#see the rules don’t make sense and it pisses me off. if you’re going to have rules commit to them like seriously

[livvyofthelake]

perhaps final destination 2 was just really bad. jj criminal minds you just did not give what needed to be gave…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cut Deep

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bad news brings the worst out in Logan. [reader is a mutant who can see emotions]

Characters: Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Note: since this is my first time writing this character, I'd especially appreciate some extra feedback

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, me and Scott just wanted to let everyone know we chose a date!” Jean is ecstatic. You can feel her happiness radiating from her. Despite how often you try to block those vibrations out, hers are so strong, you can’t. “And we’ll send out the invitations soon. Be sure to RSVP! And we know you all can make it because it will be right here at the mansion.” 

She beams as Scott drapes his arm around her shoulders. They are such a cute couple. Perfect. Everyone on the team loves them. Well, everyone except for the one person roiling with black clouds of spite. 

You glance over at Logan as he stews by the door. He stands with his burly arms crossed, his biceps straining in his leather jacket. He glares at the happy couple and curls his lip. Everyone also knows that he has a rotten infatuation with Jean, too. You feel bad for him really. 

He catches you staring before you can tear your eyes away. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. You quickly look away and swallow. You get up and go to Jean and Scott. 

“Congrats, guys,” you smile, “let me know if you need any help with planning.” 

“Thank you. Of course,” Jean smiles as Scott echoes her. 

You make room for another well-wisher and back away, basking in the good energy all around. Well, mostly. You feel Logan steaming still but you refuse to look at him. You know how he gets when he’s upset. You don’t need to be able to see into his mind to know he’s pissed off. 

As the room converges on the happily engaged couple, you opt to leave before the noise can get too much. You’re always a bit more sensitive with the extra effort of trying to block out the sounds that you don’t want to hear. It’s like a buzz on the other side of a wall. If the door cracks open, it will all blast in like a sonic wave. 

You go into the library and reclaim the book you set left carelessly open on a leather armrest. It’s a history of mutants written in the 1700s. A secret tome Professor Xavier collected among his endless search for compatriots, both past and present. 

Some you know from the history taught in schools for non-mutants. Like the queen accused of witchcraft or the countless people executed for the very same. Emperors who’s legacies are chalked up to folktale and superstition over the reality of their beings.  

You sit up as you sense the shift in the air. That greyness seeps in before the door opens. You know who it is already yet you’re surprised to see him enter. Logan scowls as his eyes pinpoint at you. His rage continues to burn hotter and hotter. 

“Oh, hi,” you close the book, “sorry, did you need the library--” 

“I need you to stop tryna poke around in my head,” he growls. 

You flinch as you stand slowly, “I... I don’t do that. Those are the rules. I stay in my own.” 

“I saw you staring,” he accuses. 

“I just looked. I could... feel. That I can’t control,” you explain. “Sorry.” 

“Feel what? Huh? What do you think you know?” 

You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing, I don’t know anything.” 

“Damn right, you know shit all, little girl,” he stomps over to you. 

You gulp as you stare back at him. Logan, Wolverine, X-Man. He’s one of the most admired and well-known mutants alive but that’s all you know of him. You’ve seen him hundreds of times in the mansion, but only in passing. He never wanted to talk to you, only Jean. As far as you knew, he didn’t even know you existed. 

“That’s correct,” you agree. 

You peek down at the book in your hand. You should put it back. You sniff but as you go to turn, he rips you back by your upper arm. His grip is steel. You face him and wince as he squeezes enough to make your bones ache. 

“You think I’m what? Some pathetic creature that’s slathering over another guy’s girl?” He barks. 

You shake your head, “nope. No. I wouldn’t... know.” 

“You fucking wouldn’t,” he grits, his fingertips pushing into your tender arm. You let out a squeak. “Me? What about you? Always around. Riding her fucking coat tails. All for what? Cause you can tell when I’m having a bad fucking day. Every day is fucking bad.” 

You stare at him. A vein bulges in his forehead, another in his neck, and he’s slightly red with his fury. You don’t understand why he’s mad at you. Well, people often don’t aim their emotions in the right direction. Often, there’s too much for them to feel and it just spills over.  

Logan’s aura deepens to a thick black. Darker and bolder than anything you’ve ever witnessed. It tendrils around you as you squirm. You clasp onto the book and try to wiggle free as the blood throbs in your arm. 

“Ouch. Please, let me go. I wasn’t meaning to--” 

“You’re never going to be her. You know that? You won’t even be an X-Man. You’re just one of Charles’ pets.” He reaches for the book and rips it from your hand. “He keeps you in your birdcage and you flutter around and read these stupid things.” 

He tosses the book onto the floor and steps closer. You step back and whine. He keeps on until you’re against a shelf. 

“You’ll never be her and I’ll never have her,” he grits out. “So, we’ll compromise.” He grabs your neck and you writhe and whimper. “What do you feel now, huh?” 

A wisp of red tinges the black fog unfurling from his broad shoulders. More anger but something more. Lust. Love is a delicate pink or a pale purple, but lust is a deep and lurid crimson. Mixed with his rage, it is something more. It’s a tainted hue. 

“I can pretend. You should try to do the same.” 

“Please,” you press your hands against his stomach. 

“Don’t try that shit,” he drags his other hand down your arm and puts his knuckles to your side. He lets his claws out just enough to jab you. “You can’t get in my head. Professor made well sure of that.” 

You squeak and shake your head, “I wouldn’t-- Logan, please--” 

“Shut your damn mouth and pull your pants down. I ain’t got all day,” he snarls. 

“What?” You bat your eyes as they glisten. “No, no, what are you--” 

His claws poke you again, easily piercing your shirt and scratching your skin. You lean back into the shelf as you peel your hands away from him. He glowers at you as he releases your neck. He crowds you in as you wait just a moment longer, hoping, wishing he would go. 

You lower your hands cautiously. You drop your gaze, humiliated. You shake as you hook your thumbs under your waistband and push your leggings down. You gulp as your eyes tingle. 

He grabs your shoulder and spins you to face the shelf. You let out an oomph as you catch yourself against the books. He trails up to the back of your neck and pinches. You squeal into a sob. Your disbelief bubbles to horror. You brace the wood as he yanks on your panties. 

“Fucking girl,” he mutters. “Lookin’ at me... what d’ya fucking know?” 

“Logan--” 

“Stop saying my goddamn name.” He shoves your head so it hits a shelf and you groan. Ouch. 

You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the wood. Jean says you need to breathe. Centre yourself. It’s hard when you’re terrified. 

You inhale, taking in his emotion, his anger, even a tinge of that other desire that drives him so slap your ass. He digs in his nails as you babble. You gather the black cloud and blow it out. 

He hisses and recoils as it ripples off of you like fire. He growls and as you go to turn, he sweeps your feet out from under you. You flail as you fall, landing on your elbow so it throbs. You whine and roll onto your stomach. You drag yourself over the floor as he clutches his head and snarls. 

“I told ya not to try anything,” he barks. 

“Please, please, I didn’t do anything.” 

He steps over you and falls to his knees. He straddles you as you claw at the floor, pushing your toes down as you try to escape him. He swats the back of your head so hard your vision blurs. His anger darkness the room and disorients you. 

You’ve never felt anything so intense and you feel everything. Love, joy, pain, grief, confusion... fear. His anger strangles you as he forces your head down to the floor, leaning his weight on his head as he pins you. 

He raises himself on his knees and shifts. You kick out, thrashing your arms. You open and close your hands and clamp shut your eyes. You can do it. Take his anger in-- 

You scream as you’re scalded by the corrupt energy pouring from him. No, it’s too much. You’re not ready. All that training and you’re still weak. 

You murmur at the floor, “no, no, please, no...” 

He traces his hand down your ass and forces his fingers between your thighs. He feels around roughly, scratching your as he flicks along your dry folds. You gulp and heave. Your tears swell in an unstoppable flow. 

You slap your hands on the floor and tense as he prods around, dipping a thick digit into your cunt with a grunt. Your legs distend and you push your toes down. He delves, in, out, deeper, harder, smashing into you. 

He rips his hand away and you whine again. He leans over you, his hand stretching across your skull entirely. You can feel his strength in your neck. He bends, hot breath scalding your scalp with the flames of his wrath. 

You weep as he brings his tip along your flesh and guides it around blindly. He puts more weight onto your head as he stretches you around his tip. You shriek and jut your arm out straight, the edge of the rug curling in your grasp. 

“Help, someone! Help--” 

He grabs your head with both hands and slams it into the floor. The reverberating impact fractures your voice and thoughts. He rams his hips down and impales you around his thick cock. You murmur as spittle leaks from your mouth and tears continue to smear your face. 

He thrusts, holding himself at his limit and well past yours. He grips your skull tighter and tighter with each tilt. He huffs and puffs, growling and groaning as he tears you up from the inside. 

Finally, he releases your head. The metallic shink of his claws cuts through the delirium of physical and mental anguish. The pain in your bones can’t compare to the dagger of his anger piercing through your soul. 

He stabs his claws into the floor on either side of your neck. The adamantium grazes your skin, keeping you still for fear of cutting deeper. You wheeze and go rigid as he rears back and slams down harder and harder. His flesh clasp louder with each cruel descent. 

The black cloud creeps over the floor like heavy fog. It crawls up the walls as a glimmer of red weaves through it. He ruts deeper and deeper, the motion jarring you so that his claws scrape away the skin at your neck. 

He bends over you, curling his shoulders as you feel him tense. He exhales as the blackness covers the ceiling and casts you into shadow. You reach to grasp at his claws, slicing your palms helplessly as you cling on. 

He thrusts until you feel him in your guts. Once, twice, several time with all the hatred he can summon. He growls and trembles as he spills into you, a heat hotter than even his boiling rage.  

Your hands slip from his claws and you spread your bloodied palms on the carpet. You quake in horrified sobs. He buries himself as he lays his entire weight over you limply. He puffs as he dislodged the metal from the floor.  

He hangs his head next to yours and sneers, “it shouldn’t be him, Jean.” 

You hold your breath. You can’t speak or move for fear of reminding him what he’s just done. Or worse, reigniting his assault. 

He groans and slides out, flipping off of you to sit on his ass. He rests his arms on his bent knees and sighs. You watch the black haze dim to a dull grey. He’s still angry but he can contain it. The storm has calmed but it's far from over.

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

(cw in tags if you wish)

Five: Sirius

Athens, Greece

Sirius wasn’t reckless. He thought before he did—probably too much sometimes. He kept himself in line. Maybe it was a product of a strict upbringing. A smack on the cheek or hand at one wrong move. He used to think it was what made him so good for the agency. Salazar liked strict. They liked obedient. James, therefore, hadn’t quite made sense to Sirius as a candidate, at least not in the beginning. Not until he showed Sirius that it wasn’t just about following orders. It was about heart, too. Camaraderie. Remus had shown him that, too. Still, Sirius couldn’t always shake that rule-following kid.

But if Remus was on the rooftops getting shot at by Jack Archer, who had just been holding a gun to Logan and Finn’s heads, all bets were off.

