#minus getting strangled

[enzoid23]

As an ex-sixth grader, he is correct

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Hot take

Night furies are actually perfectly evolved for hunting and killing other dragons and the only reason they aren't a dragon-hunting species like the death song or deathgrippers are is because DreamWorks couldn't have their adorable main character dragon be a "cannibal"

(below I'm gonna try to summarize what we've figured out in a convo with friends on discord)

(also tw animal death via predator)

First of all yes I'm aware that pretty much every decision made about their design was with consideration of the effect it would make on human audiences but hear me out

Night furies are most iconically known as dive-bombers. They are built for speed, high maneuverability, night-time camouflage and for striking targets from above. If we remove human settlements out of the equation (which would not have existed long enough to actually influence night fury evolution, come on), what does that leave us with?

They aren't built for catching fish for sure, they aren't very hydrodynamic and their head is round, wide, and their teeth are dull. Honestly, the monstrous nightmare is much better suited for catching fish, with its long neck, almost pelican-like jaw and rhamphorhynchus teeth

Compare to

Yeah the jaws look kinda like a porpoise of some sort but for that the whole body would have to be a lot more aquatic imo. The light fury looks a lot closer to an aquatic diver, it has a sleeker body, rounded fins instead of spikes, and a long neck.

I don't really see them hunting land animals either, they just don't look like they're adapted for that minus the resemblance with large felines and even then, they're too large to effectively hunt in forests.

The one thing I can kinda imagine them hunting is large mainland megafauna, but we're working with a setting that takes place pretty much exclusively on islands. And overall, dragons are the only abundant species there with the exception of fish and human-bred sheep and chickens.

In general, night furies have duller teeth, smaller claws and are smaller than most dragons. Disregarding the movies making Toothless weirdly OP, a night fury would be disadvantaged against most dragons in a 1v1 fight and besides, it has four huge weak spots that would highly discourage it from a direct physical fight - the primary and secondary tail fins. One unlucky rip in the membrane and the night fury is fucked.

The night fury however noticeably resembles falcons, given their dive-bombing ability and high maneuverability.

Falcons too have smaller beaks and weaker claws compared to most birds of prey, and for that they compensate by simply picking up speed, balling up their talons and Punching. Really. Hard.

And they use that ability to kill other birds, even much larger ones, by knocking them right from the sky.

Here, the night fury's plasma blast works the same way as a falcon's punch. Dragons are fire-resistant, so what the plasma blast does is really just a densely packed bolt of energy that has the effect of either stunning or outright killing prey by damaging its spine. And what the plasma bolt doesn't do, rapid contact with the ground would finish. And if even that doesn't do it, the night fury's wide jaws and dull teeth are just fine for simply clamping around the unlucky dragon's neck and strangling it, like a lion or a pitbull.

The night-time camouflage allows the night fury to soar for extended periods of time perfectly unnoticed in the night sky, and by the time it strikes, the dragon wouldn't even know what's coming.

Unless

Say the hunting night fury is aware of other dragons sleeping under the trees, as most dragons probably would at night (village raids aside, most dragons seem to be diurnal), so how does the night fury get them in position where it can use its signature attack? Well, there's That Iconic Screech Of Death. Since in the movies it tends to appear not just during dive-bombings but also when charging up a blast, I imagine it's something the night fury is able to control to some degree. So by simply fake-diving in close proximity to sleeping dragons, it can effectively terrify them into leaving their hideout and fly out into the open where it can easily take them out.

I dunno, the possibility of night furies as predators to other dragons just makes so much sense to me, I really don't know what other reasons there would be for them to evolve these particular adaptations.

And one more little headcanon to add to this whole rant - since night furies are significantly smaller and less equipped for dragon vs dragon fights and are primarily speed-based predators, I imagine there is this very likely scenario:

There is one dragon who resembles a hyena, a lil bit

Ok, rant over

[targaryenluvs]

— meant to be

pairing: percy jackson x fem!gf!reader, dark!luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: as if it wasn’t enough for percy to be claimed much quicker than himself, he just had to be with luke’s dream girl. or the one where luke can’t seem to take his eyes off of percy’s girlfriend.

warnings: obsession, jealousy, pining, unrequited love, age gap (14/16 to bring it closer together so aged up percy n you) manipulation

wordcount: 850 words

a/n: heheh in the mood to drive luke to hate percy for having the girl he’s always wanted even though percy had her first - 5/01/24 it’s been brought to my attention the ages might be seen as odd, it’s meant to say you’re 14 and luke is 16 to make it more comfortable.

he didn’t deserve you at all, he wasn’t worthy.

luke could treat you better than a child. when you’d first arrived he couldn’t believe the fact that percy himself was your boyfriend. you were too gorgeous to be with such a clueless idiot.

so he tried his best to at least be your friend in the start.

always accompanying you from your cabin, to breakfast, somehow always ending up at the front of the line with as much food you could wish for. always enthralling you with tales of the time before you arrived. letting you know about the camp, the people, who to watch out for and who to be friends with.

as if he’d let you be with anyone else besides him.

during training he was always more than happy to help you, to teach you, to be close to you. fixing your posture, positioning you properly. he could imagine himself and you, his girlfriend, protecting and helping her. but his bubble was always burst when percy would make his way to you with a smile, talking about what he’d just learnt and the people he’d just met.

in the two days you’d been there you felt yourself trusting luke.

your sweet smile made everything better in his day, but he despised it when it wasn’t directed towards him. percy’s arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder, percy tying your hair up for you, your hands wiping the dust off of him when he fell.

luke wouldn’t have fallen, luke wasn’t that stupid.

luke could hold his own, whilst percy seemed to stumble his way through everything.

he had to hold himself back from strangling percy when walking with him. he was only aiding percy in finding his ‘special skill’ because you’d asked him to. and all luke learned from the experience was that percy was an imbelice. he couldn’t do anything right.

what on earth did you see in him?

you couldn’t sleep, thinking of your quest tomorrow. usually they were taken on by three but percy insisted on anabeth, grover and you. which you were glad for, grover was your friend as well as anabeth, you’d just hoped that all four of you will make it back.

the water was calm, you wondered if it was because of percy being sound asleep. did percy control the waters around him?

your silly questions ran through your head ever since your boyfriend had been claimed. yourself and percy were having the time of your life together, on a journey together. that night the two of you had sat right here, worries running around, the two of you reassuring eachother with promises of safety and return.

his sweet smile, his pretty curls, you loved him with your whole heart, even if you were young.

“y/n?” luke called out to you as you waved, “luke! come to say goodbye?” you teased as he laughed, “sadly yes, how are you feeling?” the night enveloped the two of you in darkness, eachothers presence comforting the other. “as fine as a girl about to go on a literal quest out of a damn movie would be.”

his arm came around you, pulling you into him, “what’re you doing?” you questioned luke, unsure of the close proximity. “it’s fine, calm down.” he pushed your head down into his shoulder, mimicking your earlier actions with percy, minus the love.

you lifted your head quickly, trying to stand up but luke dragged you back down, “get off! let me go luke, i want to go sleep.” his grip was harsh on your wrist, “stop shouting, do you want to make a fuss about the whole camp?” that shut you up quickly, you weren’t exactly in the mood to start up a scene in the middle of the night.

“why don’t you let me go then?” you whispered to him. “why are you going on the quest?” he asked, his eyes were darkened with anger, his tone unwelcoming, a clear juxtaposition to luke’s previous warm embrace of yourself and percy.

“percy wants me to, and i want to. that’s all anyone seems to wait for around here, glory.” he let go of your wrist, speaking with a soft voice, the entire change of his demeanour was off-puting. “shouldn’t you be enough? why does he want annabeth to come along?” you cocked your head to the side confused, “you of all people know how amazing she is, anabeth is the biggest asset to have and an incredible fighter luke.” he loved when you said his name but the sadness in your voice was evident and irritating, almost as much as your boyfriend.

“percy should trust you, believe in you to help him.” and the seed of doubt was in place successfully.

“i don’t know okay! but it’s not like i can stop it, goodnight luke.” you didn’t want to give him a chance to stop you, so you jogged back to your cabin, unsettled and confused.

luke slept nicely that night.

luke would make sure you saw him, all of him.

and how much better he was then percy, you were meant to be.

[jellyfishbeansontoast]

Oh shit, there's only one bed.

really couldn't think of a title but this made me giggle and it's basically the plot summary so enjoy lol. kind of enemies to lovers yay!!

pairing: Sirius x reader I don't believe I made any character descriptions so should be gn

word count: 937

It was almost the beginning of term and the group had decided to make a weekend out of purchasing new school supplies in Diagon Alley, minus Peter who’s parents had already bought his school supplies and disapproved of the immaturity of his friends. Which is ultimately how you've ended up wishing you'd never came, standing in a cramped room in the Leaky Cauldron with the one boy who seems to know just how to get on your nerves. Sirius Black.

It wasn't that you hated Sirius, but the boy knew every way to get under your skin and even after pleas from James and Remus to stop he wouldn't give it up. You'd only tagged along as Remus had begged you to come relentlessly, guilt tripping you shamelessly with how much he'd have to hear about quidditch otherwise.

“There's only one bed.” Sirius gawks after settling down his case.

“Astute observation, Black” you snap, to which he holds his hands up in mock surrender. You bury your head in your hands groaning.

“There is no way I'm getting in a bed with you.”

A momentary look of hurt flashes across your face, did he really find you that repulsive, before you manage to compose yourself “you're welcome to the floor.”

He looks disgustedly at the dirty floor, kicking up a cloud of dust like a petulant child “there is no way I'm sleeping on that.”

“Fine.” you cross your arms in a huff.

“Fine.” he says mirroring you.

You turn on your heel and march towards the bathroom, grabbing your pyjamas on the way. By the time you've brushed your teeth and changed Sirius is already in bed. You resign yourself to your fate and climb into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You aren't aware of how cold the room is until you can practically feel Sirius’ heat radiating off of him. You shrink further into the covers, defending your ears from the cold. Behind you Sirius makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. You roll around instantly to face him, eyebrows raised.

“What.” you demand.

“It's just-” he sighs “Fuck it, come here.”

“What!” you repeat, questioning if you heard him correctly.

“You're cold, I'm not.” he shrugs like he's just told you a simple fact. He grips your arms and slides you towards him, wrapping his arms around you. Your face is nestled in his chest and despite the situation you can't help but feel relieved at the warmth that envelopes your body. “See?” 

