#sleep has generally been a big big problem since like

[brujaluas]

What seems like a lie but will actually happen to you!

happy april fools day!!

Just kidding! I decided to use a deck that is extremely special to me. I'm going to show you some pictures of them. I'm in love with the way they look, they're beautiful!

I have a very personal and different connection with the beings that help me with the cards in this deck. I can't say much, because none of the beings who help me and are my companions when I need them, like... none of them like to reveal themselves. So, obviously, I respect that, but I feel such a different and good energy with these beings that help me, unlike anything I've ever connected with. If you follow my readings, you might even notice a certain difference in energy with this reading. I don't know. Let's see.

(I fell in love with the statue of the woman)

Pile 1

I think that out of all the piles, this one will fit the theme like a glove.

Wow! I see that some of you here might really like the concept of shifting or manifestations, subliminal audios, or are interested in knowing how it works and maybe want to apply it to your life. Am I right?

You're going to go through a metamorphosis, one that you've been waiting for a long time and really wanted it for yourself. I see physical changes for most of you, and they're positive changes. It could be a glow-up of any kind, but somehow it seemed really hard to achieve for you. Many of you daydream, shifting comes very strongly here for me, research about it if you don't know what it is! It may be interesting for you to find out. I see you aligning yourself with a thought, or organizing your mind, cleaning up what didn't interest you, like, many of us accumulate many thoughts, many opinions of other people, many "what ifs" being that this is not good for us, I see you cleaning this from your mind and only leaving what is necessary, it can be through meditation, a meditation before sleeping for at least 10 minutes could help you to start. I see you freeing yourself from a torment that you have been facing for a long time. For some of you here, it is as if you were very depressed about something or about life itself, but you are starting to get out of this gray area and moving towards your goals, having a personal or life glow, in any case, it is as if you have the power of nature with you.

Pile 2

Very interesting! This pile, the cards really talk to each other.

Most of those who choose this pile are women, and many have a desire for something big. The vast majority of you did not have stability in the past years or had a lot and want to continue that way. It is something that you value a lot: stability. You want to have a safe life, a good car in the garage, a comfortable wing, important and nourishing people in your life, a safe haven, an American dream hahaha, anyway, you really want to build a legacy, not only for yourself, but for future generations, many of you want to have children, or you want many friendships, many relationships, to be part of a community that works as a kind of life base, in short, you want something to nourish and be nourished, many want children here, seriously. And I see this coming true, you somehow achieving this, it even makes sense because I've been capturing the energies since I was shuffling the cards, and this pile always has many cards practically stuck together, while in the other pile everything came out clear and precise, here many cards came together, many of you really want a sense of community, one thing that comes to mind are the hippie communities of the 60s, many lived in somewhat isolated communities, just next to other hippies (it still exists today but less frequently), I'm not saying that you're a hippie (because there's no problem with that), just giving an example, many of you would like to live in a kind of community, be it of any kind, many children, many friends, many relatives, living in some isolated community, in any case, you will find a place to nourish and be nourished, to be something reciprocal, which is something you want most at the moment. reciprocity.

Pile 3

wow! oh I love this deck so much, I'll show it to you later, here too the cards talk to each other very well, a lot of cards were coming out and I asked for three to come and seconds later these three came that talk to each other very well.

you are in a time to reap the fruits of your work, of your commitment, of the love you gave to something or someone, of your effort, more than anything, it is a time of harvest! keep that in mind! you will reap many different fruits in your life, even from years past, you will blossom, seriously, it is as if you were a small seed at the moment, but this harvest will make you become like a beautiful tree full of fruits and flowers, I think many of you live in the countryside, or like to go there. You will cultivate good and new memories, new ways of achieving your goals, a new mentality, new thoughts, new experiences, it is time to reap good fruits from the past and use them in your future that also has everything to be prosperous, many of you are naive so be careful with that, you are not bad for not accepting everything that others want you to do, the beings of the universe like you very much, you have a very good heart, I loved your energy, keep it up and protect yourself from the world, they can be cruel and not know how to understand your nature and way of acting.

