his arms around Draco's shoulders, Harry's chest pressed to his back. He could feel Harry's breath on his neck. In any other situation, he would've gotten a hard on.

Before Draco could Disapparate them, Harry cried out and let go of him. Draco felt him slide to the floor.

"Harry? Harry, what happened?" Draco tried to get a look at his friend and partner behind him but his surroundings were still trying to kill him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Draco had an opportunity. With nothing close enough to be an immediate threat, he cast a ward that enveloped them both but it was only temporary. Once he was satisfied with his work, he turned to Harry. "Let me see."

Harry was sitting in the floor with his legs sprawled out in front of him so he could kick things away. There was a large glass shard sticking out from his side. "I'm fine. Let's just get out of here."

"You're not fine! You can't Apparate like this. It could get lodged in further. We need backup." Draco examined the wound, trying to gauge how deep it was.

Harry hissed as Draco pressed two fingers lightly to his skin. "Well they're clearly not coming any time soon. It's our best shot at getting out of here."

"Absolutely not, and I'm not fighting you on this either. It's too dangerous. I . . . I'm going to have to heal you here." Draco stuttered.

"What! No way! Do you even know what you're doing? There's no way I'm letting you botch me up like that." Harry pressed his hand to his side, letting the glass protrude between his fingers.

Draco sighed. "I went to medical school before becoming an Auror, remember?"

"Yeah! Like 15 years ago! You're out of practice and you're coming nowhere near my injury." Harry tried to turn himself away from Draco but winced.

The wards started to shimmer, a sign they were fading. Draco cast another in a hurry and then three more in succession, hoping they'd last longer.

"Potter, you're going to have to let me heal you so we can get the fuck out of here! You know I'd never hurt you. I'm in love with you." He sighed and closed his eyes. This wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to tell Harry he'd fallen for him for him but the words were out before Draco could stop them. The longer they'd worked together, the closer they became and eventually their friendship turned into something more for Draco. It happened about the same time they started using each other's first names—thought Draco still called him Potter when he was being a stubborn git like right now.

"Wait what?" Harry asked. He didn't sound mad or upset in any way.

Draco opened his eyes to see Harry's reaction. He was pleased to find that he didn't look disgusted, only shocked. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but it's true. I'm in love with you. And I wouldn't let myself work on you if I wasn't certain that it's our best option."

"I love you too," Harry said, staring deeply into Draco's eyes. Draco was certain he'd heard him wrong or that he didn't mean it but before he could ask for clarification, Harry spoke again. "And I trust you so just fix me so we can leave."

"Alright, hold still." Harry grit his teeth and Draco set to work. He tried not to think about what Harry had just said or that it was Harry he was healing. He had to stay focused. With steady hands he removed the glass and closed the wound. But he'd still need a hospital and soon.

As Draco finished up, more Aurors stormed in.

"Oh sure, now you get here!" Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco helped him to his feet and Apparated them both out of there, deciding this was the rest of the Aurors' problem now. His priority was getting Harry to the hospital so his wound could be healed completely. . . And so they could talk.

[ophelia-jones]

This is an excerpt from my current fic over on AO3 "Whatever it takes"

Act 2

Daryl was loading equipment into the back of a truck under the hot Virginia summer sun. His shirt clung to his chest and arms with sweat, and he had to hold a hand over his eyes to look around the courtyard at the people working to rebuild what they had thought to be an impassable fence. When he looked toward the factory building, he saw more people hard at work to repair the damage he and the others in the coalition had caused two months prior. They hadn't gotten as far as he had hoped in the rebuilding efforts.

These people were defeated and anxious. Most of all, they were slow to trust. Daryl could hardly blame them. They had only been seeking safety and wound up like this. He leaned back on the bumper of the truck to rest, fishing half a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it carefully. When he looked up again, he saw her. Wyn. She wore a black racerback tank top today, revealing strong arms and shoulders tanned from day after day of the same sun that beat down on him now. Her brown hair was sun-kissed, and sweat dampened around her heart-shaped face. She wiped her forehead with a red bandana and then tucked it in her back pocket.

Daryl's eyes swept over the pronounced curve of her ass for a moment after, his cock shifting slightly in his jeans as he admired her hips and thighs as well. He had loved the shape of her. The way she fit against him - around him. He shifted his weight to hide the bulge in his pants from the half chub he was getting just watching her bend over to pick up pieces of debris and toss it into a pile to be taken away once the cleaning was finished.

And God damn that tank top, with her generous breasts stretching the material until it seemed practically painted on. He stood and returned to his work with the cigarette pinched between his lips.

He couldn't understand why his body betrayed him so much, especially at his age. It wasn't like he was some 18 year old kid obsessed with getting laid. He didn't like not being in control of himself. This put him in an irritable mood - just as it had every single day since they had arrived at Sanctuary. He couldn't - no, WOULDN'T- explain exactly why he was this way around her. More than his physical desire for her was his need to protect himself.