His curls tickle your forehead and you're thankful that he can't see your face for the smile you're trying to contain. You can't help the laugh that escapes as you think about how funny it is that thirty minutes ago you were arguing about sharing a bed and now you're pressed flush against his chest. It's his turn to be confused now, “What are you laughing at?”

“This just isn't the behaviour of someone who hates me.” you retort.

“I don't hate you” 

“You literally asked Remus why he was friends with me” he's looking sheepish now, pulling away from you slightly so he can see you.

“I didn't mean it like that”

“How can you possibly have meant it Sirius?” the bite is back in your voice, guarding your feelings from what he has to say.

His fingers are on your chin, tilting your head up to look at him “making sure he didn't have any ulterior motives”

“Be serious-”

“I am Sirius” there's a cheeky grin on his face at the old age joke. You glare at him and he continues “I had to make sure Moony didn't have feelings for you, because I do.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Come on don't make me say it again”

“What if I want you to say it again”

Instead he leans down and presses his lips to yours, his hands moving to hold the back of your head. “Did that say it enough?”

“Maybe if you tried one more time it might” you tease. Sirius is quick to appease you, this time you're more prepared and able to reciprocate the kiss properly, your hands curling into the front of his t-shirt.

“Understand now?” he asks.

“I think so” you respond, nestling your head under his chin, eyes fluttering shut.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You only hum in response, Sirius only choosing not to be offended when he hears your breathing slow. He smiles at your sleeping form before wrapping his arms supportively around your back and letting himself also give in to sleep. 

-

“Do you think they've killed each other?” a low murmur voices from the other side of the door. 

“I hope not I wanted to borrow that quidditch magazine Sirius was reading yesterday” 

“I can't believe you're thinking about quidditch this early”

Despite Remus’ best efforts to keep James quiet the conversation is still enough to wake Sirius. He opens his eyes groggily and mentally curses the boys for being so loud. Flinging an arm out behind him he scrambles for his wand, which is somewhere on the nightstand, before unlocking the door. “I haven't been murdered.” he calls, voice still thick with sleep. 

James and Remus enter the room, mouths hanging open at the sight. “Is that-?” they both ask unison.

Their shock is enough to rouse you but you only bury yourself further into Sirius, groaning when the sunlight hits your eyes.

“If we knew this would happen we would've done it sooner.” James mutters before being elbowed in the ribs by Remus.

[tinkerbellsgf]

Cassie Parker

Daughter of Dionysus

Her name means “shining over man" which is like super slay and cool

Her last name doesn't really have that much of a meaning

Her mother, Erika Parker literally sucks so bad

She was super neglectful of Cassie

But luckily she had a babysitter and she was with her until Cassie had to go to camp

Her name was Ms. Adriana

But we'll get into that later

Her full name is Cassandra but nobody minus her "mother" calls her that and she rarely sees her mother since she left for camp

Pretty much as soon as she got to camp she was claimed by Mr. D.

He just walked up to her

Took a giant sip of his diet coke, pointed at her and went like

"Yeah that kids mine"

Out of the three Dionysus kids, Cassie was the first one to get there

Then it was Castor and Pollux

Her main weapon is a pole-arm and she's very very skilled with it

She's super super close with the Stolls and Katie Gardener

The four of them sneak out of camp often just to fuck around in the mortal world

Little fun fact: Her brothers are named after the Gemini twins and her zodiac sign is Gemini

Since her dad is the god of madness and insanity

She has control over it

And she's sent several of her mom's boyfriends into the psych ward

She can also control grapevines and has strangled the Stolls and her own brothers with them several times before when they're being annoying

Also whenever Connor makes a move for her wallet (which he does like way too many times)

A grapevine smacks his hand away

All four Dionysus kids have an addiction to a specific drink and for Cassie is Cherry Coke

Most of the time at camp you'll find her sitting on the steps of her cabin, either being pranked by the Stolls or pranking with them

Cassie has some immunity to alcohol. Her brothers have this too but it's more obvious with her because she actually drinks

Her hobbies include, pranking with her friends, losing at pinochle against her dad and yelling at Connor for stealing her wallet for the nth time this week

Her style is a lot of small shirts and big pants

She also has a leather jacket she'll wear from time to time

For training she wears a regular camp-half-blood t-shirt and a pair of shorts

There are a few things about her story that I left out so if I can muster up the creativity to start writing a series about Cassie after I start my Nadia series there ya go

[slut4slytherinss]

Labyrinth

Pt. 1 - Gold Rush

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: reader finds herself falling in love, hard, for Mattheo not long after she broke her own heart over him. Initially convinced that she will never recover from her pain that he caused, she marvels at how she finds comfort in the boy that hurt her.

1,470 words

Warnings: cursing, basically the same as pt.1 minus the angst, so much cheesiness it’s gross, lovey dovey!mattheo bc I’m extremely soft, sort of angsty but in a beautiful way, these aren’t even warnings atp, the other students being jealous cunts, possible references to books or movies, Regulus is STILL dead (wdym he’s literally in bed beside me rn), Dorothea being kind of rude (dw my girl is still your bestie), Drastoria(to all you Drarry shippers I’m sorry), mention of ronmione, slight rush and basically no plot, SUPER FUCKING SHORT IM SORRY😞

2nd person pov

Hufflepuff prefect reader

Female reader

“It only hurts this much right now.” Was what I was thinking the whole time.

You walk down the hallway aside Mattheo, fingers intertwined. You agreed to try it out and it’s lasted a month, but that doesn’t stop everyone in the castle from starting rumors. He traces circles on the back of your hand with his thumbnail, in a comforting manner, he leans in to whisper in your ear “Let’s go back to my dorm, okay?” You nod. You two go to his dorm a lot, not to hook up, you haven’t had sex since the party, his dorm is like a safe space — and his friends are fucking awesome. You’ve barely even told Dorothea what your relationship has been like, becoming closer and closer with the Slytherins.

-

When you get into his dorm you take your robe off, leaving you in your white button-up, skirt that rests appropriately at your knees, calf high socks and black Doc Martens. Mattheo places your robe gently atop a chair next to his desk before taking his own robe off and kicking his shoes off. “Lay with me, love?” He asks sweetly which causes you to roll your eyes, but oblige. You lie next to him in the bed, just talking. That’s all you two ever do lately, though, it gives you a fair bit of anxiety — trusting him with your secrets. It terrifies you, actually. You need to just—

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. I’ll be getting over you, my whole life.

Seriously. He’s unforgettable. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves. Mattheo must feel how tense you are because he begins to trace stars on your back, it’s his little form of comfort. I’ve never been good at that, he’d told you once. Which seems like total bullshit because he always manages to calm you, or at least make you forget about your issues for a while. That also scares you, the fact he can make you want to cry, strangle him, and yourself, but also smile, laugh, hug him. Terrifies you. No one has ever impacted you this much. Everything is moving so fast, but Mattheo is there with you, along for the ride.

You know how scared I am of elevators. Never trust it if it rises fast, it can’t last.

-

You walk into your dorm, laying down on your bed and dropping your bag on the floor. You quickly turn over when you hear Dorothea’s voice “Look who’s finally home.” She says in an annoyed tone. “Dor? What are you doing in here?” You sit up, she looks at you with raised brows and crossed arms. “Really? You start dating Mattheo Riddle, leave me alone for weeks, get new friends and you’re asking me why I’m here?” You swallow, “You told me you’d get over him, you lied to me.” “Dorothea, c’mon, this is like—like a trial, to see if we’re good together, he’s really sweet.” You try to justify your actions “He’s Mattheo Riddle!” She whispers aggressively, shaking her head. “He’s my boyfriend!” You spit out, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. Dorothea visibly flinches, “What?” “He’s—he’s my boyfriend,” you repeat, more confidently. “You just said that the relationship was a trial.” “Well it is, but he’s still my boyfriend. Mine. So stop trying to criticize him and me simply because I care for him.” You breathe out that last part “You care for him?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I care for him. It’s not like—I’m in love with him or something, I just care.” You say quickly. You’re not in love with him. You can’t be, right?

Uh oh, I’m falling in love again. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around?

-

The day after your interaction with Dorothea is, odd, to say the least. You sit outside in the courtyard, leaning against a tree, you’ve been avoiding Mattheo like the plague ever since your revelation. This whole things just feels so—raw. But of course he found you.

It only feels this raw right now, lost in the labyrinth of my mind.

“Hey,” he gives you a small smile. “Hi.” You reply, he sits down next to you. “I haven’t seen you all day, you avoiding me?” That causes you to laugh—and also tell the truth with a few nods. “Yeah, yeah I have.” He tilts his head but doesn’t seem upset in the slightest. “Why’s that?” “Well—um,” you try to get the words out but they seem a little stuck. “It’s okay, take your time.” He brings his hand down to hold yours, tracing gentle circles on your palm. You smile and lean your head on his shoulder. “I care about you, Mattheo.” You admit. He grins, really grins. “I care about you too.” The boy says, “Really?” He nods “Always have,” he leans down so his lips are right next to your ear, “always will.” His whisper is like a secret for only you to hear, a promise that will never be broke, a sacred oath.

Break up, break free, break through, break down. You would break your back to make me break a smile.

-

“Boys!” You call out in a sing-song voice, “I’ve brought sweets!” They got in trouble for talking too loudly during class and were removed from this weeks Hogsmeade weekend, you decided to buy them some sweets. Blaise is the first to you, “Thank Merlin, Y/n!” He snatches a bag from you as you giggle. You toss some sweets onto Draco’s bed as all the boys thank you, Mattheo stands up and wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek. That action causes all the others to groan and tell you to “Get a room.” Pansy and Astoria walk into the room, talking animatedly, Astoria sits on Draco’s bed beside him, tossing bags of clothes at him, “I’ve got you a new suit.” He grins and kisses the side of her neck in thanks. “Y/n! You totally missed it,” Pansy exclaims, practically shoving Mattheo off of you to lock her arm onto yours. “We caught Weasley and Granger snogging in the bathrooms at Three Broomsticks!” You giggle at her words and sit down on Mattheo’s bed with her, “Seriously? You steal my girlfriend and now my bed?” He asks Pansy, in a mock-offended way, she sticks her tongue out at him. “C’est la vie.” Blaise shrugs with a smirk playing at his lips as he eats the chocolate you gave him. “Speaking of that,” Theodore begins “how’s the sex Matt?” He teases, which causes you to blush and Mattheo to shove Theodore. “Shut it man, that’s so gross.” “Oh c’mon!” Astoria exclaims, “Y/n never tells us anything about it.” She shakes her head. “Maybe she doesn’t want to.” Mattheo defends you, you just stay silent. You tune them out, you just hate how everyone already wants you to be sleeping together. Why would you? It’s taken you long enough to call him your boyfriend, let alone touch him (approximately three weeks). Sure, you’ve hooked up before, but never as a couple. That act is supposed to be intimate with a person you care about. So why do it so soon? You’re taken away from your thoughts by the feel of Mattheo’s hand gripping yours.