[6fangz]

SOMETHING ON YOUR MIND

⋆ ♰.˚🦇⌗ ˎˊ˗

synopsis: sergeant williams has been on your case since the second you moved to town; the loathing is palpable, and yet something seems to draw you back together

warnings: there is a reference to being sl*pped in this (not ellie, very vague no detail) but pls read at your own risk (!), age gap (reader is 23, ellie is 28) starts kinda angry ig, some fluff, ends w smut, fingering (reader receives), this was my excuse to write southern ellie w a drawl

southern!officer!ellie x rebellious!fem!reader

MDNI 18 +

a/n: alright…hear me out on this one i swear i had a vision. it’s long and i still dk if this came together the way i wanted it to but whatever here it is anyways enjoy and i hope today was #fab ok bye

the sun peeks through your curtains, shining directly in your face as you stir awake. you run a hand over your eyes in annoyance.

the alarm clock on your nightstand lets you know it’s barely nine in the morning, which is still way too early to be conscious in your book. you bury your head back under your pillow.

but then you hear it; a bang on the front door of your beat up single wide. you don’t get up at first, because you don’t know who it could be and therefore you don’t care.

yet whoever it is remains persistent, knocking and knocking until you just can’t take it anymore.

you drag yourself out of your bed begrudgingly and shrug on a sweatshirt, tucking your feet into your beloved dino slippers out of habit.

your shoulders are heavy as you walk down the hall, so you roll them in an attempt to ease the tension. it doesn’t really work, and the pounding is bringing on a headache at this point.

“i’m fucking coming!”

you swing the door open a moment later, finding yourself face to face with none other than sergeant williams herself.

her cowboy hat is tilted low on her head, choppy hair framing her shaded face, but you can still see that she’s angry. the little line between her brows is a dead giveaway.

you smirk instinctively, hand perched on your hip as you squint at her. “ah, sarge. i’d say good morning, but it’s not.”

“nice shoes,” she grumbles in response, eyes sweeping over the rest of your disheveled state, “didn’t realize you’d be sleeping in.”

her comment actually does make you a little self conscious, enough to tug your sorry excuse for shorts down to cover yourself a bit more.

“well i was trying to, but you just woke me up, so how about we get on with whatever this is?”

ellie glares a little harder, thumb hooked in the waistband of her pants. “fine, you happen to slash noah bennett’s tires last night? cuz he’s real certain you did.”

the answer to that question is yes, but she doesn’t have anything on you. if she did, then you’d already be in her handcuffs on the way to the station.

you’re too careful for her regardless, and that makes you smile. “nope, wasn’t me. that’s hysterical, though.”

“i’m sure y’think it’s funny. got an alibi, kid?” she pushes, country drawl on full display.

you don’t shy away. “i was working the closing shift at the bar. ask literally anyone.”

also true; you were bartending last night, just like you normally are, but you had taken an extra long smoke break to visit noah’s most prized possession.

he respects that dumbass truck more than the women in his life, let alone women in general, and he deserved every bit of it after being a dickhead for so long.

you’ve never had a problem personally delivering karma, and nobody gets away with harassing a girl on shift.

at least not while you’re around.

the suspicion is written all over ellie’s face, but she’s grasping at straws and you both know it.

“i already have. but i needed to hear it straight from the accused herself.”

“aw, if you missed me you could’ve just said so.” you tease, placing a hand to your chest like you’re charmed.

she shakes her head in disbelief. “trust me when i say i cherish every moment you’re not makin’ my life more complicated.”

the thing is that you don’t trust her words, especially not when you swear she glances down at your lips as she says them. but it also makes your throat seize in a way you hate.

“great, we’re on the same page. now am i free to go or what?”

ellie has to gnaw on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying no. there’s not a logical reason to hold you up any longer, especially without any real evidence.

it was just important to follow up on every lead. right?

“yeah…suppose so. but i have a funny feelin’ i’ll be seeing you again soon.” she straightens and takes a few steps down your front porch.

“can’t wait.” you shoot back, not bothering to stick around for a response before you slam the door shut.

it satisfies you for a moment to let out some of your frustration, but the urge to scream follows you back to bed anyways.

ellie has been on your case since the moment you two met, and never once has she given you a chance.

she made up her mind about you then, that you’re just some burnout loser causing trouble in her jurisdiction. and you can’t say that description is too far off base.

but she doesn’t really know your life, and she never will. you’re not even sure that she experiences enough empathy to try.

so why does her opinion bother you so much?

you squeeze your eyes shut harder, trying to force your brain to be quiet. one of these days she’s going to drive you completely insane.

ellie remembers when you first moved to the area, over five years ago now. you were only eighteen, but already so set in your ways.

she was a few months out of academy, twenty three and very green in terms of her career. in fact, you were the first person she ever pulled over on a solo shift.

it immediately fazed her that she didn’t recognize you, considering everyone had practically known each other since birth. you were so nonchalant, so not threatened, and it made her crazy.

you just snapped your gum as she ran your plates, huffing like a brat when she ended up giving you a speeding ticket.