Jack was smart though. He took Sirius right through the now bustling Christmas market. Small children strapped the the chests of fathers. Women in groups laughing and catching up over coffee. Carolers by a central fountain. Sirius caught glimpses of alarmed eyes as he ran, always keeping the back of Jack’s head just in sight. He tried not to add to the mess on the street, narrowly avoiding the cart Jack had carelessly rolled into his path. He sprinted past the pissed vendor. He knew he should hide his gun. Lights blurred beside him and the sun came out from behind a cloud, then went again. His feet pounded the pavement. The streets narrowed. Jack stumbled on the stones in front of a cafe, sending cups shattering to the cobblestones and making a shop owner run out and shout at him. For a second, Sirius thought he was going to catch up. He swiped forward at the fabric of Jack’s shirt, but Jack rolled and then was up on his feet again. Sirius lunged. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care if they saw his gun. His arms wrapped around Jack’s waist and they both hit the cobblestones hard, rolling into another table. Sirius felt something hot splash against his neck, something sharp dig into the skin of his wrist.

Jack was up again in a moment, using a hard kick to Sirius’ ribs to knock the wind out of him. Sirius gasped, coughing as he scrambled up from the ground and away from the alarmed onlookers. He yanked the shard of ceramic out of his arm. Jack slipped around a bend in the street—but this was one Sirius recognized. He’d chased Remus—or the ghost of Remus—right into this corner.

When he held his gun up on Jack, Jack’s hands were around the bars of the very gate Sirius had run into their first day here.

“Dead end, Archer,” Sirius said. “Now tell me why you’re here.”

Jack at least knew when he’d been caught. His shoulders moved quickly, breathing hard as he rested his forehead against the gate.

“Did you know?” Sirius could hardly say the words. “Did you know they were alive?”

“Sirius—”

“Get the fuck down,” Sirius said, striding closer until they were both hidden in the alleyway. He risked a glance behind him. “On your knees.”

Jack went, knocking the damp hair out of his face with a jerk of his head. Sirius could see both of their breath fogging between them. “We didn’t know. Not until Leo found Remus.”

“And you want them dead.”

Jack’s mouth formed a thin line.

Sirius didn’t have time for this. His mind kept skipping back, trying to figure out who had been shooting from the roof. RemusRemusRemus.

“Why?” Sirius asked. “Why do you want them dead? They’re our own, what changed? And I swear to God, answer me, or I’ll bring you to James.”

James was sweet. James was funny. James was relaxed and kind and easy-going.

James could also get information out of anyone. He was their top interrogator, had been since the academy. How do you do it? Sirius had once asked. Sirius had never liked seeing terrified faces up close. James had gotten a sad, faraway look on his face. I pretend they have Lily. And Harry. And then I don’t feel so guilty. I just want them to talk. I make them talk.

Jack seemed to have heard the rumors because he paled. “Listen. This is Salazar. You’re here to find them and bring them in. That’s all I’m here for, too.”

Sirius thought briefly of telling Jack about Logan’s memory, but Remus’ careful hazel eyes filled his mind. Unsure. Untrusting.

“Why pull the gun?”

Jack’s eyebrow arched. “Tremblay was holding a gun on his own husband. Who, by the way…” Jack made a scornful sound. “Should not be here.”

It was Sirius’ turn to stay silent. It was a sensible response, but that didn’t mean Sirius believed him.

“What,” Jack laughed a little. “You think we wouldn’t know?”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“Liar.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Sirius said. “Why are you here?”

“Is he turned?” Jack asked in a hushed voice, eyes dark. “Is Lupin?”

“Turned where? By who?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “Liar.”

“I’m not.” Sirius swallowed over a dry throat. At least, not entirely. Pascal. Pascal, whoever he was.

“You don’t want to get on our bad side, Black,” Jack said. His hand twitched, maybe towards a knife, and Sirius stretched his gun forward. Jack’s smile was tight. “I think Tremblay’s enough proof of that.”

Sirius stared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but stopped as though his words had frozen in his mouth. He snapped his lips shut, then a strained cough escaped. A twitch went through his body, almost like a pulse of electricity, and he sat back against his heels. Sirius hesitated, watching Jack blink fast at the cobblestones before raising his eyes to Sirius.

“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked, eyes darting between the two guns. He scrambled backwards, the gate rattling when it hit his back. “What the hell?”

Sirius froze. He clicked the safety off on his own gun. “Don’t bullshit me, Archer.”

Jack blinked at him, eyes unfocused. “I…”

Another twitch, a strange pulse through his body. Jack gasped. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. He swayed where he was, and his hands went to his head. “Ah—” Sirius watched his face screw up in pain. Jack stared up at him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Jack—” Sirius began to say, but then Jack fell against the pavement, as suddenly as if someone had pushed him, with a harsh thud.

Sirius felt something cold squeeze around his throat. Dread, maybe. Adrenaline. Slowly, he lowered the guns, tucking one into his belt and swinging the other behind him, doing a quick scan of what little of the street he could see. He raised it up towards the roofs, then crouched in front of Jack.

His eyes were open, lips parted, blood quickly drying on his skin. He was dead.

“Jesus,” Sirius whispered. “Jesus, fuck—” His hand went for his radio, and then he paused. It was Salazar’s radio.

If anyone had told Sirius just a week ago that that would make him pause, he would have laughed.

Sirius checked Jack’s pulse—nothing—and then cursed as he heaved his body up against the wall as best he could. There was no point in trying to move him, not with the city waking up. Someone would have to find him like this. Sirius turned Jack’s collar up, closed his eyes, and took the wires off of him. He took his knives—all the ones he could feel anyway—and the second, small gun he found tucked into his boot.

He walked in the opposite direction of the cafes, towards the still mostly sleeping residential streets. There had been no blood, not that much anyway, but Sirius checked his hands and front before calling out to a man sweeping the steps in front of his house with a cigarette between his teeth.

The man didn’t put up much of a fight, just handed Sirius his cellphone before waving him off and going back to the chore.

The line picked up immediately.

“Lion den,” Sirius said into the tone. It was their secure line. If Salazar knew about it, they’d be dead, but Finn’s tracker wasn’t the first illegal backup Leo had set up. James hadn’t seen the point, hadn’t seen what they’d ever have to hide any comms, but Leo had insisted. Now, Sirius was glad. After Archer and Remus and Logan, he didn’t know who to trust. A headache was building at the back of his skull.

“We’re not at the house,” Leo said instead of hello. “After Archer, I didn’t think we should go back there.”

“He’s dead,” Sirius said.

He heard Leo’s sharp inhale. “Sirius—”

“It wasn’t me,” Sirius said. “We were running, I got him. And then he didn’t recognize me all of a sudden. A minute later, he was dead.”

Sirius’ heart was going so hard he had to press a hand there. The sweeping man didn’t even look up. The gray light hurt his eyes.

“Where are you?” Sirius asked. “Leo. Are you all together?”

“He’s dead?” Leo asked. “But—how? And what do you mean he didn’t recognize you?”

“I don’t know, I thought he was fucking with me, because maybe he knew Logan—but how would he know Logan couldn’t remember? I…” Sirius pressed at his eyes. It was as though someone was shining a spotlight right in his eyes. It ached. “I don’t know, Le. Where are you? Where are you?”

“Sirius,” Leo said. “I can’t find—I can’t find you.”

“What?”

“I can’t find you—Jesus, here, I’m dropping this number our coordinates—but Sirius, your tracker’s offline.”

Sirius felt the phone vibrate with the incoming text. He looked, memorizing quickly. It would disappear entirely in a minute, erasing itself.

“He didn’t recognize you?” Leo asked. “He didn’t…”

“Leo,” Sirius said, and then dropped to a knee. God, his very bones ached. His skull.

“Oh God,” Leo said faintly, and then, a little farther away from the phone, he shouted. “James!”

Sirius ducked away from the gray light. The cold wind. His head was killing him. “Fuck.”

“Eh!” The man stopped sweeping, looking at him. He said something fast in Greek, but Sirius was hopeless to translate just then.

“Sirius,” Leo said, voice closer now. “You’re tracker. Cut it out right now.”

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Cut out your tracker right now,” Leo shouted. “You said Jack forgot and then he was dead, there’s nothing that would cause that except—” Leo cut off with a short cry.

“Leo?” Sirius said.

He heard Finn’s voice in the background. Leo! Oh my God—

Then Leo’s. Cut it out, Finn. Right there, remember, feel it? Finn, stop fucking staring, do it, do it, it’s going to kill me and James—

“Finish?” the man asked him, alarmed. He was holding out his hand for his phone, but didn’t look like he wanted to get much closer to Sirius. “Hey, finish? Finish?”

“Help,” Sirius said. “Please—” He pulled the Greek out but he didn’t know how. Autopilot, maybe. “Sir, please may I use your bathroom? It’s life or death.”

The man began to shake his head, but Sirius didn’t have time—he shouldn’t have even asked. The man shouted as Sirius hauled himself up and stumbled past him. He shouldered through the small, wooden door and found himself in a living room—tidy and smelling of cinnamon and coffee. It connected right with the kitchen, not unlike their safe house. The dim lamp by the sofa stung his eyes, glaring as if it were a sun. Sirius blinked hard, looking for something sharp, anything.

“Hey!” The man tried to grab his shoulder, but Sirius shook him off easily. There was a knife, small, laying beside a sliced lemon. Sirius grabbed it and all but fell against the sink. A small vase on the window sill above slipped and shattered into the basin.

The man’s protests was no more than a ringing in Sirius’ ear as he groped at the back of his own neck. What the hell are you doing? Are you insane? Are you sick? Hey, my wife and children will be back soon, come on, brother, don’t scare them. Put the knife down, put the knife down—

There. Sirius felt the bump. Was he imagining that it was hot to the touch? It didn’t matter.

He didn’t even feel the pain of the blade. His adrenaline was so high that it felt like nothing at all. Butter. A slip. Only the red on his hands let him know that he had succeeded. That, and the small, pill-like chip clutched between his fingers.

The pain evaporated and Sirius drew in a ragged breath.

No sooner had he dropped the tracker into the sink than did it let out a high-pitched sound and crack itself in half.

His hearing returned. He blinked his vision back to normal. He worked the pressure out of his jaw. The tracker released a thin trail of smoke.

Sirius, he tested. Sirius Black. He knew himself. He knew the coordinates.

When he turned, breathing hard and sweating, he grabbed an old, dirty looking cloth and pressed it to his neck. It didn’t look like anyone would miss it. The man was simply staring at him, eyes darting between his face and the device in the sink.

“Thank you.” Sirius breathed the words out. Greek, or at least half way there. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”

Without another word, Sirius raced out the door.

+++

The coordinates were an abandoned building right on the coast. Sirius could smell the salt. The cold air was made colder by damp. He had stopped the bleeding of his neck and turned up his collar to keep the rag in place. Everything felt wet and slippery now. Recent rain on the rocks beneath his feet as he walked up an old pathway.

There was nothing inside, it was merely a somewhat reasonable roof of their heads. Shelter, nothing more. Just broken down boards and stone walls now.

To anyone else, it looked empty.

Sirius whistled two notes.

Two notes returned from his left where the sea and horizon bled into each other, framed by a still standing window. It could have been a painting. A TV.

James appeared in front of it, wild hair haloed by the light.

“Fuck,” James said, and then they were hugging. Sirius face ended up near a slightly pink bandage on James’ neck, and he sighed his relief all over again.

“Fuck me, we had a bomb in our head the whole time, Si.” James reached up and brushed the bandage with light fingers. “Just an average day on the job.” His eyes went to Sirius’ neck. “What did you do it with?”

“Fucking kitchen knife, man. You?”

James’ laugh was shaky. “One of my daggers on Leo and I. Finn did it. Think he’s a little freaked, but he did it.”

“Oh Jesus, I should have…” Sirius shook his head. He had his own and he had Jack’s. “Didn’t have to traumatize this…God, never mind. I fucking broke into someone’s house.”