You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back. Just like that.

-

It’s now been around two months, officially dating, Dorothea has apologized and became friends with the Slytherin’s, it’s all perfect. Except, you and Mattheo still haven’t kissed nor done anything but cuddle and hold hands. You’re not sure why but the act feels too intimate, too scary for you. You’ve kissed lots of guys before—granted none were your boyfriend—but still. You can’t seriously be falling for him, right?

“Hey love,” Mattheo murmurs, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “Did Dorothea let you in?” You question with a yawn, he just hums and nods, sitting next to you on your bed. “How’s my girl doing?” He asks, “Stressed and exhausted.” You reply as you trace your quill along the parchment “You’re seriously doing that extra credit essay?” “Yes, Mattheo, I am. I’m totally failing Slughorn’s class and he never lets us do shit like this for extra credit, I’m savoring it.” He chuckles and pulls you closer to him by your waist. “Just take a little break. For me?” You groan but end up giving in, leaning back against his chest. “You’re so lucky I lo—“ you cut yourself off quickly, immediately looking away from him. He stiffens, “You what?” He murmurs, you swallow. “Nothing, nothing important.” You say quickly. Mattheo desperately wants to change the subject so he just nods and looks forward.

Uh oh, I’m falling in love again. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around?

After a few minutes of silence, Mattheo speaks again “What were you going to say?” He asks in a whisper, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip bone. “It doesn’t matter.” You murmur, but Mattheo is quite persistent and asks again, you finally give in and mutter “I love you.” Which causes his breath to catch, I love you, those words shouldn’t be a big deal—you aren’t asking him to marry you or anything—but they are. He swallows before murmuring “Really?” To which you reply with a timid “Yes.” A slow smile creeps up on his face. “Well, I love you too.” You grin like an idiot, love, a silly thing to be obsessing over—but alas, you are.

Uh oh, I’m falling in love again. Oh no, I’m falling in love again. Oh, I’m falling in love. I thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around?

-

A/N: sorry this one was so short, I just wanted to end this on a sweet note.. sooooo yeah. And sorry for the wait lol🙈🙈

[obxsummer]

HEARTFIRST // JJ Maybank

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

warnings: mentions of abuse, sibling drama, nothing too drastic

request: heyy i have a fic idea! so i thought you could do a secret relationship jj x reader (john bs sis) and jj shows up at her window beaten up and she cleans him up and they go to bed; then he has a nightmare and wakes up screaming and JB sees how good they are for each other? idk if that makes sense hahaha!

navigation 

more from the SUBJECT TO CHANGE series

--

John B was pissed. Fuming. Ready to strangle his best friend of too many years for something so stupid. There had always been one rule since JJ Maybank and John Booker Routledge became best friends: you were off limits. Y/N Routledge was not to be flirted with, dated, looked at, or spoken to unless John B approved it. 

At first, it didn’t matter. Growing up as kids, John B had his friends and you had yours but once your dad dove headfirst into a treasure hunt, everything went to shit. Kiara’s Kook year had really screwed up your relationship, leaving JJ and Pope to fill in the gaps which pulled you closer and closer with your brother and his friends. You were teenagers then and everything felt so important and critical, even if it wasn’t. 

So when John B realized his best friend and his sister were together, there was nothing that could stop him from losing his shit on the two of you.

Met him at a party, accidentally brushed his body On the way to get a drink at the bar I couldn't wait 'til later, talking in the elevator Then we're kissing in the back of the car

The kegger idea had really sounded good at first; it was something to get your minds off your missing father, not to mention the sudden dead bodies popping up from the hurricane. None of it seemed too out of place for you, minus the newfound treasure hunting, but you were always up for a good party. 

“Where the hell did you find a keg on such short notice?” You asked JJ as the two of you hauled the large object down towards the Boneyard. You never really thought about how quickly JJ managed to find alcohol when it was for a party. It was common knowledge that he just knew where to go and how to do it. 

“Don’t you worry about that, Birdie. You know I’ve got my ways.”

The party was in full swing a few hours later. You’d spent most of your time with John B and Sarah before dipping to find the boy that seemed to be taking up most of your mind. JJ had been occupied with beer pong for a good portion of the last hour and you were determined to break him away.

That voice in my head says to slow down But it can't see the way you're looking at me right now It may not be next week, what I need Then again, maybe it might be

The drink in your hand sloshed over the rim of the cup as someone ran into your side in their drunken stumbling. JJ’s attention moved to you instantly. He’d always been so in tune with you and your presence but it only got stronger ever since your dad left. 

The previously occupied beat-up table full of red solo cups was left behind in trade for your company, JJ instantly taking your hand in his as he twirled you. He would give up so much to watch you smile like that every day. You deserved every bit of happiness that came to you because it certainly didn’t come often. 

Your laughter was infectious and JJ was drunk on it. He didn’t know who made the move or who threw the back door of the Twinkie open but shit, your skin was so soft and JJ just couldn’t stop kissing you. 

The line between friends and more slowly disappeared between you and JJ. At some point, your bed became his, and his clothes blended with yours. The thrill of hiding from the Pogues was exciting, sneaking moments when the two of you could to enjoy the one thing you had to yourselves.

JJ was everything to you and yet, it terrified you. You’ve never had a person to connect with in the way you did with him. The thought of your friends, of your brother, being pissed about what was going on was suffocating. What if this fucked up the group? What if JJ left you for someone else when he got bored? JJ was always quick to shut that idea down. 

“We’ve grown up together, Birdie. Kinda stupid of them to think something wasn’t gonna happen within the group at some point, right?” Which was always followed by: “You’re it for me. Now get outta that pretty little head and let me love on you.”

He had a point, but then again when JJ was pressing kisses down your neck, you never could think clearly.

Could be forever or we might break That's just the kind of risk that we take My head is yelling that I could get hurt But I'm gonna jump right in Baby, with my heart first

“You wanna tell them?” JJ’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the skin of your shoulder. The two of you were sitting on the porch of the Chateau, watching bemused as Kiara and Pope challenged Sarah and John B to an intense game of cards out on the dock. 

You sat beside the blond boy. To any observing eyes, it would just look like two friends having a civil conversation. To you, JJ’s hand was behind your back, fingers gently moving across the skin of your hip that wasn’t covered by the t-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“No.” Your answer didn’t have any anger or harshness behind it. You simply just loved having JJ all to yourself, with no judgment or prying eyes. No pressure to make it something neither of you wanted. It felt selfish to a point to keep something from your friends, from your brother. 

“Get out of your head.”

A smile made its way onto your face as you took the risk of leaning your head against JJ’s shoulder, tucking further into his side. JJ was so warm, his tan skin from constant surfing smooth against your cheek. It scared you sometimes, how comfortable everything was when it involved him. 

JJ’s heart skipped watching you be so relaxed, so vulnerable around him. He’d been so used to living on the edge and being tense for so long that it was so… vulnerable, so healing to have someone feel protected and safe enough to be by his side. 

Who knows what'll happen, ain't that always kinda magic When you don't know who's holding the cards Could be a wish I never knew ya or permanently tattoo ya Only the moon knows what's in the stars (what's in the stars)

You were pissed. You don’t know at what point John B thought he could parent you when the two of you were so close in age. Who was he after all this time to think he could boss you around?

“How long? How long has this been going on?” John B’s voice almost rattled the windows, echoing around the space surrounding you and JJ. The two of you stood there awkwardly like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

“Three months,” Your whisper was almost incoherent. Your eyes were trained on the ground, heart thumping in your chest so loud you figured JJ could probably hear it. This was the risk that came with not telling them, with keeping secrets amongst Pogues. God, there were so many stupid rules. 

John B’s hand slammed against the counter. “Three-Three months? God. I just…There was one rule. One fucking rule JJ. You promised!”

JJ visibly flinched at the anger in John B’s statement. That was true; JJ did promise John B he’d never get with you, never hurt you. All of that flew out the door the moment JJ saw you at that kegger. He had to risk it.

“I’m..I’m sorry, man! It just happened, okay? And-and we didn’t want to tell you guys because we didn’t want something like this to happen!”

“Well it’s happening,” John B scoffed with a shake of his head. The disappointment on his face was suffocating and you felt like you would burst into tears at any second. It wasn’t fair. Being forced apart when you knew you loved JJ? How is that fair?

John B shifted further into your line of vision. “Get the fuck out. Now. And don’t let me see you two near each other until I figure this out, got it?”

You looked up in a panic. “John B-”

“Do not argue with me right now. I don’t want to talk to you.” The look in your brother’s eyes left no room for argument. You’d never seen him this mad, especially toward you. 

JJ’s fingers squeezed your wrist lightly before he shuffled out the door behind you. The creaky hinges filled the room as you and John B stared at each other, waiting for the other to break. 

The fridge door popped open when your brother finally decided to move to grab a beer. Part of you wanted to run after JJ, to prove to John B that you didn’t have to listen to him. The problem was, you knew JJ respected your brother too much to let you do that for him. 

“You didn’t have to be so harsh on him,” You mumbled when you mustered up enough courage. John B tended to be… touch and go when he was angry. There was a risk of setting off another fuse if you didn’t watch what you said. 

As kids, JJ always picked on your brother for inheriting your dad’s temper. John B hated that it was true. To your relief, your brother let out a sigh and placed both of his hands on the counter. He felt instant regret watching JJ flinch at the noise level, knowing exactly what happened in the Maybank house when nobody else was around. “I know.” 

“I can’t tell you that I’m gonna stop being with him,” You admitted, holding your ground while you had the chance. You crossed your arms over your chest. “I respect your opinion a lot, Booker, but if it means staying away from JJ, I’ll learn to live without it.”

 It was a little more aggressive than you intended for it to be but it needed to be said. You moved through the kitchen to your room without another word. 