In his entire life - more than four decades - four women had said the words 'I love you' to Daryl. His grandmother (frequently), his mother (occasionally), Beth (she was the type to love everyone), and Wyn. Wyn had clung to him and breathed his name. He could still feel her bare skin against his, feel her hands in his hair, and the way he had wished every time they'd been together, that he could just stay inside of her. The feeling of connection, both physical and emotional, was unfamiliar, but at the same time, it was everything he had always longed for. The way she looked at him... no one had ever looked at him the way she did. There was a desire, which was intoxicating, but there was a gentleness. Not pity, but something more like the feeling of seeing home after a long journey.

It scared him shitless.

Everyone he loved seemed to meet an early and tragic fate. His grandmother, when he was , was 6, his mother just a few years later. Merle. Beth. Glenn. He wasn't dumb enough to be superstitious. He knew there was no curse taking them from him; but he sometimes felt that way. He was hurt by the way she had declared her love, and then just days later, left him. She just ran away.

He had been haunted by dreams of his father and Merle laughing at him. His dad belittled him for thinking he had ever been good enough for a woman to love. Merle made fun of him for wanting her to love him. For wanting her close to him. For wanting her like he did.

Then he dreamt of Glenn. Glenn, with his hope for the future and his love for Maggie. His love for all of them. He dreamt of Glenn beaming at him and giving him some speech about Daryl letting himself love and be loved. These more pleasant dreams often turned back into the nightmares about his family. Sometimes, as Glenn was smiling brightly and talking about the baby, he would relive that awful moment when Negan had taken him from them. How he had made fun of him while he was dying.

He hadn't slept well in a long time.

Wyn was laughing with someone, and the sound of her laughter reminded him of the way, sometimes, when he had made her climax, she would let her head fall back and laugh from deep in her chest. She laughed, she'd told him, because she felt like a bird set free and taking flight. He had ached with joy at that description. That he had given that to her. That HE had given her the feeling of freedom.

She'd made him feel respected. Necessary. The others in Alexandria had done that for him, too. So what was the difference?

Daryl's chest tightened whenever he got close to the answer. Because he felt foolish to have believed she loved him. Then she had left him. Just like everyone always did.

Suddenly, there were raised voices and the sound of people moving hurriedly. Most were hurrying to get out of the way. He turned to look, his face stern. He hoped it was the sort of trouble he could fix with his fists.

***************************************

Wyn was trying to work with a handful of men who had served as low-level saviors for Negan, most of whom were relieved when he was removed from his throne. Make no mistake about it, the man had been a mad king and a tyrant. Many of the people here had stayed despite the fact that they feared him because they knew everyone else was afraid of him, too. That made them feel safe.

Some of them, however, had believed in his methods. They had felt freed knowing that they could be arrogant and violent, and there would be no punishment. Hell, they would be rewarded for swinging their dicks around and asserting themselves. They didn't want to go back to a more civilized way of life. Nor did they want to give up Sanctuary. A few of them were niave enough to think they could take it back.

Arlis was one such man. He was 6' 4" and somehow still weighed close to 200 pounds. He hadn't risen in the ranks of the saviors because he wasn't good at showing the inner circle the respect they demanded. He hadn't been killed for one reason and one reason alone. One was his sheer size. He was a potential weapon in a dire situation. The sort of situation where one might set a rabid animal free without concern for who it attacked or if anyone survived including the animal itself.

"I'm not taking orders from a stupid bitch that doesn't know what the fuck she's doing!" He screamed, stepping up to her with his chest out and his fists clenched. She had only just gotten back to full strength and with no bruises left from the beatings she had gotten from Simon eight or ten weeks ago. She really wasn't in the mood for more violence. Still, she stood her ground. She did the best she could to keep her posture calm and neutral. She didn't want to give him any reaction at all.

"That's fine. But you WILL be taking orders from the council, and that means me. You were offered the option of being locked up at Hilltop or being here and being part of the rebuilding. You play by my rules, or you go spend your days in a cage at Hilltop under Maggie's supervision," she told him firmly. "You're getting close to losing the option to be here."

Arlis lunged forward and planted a hand on each of her shoulders, shoving her to the ground. Without pause or remorse, the man stepped forward and raised one booted foot.

Wyn rolled to the left, but she hit the chain link fence and was pinned between it and Arlis and all she could do was cover her head and draw her knees up in the fetal position to try and protect her most vulnerable organs and her head. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears as she braced for the impact.

Reality seemed to pause like a held breath.

Suddenly, there was a commotion above and beside her. The sound of bone crunching against bone as a fist met someone's jaw. She felt the impact beside her on the gravel beside her. She heard the chain link fence rattle and the grunts and growls of men fighting. The scrabble of boots and knees in the gravel, and then an eerie stillness accompanied by the sound of fist meeting flesh over and over again.