James laughed again, but he looked pale. “It’ll be fine. I was so scared I didn’t even feel it.”

“Same.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Jack?”

“I left him,” Sirius said. “Took everything off him. People will think…I don’t know. But there’s nothing to lead back to Salazar or us.”

James nodded, taking that in. “Salazar’ll be looking for us now that they can’t find us.”

Sirius nodded. “I know… I know they will. We have to move.” They began walking towards the sea window. “How did you end up here? Where are the others?”

“Finn and Leo are with Logan.”

Logan. God, Sirius hadn’t forgotten, of course he hadn’t forgotten, but what a strange thing to hear. After all these months, just a simple Finn and Leo are with Logan.

No sooner had James said it than did the Leo appear. He had an identical bandage to James and held one out to Sirius, along with an alcohol packet.

“Clean that,” Leo said.

Sirius tossed the bloody rag away. “Did yours smoke, too?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “The second I started to get a headache—Finn said that’s what happened to Logan, too. Said he fell down in pain. But…” Leo frowned in the way he did when he was thinking something over, when something was so entirely perplexing to him that he was sure to pull an all nighter. Sirius had seen him many times after those. Blond hair a mess, coffee mugs lined up besides the water and the electrolyte packets.

“Where…” Sirius began to say. He’d only gotten a glimpse of Logan and it was beginning to feel more like a dream. His slack face. There had been blood? Hadn’t there?

Leo moved aside, revealing a half-collapsed hallway. No, it was more like an nave. Sirius looked up and realized that the remnant of a vaulted ceiling remained, stone and precarious. This had been a church.

Wind whistled through, a high note off the sea, when Sirius saw them. Finn and Logan were at the other end, a corner mostly intact and protected from the cold. Finn was awake, staring down at Logan’s face like he couldn’t stand to look away, not even for a moment. Logan was—asleep?

“Knocked out.” Leo filled in his thoughts. “Finn said he remembered him in the alley, but he’s been out ever since.”

“And his tracker?”

“It’s gone,” Leo said. “I checked.”

“But if Salazar wanted him dead…”

Leo nodded, already there. “Then whoever took it out probably saved his life."

“But he can’t remember us,” Sirius said.

Leo rubbed a hand through his hair, then pressed his fingers to his mouth, thinking. There was blood beneath his nails still, a crust of red even smeared along his jaw. Sirius had the sudden urge to wipe it away for him.

“You said Jack forgot who you were a second before he was killed,” Leo said. “I’m guessing—and this is only a guess—that this is some sort of…kill code put into place in Salazar’s tracker hardware. A memory wipe in case we get captured, and then a kill switch if there’s no hope or if we might crack and tell all.”

“Jesus,” James whispered.

“I’m guessing whoever took out Logan’s didn’t do it in time to prevent the memory wipe. And that’s calling it real close, I don’t know…”

Remus. Sirius could hardly breathe. If he hadn’t seen that footage for himself, he’d be on his knees all over again, desperate and afraid.

“Can you reverse it?” James asked. He was chewing on a thumbnail, looking down the hall. “God, please say you can Leo.”

Leo let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” He looked down the stone archways towards Finn. As the three of them watched, Finn reached out a hand and brushed Logan’s hair back from his eyes gently. “I don’t know.”

[apomaro-mellow]

Mafia AU 6 / AO3 Link

Part 5

Eddie didn’t get a call for a couple of days after their little sparring session. When he did, he was only told to meet him at a tailor’s in town. While getting ready, Eddie checked himself over in the mirror and considered going to Steve with his hair down for once. He was aware that those in high society didn’t appreciate his sense of style. But Steve had mentioned something about having a trademark. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be his hair though.

In the end, he kept it up in a ponytail as he usually did. Maybe once the weather cooled, he’d have an excuse to let it down. For now though, he’d leave it as is.

Eddie had never been inside a tailor shop. Never had a need or even the means for bespoke clothing. But Steve was already sitting in a chair, deep in discussion with a man who clearly worked there.

“I see what you mean. Yes, it is quite urgent.”

“Thank you for taking it on such short notice”, Steve said.

Eddie found himself being approached with measuring tape and he took a step back, holding his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, what’s the big idea here?”

“Just let Enrico do his magic”, Steve said, still sitting. “There’s an event happening soon, and I can’t let you show up in the same suit you’ve been wearing.”

Enrico made Eddie hold his arms out to the side and Eddie kept them up, understanding about only half of what was going on. Steve was getting him a new suit? For what? A party?

“You’re getting me a new suit?”

“Three. At least. It’ll have to do for now.”

Enrico tutted under his breath as he got Eddie’s measurements. “You were right about him.”

“Right about who? About what?”, Eddie asked, trying to follow Enrico as he moved around his body but also getting the feeling he should stand absolutely still. That was what people did at these fitting things, right?

Steve stood and sauntered over. Gently, he pushed Eddie’s arms back down. “I told him that you looked a little rough but underneath it all something special was waiting to shine through.”

Enrico chose that moment to measure up Eddie’s inseam and he all but jumped right into Steve’s arms. Steve grinned, keeping him upright and Eddie felt like this was all some kind of game that he didn’t know the rules of. Steve moved back and started perusing material around the store.

“Do I really need three?”, Eddie asked, grasping at something to say.

“While being sponsored, you represent me. And if you pass, it’ll be even more so. If you look ragged, I look weak. And like I don’t take care of my own.”

Eddie tried not think of how much this bill could run. “So I guess you’ll take these suits out of my first paycheck”, he teased, but was also seriously asking.

Enrico had finished and was now writing something on a notepad. Steve turned away from a selection of ties to look him up and down.

“It’s not like that. Think of it as an investment in you. I’ve never sponsored anyone. I’m hoping I get it right the first time around.”

“What happens if you get it wrong?”, Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged. “Usually the guy gets offed. Knows too much about us, you know? Can’t let him go on. I did hear that one time they let a guy go free but only after cutting his tongue. But I heard that story from this guy at a party and they like to exaggerate.”

Eddie swallowed. He knew he absolutely HAD to make it through this. But he hadn’t thought long enough about what would happen if he didn’t. If he pissed Steve off or if he didn’t do right by him. He liked having a tongue. And a life too.

“Speaking of parties, what’s this little soiree you’ve got planned?”

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

Eddie should’ve known that if Steve was putting up the money for new clothes, it wouldn’t be little. It was still being held at the Marini home (or was it the Harrington home now?) but there were more people this time. And some of them looked…normal. Every other time Eddie had seen people gathered here, it had just been the men, on the premises to discuss business.

But now he was seeing wives and children, all dressed to the nines. Steve had told him it was all in celebration of his grandfather’s birthday. It made sense that they went above and beyond to honor the previous boss. Eddie had put on one of the new suits Steve had bought for him and could feel the difference in quality immediately.

When he looked in the mirror, he could see how much better it fit him too. He didn’t look like some ruffian from the street right now. He looked like he could go and collect on behalf of his boss on his own. Like he had real credibility. Still, Eddie didn’t think it wise to try and stand out tonight.

There were plenty of bigwigs and like Steve said, he was repping his sponsor. So he stayed close to Steve’s side for the evening. Which also meant being close to Steve’s friend, who was named Robin. She’d given Eddie an odd side glance, but then ignored him for the most part. Not for the first time, Eddie wondered what her role was. She’d been hidden in that room when Steve had tried seducing him, and she’d been around in the maze that one time, but never on any of their outings.

Was she just a friend? Or was there something more going on here?

It should be said that while she didn’t talk directly to Eddie, it didn’t mean she was silent. Every time she spoke up though, it was in Italian, and Steve responded back, keeping the conversation between them. Eddie didn’t know if that meant he was the topic of the discussion or if it was actually secret family business. Either way, it was beginning to irk him.

“I’m going to go and talk to my grandfather. You two stay here. And play nice”, Steve said.

“...Was he saying that to you or to me?”, Eddie asked, breaking the ice.

Robin crossed her arms. “Either one, I guess.”

“Ah, she does speak the common tongue.”

“I speak four languages, jackass. And if you’ve got any hope for your future, you’d do well to follow along.”

“I’ve picked up a few phrases”, Eddie said. “Mostly naughty words, which are, you know, the best ones. But I guess my superiors wouldn’t want to be told ‘suca’, huh?”

“God, not with that pronunciation”, Robin laughed, cracking a smile for the first time that evening. 

“Care to give me some pointers on proper Italian, then?”

“You’re gonna need it if you’re serious about all this”, Robin gestured to the room where mobsters were mingling.

“I don’t do anything half-assed. I’m in it to the end.”

“And to what end, exactly is that?”, Robin asked. “Why are you here?”

It was such a bold question, Eddie was caught off guard. No one had ever asked him why. Or even if he wanted to. A couple goons offered him money for a job and he took it and kept taking it. Then the sponsorship had been dropped in his lap without any real input from him.

“I want a better life for me and my uncle. And if being loyal to this family gets me there, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“Loyal to the Marinis? Or to the Harringtons?”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s the difference?”, Eddie questioned.

“How much do you know about Steve’s family history?”, Robin asked.

Eddie thought about the bits and pieces he’d heard and gleaned. “Mom married an outsider, now he’s the boss.”

Robin hummed and nodded, confirming that part. “Sounds like you could use a crash course though.”

“I wouldn’t mind one”, Eddie said.

Robin led them over to a more secluded part of the room where they could sip and talk. “You got the summary right. Steve’s mom was a mafia princess. She was probably supposed to get with someone her dad, Steve’s grandfather over there set her up with. But she fell for this guy who had worked with the family but he wasn’t family , get it?”

Eddie nodded. Someone who wasn’t directly connected to them. Someone like him or Wayne. Well, Wayne was in now, so it was just Eddie. But he could change that.

“So anyway, it makes waves ‘cause she’s going against the grain. But her father approves it, lets them get married and all that. Steve’s grandpa retires and his son-in-law, Harrington inherits the title. Not long after that, Steve’s mom died.”

Eddie took a moment to look at Steve, who was no longer just with his grandfather, but with his dad and a couple of other men too. Eddie had a feeling about the missing mom, but he’d never confirmed it with anyone.

“Steve took his dad’s last name, which was a huge thing because in this world, the Harrington name means nothing. There’s this…divide I guess. The ones who support his dad and the ones who think he’s not right for the role of boss. And because they don’t like his dad, that means they don’t like Steve.”

“Why? Has he done anything?”, Eddie asked.

“That’s part of his problem. He can’t really do much since he presented as an omega.” Robin swirled her drink around. “It’s on him to get with a proper alpha and fix the Marini family.”

Eddie could guess what proper meant. Someone from a good family, for one. And they’d probably prefer someone Italian. Someone with similar roots to the Marinis. Someone who wasn’t an outsider. All of those guys who had seemed interested in Steve, Tommy included, all would have been accepted without much fuss, he was sure. Eddie was so out of his league, they were playing different sports.

Wai-why was he still trying to think of himself that way? He’d told Steve to his face there’d be no funny business. And then Steve had basically told him he would always fly solo. Eddie didn’t need to think about Steve’s marriage prospects because it had nothing to do with him right now.

Still, Eddie couldn’t help but think of Steve, raised up and under the tutelage of a mob boss only to be told his job was to marry someone every else thought was good enough for him, have that guy’s baby, and live out the rest of his days as an afterthought while that guy ran his family business. 

Steve found them from afar and waved them over to him.

“Is he waving to you or to me?”, Eddie asked.

Robin’s response was to lock arms with him. “Looks like we’re being summoned.”