“seriously? i’m new to town, i didn’t even see the damn signs.”

“all five of ‘em, huh?” she spit back, though she regretted it instantly.

you looked at her with the fire of a thousand suns, and everything changed. the rivalry, the chase, began in that moment.

you slipped your sunglasses back over your face, smiling to yourself like something was funny. “make them a little bigger and maybe i’ll listen.”

ellie had hardly retreated before you sped off, turning the bend and disappearing completely before she had even gotten back to her car.

you’ve always been two steps ahead since. too smart for your own good, in her opinion.

she’d grown in the ranks remarkably fast, becoming the youngest sergeant in town history, and you still don’t take her seriously.

honestly, she doesn’t take herself seriously around you either. not any more at least. you’re a different woman now, somehow even more real and hardened by life.

maybe that’s what truly vexes ellie; she understands you, but you make it so difficult to not retaliate. every second the two of you interact it feels like her whole body is on fire.

she can barely keep herself together and it’s mortifying.

in fact, she’d initially wanted to go home tonight and enjoy a couple glasses of whiskey, forget all about you for a little while.

then she happened to drive by the abandoned strip mall and that plan went to hell.

your car sits alone in the lot, tucked away so it’s barely illuminated in the dying sun. but she’d recognize that model and color combination anywhere, and she can see you walking back to it as she swerves across the street without a second thought.

you’re in the middle of opening your driver's side door when ellie pulls up and flashes her lights briefly.

you roll your eyes on instinct. the last thing you were hoping for tonight was another lecture, but you turn to face her direction anyways.

she steps out of her vehicle and strolls over, readjusting the brim of her worn stetson. you swear she never takes that damn thing off.

“figured it’d be you.” she states plainly.

you tilt your head. “figured what would be me?”

she shoots you a look, genuinely surprised that you’re playing dumb with her about this one.

“the vandalism. noticed it a while back, but i couldn’t be sure i was right until i caught you.”

you cross your arms over your chest defensively. “first of all, it’s not vandalism, it’s art. and second of all, why would you assume it was me? i just went on a walk.”

she huffs out a soft laugh, and to your surprise she reaches her hand toward you.

you manage to stop yourself from flinching as ellie wraps her fingers around your wrist, untangling your arm gently so she can get a better look at the lingering spray paint.

it left a stains despite how hard you had scrubbed at it with wipes when you were done.

“wanna tell me the truth now?” she prompts, and you force yourself to meet her eyes.

her touch is unbelievably tender compared to her harsh exterior and rough hands, and it makes your heart wilt.

but you don’t let yourself think about it for long.

instead, you wrench out of her grasp and get right back to arguing. “fine, maybe it was me. but this building is literally ancient and i’m just making it look nicer, so what’s it to you?”

it kind of wounds her that you pulled away, but she can’t blame you either. she’d probably do the same in your position.

ellie tries not to let her damaged pride show when she finally answers.

“y’know, i actually agree with you for once.”

you don’t think she could’ve stunned you more if she tried. you’re not even sure that she’s ever said anything genuinely nice, at least not to your face.

“very funny.” you snark, because you still can’t believe it.

but she doubles down. “seriously, m’not here to take you in. nobody’s bought the mall in nearly thirty years anyways, and i really do like your paintings.”

her voice is warmer, sincere. she’s telling the truth for once.

you clasp your hands behind your back to keep yourself from fidgeting nervously. it’s unusual for her to catch you so off guard, but she’s enjoying the moment while it lasts.

there’s a flutter in your stomach that’s getting harder to ignore. you’re shoving it away with all of your willpower but it doesn’t help at all.