Wyn scrambled to her feet, and when she found her balance, she saw Daryl on top of a man five inches taller and 40 pounds heavier than himself. His hand twisted in Arlis' shirt to keep him from moving out of the way of the brutal punches being thrown by Daryl's other hand.

"Daryl! Stop!" Wyn called out in shock before rushing forward to grab his arm as he drew back to deliver another punch to the man's bloodied face. "Stop." She told him when he looked back at her.

"This is not the way to deal with things!" She said. Her voice was far calmer than before. Daryl stood quickly and jerked his arm out of her grasp.

"This is the only thing these ass holes understand," he told her curtly. He stomped off , saying, "You're welcome, by the way."

Daryl then went over to the barrel of water they had drawn up for the days work. He used a smaller container to draw up enough water for him to drink and then poured the rest over his head and face. He shook his hair like a dog, spraying droplets of water onto Wyn's face as she approached. She pulled her shirt up, exposing her belly as she dried her face on the bottom half. Daryl caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye but didn't turn to look at her directly.

Wyn took a second bucket and filled it.

"Wash your hands. Let me see how bad your knuckles are," she told him. She reached out and took his closest hand. He started to pull it back, but her fingers on his had some sort of paralytic effect on him.

"I've had worse," he grumbled.

"Good for you," she retorted quietly as she guided his hand into the water and washed away the blood with gentle touches and strokes. Finally, Daryl found his ability to move. He pulled his hand out of the water and lifted it high in the air so she couldn't grab it again.

"Why are you like this?" Wyn asked, looking quite cross. She lurched to the side suddenly and grabbed his other hand, and tried to dunk it in the water. Daryl grabbed the water bucket. Despite the threads of blood in it, he dumped it over her head. He hadn't thought about it. It had just happened. For a comediacly long moment, neither moved. They didn't speak. They did not even breathe after her sharp intake of breath as the water hit her hair and quickly dripped down to wet both back and front of her shirt.

Then, just as involuntarily as dumping the bucket, Daryl snickered.

Wyn shook with irritation. She turned and looked up at him, her wet hair sticking on her cheeks and nose. Daryl's usually impeccable poker face could not conceal his amused satisfaction, and he looked down at her and smiled. It was the rarest of Daryl's smiles, one which revealed his teeth and made his eyes shine.

"I said I was fine," he told her. "Go ahead and try that again. I'll dump you headfirst in that barrel."

"You think you could?" She scoffed. This, as far as Daryl was concerned, constituted a challenge. He bent, wrapped an arm around her waist, and put his shoulder against her belly. When he stood up, she was bent like a sack over his shoulder. One of his hands reached across his chest and wrapped his fingers around the waist of her pants. Within a step or two, he'd reached the barrel. While Wyn squirmed and kicked, he used his grip on her pants to pull her away from his body as he leaned forward and sat her directly into the barrel. The cold water soaked into her pants and climbed up her back. Wyn screamed, shocked at the cold on her skin.

"You mother fucker!" She bellowed, struggling to free herself as Daryl doubled over in laughter. She managed to tip the barrel and scramble out. As she stood, she lifted the now much lighter barrel and swung it to throw what was left of the water in his face. He stood, pushing the wet hair from his face and spitting. He was still wiping his face and blinking away the water when Jesus and Jerry rushed up to them. Jesus snatched the barrel away from Wyn, and Jerry tried to wrap Daryl up from behind in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet.

"Get the hell off me!" Daryl growled and pulled away, looking like he was ready to start swinging.

"Hey! Hey, calm down!" Jesus ordered. He tossed the barrel down and stared each of them down sternly. "What the hell was that? This is drinking water!" This was enough to humble and quiet both of them.

"I was just trying to help him," Wyn said with a pout in her voice. Daryl mocked her, pretending to say the same words in a condescending manner.

"You're a prick!" She snapped.

"Enough! You two are supposed to be leaders here! Stop acting like children!" Jesus yelled, standing between them with his arms extended to keep them far apart. "Go! Cool your heads and get cleaned up. You're going to refill the water for everyone." Daryl gazed at Wyn over Jesus' head. It was hard to focus on anything but the way that tank top clung to her to reveal the way her nipples had hardened from the cold water. Damn it, his cock was dancing again. He shifted his weight before agreeing with Jesus that they would do that. His poker face was back as he walked into the building to do just that. Wyn was feeling thoroughly foolish and went inside without another word to her fellow board members.

"I didn't realize they were a couple," Jerry said in his innocent way.

"Neither do they," Jesus replied.