Part 7

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP16 (The Mark Of Gideon) hmmm this sounds like something from supernatural…

I’m sorry I’ll never mention supernatural again:

- Sending Kirk down by himself? His boyfriends will be worried :((

- “I shall be interested in your description, Captain” “You won’t have long to wait.” This was said with so much lust

- Kirk calling to anyone and everyone. “Bones. Bones answer me.” D:

- Spock has immediate concern for his boyfriend

- Spock sees McCoy is on the bridge and immediately wants to escape to the planet. He’s not dealing with McCoy’s worry on top of his own

- “We must acknowledge once and for all that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis.” Spock is so so angry he can’t go looking for his boyfriend

- “You mean you’re going to scan space for him.” My god he wants that man so bad. Scanning the entirety of space when he goes missing is not normal behaviour.

- Spock is very bitter towards bureaucrats and diplomats this episode and I agree

- Hey Kirk. Just this once buddy, don’t kiss her. Can you do that?

- On the video call McCoy looks seconds from snapping and Spock is right there with him

- I love when everyone was on Spock’s side like ‘yeah they fucking suck, I’m sorry bbygirl’

- Quilt ass vest

- Scotty is not going to take them besmirching his transporters

- Spock needs to go listen to Break Stuff

- Kirk’s ass It’s sad how sad Kirk is.

- pretty privilege

- “I envy you and your sense of loyalty. I want to ease your feeling of dread, your fear that all your crew no longer exists.”

- twenty four minutes and fifty seconds in. He’s kissing her.

- THE GREEN PEOPLE ARE JUST WATCHIJGBTHEM KISSWGAT

- ID BE SO FREAKED THE FUCK OUT NAH. No. Legitimate fear is to look out a window and see someone watching. this is a no.

- Time for me to ask what is happening

- Aaand they’re using Kirk in their little fucked up little experiments

- Spock is angy

- I like how there is legitimate character development. Spock and McCoy aren’t fighting, McCoy knows Spock is doing everything he can, short of just running in there. And Spock is getting visibly pissed off which McCoy I think would be proud of if their boyfriend wasn’t missing

- Kirk not afraid to fight some bitches

- “That’s the best possible decision you could make, Spock. I’m with you.” Kiss each other Character development yay!

- Spock is using ‘logic’ to break the rules and save Jim.

- Spock is protective of McCoy, McCoy is protective of Spock

- After Spock leaves Scotty walks up to McCoy with this look like he’s about to ask him if he’s dating Spock

- “I will not be long.” Is the equivalent of ‘I’ll be right back’ number one rule is never say it

- Trippy ass shippy

- If you’ve lived so long why are you dressed like that? Can’t contract a sickness AND can’t contract a sense of fashion

- This is awful

- Spock should’ve brought McCoy with him

- Spock THREW that man

- Spock is like, ‘don’t get in the way, I will bitch slap you.’ (Edit: three Spock comments in a row)

- PRETTY BOY PRIVILEGE (what’s got you smiling like that) if he smiled at me like that I wouldn’t survive

- “As crowded as my planet is, I wish for it to hold one more person.” *smiles* “Kirk to transporter control one to beam down to the planet Gideon.” ‘nah, bitch’

Development: I’ve found out how to cross things out I’ll use it for evil

Masterpost

Episode written by George F. Slavin & Stanley Adams

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hi!

You can ignore this ask if you want!

Honestly as I was writing one ask another popped up in my mind 🥹so I decided to do two ask instead of one so I didn't spam your inbox haha!

Also sorry for bothering you with these ideas.

What would platonic yandere Dick Grayson do for the readers birthday? Would he invite anyone that he is close to or even trust or would it just be him and reader sharing a cake as he sings happy birthday to them? And also maybe gives them a lot of presents but they are kind of childish if that makes sense.

The other ask would be what would again platonic yandere Dick Grayson do if by some chance the reader escaped from him? Would he freak out for a bit and than promptly go and look for them? And once he finds them he's furious and the reader is scared because they have never seen him that angry or show that type of emotion before?

Again you can ignore this if you want I know I wrote a lot I was just so excited and the ideas popped into my head!

LOVE ALL THE WORKS YOU'VE DONE!

HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY OR NIGHT!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! GN reader, infantilizing, mentions of kidnapping, handcuffs, forced-affection, pissed off Dick Grayson, brief mention of drugging, reader fears being hit for a second.

(ANON, I LOVE REPEAT OFFENDERS IN MY INBOX. DON’T YOU DARE FEEL BAD FOR FEEDING ME ASKS. I’M HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYY.)

Birthday parties depend on how compliant you are. If you’re not trying to escape every other day, he’d gladly invite some of the Titans over to celebrate! He likes showing off his cool hero connections to you — even going as far as to play the “oh, Superman? His mother makes the best apple pie” card — so this would be a good way to live up to the hype. A lot of the party would be spent taking on your behalf, however. He just thinks he knows you that well (and he doesn’t want you to form a connection with anyone else; he’s the only one you need in your life!!). I can also see him laying down ground rules to the other Titans beforehand, practically threatening them to be on their best behavior. Big brother’s friends must be good role models to his young and impressionable sibling!!

Now, I already said that it depends on how compliant you are, but it also depends on what your situation is, too. I lowkey kinda imagine all of the platonic Dick Grayson asks to take place in the same universe as Life With Older Brother, which means everyone knows you’re under Dick’s care, and it’s pretty much the only scenario where inviting people to your birthday would work. But if you were kidnapped, it would be a different story. He’s not risking anyone finding out about you (which complicates his relationship with a very young Tim Drake, who would totally accidentally stumble upon you in the apartment, but that’s a story for another day), so even if you were very complacent, I don’t see him inviting anyone over.

Back to the Life With Older Brother universe, if you “misbehave” a lot, it would just be the two of you. He’d almost hold it over your head, sadly sighing as he says things like, “it would’ve been a bigger party this year, but only good little siblings get big birthday parties.” If you were a fucking child, maybe this dumb guilt-tripping tactics would actually work. If you try to cut your two-person party short by spending the rest of the day in your room, he’s not above wrestling you into his lap — or even handcuffing you to the kitchen table — so you can open your presents; and holy shit, there’s a lot of them. I can definitely see him getting you childish things, ranging from toys to innocent-looking kiddy clothes. Any gifts sent by Bruce are taken back to the store for return.

As for escaping…

There’s no way you’d manage to pull-off an escape while he’s in the apartment, so it’d be a nasty surprise for him when he returns from patrol. He’d frantically tear the place apart in search of you, his stomach dropping as he finds the clues of your apparent escape. Once he checks the security feed, he feels equal parts worried, heartbroken, and angry that you took it upon yourself to leave him. You really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?! You’d rather run around on dangerous streets than stay with your kind, loving, doting older brother…

His search probably wouldn’t take long. I can see him putting a tracker in your arm at some point, so it’s as simple as following the little red dot on his device. Relief washes over him when he sees you’re alright, but that does little to quell the betrayal rage he feels. He’s silently swoop down from above, forcefully picking you up from behind as he grapples back towards the apartment. You’d kick and thrash, plead and beg, but there’s nothing but radio silence on his end. The only inkling of a reaction you get is his tight frown and his extremely restrictive arm around your abdomen. Dread washes over your chest as you realize just how fucked you are.

Upon returning home, he practically throws you against his bed and spares no time handcuffing you to the headboard. Any sort of apologies you try to muster out immediately die on your tongue as he rips off his mask, his piercing blue eyes filled with an icy rage you’ve never seen before. It makes you want to curl into a little ball and wish you were never born.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he’d lowly mutter, exasperation sprinkled between the gaps of his anger. There’s a moment where you think he’s going to start one of his signature lectures, but no such thing happens. Instead, he turns to the wall and punches it, causing you to flinch at the impact. Never has he shown this type of aggression in front of you. He’s yelled at you, sure, but physically punched something?

For the first time, you found yourself worrying if he’d put his hands on you.

I think he’d have to convince himself to cool off for a bit. First triple-checking that you couldn’t escape (possibly imposing more precautions like double restraints or the IV), he’d leave the apartment for another patrol, taking his anger out on any poor criminal he comes across. I’d say it takes an hour before he feels level-headed enough to come back home, his suit speckled with blood from viscous beat-down after viscous beat-down. It’s the first thing you notice when he comes through his bedroom window, causing your heart rate to pick up.

He wants so desperately to scream at you; he needs to get it through your thick skull that you’re safe here, and he’s the only one in the world who knows how to care for you and protect you. But that will come later. Right now, all he wants to do is bring you into a longing and desperate hug, not even taking the time to change out of his Nightwing suit beforehand.

You’d be held against him for a while, his trembling hands making sure you have no chance of squirming out of his hold. It may be suffocating, but at the very least, it quells your fears of him taking his anger out on you.

[tired-biscuit]

this is like maybe a little specific and really just me rambling

but FIRST of all im obsessed with your portrayal of kiba. he's like always been my fav but his content is so limited so its been away since my imagination flew but phew these last few days reading your blog has been a journey.

but back to the ramble ive been thinking a lot of the brother's bsf trope for him. at first i was riding naru bc bros but then i thought about sasu and the whole prideful uchiha vibe. even in the modern version, then just being like these corporate giants alongside the hyugas and the other ‘noble’ clans. and like maybe kiba isn’t really bsfs with sasu but like the whole ‘genin’ growing up around each other thing. probably all just went through the same school system.

ANYWAY rambles

i imagine like the uchiha ‘princess’, the only daughter and youngest sibling to sasu and ita. and like she’s just really grown up with that whole corpo royalty vibe, getting everything she wants, always supervised low key suppressed LIKE NOTHING NEW HERE low-key maybe even loosely in talks of being engaged to one of the ally corps like hyugas or something the point is its SCREAMING corruption for kiba. like the forbidden fruit. subtle classism, like kiba’s family isn’t what the uchihas would envision for her but like I just imagine her sneaking out with her brother to a uni party or something (like maybe sasu got to go to a public uni and she got the private treatment) and just like bumping into kiba in all his alpha buff man-ness and just like that first spark of lust just like overwhelms her like doesn’t even know whats going on but OH BOY KIbA does and he’s just like ‘yeah I got what you need bbygirl’ and yeah. Asdfsjhkgrhgo I have a lot of thoughts sorry for all the words 🐣

i don’t see kiba and sasuke being friends because kiba is too big of a hater, BUT i think that would even add more to the appeal because, like… he can act like a real proper shithead towards the people he doesn’t particularly like, so scoring sasuke’s little sister? yeah, he’d definitely try it just to get a sense of some kind of victory from it.

and i think it’d be the initial motive at first — the whole ‘haha, i fucked your sister, whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?’ — but then one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s caught… feelings. feelings that he doesn’t really know how to comprehend yet, and it’s weird because you’re like his exact opposite; so fancy and with your nose upturned whenever he winds up in your presence, pushing your whole princess agenda forward. and he knows that he should find it annoying because you’re acting just like your equally as annoying brother, but instead he’s catching himself thinking about you more and more and he’s almost finding it entertaining. pestering you is almost fun to him.

i think he’d wonder what you’d look like without the make up and the pretty skirt. what you’d look like with messy hair instead of it being in that almosy eerie state where each strand is sitting perfectly in place. he wants to see actual sweat coating your face instead of that matt powder he’s seen you reapply once or twice before because you hate the shine on your forehead. he wants to fuck you nasty and ruin that idea of you being a perfect girl in every single situation just so that he can see what you’re really like underneath.

besides that, i also imagine him initially pursuing you because he hates, hates, hates the whole idea behind noble clans, as well as the set of strict, mostly unfair rules that they’ve got going on, because of what they did to hinata. so if you’re his ticket to fuck with them a little bit, hey, why not?

you would find him appealing because he just simply does not give a shit what anybody thinks. he might get pissed off if someone insults him, sure, but he still ends up doing whatever it is that he wants in that moment and he doesn’t apologize for it. plus, his clan is more like one big family instead of a picture on the wall where everyone is smiling their most perfect grin despite the fact that their eyes still end up looking cold.

he’s warm, you know? carefree and dumb and not uptight at all. he finds joy in the little things and instead of spending money on fancy dinners, he buys things cheap because he’s saving up for a roadtrip that he’s planning to go on this summer with his shitty truck. he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty and he loves his dog more than most people.