Mm, that voice in my head says to slow down But it can't feel your hands on my hips right now It may not be next year, what I need Then again, maybe it might be

JJ felt horrible for doing this. He knew he was playing with fire but as he pushed up your bedroom window, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He could deal with John B later. Right now, he really needed you. 

He was a little less than graceful stumbling through your window in the darkness, but he found his way eventually. You shifted awake from his rustled movements and caught a quick glance at his silhouette before turning to flick the light on. “JJ? What’s wrong? Do you need-”

“Nothin’. Sorry to wake you, Birdie. Just wanted to see you.” You could tell he was avoiding meeting your eyes as he kicked off his shoes. The coloration of bruising was beginning to show through his abdomen and you shook your head slightly. JJ didn’t like to explain when his dad treated him like this. He kept quiet and you didn’t push him because he would always talk when he wanted to about what happened. 

So, you turned the lights off and cuddled up next to him, hoping you would wake up before John B saw anything.

JJ didn’t always have nightmares when it came to his dad, but whatever happened was terrible enough that he did. Half the time they weren’t even about his dad hitting him; it always involved his dad hurting you. 

The blond’s sharp movements woke you up before the screaming did. You didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, his hands grasping your hips to hold as you settled across his lap. His shirt puddled on your thighs as he let his fingers drift across your bare skin above your pajama shorts. JJ tucked his face in your neck and just listened to your heartbeat, reassuring him that you were right here and you were safe.

John B couldn’t say he was pleased to be woken up at 5:00 in the morning. Even less so when the alarm clock involved screaming. It wasn’t your voice though, and he didn’t know if that was a relief or something to be worried about. 

You didn’t flinch when your brother threw your door open to reveal the sight within. You knew he could see the fact that the two of you were fully clothed and clearly, everything was okay… well, as okay as it could be. 

Eyes moving to look at John B, you prayed he wouldn’t say anything while JJ was so upset. To your surprise and gratitude, he didn’t. He stared at both of you for a moment as the realization settled in. The realization that you were old enough to make these decisions for yourself and as much as John B wanted to protect you, to protect you and JJ, he couldn’t keep you apart. 

John B gave you a small nod and mouthed to let him know if you or JJ needed anything. You gave him a forced smile back, a barely there ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you hugged your boyfriend tighter to your chest. 

As your bedroom door closed, you had this overwhelming sense of relief that maybe…maybe it would all work out after all. 

I gotta have ya, gotta see if this works I gotta have ya, wake up in your t-shirt I gotta have ya, diving in heart first

[princessbrunette]

How do you think Anakin would be with a touchy s/o or someone who’s love language is physical touch

anakin himself is super touchy, so he’d love it. the two of you would constantly be wanting to live in eachothers skin and he wouldn’t have it any other way. however, it takes him a while to get used to it all — let’s remember that anakin has been denied affection since he was just a child.

you’d try and control your urge to press your hands into his warm skin all the time when you first start secretly seeing eachother. you’d indulge when the two of you would kiss, running your hands over his firm chest and arms as if trying to consume him through your fingertips. but anything further than that, you feared making him uncomfortable— aware that jedi were taught to reject all attention, physical included minus a friendly back pat from a clone or an arm grab from a fellow jedi after a close encounter. as expected, he was stiff as a board when you first crawled into his lap after a long day, wedged your head beneath his chin and snuggled down like an animal burrowing into the ground.

“a‘you alright?” he called casually, face feeling hot knowing he was being totally awkward about it.

“sorry, ani. just… need you. had a bad day.”

those words, and that tone, was enough to make him melt a little— body relaxing and arms wrapping around you, squeezing tight. from that very moment on it was like a drug, once he’d began touching you he couldn’t get enough, constantly seeking out your body temperature and your heartbeat and the rise and fall of your chest so he could hold you and be reassured that you’re here, you’re safe.

there were some days, especially when he’d come back from battle that the two of you were just inseparable. you’d sleep on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest, drooling on his skin as you dozed. he’d let you inside his robes as you cuddle on the couch watching holo-dramas. he’d carry your sleepy body on his hip effortlessly in the morning when he’d be making his Caf, not wanting to leave the warmth of your body alone in the bed, letting you groan sleepily into his neck, leaving the skin there warm and tepid from your shallow breathing.

your favourite is when he’d be typing away a mission report and you can’t bare to be apart from him, needing him in every way despite his mind being consumed by work. he’d have you sat on his lap, cheek to his shoulder, cock seated deep in you. you’re instructed not to grind or bounce or anything, just “take what you’re given, beautiful.” and who are you deny that low and raspy voice?

if you get all whimpery and whiny about it, he’s more than happy to type with one hand, letting the other somehow nonchalantly slide up your throat and give it a soft but stern squeeze, before continuing on to push his fingers into your mouth. of course you’d suck on them like they were the best thing you’d ever tasted, the taste of him addicting to someone who just wanted to feel him closer, inhumanely closer, impossibly so.

“can feel you clenching, my love. you’re gonna work yourself up. try breathing for me, that’s a good girl.” he doesn’t hide the smirk, feeling your walls strangle him harder at the words.

[menacinmasochist]

DL MOMS HEADCANONS

Cordelia:

-She's got a Gemini Sun, Scorpio Moon, Sag Rising

-She's pretty short, being 5'3.

-Her body developed at a young age which is what attracted Heinz to her from the jump.

-She's got a tramp stamp tattoo of a butterfly.

-She's had sex with servants against their will.

-She has gone to extreme lengths to get Heinz's attention, including courting his brother Richter.

-She absolutely is jealous of Beatrix's looks.

-Her favorite color is black.

-She prefers the blood of children.

-She had to be stopped from burning down the castle when Beatrix gave birth to Shu.

-Richter saved her from killing herself when Reiji was born.

-Her mother gave her a potion to help aid her with having children, upon taking it she was pregnant.

-After having the triplets, she did not take care of them at all, but wanted more kids with Heinz, he refused her each time saying he did not want anymore.

-She tried strangling Christa when Subaru was born and went ballistic, calling Heinz a liar.

-Her favorite apology gift from her husband would be a virgin blood filled bath together.

Beatrix:

-Cancer Sun, Sag Moon, Taurus Rising

-Tallest wife she's 5'7.

-Always loved animals and nature as a young girl.

-She was actually very tender and loving as a child, but her parents were vampire nobles and pushed her to become more serious, to the point of being uptight and stern.

-She once fell in love with a human but knew it was unacceptable and that she was promised to another being Heinz, so she wiped this human's memories.

-She never romantically loved Heinz, it was more of an honor and duty to be his wife, as well as having his first born.

-When Shu and Reiji were toddlers she would spend hours with them in the nursery, often having them fall asleep in her arms.

-Usually ALWAYS ignores Cordelia, she knows Cordelia is half demon so she tries to stay out of her way as much as possible.

-She actually exchanges hellos and niceties with Christa, she finds Christa to be somewhat decent minus the times she starts having her panic attacks.

-She encouraged Reiji to take an interest in science like his father.

-Is kind to servants.

-She knew of Shu's human friend and didn't try to stop him but pretended to know nothing of it.

-She always knew that deep down Reiji would make a better king/leader but due to tradition she pushed Shu towards it and neglected Reiji which she truly regretted at the end.

Christa:

-Pisces Sun, Gemini Moon, Cancer Rising

-She is average heighted being 5'5.

-She has always been so beautiful, very powerful vampire nobles have fought and died to gain her hand in marriage.

-Before Heinz, she was actually in love with a vampire noble lady.

-She always preferred the company of women.

-She always admired Heinz in a brotherly way, being that they are cousins, they grew up together, though he was much older.

-The night she had sex with Heinz was the first and last time, she was miserable that entire night.

-After she married Heinz everything changed for her, she was more disgusted by her pregnancy and fell into deep depression, often hitting her belly when she would be upset.

-When she gave birth to Subaru she was torn between loving him and wanting to hold him but she tried suffocating him so Heinz ordered the wet nurses to never leave Christa alone with baby Subaru.

-She tried hanging herself several times.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

GRAY GROUSE (XIV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XV ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 3.2K

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, mentions of guns & weapons, gore mentions, talks about shootings, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your mind isn’t itself as you hear every clink of your cane hitting the floor. It echoes inside the cage of your skull—amplified like not even a brain sits there with its pulsing flesh. 

You can hear every one of your broken footsteps taking you farther away from him.

“When you get in there…” Laswell’s words blur heavily. 

Gaz was leaving. He was leaving now. The Brit was walking out onto the tarmac—entering the metal of a cargo hold before he settled down for the long flight to Russia. Joining back up with his Task Force. So why was a part of you still trying to make your feet turn around to follow?

Joey lowe.

The name snaps you out of your brooding thoughts—your shaky fingers as they strangle your cane.

“...Be watching the entire time.” Kate sighs under her breath, and from the corner of her eye, she glances at you. “You don’t have to worry about the possibility of him attacking you. He’s fully restrained to his chair.”

“I’m not worried,” you mutter. “Let’s just get this over with already.”

The woman’s stare narrows, glancing behind even if she knows that the Sergeant wouldn’t be sneaking after you. That wasn’t how Kyle was. But still…a part of her looked.

“I couldn’t agree more. Follow me.” Kate pulls ahead and guides you along.

Staring at the back of her head, you fight the sharp sting behind your eyes, but even you can’t force a knife out of your skin and expect it not to hurt.

When Laswell hears a stubbornly inhale, she doesn’t even mention it.  

The walk isn’t long, and while the bullet wound on your thigh pulls, you welcome it as a distraction. Your other hand had slipped into your pocket, reaching for your coin, but when it had brushed the picture that you’d folded inside, that almost kiss flashing through your consciousness, it nearly left you bending over yourself.

A door appeared ahead of you, your pulse as loud as a roaring lion. 

“Remember,” Kate moves her keycard from her lanyard. A firm glance. “We’ll have eyes on the entire time.” 

Like a phantom, you enter the unlocked barrier just as it beeps.

Joey is just how you remember him—except now he was minus the bulletproof vest and the gun in his hands. Perhaps you’d just become used to all of this because the memory slips off of you like water to a metal surface; it doesn’t matter. There were only so many things that you could tear at your mind about at one given moment. 

Gaz seems to take precedence, and you have a deadly knowledge as to why.