[captianimarum]

Frankly, Nero decides, he doesn't want to know anything about shittin' out an egg or anything even remotely similar. The more he learns about his mutated and mixed nature, the more he actually finds he doesn't want to know it. As always, the youth would prefer to reach those things naturally and not think about it or cross the bridge, so to speak, until he was physically stood at its footing. A problem for another day; a day he'd absolutely hate, that's for sure but--- it wasn't that day.

Nero's thoughts deviate quickly, however - briefly chuckling to himself at the mention of his first meeting with his dearest Uncle Dante - - not that he'd know that at the time. In fact, he'd known very little at all other than the sudden murder of the Holy Priest, the panic, Nero's own instinct to try and eliminate the threat. Looking back... it made him smile.

"He dropped through the stained glass cupola above and shot the Holy Priest square in the head. It was in the middle of a service too - - panicked people running everywhere. So I did my job and tried to take him down... ended up having a spat, basically destroyed the inside of the church, and I almost bested him at one point. Pinned him to the stature by his own sword through his chest, thought that was the end of it... But yeah; my initial response to get him away from people was to run at him and take both of my boots square to his face." Good memories, to an extent - - but remembering Credo being there... how he'd helped the people out... it hurt him. Not being there fast enough later on in their endeavours was Nero's greatest failure, and Credo's death yet haunted him terribly.

"For the most part, y' ain't missed much." Growing up he had been a quiet and uncertain child who had preferred his own company and that of books about the stars - but as he grew older and more agitated with the world, he grew angry and rebellious. His time in the Order of the Sword was likely the most structure he had ever had, and even then he was a typhoon of Chaos at best. Nowadays... he was far more stable in his actions, had calmed a lot - - but it seemed the disasters continued, regardless.

Even as he speaks, he reaches out to accept a few of the candies, beginning to feel better for consuming them while eyes fixate briefly on the distance. It's weird... thinking back - -how comfortable he had felt confiding in V while they'd gone about their business, only to find himself speaking to the more complete version and feeling... strange. Perhaps it was the reality of it, the full weight that made the youth feel that... strange way. He'd always surrounded himself with found family, but now he had discovered to living relatives...

"Don't think we'd have gotten along when I was younger, anyways--- I was way too quick to anger and hated being around anyone so - - - could say you dodged a bullet, really." Even he knew, looking back, that he'd been a nightmare and if it wasn't for Dante's intervention Nero's life could have really taken a darker turn after the whole Sanctus thing in Fortuna.

As for apparently looking pallid - Nero shoots a glance at company and then looks away, humming in idle thought. He was feeling utterly drained that was for sure, but generally feeling better by the moment. Perhaps it was the reflecting upon certain memories that had made him appear somewhat sickly, given their traumatising nature, but he idly nods regardless.

"I guess I always just--" His sentence comes to a rather screeching halt as he contemplates whether he even wants to talk about it - old traits of burdening everything by himself beginning to rise once more. Things seen, things acted within, things that had happened... they were his to bare, burdens forever on his shoulders. "--end up feeling like absolute shite when thinking about what got lost on the way." Vague, certainly, but they offered enough.

"But yeah- lets get moving, either way."

⚔ ────▪ ❛ 𝚈𝙴𝚂, 𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝙶𝙶 . ❜ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ Vergil laughed at this, as if it were normal. For him, it had been. Perhaps it was different for each of them ; he dismissed the thought quickly, though, and lowered himself to the roof's surface as Nero did, though with a little more grace. He sat as he did with Dante, one leg curled underneath of his body and the other outstretched beside him. His arm hung over that knee, observing Nero from this position carefully — he was looking for any sign that his son had over-exerted himself.

                         ❛ But that is another time. Dante has left much of your life that he knows from me ; he's told me that I must hear it from you. Some sort of . . . bonding exercise. ❜ His tone wasn't dismissive, but rather a little upset, as if it irritated him that Dante had kept such important information from him. But he supposed his brother was right. It was better to hear the memories from the source, rather than secondhand. ❛ He has alluded to some, though. A battle in Father's church, here in Fortuna ? Something about boots, kicking perhaps ? Ah. You needn't tell me, unless you feel a desire to. ❜                           And more unnervingly, Vergil laughed, shaking his head in a way that seemed bitter, but not towards Nero. He produced another small handful of white candies — this time mixed with greener variants — from the same pocket, and held them out, too.                          ❛ So much of your life I have missed, Nero. There is no price on Earth or Hell I wouldn't pay for it to have been different. But for now . . . cake, once you are well enough to try flight. ❜                           He realized he shouldn't have said it, knowing how Nero felt about the entirety of his life. But Vergil couldn't help himself — as overbearing as he knew it was, Nero had to understand. He had to know that it should have been different. Had to know that he wasn't a mistake, even if he wasn't planned. Something sentimental and unforgiving tears through his heart, his humanity no longer keeping the emotions away. The palm holding out the candies trembles, a little. ❛ Or perhaps we should take the ferry. You look . . . unwell. Pallid, in the face. ❜