…and he’s also the first man who actually looks you in the eyes and tells you you’re full of shit when you start acting bratty and deserve to be called out for it. he treats you like a person instead of delicate glass.

[polyklok]

Dethklok does not care about each other

They all know the rule; Do not show interest, care, or intervene with bandmate’s personal lives. That’s been set in stone from the beginning. They tolerate each other at most, borderline on hate. It’s what keeps the music genuine.

Nathan didn’t care when Pickles suddenly broke down into hard, silent sobs one night after getting a call from his mother, which has essentially been 45 minutes of insults and criticism. He wasn’t showing interest as he took Pickles into his arms, shushing him, gently telling him that all those awful things she said were completely untrue. Trying to reassure him that he was just as important to his family as his brother was, despite his parents never showing it, holding him close as Pickles heaved in his inhaler, pressing his cheek onto his back, listening to his heartbeat steadily decline in speed. He wasn’t intervening when he suggested that they watch Pickle’s favorite movie (Son in Law, 1993), share a bottle of whiskey, inevitably falling asleep while under the same blanket.

Or when William was having a particularly awful day, hiding away in his room to spend hours just staring at himself in the mirror, pointing out the most his greatest insecurities and all the smallest flaws to himself. Skwisgaar wasn’t concerned, not at all! He was just pissed to not have seen his bandmate all damn day when they had previously agreed to spend time together, and so he marched down to William’s room to chew him out when he found Murderface crying and yelling at Skwisgaar to “Go away!” Skwisgaar didn’t mean to yell back that Murderface was “Reallys not even thats bads, you’re beings a baby! You’re pretty enoughs for me!” And, just to prove it, suddenly pull him in for a kiss that left William absolutely breathless. It wasn’t care, he was just knocking sense into him, he’d do it again if he absolutely had to.

Even when Toki joined the band, backstage before his very first live show, nervously pacing and itching at the many scars along his arms, his cheeks flushed red and stinging with nerves, Pickles wasn’t being nice as he sat him down, taking Toki’s hands into his own to prevent anymore damage and guiding him through some deep breaths. Pickles let him take a few puffs off of his joint as he applied the band’s signature white and black face makeup to Toki, making sure to be gentle, and he told him, ‘Cahlm down, hun, yer gonna do just great,” just because he couldn’t have Toki screwing up on stage…not because it was worth it to see him relax and grow passionate as he played.

When Nathan has walked into the kitchen at some sort of ungodly hour of the night and found Murderface…cooking? He was shocked to catch William in the middle of cutting up a head of broccoli, even more shocked to find that whatever he was cooking smelled absolutely fantastic. William bashfully explained that he was craving his Grandmother’s ‘broccoli mac ‘n cheese casserole’ And didn’t trust Jean-Pierre to make it correctly and so decided to do it himself. Nathan said he’ll have some “If isn’t total shit.” And Murderface replied “Only if you don’t tell the othersch like an asschhole!” And so the two ate in a strangely comfortable silence, knees resting together under the table, hands occasionally brushing, only interrupted when Nathan noted it was “Pretty damn good.”

When Toki’s old, cheap, worn-down guitar he had bought in Norway finally broke, he was devastated. He kept insisting to the band that it played just fine, but no amount of duck tape or superglue had any hope helping it now. Skwisgaar understood how he felt, he had quite the emotional attachment to his own first guitar. So he reluctantly took Toki to go get a replica made, being very strict with the manufactures that it had to be just like the original. For the week it was being made, Skwisgaar even let Toki practice on his own guitar, sitting behind him, wrapping his arms around in order to properly place his fingers, Toki’s head going cloudy whenever he felt Skwisgaar’s hot breath on his neck gently muttering praise whenever he got something right.

When Pickles and William got absolutely shitfaced together, slurring song lyrics as they stumbled through the halls of Mordhaus, occasionally clinking together their bottles of booze before finally crashing down onto the couch. Murderface taking another glug, wiping his mouth, and then taking the time to truly look at his drinking partner. Laughing hysterically as Pickles raised an eyebrow, finally manage to chuckle out that he had the ‘hugestsch fuckin’ crusch on you in the ninetiesch, and now you’re here!…with me!” His eyes growing teary from a mixture of nostalgia and intoxication and incredible relief at the confession. When Pickles gently laughed along, keeping his eyes focused on the floor, ignoring the fact that they had a very similar night to this about a year ago, which has a very happy ending, that William had surely forgotten by now.

When Skwisgaar and Nathan were together in the recording studio; Nathan pacing back and forth whilst Skwisgaar watched from the couch, idly plucking at his guitar. Together, they pondered lyrics and melodies for their next album, scratching off anything that didn’t fit Dethklok’s branding to a tee whilst remaining exciting and original. Their ideas came together in unison, inching their faces closer only to pull away for the next proposal. Nathan darting out all the concepts from his brain at rapid speed, Skwisgaar managing to envision them within seconds and give him feedback. It was almost dance-like, graceful and balanced. After hours, the two finally agreed on a rough draft, just like they had accomplished many times before. But this time, right before he left the room, Skwisgaar gained the balls to put a single hand on Nathan’s chest, kiss his cheek, and mumble “Bra jobbat, vackert.”

When William had burst into Toki’s room to show of the authentic civil war Lemat pistol he had just won in an auction, only to be met with a confused smile and nod, as Toki knew very very little about America’s history. And so, while he continued to put together a model plane at his desk, Murderface stood behind him, very animatedly retelling the story of the Civil war, including details that no one except him would bother to remember. Toki would up occasionally, seeing William’s eyes absolutely sparkling as he spoke. About halfway through his rant, Murderface realized he was doing the exact thing people got so annoyed at him for, t the exact thing his grandmother used to scream at him for, “Ugsch…whatever, you probablych don’t care.” Toki stopped what he was doing, turning around to touch William’s hand, looking up at him with those glorious baby-blues and said “I do cares. Keeps going.”

When Skwisgaar had just been kicked out of the shitty, low-class band of Smugly Dismissed, his third one that year alone, not because of his playing or even cocky attitude, but because of his dumb, shitty English. It was late. He had been living in a too-small apartment with them, and so it just dawned on him he was currently homeless as well. He flopped onto the nearest park bench to clear his racing head. Tears of frustration pricked his eyes, angry at himself for not picking up the language nearly as quickly as he thought he would, angry at them for not being just a bit more patient. He swung the guitar around his torso, instinctively playing his irritation out on the instrument. It wasn’t plugged it anywhere, so it didn’t sound it’s best, but it blended it well with the Los Angeles soundscape. A voice caught him off guard, “Fu-uck, yer fingers are fast! How’re you doin’ dat?” He paused, head snapping up. Right there was…someone familiar. Skwisgaar froze, a mixture of shocked to find that he wasn’t alone, terrified that the man had ill intentions, and confusion on what he just said in such a strange accent. He was short, scrawny, but had an absolute lion’s mane of fire-red hair. Skwisgaar squinted, hadn’t he seen him…on stage somewhere? His clothes certainly suggested some sort of Rock ‘N Roll lifestyle. He had a bottle of wine, halfway empty, in his hand. “Uhh, you…spelar er-music? Gutairs, uh, sångare. Du är en musiker.” The man through his head back in laughter, “No English? Dats fine. Let the guitar speak fer ‘ya” Skwisgaar certainly understood guitar, so while the man plopped himself down on the grass and continued to chug down the wine, he played for him.

When Toki had been wandering the halls of Mordhaus, only wearing boxers and his blanket draped around his shoulders, mumbling unintelligibly. He made his way to the nearest balcony, leaning over the rail and shivering at the cold, stale air of the night. It was one of those rare moments that seemed to be in absolute silence. Nathan found him, having received his random, late night text about nightmares, and didn’t hesitate to pull him back inside. It was routine at this point. “You gotta stop doing this, man.” Nathan told him, which Toki only hummed at. He sighed, pressing his lips against the top of Toki’s head, inhaling the sweet, apple-like scent of his shampoo. They slowly crumbled to the marble floor, tangled within each other. Eventually, they’d move to Nathan’s room, but they just wanted to be there, in the moment.

If anyone asked, was never interest, care, intervention. It wasn’t concern when they coaxed each other into comfort at difficult moments; it wasn’t intimacy when they shared the deepest forms of contact; it wasn’t fondness when they spent hours together just because. Dethklok was too metal for that, too brutal. You could never be as ruthless as they were if you showed such…love.

Sorry if this was absolute dogshit, it’s really late, I’m tired, was switching between this and an essay that was already late, and I didn’t proofread at all. Just needed some Dethklok fluff.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @halfbakedspuds!

Proud-of Tag

Rules: post an excerpt you are proud of.

Of course, now that I have to think about it, suddenly I've never been proud of anything in my life. I think I'll go with Djek’s hallucinations-from-smoke-inhalation scene

It had been days.

Days and days and days, he was sure of it. Days of coughing out black smoke just to breathe it back in again. Days of cooking in a metal shell that weighed nearly as much as he did. Days of choking heat, watering eyes, and this stabbing, gods-damned headache.

Djek dragged the weight behind him, knuckles aching from the grip, but somehow he knew his prize was too important to let go. Was he on a job? Damn fuck-up of a job if he was. Just unlucky, that’s all.

“This is your fault!”

Djek froze. “T-Tyche?”

“You’re only good for one fucking thing and somehow you manage to screw it up every single time! How do you even live with yourself?”

Breathing harder and coughing harder in turn, Djek searched wildly for his friend.

“Tyche, I can’t see you!”

“You know what you are?”

“Stop it!” Djek screamed, though it came out as more of a croak through his smoke-scoured throat. What was happening?

“You’re a parasite. You’re a fucking parasite who lives off nothing but the whims of your betters. And what can you do to repay them? Will you make some shadows do a little dance? Tell them dirty jokes? Beg? That’s all you were ever really good at—begging.” The voice was starting to sound more alien now, possessed of a sneering contempt that permeated every inch of Djek’s heart. The core was still Tyche’s, though. It was always Tyche’s voice he heard.

“You— That’s not true!” Instead of his own voice, the one that came from Djek’s lips was much higher and cracked nearly to pieces. A pathetic child still weeping in an alleyway.

“I pulled you from the brink. I let you play at being a competent person. I saved you! How do you think something like that should be repaid?”

“I don’t—”

“Not by a fucking stab in the back, is what! You should have just died with honor! That’s what a normal person would have done! A grateful person!”

The little street urchin nodded glumly. He was a nobody. Such a nobody that his own parents had tossed him out to cut down on the number of mouths they had to feed. Out of all his siblings, he’d always been the smallest, the clumsiest, the neediest. Really, he’d been the best option.

He was a nobody.