Lowe’s eyes move up as you slip inside, letting the door close behind you with a definitive lock. It’s a classic interrogation room—like the one you’d been brought to when all of this started. Sitting in a metal chair, the man that had been sent to kill you was reduced to a flushed mess of tanned skin and a bruised, bald, head. The sunglasses were gone, just as the lower face covering. Now, all that you saw was the round face directed right into yours. 

“You,” Joey snarls, hands yanking at the handcuffs that leave him restrained to the table. Your eyes slip to his middle. The padding of bandages was thick—just like the ones on your thigh.

“You shot me,” you blankly comment, feet moving closer. 

Like a droplet of blood hitting the floor, your heartbeat echoed through the tingle of your nerves; raced up and down your spine.

Answers. 

You were done playing all of these pieces in someone else's game. The videos on your father’s laptop, every lead stopping at a brick wall just when the reveal was at the tip of your tongue—it was ending.

“Should’a done more than that, Brat,” Lowe snaps, hands swelling with blood. 

“Careful,” you numbly glance upwards. Locking your eyes with his for but a moment. “You’ll break skin.”

“I don’t give a shit!” Lips flickering, you grasp the second chair’s back, peeling it out with a huff and delicately placing yourself down until you can sigh out the tension. 

But the man’s words are more layered than he’d like to admit—you picked up on it instantly. Fear. You knew because, in every instance along the long line of this story, your own sentences had been dripping with it; that undertone like a sharp knife. It was bleeding from his heart.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath, glancing at the large wall of one-way glass to your left. You can’t see anything, but you know people are back there. Waiting. Your head swivels back. “Then why are you shaking?”

Joey’s eyes burn you one glare at a time. The man only stops when he grunts in pain, midsection bending in as his throat clears quickly.

How quick you’d gone from the one in the very same situation as him, to the one holding the gun. It was almost poetic.

Again your mind slips into images of Gaz’s brown eyes, a longing growing the more you can’t look over your shoulder and find him waiting for you. You nearly do just that—turn around. Head half-turned until it hits you like a strike of lightning. 

Your father’s journal sits heavy, hidden in your coat.

“I don’t expect you to tell me anything worth my time,” Joey looks up at your words, face tight with aggression. “But I want you to listen.” 

You let that pause linger, and the hired gun is about to yell at you again before you do the best thing you can: lie.

“We have the laptop,” you shrug, licking your lips as your thighs move over the chair to re-settle. A spark of heat moves through your wound. “And we also know who hired you and Samson. Nothing you tell me will be worth my time,” you tilt your head, “because we already know it all. The game’s over.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Joey laughs. “You expect me to believe that? I had a deal in place—nothing’ll break it ‘cept my damn death.”

“We struck a new one,” you utter, and suddenly his eyes aren’t hard to look into at all. A bout of courage overtakes the raging waters of your hope that Kyle will come through the door and back you up on this.

But he won’t.

“You,” Lowe looks increasingly more panicked. “You’re lyin’. The fucking government would never take up a deal with Chiyou.”

Your eyes take on a sharp hue, honing in. The entire air goes tight with eagerness. 

“It’s the government,” is all you dryly state, trying not to sound so excited. 

Joey’s eyes dart to the one-way slashing around frantically. His pulling at the cuffs gets harder, and the blood that falls only moments later makes you stare. If it were someone else, maybe you would have cared. 

“Now’s the time to clear your name,” you continue, motioning a hand as your other plays with the material of your cane. A flicker of something moves along your face—mimicking his very words from when the barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of your head. “You should be thanking me…”

“I’m not—”

“Tell me about Samson,” you interrupt, eyes stuck on him. Anger begins to overtake you—building. Your body leans forward in the chair stiffly. “Tell me about how he wasn’t strong enough to get the job done.”

“If you already know, why are you asking?!” Blinking, you send a glance up and down Joey’s body. He was shaking in pain, and you had no doubt that his stitches were pulling. No one had come in from the other room to tell you to stop. 

And you were always so stubborn, anyway.

“I think we’re done,” you shrug. “I was right—you can’t tell me anything.” Standing, you move as if a walking bone to a chained dog, slinking through gore and blood until you’re already to the door. Feet slow and steady, you raise your knuckles to knock. Like clockwork, a thunk of the lock lets your hand shift to the handle, grasping it and adding pressure to—

“Wait!” You push open the door, head sticking out only enough for Kate’s stiff-eyed form to show from the room a foot away. She has herself half in and half out of the frame, watching you closely. 

Raising a slow brow at her, your body pivots back and disappears once more. 

Perhaps this was so easy because Lowe was retrained. If he hadn’t been, things could be wildly different. Gaz would have told you that even if he was cuffed, this was still not your job. You shouldn’t have to do this. 

The door behind you closes once more. 

Staying on your two feet, you tap your fingers against your cane and incline your head. “You have the floor, Joey.” 

“You’ve just signed my death warrant,” he barks, eyes still unable to stay still. “You don’t know what you’ve done. I need a deal—I-I need witness protection.”

“Talk,” you hiss. Impatient nature rearing its head, you glare tightly. 

Kyle must be on the C-17 by now—maybe it was even taking off as you were having this conversation. Why did you feel so anxious about it? Why were your feet still wanting to turn even when you were on the cusp of blowing this wide open? 

He can’t really mean this much to you…can he?

“Samson was too good of a guy to get stuck in this, dammit!” Dark eyes lock with yours, and you frown. “All the decent ones are already dead, and it’s your fuckin’ fault.” 

“I’m failing to see how I’m supposed to care at this point,” you dryly spit out. 

Joey’s head shakes back and forth, bald head shiny in the overhead light. “Yeah, I’m not that surprised, Sweetheart. Samson let you live, but, hell, I’d have put a bullet in you a thousand times before I did that to your father.”

Your spine tightens up. Lowe keeps talking as your heart stops beating.

“Fuckin’ fool,” Joey’s jaw clenches, his wide face bright with rage. “He should have just gone through with the orders—it would have been quick; he would have been alive to see his girls grow up.”

You partially open your lips but stop yourself quickly. He has to keep going.

“I knew he was too damn righteous for that; knew he wouldn’t kill you like he was supposed to. Damn idiot went and shot the fucking husband instead. God. Served with him and everything—I know that bastard didn’t kill himself.”

Wide-eyed, your thigh throbs as your entire body seizes up. 

Joey tries to stand, growling and yelling becoming increasingly more violent; and still, that fear stays in his eyes—deep into his soul.

“You’re ex-military,” you whisper under your breath. Louder, “Tell me what you know about Chiyou,” you snap. “Who is it?”

“This is your fault!” He shouts, and the table jerks against the bolts holding it to the floor. You flinch, taking a small step backward as your face blankly of all else besides thinly veiled fear. “You’ve got your hands all in it! It’s you!”

Alarms blare over the speakers with the sharp screech of dying dragons.

Gasping, your head snaps to the one-way in shock—the lights flickering overhead as you blink quickly, confusion making your heart speed. The sound is so sharp your free hand has to physically snap to the side of your head to cover one of your ears—mouth releasing a fast yell. 

Your back shifts to slap into the door, and with a quick hand, you reach for the handle. Yet, it opens before you can even touch it; fingers grapple for your clothes as you’re peeled out.

Joey screams above the alarm.

“Don’t leave me here! Don’t! It’s what they want—!” The door slams as Kate bullies you down the hallway quickly. Soldiers rush past. 

In her hand, she holds the body of a small pistol.

“What the hell is going on,” your voice is smoother than you thought it would be, but nonetheless firm. You hurry along as fast as you’re able, adrenaline taking most of the intense pains and stacking them away for now. Namely, the one in your heart. There’s no time to think over what you’d just uncovered about this plot—no time to act on it.

“I’m getting you to a secure area,” Kate levels, not fully answering you. 

“And are you going to explain on the way, or…?” You trail off, eyes digging into her and voice loud above the noise. A man rushing past clips your shoulder, and you stumble before your cane stops your fall. Laswell’s grip gets harder. 

“Your mother was attacked in the medical ward. We don’t know who did it,” the woman explains in a swift breath. 

Your face blanks, snapping over to her even as countless other people nearly run into you. Shouts and yells spring up—guns carried in hard grips as the sounds of boots connecting with the floor make you beg to hear more familiar ones. 

But an instinctual glance behind you leaves nothing but electric air and millions of bodies of people you don’t know. You have to admit, that makes you more scared than anything that was revealed previously.

“Is,” you stutter, head jerking back to Kate. “Is she okay?! What happened, she was supposed to be safe here!”

“You need to focus on yourself,” is the harsh and blunt answer. Blue eyes grace yours, sharp as you’re taken down the next hallway on fast feet. 

“How many times am I going to be told that before you people realize it’s not going to happen?” You shout, but it’s lost to the blaring, insistent, noise that makes your head ache the longer you’re out here—stuck in the bright lights and the screams. 

It reminds you of the park.

Shoved into a side room, you’re released to stumble for a moment as Kate jerks the door closed with a rattling frame. 

“It is going to happen,” she looks at you, hand low at her hip as she motions to you. “Kyle isn’t here anymore to watch you. Until this is over, you have to rely on your own skills to keep you safe.”

You narrow your eyes in disbelief, a sneer coming to your lips. Your body steadies itself as your breaths come quick. 

“Isn’t that literally someone else's job? I’m sorry to tell you this, Laswell,” you growl, moving closer, ��but I don’t know how to deal with hitmen!” 

You’re given an unimpressed look before Kate shakes her head and frowns at you. 

“You’re smart—Kyle saw that. But you make stupid decisions.” You move your hand out in a hostile gesture, teeth snapping like a dog. “You need to think, Spitfire. The pieces are all laid out, you know the answer to this.”

Confusion now overtakes that feral panic. 

“What are you talking about?” Kate moves to you, grabbing at your shoulder with her free hand. You glare into her eyes, blinking away after a minute of contact.

“No one can figure this out but you. You’re the catalyst. It starts and ends with you—Lowe gave you the last of it. There’s an answer here, and you’re not willing to see it.” 

“Where’s my mother,” you bark in question, annoyed at this line of conflict. “You’re not making any sense.”

Kate takes a step back and stares heavily at your face. She licks her lips and says slowly, the words nearly lost to your ears above the alarms, “Too many men and women have died over this already. You know that.”

“What I know is that you’re making my head explode!” You shout. “You’re going on and on about this—what about you?! You and your little Task Force that doesn’t even know the people they work with!” Your mouth moves in a laugh. “You send off the one person who I’m starting to trust, and then I find out Samson was meant to kill me.” 