“oh. i, um…thanks.” you finally stutter it out.

she motions toward the building sheepishly. “show me the latest?”

your eyes widen even further; this interaction is not at all going how you expected it to. it isn’t what ellie had in mind either, but you’re both appreciating it all the same.

she really had been visiting the mall a little too frequently since she discovered your work. you’re the only person nearby with a creative bone in their body, so it was easy to figure you out.

it became a habit to check in and see if you’d added anything. every new piece was so intricate, and she loved each one for different reasons.

she didn’t intend to admit that to your face though, and she’s beginning to regret it until you pivot on your heel, adjusting your tote as you lead the way.

“alright. but this better not be a fucking trap or something.”

ellie is quick to follow suit, matching your pace as you walk. “not a trap, kid, i promise.”

“i have a name, by the way, and i’m sure as hell not a child.” you remind her briskly.

“really? must’ve forgotten.” she deadpans.

you smile slightly despite yourself, turning your head before she can catch a glimpse.

it’s nice interacting with someone equally as sardonic in nature, even if she does piss you off most of the time.

“you definitely didn’t.”

this quiets her immediately. she just shoves her hands in her pockets, twigs snapping under your feet as you trudge through the overgrown grass.

a moment later you round the corner to the back wall and color begins to light up the decaying brick.

you’re running out of room at this point, so the most recent picture is pretty close to the end near you.

a meteor in its blaze of glory, hurtling down to nowhere.

you point it out, though ellie spotted it on her own easily. “this is the one i just finished. tried out some different colors.”

“wow.” she states simply, stopping so close beside you that her shoulder brushes yours.

your brows furrow as you watch her inspect it without further comment.

“wow what?” you pry, trying not to let the edge make its way into your voice.

she pauses briefly before looking over at you. “it’s just impressive. you’ve got an actual vision, i mean you’re…you’re really somethin’.”

its your turn to be silent; you’re trying to read her face, because it suddenly feels like you’re in unfamiliar territory. there’s not a hint of animosity lingering in the air.

instead, ellie is looking at you all starry-eyed, and you feel like you’re being pulled into a current you can’t escape.

“do you mean that?” your voice is faint, almost like you’ve been subdued.

the validation is making you feel fuzzy, especially since it’s coming from the one person you thought would never say it.

she nods, and this time she’s staring at your mouth rather obviously. “meant every word.”

it’s so quiet, only the sound of the birds chirping somewhere above you, and it feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of your lungs.

ellie begins to shift, to inch even closer to you, but then your phone rings and you both jump apart so comically that the trance is broken straight away.

“shit…” you mutter, fishing around in your bag momentarily before yanking it out.

the number makes your stomach bottom out, and every pleasant emotion you just experienced evaporates from your body.

nothing nice can last for long.

ellie clears her throat and you snap to life, muting the ringer because you can’t answer it in front of her.

“sorry, i—um, i have to go.”

you don’t even bother making up an excuse; you just bolt past her, high tailing it back to your car without another word. instinct has taken over, and your body is moving on its own.

she calls after you, but you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears. only once you’ve successfully made it behind the wheel do you check to see if ellie followed along.

you deflate a little when you realize that she hasn’t, and that she won’t.

it’s been three days. three days and three sleepless nights since ellie saw you last.

she’s been up in her head ever since you ran away, chastising herself for listening to those provocative little voices and wondering what's occupying your own mind.

it’s shameful to admit, but after twenty four hours of silence, she had a compulsion to check in.

a brief stop at the bar let her know that you weren’t working, so she’d cruised through your neighborhood to find out if you were home.

the driveway was empty, and it remained that way when she visited the second time around.

the longer you’re gone, the more uneasy ellie becomes, and you’ve been plaguing her thoughts even more than usual.

had she misread your feelings? taken it too far?

she needs to see you, to talk. and you’re nowhere to be found.

the sound of the resin balls cracking against each other nearby snaps her back into the present. she sniffs, taking a sip of her whiskey.

it’s getting late, nearly midnight now, but ellie can’t bring herself to leave the bar. listening to the chatter of others is comforting.

and though the alcohol isn’t making you reappear, it at least gets her to loosen up a bit.

another swig. this’ll be her third glass of jameson, and that needs to be the limit for now. lord knows how she runs her fucking mouth with a buzz.

she glances around again, and her eyes skip over you thoughtlessly before she does a double take seconds later.

you’re perched in one of the corner seats toward the back of the bar, nursing a beer by yourself. you look exhausted, staring down at the shitty wood below you and picking at your thumbs.

ellie has never seen you here before, since she knows you prefer to get drinks straight from your coworkers.

this is the only other place in town though, usually frequented by the old farmers because they’re allowed to smoke and play pool at the same time.

and through the haze, there you are.

her stomach twists; she’s not sure if she’s angry or hurt, but it’s an awful feeling all the same.

she’s headed your way before she can even take another breath. you’re so out of it that you don’t notice until she’s actually sat down on the stool beside you.