But Tyche or Izjik or Undeta had made him somebody. Even if that somebody was just a puppet, a toy, hey, it was still a damn sight better than nothing, wasn’t it? He was just too weak to stand on his own, so really, it was all for the best if somebody else pulled the strings. To the little urchin, it was common sense.

To Djek though, that was bullshit. The sorcerer spat into the inferno, clearing the grit from his mouth and mind.

“You made me. All of you made me, and I thank you for that. But I’m my own man, with my own choices. And I choose to get the hell out of here.”

That little urchin might’ve seen the sense in living a life given to him like some handout from a kind stranger, but Djek had learned a lot since he’d been that waif trembling in the gutter. That mummery, well-meaning or cruel, wasn’t a life.

His life had started when he’d nearly pissed himself trying to kill for the first time. And turns out, he was more than strong enough to live for himself.

I'll tag @somethingclevermahogony @melpomene-grey @elizaellwrites @katnewman96-blog and anyone else who wants to share something :)

[leclerced]

Okay I have a few ideas so bear with me please.

First some angst because I’m a masochist. When Lando gets overwhelmed because of everything but he thinks that he doesn’t get a say in this? You know Oscar took the lead and of course he’s okay with that but in this particular moment it’s just something that conflicts him. He was with her first and he was arranging everything first but when Oscar came with his amazing planning and rules-setting he starts to doubt himself because “what if I wasn’t good enough? Has she ever felt like something’s not okay but haven’t told me? Was it too much? Did I cross boundaries?” And half of the thoughts make no sense because he didn’t cross anything. She wanted it and after some time she wanted it more than him even. But right now it all feels like too much and the culmination point is when Lewis is fucking her and it’s Lando in the room because Oscar said he’d be a lil late and after like two orgasms he snaps and tells Lewis to go. And immediately the older man switches from mean dom to concerned friend and starts asking if everything is okay and is she okay is Lando okay but it just pisses him off more. So Lewis walks out but at the same time Oscar comes in and is like “wait that’s it? You’re already out?” And he tells him about Lando snapping so Oscar is worried. My man is freaking out an spiralling because Lando is the last person to snap for real not while joking. And he comes in and sees their girl trying to comfort Lando who’s fucking crying and constantly apologising and they have no idea what’s this about.

Please feed my imagination on the rest

oh my god!!!

they’d be so confused, lando just keeps saying he’s sorry and they don’t know why for an hour, until he’s out of tears and oscar grabs his chin and makes him look him in the eye and tell him why he’s apologizing. he’s got his soft dom voice, the one that means business, and lando has no choice but to listen to the commanding voice and tell him what’s wrong. he’d come clean about how he’s feeling like he’s not enough anymore. she’d immediately shut him down and tell him she’d give up everything for him, but he’d tell her he’d never ask her to and oscar realizes that’s the problem. lando doesn’t know his own boundaries, doesn’t know where the line is anymore. he’s so used to oscar controlling everything he feels like he doesn’t even know how, so he snapped at lewis which made him feel worse. he doesn’t say he wants to pause things, wants to have her to himself because he doesn’t know how to tell her that seeing someone else touching her makes him sick. but oscar knows, can see it in his eyes that’s what he’s thinking.

oscar’s not usually good with words, and they’re failing lando right now, but he knows what lando needs and once again he’d be taking control, telling the other drivers it’s called off for now, and not to mention it. if and when they’re ready, they’ll know. until then, back off. lewis is the only one who kind of knows whats going on, and he wants to check on lando but knows it’s not his place so he just watches from afar as oscar and their girl rebuild him. he’d be the first one brought back months later, a little apology from lando for cutting that last night short. clearly, lando’s picked up on oscar’s possessive and more dominant side bc even though the aussie is absent from the room, lewis isn’t allowed to run wild like he used to, lando’s taking control the way oscar does when he’s around and the original dynamic makes a comeback, with lando a little more comfortable and controlling than before.

[onegianthotmess]

Headcanons For Jane

I’ve been wanting to do this for a while so let’s go!!

Here is the post where I introduced Jane and showed what she looked like: Jane.

Also, I know that @queengiuliettafirstlady is a bit curious about Jane! I’d like to clarify that she is my OC as @natimiles informed you and that there will be a happy ending with her and Theo, just give me a little bit, please! But, in the meantime, you can enjoy these random headcanons that are canon because Jane is my OC/baby and I love her!!!

Jane is Comte’s first daughter, so obviously she’s a bit spoiled in the beginning

Not in a bad way, more so Comte just goes a bit nuts and almost buys all of the women’s clothing in Paris when he brings Jane home, but Leonardo stops him because he doesn’t want the mansion to overflow with gowns and take up his napping spots or for Jane to be overwhelmed

And yes, Leonardo also unofficially adopts Jane and gives her daily headpats because I said so

Jane is incredibly grateful to have been given a second life, but it has led her to question things

She was a devout Catholic while human, but she was confused on what to do with her beliefs when she’d been given an impossible second chance

So, after much contemplation, Jane did decide to remain Catholic in terms of beliefs, but not as devoutly as when she was human because her second life as a vampire has given her a new perspective on things

Jane is often compared to Vincent in personality and none of those comparisons are incorrect

Historically, Jane Seymour was actually called a peaceful angel while in court and was known to be one of, if not the most, beloved queen that ruled during King Henry VIII’s reign

So it makes sense her personality would stay the same even after becoming a vampire

In fact, the reason she wanted to continue living was to help children, even though she couldn’t raise her own son

So, yes, she is often compared to Vincent in terms of being an angel, but her and Vincent don’t see how they’re similar to each other and it’s so cute!!!

Jane only knew English while she was alive and had to learn Modern English from Comte, so when she started dating Theo, Arthur tried to learn Dutch swear words so he could tell Jane to say them to Theo as “terms of endearment”

But, before Arthur could do that, Vincent began to teach Jane Dutch without Theo knowing so she could surprise him

Jane is a very good cook and actually surprised Sebastian the first night she was there because she started cooking dinner way before Sebastian and was about halfway done with the meal when Sebastian walked in

Needless to say Sebastian was both bewildered and very interested by this and started scribbling in his notebook that Jane Seymour was an exceptional cook

Jane will also sit down and knit, crochet, or sew with Sebastian when he gets some downtime and she usually mends his suits if a tear is ever on them

Sebastian’s notebook is getting a nice section on Jane Seymour’s hobbies

Jane loves birds and her pet dove Enid was actually a gift given to her by Shakespeare as a thank you for her sewing some costumes for him for a play he was putting on

And Theo doesn’t like that Enid was from Shakespeare, but Jane loves Enid and sees Will as a nice person and good friend, so he stays quiet

Jane likes to watch Vincent paint and she usually tells him when it’s time to eat and when it’s time for him to go to bed

Jane is actually the only person King doesn’t knock over when he sees and is always gentle with Jane, which pisses Theo off a bit but he also thinks it’s cute as fuck-

When Jane feels restless, she will clean and organize things around the mansion

She’s reorganized the library so many times that it’s literally impossible to not find a book within thirty to sixty seconds, if you know what you’re looking for

Jane will occasionally go into town to help teach children with Napoleon and Isaac

It usually takes a minute for Jane to wake up, so Theo usually has to help her get dressed and occasionally has to help her with her hair if she’s that sleepy

Despite being a queen while human, Jane can be very naive and believes a lot of what Arthur and Dazai say if someone doesn’t immediately stop them or tell her otherwise

And yes, she’s fallen for this plenty of times

She’s the baby girl of the mansion, leave her alone-

Jane has days where she can faint very easily and she has done this while out helping Theo with his work

The first time this happened, Theo rushed her to the hospital and was panicking internally the whole time

And when Jane woke up with instructions from the doctor to go home and rest and drink a lot of water, Theo went with her and didn’t leave her side the rest of the day

When Leonardo and Arthur were asked to see if anything was wrong with Jane after multiple fainting spell days happening, Leonardo and Arthur eventually came to the conclusion that, because Jane’s death and final days had such a massive toll on her body, it affected her even after becoming a vampire

Leonardo and Arthur advised her to try and watch for signs of feeling weak or faint within herself to see if she needed to stay home so that her bedroom wasn’t too far to carry her to if she fainted and another resident found her

Luckily, these fainting spell days are usually few and far between and rarely even happen once a month most of the time

When Jane was dying of postpartum complications, she’d gotten an infection in her eyes from a remedy one of the doctors had given her and it damaged her eyes to the point of her needing glasses

For the first two to three months of Jane’s new life as a vampire, she needed to be guided around the mansion because her eyesight was awful and she needed to wait for Comte to take her to an optometrist to settle a prescription for her and get her glasses made before she could walk around the mansion freely

And during those first two to three months, Jane had broken a few things around the mansion while left alone and wandering the halls and after she got her glasses, she apologized profusely for the damages she’d caused

Occasionally, Jane and Arthur will mix up their glasses and Arthur has to go and find Jane to give her her glasses back as quickly as possible before she breaks something and feels guilty about it

All of the mansion pets have at least a slight fondness for Jane, but the birds, Brush, King, Vic, and Chérie all really like her in particular

Vic actually almost prefers Jane to Arthur and it makes Arthur really jealous because Vic is meant to be his dog and love him

But Arthur feels better after Jane reassures him that Vic still loves him before handing him his precious pup to go and play with King for a bit, who was getting jealous of the attention Vic was getting

Arthur and Jane are very good friends, with Jane almost acting motherly in a way towards Arthur and Arthur just being the flirt he is while also being nice and a gentleman to Jane because she’s a babie who must be protected

Jane actually has a great knowledge on the language of flowers and their properties, from medicinal uses to poisons, she knows almost everything about flowers, even some things Leonardo doesn’t know

Jane has always wanted to go to the beach, but she never really could in her life as a human due to being a lady-in-waiting, then a queen who was pressured to produce a male heir who eventually died after giving birth

Also, she can’t swim-

Jane makes Sebastian take breaks from housework and takes care of it herself

She will cook and clean and do the laundry and have it all done all before Sebastian arrives, thus forcing him to take a day off

Jane enjoys taking walks and usually has someone accompany her, which is usually Arthur and Theo

Arthur occasionally goes out to the bar alone with Jane and challenges her to a drinking contest, which usually ends in Theo being called down to carry his drunk wife back to the mansion and makes sure a tipsy Arthur is alright to be left by himself long enough for Leonardo to come down and eventually carry him back home

Jane gets unusually hungry while drunk and she’ll usually ask Theo if they can go get pancakes while he carries her back home

Jane is allowed to drink with anyone except Jean because of how they both get easily wasted and so they need someone else to watch over them so they don’t get themselves killed or do something worse while drunk

Jane and Vincent often go to Shakespeare’s villa together so that they can have tea with him and talk

They occasionally bring Brush and Enid along with them and both of their pets love both Shakespeare and Puck

Puck is a bit iffy on Vincent, but he LOVES Jane and doesn’t focus on giving Vincent half of an evil eye because he’s too busy getting pets from Jane when they visit

Jane has made winter scarves for everyone in the mansion, Shakespeare, and even the vampires in the castle

Jane met Vlad on the street as he was packing up his little flower cart one evening because she was waiting for Theo and Arthur, and Vlad took a liking to Jane and gave her a few free flowers from the selection he had left

Vlad thinks Jane reminds him of an innocent little girl and finds her cute, so he usually gives her a few free flowers whenever he sees her

And it makes Theo jealous whenever Jane tells him about “the very nice man with strawberry eyes” who occasionally gives her a few free flowers because….it’s Theo and Theo doesn’t like to share his precious and innocent little hondje

And Jane makes pancakes for Theo whenever he’s jealous to help him calm down and to reassure him that no one else will ever catch her eye except for him

Pancakes and a night of cuddling usually does the trick to make Theo feel better and Jane is always happy to oblige

Jane does try to limit Theo’s sugar intake, like giving him the option of letting her pour his syrup on his pancakes or having no syrup at all

It usually works, but sometimes Theo is sneaky and swipes the syrup bottle to put more on his pancakes when Jane isn’t looking

Jane usually instates herself as Sebastian’s replacement and caretaker whenever he gets sick, despite his objections

Even though Jane usually tries to take care of any one of the residents when they get sick because she doesn’t like to see them unwell

Jane loves going to the park and will take Enid with her so she can fly around

Jane actually met Charles at one of her visits to the park and asked if she could visit him at his home so she could get to know him better and meet his friends that he lives with

And that’s what led Jane to visit the castle and meet Faust for the first time and figure out who Vlad is

And Theo does not like Faust

Why?