“We should be glad he didn’t,” Kate tilts her head. She’d gone too far in life to gain that sheen of guilt now. Her experiences were a long line of statistics and facts. 

You were the target, now the question had shifted as to why. You had never been involved in any illegal activities with your father—there was never any evidence of that, and everyone knew it to be true. 

One question leads to another, and another, and another. 

You knew something. Something that you maybe didn’t even know yourself yet. But time is rapidly coming to a close.

“We should be glad I didn’t leak your fucking file onto the internet when I had the chance,” you point, teeth bared. “I’ve seen it—I know how you work. It’s goddamn disgusting the things you do.”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” Laswell utters, frowning. “It’s my cross to bear.”

“Oh,” you laugh sarcastically, “so high and mighty. Kate Laswell—a martyr.”

Kyle seemed to have taken the key to your anger with him and left the door wide open. Your cruelty slipped through the frame to bleed its black blood over the hardwood floors like some possessed dog, dragging itself home time after time for only a faint memory of warmth. You were just so angry all of the time. Being here—around these people; these bases and the secrets. 

Every ounce of you is bathed in wrath. 

“Trust me,” you grin numbly. “My eyes are wide open.” 

Blue stares into you, unblinking until the earpiece makes the woman move back and press her fingers up to it—to listen above the noise.

All she gives you is a firm and unemotional, “Are they?” Before her face turns away from you. 

You clench your jaw and scoff, neck shifting as you tap your cane into the ground. The wound burns, but your free hand easily moves into your jacket pocket and presses into your coin—digging your palm into it. A distraction, maybe. 

But all you can think about is how Gaz would be giving you that disappointed look and turning his head away. It makes you want to throw something. 

His stupid hat; stupid voice. How he carries himself—how he felt so guilty about his part to play in this.

How he left.

He left you here. 

With your mother, with Laswell. He regretted it, sure…and the worst part was that you’d entirely forgive him if he came through that door right now. For everything. But, God, please don’t make him leave you here alone after everything he’s done to make it right.

The realization makes your eyes water, a sting again forming. You wanted him here with you. You wanted his jokes and his smile—that smirk of his. Gaz’s stories about his trials and his achievements. 

His history.

You could study all you wanted about that topic, but the section that was titled his own would always be the most interesting. He’d snuck in and grappled onto the place between your ribs; he’d stuck a knife into your heart and refused to peel it out—to let you bleed him away.

Damn him, damn him, damn him. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Kate’s face goes grim while you fight your own inner monologue. Her sentence rips you out of the bubble you’re stuck in. 

“Lowe’s dead. Get ready, I’m moving you across base.” 

TAGS:

@merkitty49, @mh073099, @littlegaypng, @babybooday, @underrated-youngster, @jupiterredolent, @idocarealot, @petrat97, @jade-jax, @roosterr, @escapefromrealitysm, @kysa32, @human-turtle, @aurora-basin, @terumisworld, @xxfeelmylovexx, @neelehksttr, @nezukos-number1fan, @20forty9, @homicidal-slvt, @emerald-valkyrie, @raissadoesthingslmao, @misfne, @hollyhopesworld, @wasteland-babe, @330bpm-whiplash, @anna-banana27, @sunnynomoar, @doggydale, @thecrispypotatochip @74478328, @blueoorchid, @das-conk-creet-baybee, @chestnutsandcurls, @vamqyr3, @lavalleon, @nebula67, @urfavsunkissedleo

[vryfmi]

[major book spoilers!]

a mildly long analysis of skull and Lucy's relationship in TEG in light of recent Stroud's interview answer.

also i need this video on my blog

[audio transcript of The Writing Community Chat stream:

CJ (host), reading a question from NeeveDaFoe: I need to know why Skull is more powerful than Ezekiel!!!

Jonathan Stroud: Well, I think the power that he has is through his connection with Lucy. I think, ultimately, the message of Lockwood & Co books, and indeed most of my books, is that you get your strengths through the connection with others, love and mutual support. So, our friend, the skull, ultimately, gains his power through the relationship he's built up with Lucy over the course of the books, despite all his rude comments.

CJ, laughing: Nice!

/end transcript]

it's not like i didn't know it beforehand, the message is very clear in the books and especially in how skull and Ezekiel are juxtaposed in their confrontation. that skull looks almost like his alive self minus transparency and gauntness of his features, while Ezekiel has barely anything that would make us think he used to be human. he's disconnected from reality, he views himself as an ascended being. meanwhile skull is there to be a sarcastic menace and definitely not to save Lucy bc he definitely didn't grow to care for her.

but the thing is that Lucy tried to put her trust into skull only now. it wasn't even her first decision when confronting Marissa and Ezekiel, far from it. she'd freed skull only when Lockwood came in and she wasn't afraid to face whatever was at hand alone. being strangled by insane old woman possessing her granddaughter's body or get ghost-touched by Ezekiel or skull at that matter — doesn't make much of a difference. she did promise skull to free him, she got the taste of what it's like to be stuck on The Other Side, so she delivered, trusting that skull won't hurt her nor Lockwood when the two of them were seconds away from taking Marissa down, even if it was the last thing she did.

saying that skull payed back Lucy for freeing him just doesn't seem right. she was feeding him empty promises the whole book to the point where both skull and Lucy knew that they had this same conversation over and over again to no avail. but skull kept bringing it up. while Lucy couldn't bring herself to trust skull even after all help he provided for her and her friends.

but her attitude changes once she meets skull on The Other Side, the person that he once was. or at least that what she thinks in that moment because that's the same skull she was talking to for the past 2 years. Lucy has a clear disconnect: seeing not just an obscure grimace in the jar but a whole person before her. it strikes that The Lucy Carlyle Formula™ button and she aches with sympathy describing skull's appearance, acknowledging that he passed away at young age, at her age. whether she sees her situation and her inevitable demise in him, or is simply struck with "there's more to just the skull (a literal bone), there's a person before her", Lucy has a full 180 on skull from that point forward. but it's too late and it's her fault. skull gets taken away and Lucy is left alone in the kitchen. how much did she regret not listening to skull, not trusting him, not getting to know him? apparently a lot judging by their second (technically third) run into each other on The Other Side:

A wave of something washed through me. Relief? Pleasure at seeing something familiar in this dreadful place? Whatever it was, it made me warm. (TEG)

[i know what you are]

but if Lucy had time to ponder, so did skull. it makes sense that he'd say 'Shared names come with trust'. i believe he told the truth there and he forgot his name for good but still made it clear for Lucy — it's a bit too late for getting to know each other, especially after Lucy was giving him a cold shoulder, when that hammer was still on her belt. for all he knew, Lucy and her friends could've had not made it across Dark London and he'd be forever trapped in Fittes basement or worse. in any other situation he'd have no one to blame but circumstances, but here it would've been Lucy's fault.

and yet, despite all that, despite all rude comments and headbutting, skull's more human than Ezekiel because of Lucy, and he's stronger than Ezekiel because he cares for and loves Lucy. not my words, Stroud's. whatever sick manipulations and control Ezekiel had over Marissa and vice versa, it stood no chance against two mean teenagers that fought their way through trauma with humor, sarcasm and gratuitous bum jokes.

now leave me alone to sulk over skullyle

[yinorii]

t minus one second before yjh gets up and strangles kdj on the mta

(the most ooc thing about this low effort redraw is that yjh isn't already strangling kdj)

or, alternatively: yjh suffering (as usual) as kdj plans his next self sacrificing plot

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Things I Think of: Disneyland Part 3

It's the 2nd day of Diavolo's Disneyland vacation. MC and Barbatos wake up only to find Diavolo got zero hours of sleep because he was too excited about the new day

MC convinces him to get some sleep by smothering him in kisses until he's a blushing mess and giving him cuddles. Barbatos spends time alone by watching passers-by from the balcony and drinking tea

Diavolo and MC wake up. Dia pleadingly asks if the brothers can join them because they'd love it. MC worries about not having enough money for everyone but Barbatos says don't worry about it

So the brothers arrive via portal. From the word 'go' it's a mess because it's summertime, it's bright, it's hot and they're all bouncing all over the place. Lucifer looks like he wants to strangle everyone

The brothers (minus a thoroughly annoyed Luci) whine about Diavolo taking all of MC's attention. MC tells them it's their duty to smother their prince in affection on his special vacation, but now that they're all together they can all have fun together

Dia and MC have a special Blue Bayou lunch date. MC tells Dia his eyes are even more beautiful by candlelight

Asmodeus is the only one Lucifer doesn't want to strangle because he spends most of his time in one place, talking to Elsa and Anna about their beauty secrets, Arendelle activities and their bond as sisters

Mammon, Barbatos and Diavolo are particularly violent towards each other on Autotopia

Diavolo wants to talk to Spiderman again and visibly gets sad when Barbatos tells him Spiderman's on break

Mammon and Levi scream the loudest on Mission: Breakout

Diavolo and MC share a blissful kiss in front of Sleeping Beauty's Castle at night

[mercillery]

ok can we have a part 3 for yandere zenon x cheater reader? im so totally absorbed in this scenario. For part 3, zenon somehow finds out that dante forced himself to reader and reader chan was loyal and faithful all this time. ((but now after the isolation and abuse reader chan went through [that she didn’t deserve ofc], she does not harbour any sort of feelings for zenon anymore. basically she’s now numb and emotionally unavailable)) zenon also finds out that dante ordered his dark disciples to twist the what truly happened which caused to put all the blame on reader chan. basically dante being dante and spreading his evilness. what would happen now that everything has been uncovered?

BTW I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITINGS I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL. THANKS SO MUCH 💝💕🎀

WARNINGS: FEMALE READER + YANDERE THEMES + DANTE SUCKS + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I honestly did not think I’d ever get to part 3 with this. Sorry this was so short, anon. And thank you for your kind words, I hope you’re doing well too 🫂🩷🩷🩷

I read this request and did the biggest 😮 of my life

Okay, so imagine Zenon, standing in the dim, ominous corridors of the Spade Kingdom’s fortress, a place so lacking in interior design you’d think they hired someone who exclusively works with shades of "doom" and "gloom." He’s brooding as usual, probably wondering why they ran out of skull wallpaper for the meeting room. And then—boom—news drops like the world’s most dramatic mic: Dante had forced himself on you, and you, the loyal soul that you were, got framed, slandered, and thrown under the metaphorical bus while Zenon fell for the whole twisted story like it was some top-tier villain plot.

How does Zenon find out? Picture this: A Dark Disciple, sweating like they're in a sauna, stumbles in, eyes darting like they just got caught in a game of "Who Told Zenon the Truth First?" Maybe this Disciple is one of those rare ones who took a philosophy course once and grew a conscience. Or maybe Zenon overhears a whispered conversation while passing by, because let's face it, his ears seem to pick up everything—he’s like the NSA of the Spade Kingdom, minus the Wi-Fi.

The moment the pieces click into place, the atmosphere drops about 20 degrees. Everyone nearby suddenly finds a very urgent task to do elsewhere. Dante’s penchant for turning every situation into a melodramatic power play has finally caught up with him. He had you cornered, used his twisted charisma and brute force to strip away your peace, and then had the audacity to spin lies thick enough to strangle your truth. Zenon never fancied himself an emotional man, but realizing you bore this cruelty alone ignites something he can't quite name but feels suspiciously like...regret? Rage? Maybe even shame? Oh, we’re venturing into feelings territory, and Zenon didn’t sign up for this emotional rodeo.

Enter Zenon’s response: the guy's ice-cold exterior shatters. Anger seethes through him in waves so palpable you could surf on them. He doesn’t yell—Zenon isn’t exactly a karaoke enthusiast—but his silence becomes so sharp that even the bravest Dark Disciple in the room considers updating their will. In his head, he’s calculating: How do you punish a brother who holds all the arrogance of a peacock that just discovered mirrors?

But here’s the kicker: as he processes this, he knows how numb you've become—how the light in your eyes that once flickered even in darkness now looks like someone turned the “Open” sign of your soul to “Closed.” And it hits him in a way that no bone magic ever could. The one person who stayed true, who endured his coldness and the insanity of being tied to him, was left shattered and empty because he couldn’t see through Dante’s lies.

And let’s not forget, Zenon is not a talk-it-out kind of guy. He’s more of a “this ends with me breaking several laws of nature and decorum” type. Once the truth settles, and he stands before you in that isolation chamber he should have burned down ages ago, there’s a new weight in his stare. No words will fix the cavern between you now, and he knows it. You’re a shell of who you were, and Zenon’s about to realize that revenge on Dante isn’t just personal; it’s poetic justice wrapped in a tragic bow. And Dante? Well, let’s just say his evil cocktail is about to become the least of his problems.

The bloodlust that ignites in Zenon when he finally pieces together what happened isn’t just your run-of-the-mill rage—it’s the kind of fury that could power a medieval war machine. And the best part? This time, it’s not directed at you; no, you’re the one thing in this twisted story he doesn’t blame. All that anger has one target, and it’s wearing Dante’s smirking face. The fact that it’s his brother who crossed the line? It doesn’t matter. Family dinners were awkward enough before this, but now, they might as well be battlegrounds.

He should’ve seen it coming, really. That nagging thought needles at him like a thorn he can’t pull out. A part of him knew Dante might one day take an interest in you—it’s Dante, after all, a man who considers “personal boundaries” a foreign concept, especially when it comes to beautiful women. But Zenon thought he had kept a tight watch on you, sure that the shadows of his vigilance were enough to protect you. Turns out, even shadows have blind spots, and Dante knew exactly how to slither into them.

And as that anger festers, Zenon’s usually ice-cold logic burns with a single focus: Dante. Dante, who knew you were Zenon’s, who saw that invisible line in the sand and not only crossed it but danced on it. Dante, who left you a shell, drained of feelings, left with nothing but numbness where there used to be warmth and hope. Zenon knows you aren’t to blame. Not for this. Not for anything. The thought anchors him even as the violent storm inside threatens to break him. You were his; you were true and faithful, even when he was too cold, too distant to see the truth.

The million-dollar question: what now? What’s Zenon’s next move, and what kind of trouble has Dante unknowingly signed up for? Well, let's just say the Zogratis family reunion is about to get an upgrade—from “tense” to “bloodbath, guest-starring the Grim Reaper.” Listen, Zenon’s been holding it together with that controlled, cold demeanor of his, but finding out what Dante did to you?

Dante might have a reputation as the charming, ego-fueled ladies’ man of the Spade Kingdom, but he messed up—big time. He should’ve known better than to touch you, Zenon’s one precious, untainted thing in a world full of corruption. Zenon isn’t impulsive, no; he’s meticulous. He’s the guy who plots three steps ahead even when he’s playing chess against himself. But with this revelation, his obsessive tendencies are cranked up so high that the needle might as well snap off the dial.

And don’t get it twisted: this isn’t a rage-fueled rampage. Zenon’s not going to storm down the hall, screaming like some low-level henchman caught in a tantrum. This is a hunt, a cold, methodical execution where Dante is the prey, and Zenon is Death with a bone to pick. Because in Zenon’s world, harming you is a cardinal sin, punishable by, well... death. Family ties? Irrelevant. Brotherly bonds? Not like that ever existed in the first place. Dante didn’t just cross a line; he set the whole dang map on fire.

Don’t think Zenon is going to play fair or drag this out. He’s not the “monologue and let the bad guy escape” type. He’s the “I’m going to remove you from existence before you even register what’s happening” type. Dante is powerful, sure, but Zenon’s on a mission fueled by obsession, betrayal, and a smoldering, controlled fury. If you’re worried Zenon might not win this? Don’t be. Dante’s facing a man who’s decided that brother or not, you messed with his world. And Zenon doesn’t just plan for victory—he guarantees it.

Zenon’s attacks are like clockwork: precise, merciless, and unforgiving. Each blow he lands isn’t just a strike—it’s a declaration of betrayal avenged, a reminder to Dante of just how far he crossed the line. Zenon doesn’t waste his breath on dramatic speeches or curses. No, his silence is deafening, a silent promise that words would only cheapen what he intends to do. The only sound between them is the sharp clash of their power, punctuated by the chilling realization that Zenon isn’t here for a fight; he’s here for an execution.

Dante, in his typical fashion, tries to laugh it off, throwing taunts like they’re worth more than the air he’s wasting. But Zenon? He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Dante’s bravado falls flat, lost in the shadow of Zenon’s ice-cold, calculating expression. A face so still, so controlled, it could freeze the blood of anyone foolish enough to witness the carnage. The fight itself is brutal, a display of Zenon’s sheer depth of possessiveness and hatred, honed to a deadly edge. When the final blow comes, it’s swift and final, a moment so silent it almost echoes.

He emerges victorious, a grim conqueror of a battle that wasn’t just personal—it was sacred. But here’s the thing: victory doesn’t taste like anything at all. Not when he returns to you and finds your eyes as distant and cold as the deepest, most unfeeling void.

The sight of you, numb to the core, eats at Zenon in ways no physical wound ever could. He hides it well, of course. That’s what he does best—keeping his pain locked up so tight it would take a miracle to crack him open. But the reality is, seeing you so lost, so detached, shatters whatever satisfaction he could have drawn from avenging you. He knows he can’t force a reaction; demanding you to feel again would only be another cruelty added to the list of things you never deserved. So, he waits, resigned to the idea that your trust, your warmth, might never come back to him. That he might have won the battle, but lost the war for your heart.

But Zenon is nothing if not relentless. The yandere in him, that twisted, obsessive part, doesn’t mind waiting. If all he can do is dedicate his life to protecting you from the distance, even if you stay cold and unreachable forever, then so be it. He will guard you, care for you, and devote himself to you, even if it means living with the torment of knowing that redemption is out of reach. Because for Zenon, loving you—even from afar—is a battle he’ll keep fighting, whether or not you ever feel again.

Although you’re now as emotionally numb as a frozen fish stick, Zenon’s trust in you skyrockets. Why? Because nothing screams loyalty louder than surviving Dante’s twisted schemes while staying faithful to the guy who basically invented stone-cold silence as a personality trait. So congrats—if Zenon’s trust was a vault before, it’s now a fortress with “No Trespassing” signs aimed at everyone except you. Gone are the days of cold punishments and harsh treatment. Turns out, finding out that your brother is the villain of the century makes Zenon reevaluate his methods faster than you can say, “Therapy, maybe?”

Now, Zenon knows you’re numb, probably for good, but that doesn’t mean he’s planning to make it worse. In fact, punishing you is out of the question now. He won’t say it—because if Zenon admitting fault out loud isn’t the eighth wonder of the world, I don’t know what is—but he realizes his old ways of dealing with his feelings won’t exactly be much to help you feel again, you know?

So he tries to reach out. Tries being the keyword here. He approaches cautiously, as if you’re a wild animal that might bolt, or worse, give him that blank, thousand-yard stare. Zenon doesn’t do verbal apologies—why use words when glaring and brooding have always worked just fine? Instead, he goes for subtle actions. He starts taking care of you like a silent, overbearing butler, appearing out of nowhere to make sure you’re fed, warm, and alive. You didn’t ask for any of this and definitely don’t react, but that doesn’t stop him.

Need a blanket? It’s already on you before you even shiver. Water? Magically appears on your nightstand, as if hydration is suddenly Zenon’s personal crusade. He watches over you with a sort of quiet devotion that would be almost romantic if it weren’t so intensely unsettling. But, hey, romantic or not, he’s attentive. Is he creepy? Maybe. But he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. Even if all he’s met with are your blank stares and silence, Zenon is prepared to keep trying, his version of an apology more action-based than a dozen heartfelt “I’m sorries” ever could be. Because while you might be numb, he’s going to make sure you’re not alone in that.

If Zenon was obsessed before, now it’s like he’s taken his fixation and turned it into a full-time job—complete with unpaid overtime and zero vacation days. He devotes himself to silent acts of penance, the kind that would make a monk say, “Take a day off, man.” He sits by your side, sometimes for hours, not saying a word, his usually cold eyes softer but more haunted, as if hoping his mere presence can stitch up the deep wounds that words can’t touch. It’s like he’s trying to will the shattered pieces of your spirit back together, one silent moment at a time.

Zenon’s aware that what Dante did left emotional scars so deep that even time itself might throw up its hands and say, “Sorry, this one’s beyond me.” But that doesn’t stop him. No, Zenon becomes obsessed with coaxing even the tiniest spark of emotion from you. A flinch, a sigh, even a glance that doesn’t feel like it’s staring straight through him—it would all mean progress to him. It’s an all-consuming mission, and he approaches it with the same deadly focus he uses in battle, only now, his enemy isn’t a person; it’s the void that’s swallowed you whole.