Because Faust finds Jane interesting, very interesting and just gives Theo a bad vibe

Meanwhile Jane likes him because he doesn’t seem that bad and she finds him funny

Also everyone added Vlad to the “Don’t Let These People Drink Alone No Matter The Cost” list with Jane and Jean due to his zero tolerance for alcohol

Seriously, don’t let them drink alone together without at least one other person or someone is going to die or something weird is gonna happen

They all woke up hungover in Vlad’s flower garden once and flowers were on fire, there was a bear sleeping with them, Marshmallow was trying to get past Cherie to gnaw on Jean’s leg, Enid was asleep on Jane’s head, Vlad was hanging upside down in a tree, a pot of boiling water was in a rose bush, Jean’s eyepatch was missing, and Jane was using Vlad’s black cloak as a blanket

Yeah, Charles had to clean that up and Faust had to take care of Vald, Jean, and Jane while they were all hungover before Jean and Jane could go home the next day

Comte was freaking out about where his favorite most lightweight children went for the three days they were gone

Vincent had to calm down Theo and assure him Jane was fine, but it didn’t really fully work until Jane was home

Jane has a mouse/kitten sneeze

The first time she sneezed at breakfast, everyone looked at her because they never thought she could get any softer or cuter, but they were very wrong

Children love her a lot, she’s like a magnet for kids

When she goes with Theo to take King to the park, children usually come up to her to tell her she’s pretty or to invite her for a game of hide and seek

And babies somehow calm instantly when she holds them

Jane is just really good with kids

Jane was worried about Vincent not having a bed and became even more worried when he said it was fine because he had his couch to sleep on

And Jane couldn’t let that happen, so she talked with Comte and made sure Vincent got a bed put in his room

She even set up some tarps to act as curtains around the bed so that the pillows, blankets, and sheets would be safe from any possible stray bits of paint that would possibly be splattered around in cast of an accident

Jane usually makes Vincent take breaks from painting because she worries about him and they usually make flower crowns together or they go and visit Shakespeare

They make flower crowns for Shakespeare and Puck, too along with their own respective pets

Jane has made flower crowns for Theo and King as well, which makes Theo embarrassed and shy and King very happy because he looks even cuter and eventually gets a snack when the flower crown falls off his head

For Christmas one year, Jane made everyone a special embroidered decorative pillow, even Shakespeare and the castle boys

Theo’s had a golden retriever on it, Arthur’s had a magnifying glass on it, Leonardo’s had tools on it, Jean’s had a tiger on it, Vincent’s had a sunflower on it, Napoleon’s had a sword/rapier on it, Isaac’s had a stack of books with an apple on it, Dazai’s had a book and pen on it, Mozart’s had a violin on it, Sebastian’s had a lamb on it, Comte’s had an hourglass on it, Will’s had symbols for his three most popular plays on it, Faust’s had a monkey on it, Charles’s had resurrection lilies on it, and Vlad’s had strawberries on it

Jane spent about a year and a half planning, researching, and gathering supplies for those pillows before she actually spent another year making the pillows before putting them in nice boxes with wrapping and bows and tags and a hand written card in each to everyone for how grateful she was to have them in her life and that they could do what they wished with their gift

Everyone was very touched by Jane’s dedication to just one gift and they all keep their handmade pillows out on display because they deserve to be seen

Yeah, needless to say that Jane is the queen of going above and beyond for handmade gifts, and just gifts in general

Any holiday involving the giving of gifts, Jane is on top of those gifts, which she planned months in advance for

She’s also the queen of arts and crafts, Sebastian being an extremely close second to her

Jane has made new collars and leashes for both King and Vic because she saw that the ones they had were getting pretty old and worn out

She even made a little harness and leash for Comte’s precious ferret, Thyme

When Jane told Theo she loved him in semi broken Dutch, Theo eased up as best he could on his swearing so that he had less of a chance of his sweet hondje learning any sort of bad language, especially from him

Arthur received many death threats just in case he decided to corrupt Jane’s pure and innocent, and definitely a bit naive, mind

Because Arthur is…well, Arthur

One time Jane accidentally broke her finger on a door and started crying, Theo nearly ripped the door she broke her finger on off its hinges and used it as firewood

He would have, too, if Vincent and Comte weren’t holding him back

Overall, Jane is a sweet babie who could make even the most stone faced serial killer melt with a single kitten sneeze and I love her

(A/N: I got the divider from @firefly-graphics, if you wanted to know or if they wanted to receive credit in this post because I used one of their divider graphics! Either way, go look at some of their stuff because the graphics are really nice!!)

[batmanego]

how do you think jason's siblings feel about him?

this is a question i’m less equipped to answer as i’m less of a scholar of them than i am of him so take this mostly as idle musings as opposed to a more scholarly discussion… AND feel free to correct me on things.

Generally i think all of them except dick have some form of non-relationship with him. he isn’t really their brother in any sense other than bruce is their shared parent, and he doesn’t seem interested in interacting with them or participating in the trappings of familial relationships, or Not trying to beat the shit out of them when they get too close to him.

his strongest relationship (within his family) and the exception to this rule is with dick, who. Oh it hurts so badly oh it hurts dick so badly to watch jason do this to himself. he rightfully points out in the comics that jason’s quest and methods seem little more than an ill-advised suicide attempt, which i think isn’t far off. being around jason is genuinely probably painful for dick (as it would be for anyone), but jason is also uniquely(?) equipped to piss him the fuck off. dick is NOT cool with the Attempted child murder several times over thing and WILL yell at jason about it and WILL fight him over it. but i think generally in most circumstances that aren’t related to “you paralyzed my brotherson” dick has this horrible thing where he can’t be Too mean to jason or jasons going to… ?????Blow up again????. dick is the only one of jasons siblings that makes any real effort to BE jasons sibling, and he’s also the only one that jason allows this to happen with and reciprocates to some degree.

coming from conversations with my friend izzy who is a cass and damian fan: caaaaass would not/does not like jason. She understands where he’s coming from on some level but fundamentally disagrees with his methods. she can also Very clearly see that he is still little more than a terrified 15 year old waiting for batman to save him at his core, which… ??? i would feel somewhat uncomfortable having that level of knowledge about a guy that visibly dislikes me.But that’s just me. im unsure of cass’ feelings further than Dislike and a vague sense of pity.

damian. oh my god. Again it’s like unraveling the gordian knot. daaaamian… on multiple occasions beats people/the joker up in… retribution? in reference to? jason’s death. he is shown to be effected by it enough for him to take action and start swinging. on the other hand, he also??? at multiple times??? beats the shit out of jason while making fun of him for dying? and leaves a crowbar on his pillow? So basically solve his puzzle. damian and jason could be a very interesting relationship (especially if you’re like me and contemplate the timeline of things and have come to the conclusion that jason post-resurrection but pre-lazarus pit lived with talia at the same time damian would have been living there) but unfortunately the two of them kind of just largely regard each other as nuisances not worth a lot of time and effort. i don’t think damian holds the paralysis thing against jason necessarily — i don’t think he’s HAPPY about it, but i think on some level he probably understands that it wasn’t a personal choice and was more business.

tim needs jason lost at sea, but often has other larger problems going on than a guy in a stupid helmet running around.

[compacflt]

have you ever considered writing more about icemav's respective childhoods? i'm always thinking about val kilmer saying in his memoir and documentary that he had obsessive dreams about ice's father who made him feel he had to prove himself as The Absolute Ideal Man and that the interactions he dreamt about between ice and his dad surely "imbued ice with greater fury" and his obsession with perfection made him arrogant.

yeah i go into ice’s childhood a little in my slider one shot since they’re right out of high school when they meet. But val and I took it in two completely different directions. Val’s ice has daddy issues and a poor relationship with his father (extrapolating from excerpt above); my ice has lack-of-daddy-issues and NO relationship with his father. No dad = no man to model himself on = overcompensating. When I said, in mavericks POV (debriefing), that ice “clearly doesn’t know how to talk to other men,” I meant that with my whole chest.

i appreciate Val’s insight, and I’m not sure when his memoir was published, but i think TG86 Ice is complicated DEEPLY by his plot-necessary accession to COMPACFLT in TGM22. At least for me, his end rank of O-10 casts him in a totally different light. It implies that what he wants is not necessarily to be “The Ideal Man,” he wants to be The Ideal OFFICER. And there’s a lot of data to back up that claim in Top Gun 86, too: he’s so gentle with Maverick, even when he’s trying to intimidate him (take the intonation of “I heard that about you. You like to work alone,” for example—is that how you’d say that if you were trying to piss someone off?); and there’s also the fact that two of the five times Ice talks directly to Maverick are explicitly about his safety practices and how they affect the safety of the TEAM (“Who was covering Cougar while you were showboating with this MiG?” / “I don’t like you because you’re dangerous.”). I said in a post last week that I don’t think Ice is a team player—but a good OFFICER doesn’t have to be a team player to make sure that the rules are followed and everyone stays safe. I think if Ice were trying to be The Ideal Man, he’d look a lot more like super-cool bad-ass rule-breaker MAVERICK (the buff daredevil male protagonist of a pro-military propaganda movie), who is canonically overcompensating for HIS relationship with his father/his incredibly unhealthy toxic masculinity.

So, yeah. that’s just how i see it. Again, idk when Val’s memoir was published—the writers of TG and TGM treat Ice as a character very differently, and both characterizations necessarily reflect on the other. I did not get the sense that TGM Ice was “imbued with fury,” for instance. So I think Ice trying to be/feeling pressured to be the best OFFICER makes more sense in light of TGM than Ice trying to be/feeling pressured to be the best MAN.

I feel very shrug about mav’s childhood. Kinda seems like he got over that in TG86. He got to save his team the way his dad did, AND lived to tell the tale. Yay. His development’s pretty much done for the franchise.

[violet29xxx]

A rowdy school jock and the studious student council president - what could possible go wrong?

Oh, did I mention that they used to know each other in elementary school?💙❤️

Or so she thought, until she heard a handful of rowdy snickering coming from a hidden corner. She heard the pop of a lid come off, only to hear a shake and a continuous fizzing sound, which could only be spraying. Delinquents. 

It looked like Student Council President Sarada was being put right to work the moment she arrived. Scoffing at the audacity, she sped to the corner intending to put a stop to the delinquent vandalists who clearly had no other sense of purpose in life to stoop so low. 

“Hey! You guys are violating school rules! Stop what you’re doing immediately!” She scolded, her tone sharp and reprimanding. 