If it takes the rest of his life, so be it. Zenon’s not exactly the type to quit, and the idea of you staying numb, an unresponsive shell of the person you once were, gnaws at him—surprisingly. So he keeps trying, meticulously and obsessively. Because somewhere in the depths of his fractured, intense devotion, he believes that if anyone can reach you again, it’s him. And if it means spending the rest of his life searching for that lost light in your eyes? Well, Zenon figures he’s got time. Plenty of it. After all, he’s already given you his heart—what’s a lifetime in comparison?

[ceilingfan5]

make it count

"problem" for @taznovembercelebration

Kravitz thought he was already having a weird night, but the guy tumbling out of his closet was, honestly, a real surprise. 

“AUGH, FUCK,” Kravitz says, flawlessy parried by closet guy’s “FUCK, AUGH.”

Kravitz steps back. Too far. The bed catches his ass, which hopefully looks like he sat down intentionally and didn’t reverse kneecap himself. Closet guy straightens up, long, gorgeous hair all over the place, and he spits hair out of his mouth and eyes Kravitz, steely, but also nervous, like Kravitz might be angling to kick his ass. 

Kravitz might. He hasn’t decided yet. He’s a little panicked, and he doesn’t like, WANT to call the cops, obviously, but there’s a fuckin’ dude in his closet and he’s been home for like three hours now. He’s played dad rock as high as his phone could go and danced in his boxers, and showered, and changed into pajamas, and eaten popcorn like both a horse and the tender but misunderstood delinquent girl feeding that horse and maybe that’s not necessarily something he wanted some kind of malignant fucknugget to witness.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in my apartment??” he demands, grabbing the nearest heavy object and brandishing his shitty lamp that makes an annoying noise when it’s on like it’s some kind of newfangled glaive-mace. 

“Who the fuck are you and where am I?” closet guy retorts aggressively, in a funny accent Kravitz can’t really place. Maybe it’s fake. Is this guy fucking with him? He’s too tired to be fucked with. He won’t allow it. 

“My apartment, asshole, keep up!” 

“Answer the first question!”

“You first!” Kravitz juts with the lamp, which is unfortunately a little flaccid, what with its flexible spine and all. He should have grabbed a shoe and just chucked it. 

“I don’t remember what you said!” the guy admits, which, okay, Kravitz kind of gets it, and it’s sort of hard to stay serious, even with his hackles up as they are. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I’m in my pajamas!” Kravitz says, defensive. He knows the old, old Death Note t-shirt and Jack Skellington pants, which he got from the defunct K-mart mumble years ago, are not like. Flattering. BUT!! Listen. His vintage monogrammed pjs are in the dirty pile. And the dirty pile has gotten a little big, cause things have been nuts at work, and he’s worn out and exhausted and other words for fuckin’ wiped. What is it people say now. Eepy? Baby you’d best believe he’s eepy to the core like some kind of fucking blood disease. 

Man. Maybe he should get his vitamins checked. 

But also fuck you, closet guy, he’s in his own home, and no one was supposed to witness him tonight. He’s done being seen and perceived. You hear him? Done!

“Is that…so.” The guy squints at him. Kravitz would be assuming what the fuck he’s judging Kravitz on, but he kind of got lost in the attractive freckles and his long elegant fingers, and the gap in his teeth. And the hair, despite the fact that it is still all over the place, isn’t a minus. “I am Taako, prince of the elves.” 

“Oh, okay, and we’re back to zero,” Kravitz says, cheerfully realizing he’s going to have to fucking call 911 because he truly cannot figure out what the better option is. Except. He’s going to get strangled in his fucking Death Note t-shirt from 2013 because his goddamn Jack Skellington pants don’t have pockets and his phone is in the kitchen, actually, and they may not put that in his eulogy but everyone is going to know anyway, because of cringe osmosis. 

He doesn’t usually believe in cringe. Funny what imminent death does to your philosophy. 

“Why is that?” Taako squints at him, tucking hair behind his ears. And, shit, maybe he’s done costume work for whatever the fuck this is, maybe he’s had some insane plastic surgery, but his ears truly are crazy pointy. Not even elf in a movie pointy, like ten, twelve inches long, and they flick when Taako touches them. Kravitz reorients some facts, none of which add up, and he struggles.

“I’m Kravitz,” he says, against both his good judgement and his judgement he uses when his good judgement is dirty. 

Taako squints at him harder. Kravitz wonders if he should put the lamp down, especially considering it knocked over his wifi router which is blinking frantically like some kind of crying electric beast, but honestly whatever at this point. Like, is he going to die? Shit, then at least he doesn’t have to work tomorrow, you know? Sorry mama, he promises he cares, mostly. 

“Assistant head of sales,” he adds. Taako considers this at length. 

“I think I took the wrong portal,” he decides. He turns back to the closet, which reveals that he has a tail, actually, for real, as far as Kravitz can gather, and puts his hands on his enticing hips in frustration when he finds Kravitz’s bullshit mess of Work clothes, Dress Up clothes, Play clothes, and Nobody Can See Me Fuck Off clothes. And also four wigs, his heated blanket, the printer he’s mad at, an embarrassing amount of hangers,  and two paper boxes full of dumb garbage he can’t let go of from two moves ago. And some glitter. Shut up is why. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Kravitz demands. 

"Well," Taako says, with deep conviction, and doesn't finish. He turns back to face Kravitz. That tail flicks dismissively, still somehow incredibly appearing to be legitimate. Kravitz eyes him over, takes in his elaborate and scrumbled suit-gown of purple and gold gossamer and his thighs high boots and his golden eye makeup and also the way he keeps glancing at Kravitz's pajama pants. 

"Well?" Kravitz prompts. "You realize you're in Austin, Texas?" 

"Nah, uh," Taako looks a little pale now. "Chaboi was in Phandolin, in uh, Faerun, the fuck is a Texas?" 

So true. 

"Don't you dare tell me you hopped through a portal in my closet like reverse Narnia." 

"Narnia?" 

Man. Maybe Kravitz will hit him with the lamp. Shame he's so pretty. 

"I don't have time for this," he mutters. "You always watch those fantasy movies and they just handle it, but I don't have- what am I supposed to do, call in an elf prince personal day? If I'm going to take an elf prince personal day you can bet- sorry, I…" Kravitz winces. Just because he wants this to be fake doesn't mean there isn't a situation at hand. 

"I mean, Taako is all for an elf prince personal day if it means what I think it means." Taako grins, showing surprisingly sharp teeth, which Kravitz feels totally regular about, no details thanks. "I was running from some assholes who wanted to murder me. I mean, I don't necessarily think monarchy is the way of the future either, but you don't see me assassing about it." 

"Well, no monarchy here." Kravitz can't help but be glib. He finally puts the stupid lamp down. Just on the bed. No way he's sleeping anytime soon. This makes the cord pull taut. His sad router just slumps onto the floor. Taako jumps and inspects its flashing lights, alarmed but also kind of fascinated. 

"No?" He glances at Kravitz, and back at the lights. "Sick. That sounds easier."

"Well, it's not like there's no- we don't have to do politics. Hey, Taako, if I take this as nonfiction, which I am not committed to, and do not faint, which I am also not committed to, what the fuck am I meant to do next?"

"I mean either we take that elf prince personal day, really make it count, or uh, you magic me back home, mister?" 

"Magic isn't real!" Kravitz runs his hands down his face, excruciatingly aware of the comedy of the situation. 

"Ah," Taako says, really tasting the gravity here. "Guess there's no option but to fuck me." 

"Now hang on," Kravitz says, struggling not to laugh. 

"No, I'm right, probably." 

[bonsoir-tyrelliot]

So I’ve read like most of the Tyrelliot on AO3 at this point (minus the high school and college AUs because that stuff isn’t my jam) and I wanted to post my recs! I have tagged authors wherever I’m aware of them. Keep in mind this is my personal taste, which tends toward the soft. In no particular order:

1. Last Request (series) - This author’s instincts for romance are better than 95% of the published romance market. It’s unfinished but by the time you get to where it stops you’ll believe in Tyrelliot’s love so hard you’ll believe they can get through their final obstacle. AU.

2. Lend me your heart, I swear I won’t break it - Does anyone else get a literal physical response from sweetness in fic? I do, and I spent all 27,000 words of this in that tingly state. There’s angst but it’s so worth it for how sweet they are to each other. The ending is either happy or sad depending on your personal headcanons.

3. Beside the white chickens - A cute, longer oneshot where Tyrell comforts Elliot. I got the tingles from this entire thing too.

4. Lacunae - As I think the name implies, this fic gives us scenes from in between canon scenes. It also gives new takes on some canon scenes. WIP. Some of the best writing I have ever seen, no exaggeration. You have to read it to believe it. @auntarctica

5. the two-body problem - Elliot saves Tyrell after 404 and plays grumpy nurse. Both are incredibly in character. Tyrell high on morphine is cute but heartbreaking. Excellent writing. @cainightfics

6. This world will always be here - Technically this is Tyrobot, but it’s too good not to include, and it’s all Elliot anyway right? Incredibly sweet, incredibly well written. The softest Tyrell you'll ever meet. @the-fossilized-writer

7. In the dread of night and it’s sequel Sleeping at last - Two one shots that fix Tyrell’s death. I never knew I wanted Tyrell to be good with a wrench but it turns out I did want that.

8. Reboot to Recovery - A oneshot inside Elliot Alderson’s mind. Very cute and sweet and satisfying.

9. On your side, always - This is the most straightforward post-canon Tyrelliot get-together I’ve come across. Almost no angst, some pretty good smut.

10. I, Robot - A oneshot where Mr. Robot gets to relax for a minute with Tyrell. Very in character and adorable. Tyrobot.

11. Know you by heart - Tyrobot scenes from the basement in season 3. Expands on Mr. Robot's character in very cool ways. @zeiskyte

—Bonus-three recs that are PWPish.

1. Tender are the hands of god - Robot-Elliot strangles Tyrell during sex to celebrate the successful hack. Also, weirdly, this is some of the best prose I have ever seen on AO3.

2. World full of uptight gentlemen - Elliot makes Tyrell wear a vibrating butt plug during an E Corp meeting.

3. The evolution of Elliot Alderson - Elliot as power bottom. Sex in a limo. @deviantdarkbelle