“Ugh, I told you this was a bad idea, getting into trouble is such a pain…” a boy with a ponytail groaned, tugging at the perpetrator’s collar who was still using the spray paint. “Let’s bounce, dude.” 

“Aw come on, it’s almost done!” The other boy countered, and Sarada’s heart dropped at the sound of his voice. No. No. This was a joke. A foolish attempt at comedy. A big, fat—

“Look Boruto, I know that you’re new to the school, but the girl in front of us is the Student Council President. She could actually get us into trouble.” 

“Oh?” Boruto teased, before turning around to see the girl that his friend was talking about. “Oh.” 

Oh!? That’s all he has to say!? 

“ Oh is correct, Boruto. ” It had been so long since she said that name, but it still fell off her tongue just as easily as it used to. “Since you’re new, I’m willing to let this slide just once as I don’t really feel like ruining my morning either.” She stepped forward, glaring at him dead in the eye. “But you should know, this school doesn’t let delinquents like you off the hook easily, and neither do I.” 

It wasn’t like Sarada to be this aggressive in a school setting, but something about the person that she was reprimanding seemed to throw her off balance, just as it did back in the day. It only frustrated her further. 

“Hmm? Oh wow, a threat from the president on my first day here? I must be special,” he mocked, stopping the paint that was spilling from his can as he let his hands rest behind his head, elbows pointing upward. “Don’t you wanna try?” 

“What did you just ask me!?” Sarada yelled, scoffing even further at the audacity. School hadn’t even started and he was already causing problems!? 

“Oh sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that your ears are fully functional, my bad,” he passed his paint can to his friend, immediately starting to move his hands in a way that Sarada didn’t understand. 

“...What?” The ravenette deadpanned, wondering if this was his idea of a sick joke. 

“Oh? The president doesn’t even know sign language? Damn, does that mean even I’m qualified for student council?” He snickered, clearly amused by everything that was going on.

Sarada was even more pissed at this. How dare he not only violate the school’s code of conduct, but now mock her for not knowing sign language!? There was no way she would let this slide. 

“The school council isn’t something to laugh at! Not like a spoiled daddy’s boy like you would ever understand what it takes.” Boruto’s eyebrows furrowed as his sky blue eyes pierced into hers. Sarada had said that knowing that Boruto’s father was the head of their education district, clearly he hadn’t taught him any manners. 

“Wow, they really elected a busy-body like you for president? Were there even any other candidates?” He scorned, bitterly laughing as he grabbed the paint can from his friend and started to shake it up. “And I really don’t get what the problem is, I mean, all I did was make a homage to ThunderBurger.” He pointed to his piece on the wall that read “ThunderBurger Rules” in different shades of blue and pink. 

“I hope you know that you’ll be expected to stay after school to wipe this all off,” Sarada snided, putting her hands on her hips. She didn’t understand what his problem was. 

“And if I don’t?” The blond raised an eyebrow, a calloused smirk emerging as his face inched closer to hers. Sarada was taken aback by their proximity, but she refused to back down. 

“Then I’ll report you, and you’ll be suspended on your first day of school.” Sarada scowled back, her onyx eyes carrying her fury. Boruto merely cocked his head back in annoyance before sighing. “And I don’t think your dad would be happy to find out that his son is a delinquent,” she found herself saying before she could stop herself. This earned her another glare from Boruto.

“Whatever you say, president. ” He tossed the paint can into her hands as she barely managed to catch it, not failing to rub a little bit of leftover paint from his finger onto her cheek before leaving. 

Excerpt from Raining With You on AO3 - Read HERE

[a-lonely-dunedain]

20 for tossdir & meneldir mayhaps?

ok this one uh. ended up So Much. was not expecting the levels of angst here but then Tossdir decided he was going to mention their parents and. ;-; they get hugs at least. pre-epic Tossdir and Meneldir are. a lot huh (I wasn't able to get the Exact wording of the prompt in there to sound natural so it was changed slightly, but I think what I wrote fits the overall point of it. I think. idk I make the rules here)

20. "Please. For me." "...okay. For you."

“Trying to leave again?” Meneldir hears. He freezes, then curses himself under his breath. He made a little too much noise in his hurried attempt to pack his belongings and woke his unwelcome companion who really should be at home.

“Yes. and I would ask that you do not follow me this time.” it’s a futile request, hardly the first time nor the last time he would make it, but he felt the need to say it nonetheless. Tossdir does not belong here in exile, but he was going to follow Meneldir anyway, and Meneldir would try to lose him. Maybe he’d get lucky and actually convince his little brother to go home this time. Maybe.

“Can… Can we not do this right now? I really don’t want to spend today trying to track you down…”

“Then go home. As I’ve been trying to tell you–”

“That’s not what I meant!” Tossdir sounds… almost angry. Meneldir is taken aback by it. “...do you even know what day it is?”

“I was not keeping track, but I do not see how that–”

“It’s February twenty-first.” he states, his tone sharp and hurt.

Oh. That time already… These dates have a way of sneaking up on him.

He understands the reason for Tossdir’s mood now. This is the day their parents died.

“I just…” Tossdir continues, trying to hide the shaking in his voice, but whether it is from anger or sorrow Meneldir cannot tell “I understand that you still want me gone, but I really don’t want to be alone today. Please. Just be here for me. You can run all you want afterwards but… just not today.” sorrow then, Meneldir thinks.

“Ah.” He clears his throat uncomfortably and stops packing “That… changes my plans then. I will stay for now.”

Tossdir had always been a very sentimental person, holding keepsakes from people who were close to him and keeping track of dates such as these was always something he placed a great deal of importance on. It’s not an unusual trait for a Dúnedan, but it made anniversaries like these very difficult for him.

Meneldir still thinks it would be better for him to be at home, with Bregadir and the other rangers –the family who is actually worthy of him– but it’s not as if that can be arranged right now. Dour as it may be, Meneldir’s company will have to do.

He walks over to where Tossdir is standing. He opens his arms slightly in an invitation for a hug, but he’s not sure if Tossdir would even want it. He has every right to be pissed at him, he just tried to abandon him in the wilderness on the anniversary of their parents’ deaths for fuck’s sake. The guilt threatens to eat him alive. Another mistake to add to the long list–

Tossdir suddenly hugs him with nearly enough force to knock him off his feet, forcing a slight ‘oof’ sound from him. Meneldir wraps both his arms and cloak around him, staving off the late winter chill.

“...and for the record, I don’t want you gone. I just want you to go home, where you’ll be better off.” he says quietly, words steeped with shame.

“...I don’t see the difference.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been a terrible brother.” he sighs.

“You’re my only brother, I’ll take what I can get.” Tossdir hugs him a little tighter. Meneldir thinks he might be crying- nevermind, they're both crying.

Meneldir promised he wasn’t going to try leaving today, but he thinks to stick around a little longer than that. It’s winter, traveling is unpleasant and the snow would make him easy for Tossdir to track. No sense in trying to leave until spring at least. They’ve found a good location for their camp anyway, it would be a shame to waste it.

Well, those were the justifications Meneldir told himself at least. In reality, he simply didn’t want to be alone either. Running from seemingly the only person who still loves him is the hardest thing to do, and selfish as it is to stop, he just can’t manage it right now. There is still some flight in him, but not today. 

It’s better for Tossdir to be away from him. It’s selfish, Meneldir thinks, to put his desire for companionship over Tossdir’s long-term wellbeing, and he hates himself for it. But regardless, he can’t leave right now. He does not wish to be alone either. Not today.

[moonjxsung]

hii pookie, I hope you’re feeling better 🫶🏻

I want to vent about something if that’s okayy

I don’t understand why some fic writers put age caps on their followers. and I don’t mean ‘no minors/18+’ because that makes total sense. I mean the people who put ‘dni if you’re 30+/40+’. I mean, everyone is entitled to their comfort levels but I don’t see the reasoning. 

I hate when I find a good fic writer and they have something like that in their rules, because it just gives me the icks and makes me not follow them. I’m in my early twenties btw, so it doesn’t personally affect me but like… I don’t like it? why are you excluding a certain age group? also, I understand not necessarily wanting to be friends with someone who is older than you, but you don’t even want them to read your fics/interact with you? at all? like, them liking or commenting doesn’t mean you have to be friends? it just feels mean ☹️

and I would get it if it’s someone who is like weird about skz and sexualized them when they were minors, but a majority of the 30+ stays I’ve met see skz as their babies anyway. and if they do express attraction to them make it clear that they are attracted to the now adult versions of them and not when they were babies. so to make a generalization based on one uncomfy group of people doesn’t make sense to me either. like I know maybe it’s not bullying, but it feels weirdly exclusionary when it’s not necessary?

also, in the same vein, kpop fans are way too comfy insulting someone on their age when they’re mad at them for another reason. or, using that person’s age as a reason to why they are the way they are. like, I remember when there were vids circulating of someone who won a fancall with skz and was disrespectful to most of the members and pissed off the other ones. and this lady was in her 30s, and a lot of the comments were like ‘ugh look how old she is, skz wouldn’t want to talk to her anyway’ or ‘she’s so ugly, no wonder she’s alone at her age’ and I was like oh my god. like, I don’t like her either because her attitude sucks, but why is everyone being so nasty? they don’t think or care about how other, perfectly nice and respectful, stays in their 30s or older are gonna think reading that??? it’s not nice!

idkk, I just want good vibes ☹️ and I want people to be more aware of how they talk about age in kpop circles. maybe they don’t want friends a decade older than them, and that’s fine, but those people should still be allowed to enjoy kpop?

-⛈️ / Bae

POOKIE HI I missed you !!!

Also THIS….. I completely agree!!!! Candidly I’ve never seen somebody put an age cap of dni for 30/40+ and that’s insane to me… like a lot of my followers fall into that age range and they are some of the most interactive on this app, not to mention the overwhelming support I get from them that’s literally one of the main reasons I haven’t given up writing as a hobby. It also gives me the ick to see people exclude so openly like that ☹️

Also SO much agreed about the insulting ages thing!! The thing that I never quite understand is like…. You guys are literally going to be that age one day? How is calling somebody their age an insult, yeah that person is 30 or 40? And??? Would you also insult your parents for their ages? Anybody in your real life who’s older than you???? It makes no sense to me and it’s mad disrespectful. I’m turning 25 in march and I’m on the cusp of feeling too “old” to be a kpop fan but at the same time people around our ages are the ones who keep kpop in business 🥲 you think it’s the teenagers who are buying tickets to fly across the country to see skz? Or buying albums to win fancalls??? We should be thanking older fans for their support- they have adult money and they’re helping us support the people we share a mutual love for. There’s nothing wrong with that.

There’s also this aspect of shaming women, specifically, for just liking things past the age of 20. Newsflash- you don’t just stop liking things when you’re an adult. It’s still ingrained in you to be a fangirl when you’re 30, 40… and there’s absolutely no shame in liking boy bands or fanfiction. Excluding older people from being in fandoms is such toxic behavior and it’s such a shame especially when it’s targeting their looks. Idgaf if you’re 90 years old, if you support skz I’m not going to judge you for it and I think it’s rad that we share a mutual love for something. I’m also grateful that you see the value in supporting the boys the same way I do, and I’m grateful if you’re on this app interacting with my content or boosting other authors. Personally my work has so much less to do with just skz, and more about plots and self-discovery and themes and I think any adult is allowed to appreciate that.

Sorry this is such a long response, but I completely agree and you worded this so well 😭🫶 I love you I hope you’re having an amazing week !! 💓��⭐️