“where the hell have you—” she cuts herself off when you turn to fully look at her, and the air feels like it's been knocked from her lungs.

a bruise paints your right cheek, though it’s clear you attempted to cover it. your eyes are watery and unfocused. she watches the recognition wash over you slowly, and you smile.

“oh, hello there.” you state simply.

her blood is already simmering, and her fingers ache to reach out and brush your face. she barely stops herself, choosing to run them through her hair instead.

“i…you okay, kid?”

her voice is hesitant, because even though she wants to cave someone’s head in, she’s much more worried about approaching you with care.

you laugh a little, a hiccup mixing itself in at the end. “fuckin’ hate when you call me that.”

your hand is unsteady as you take another long sip of beer, and she thanks her lucky stars that you’re almost done with it. that’ll make it easier to get you out of here.

“you’re right, m’sorry. hell, you’re sittin’ at the bar and i’m still using that dumb nickname.” she says, scratching her chin awkwardly.

“whatever. been dubbed worse.” you shrug and let your gaze fall back to your knuckles.

ellie clears her throat, nudging her boot against your foot. “how about i take ya home, huh?”

“i’m not that fucked up, and for all i know you could be just as drunk.” you immediately get smart with her, but even you hear the way your words slur just slightly in the wrong places.

she shakes her head but keeps her tone even. “i know my limit, and i don’t go past it. how did you get here?”

“i rode my bike. i’ll be fine, don’t even worry about me.”

but she is worried, and you can tell by the way she rests her arm on the back of your chair that she’s not leaving your side.

three minutes ago you could’ve sworn that all you wanted was to be alone, but it’s actually reassuring to run into her.

“it’s dark and completely unsafe. you’re comin’ with me in the truck, and that’s that.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t put up much of a fight. you’re tired enough as it is, and your house is over two miles away.

plus ellie smells so delicious, leathery and woodsy even through the smoke, and suddenly you don’t mind letting her assist.

“fine. but i get to pick the music.” you bargain, taking the final swig of your bottle out of spite before standing up.

she chuckles lowly, stretching out as she waits for you to grab your bag. “radio doesn’t work, but i got some CDs you can choose from.”

“you’re the youngest old person i’ve ever met.”

“i can live with that.”

you follow her out of the bar, focusing on not tripping over your own feet while the breeze rifles through your hair.

ellie approaches the curb where your bike is perched and picks it up easily, carting it over to her old 93’ ford so she can lift it into the back.

you find yourself noticing the way her crewneck rides up to expose her stomach, plaid boxers peeking out from her baggy jeans. they sit low on her waist, low enough that you can see the shadow of her v line.

it makes your mouth dry, and dirty thoughts run through your mind without warning.

she comes around to the passenger side to swing the door open for you. you don’t interject when she goes a step further and helps hoist you up into the seat.

instead, you opt to enjoy her sturdy grip on your elbow.

the worn cloth interior is comforting, and even the car has taken on her scent at this point.

you’re already digging through the glove box by the time she’d made it around the hood and hopped up beside you.

“ellie’s magic mix?” you read off the title of one of the discs, and she can see the humorous glint in your eye.

“hey, be nice. it’s the first one i ever burned.” she explains.

you slide it into the player as she puts the car in reverse, and a few seconds later a brassy voice begins to hum through the speakers.

it’s familiar, which surprises you.

“charley pride?” you ask as ellie peels onto the road, and she looks over at you in wonder.

“and just how’d you know that?”

you shrug, grinning at her all loopy. “i like old records. the happiness of having you is one of my favorites.”

“well color me impressed.” she jokes.

a silence settles as you both listen contently, passing by the rolling hills that are shrouded in darkness. the car rumbles along against the uneven pavement, the only other noise aside from the song.

ellie shamelessly peers over as you stare out your window, chin resting against your arm while you contemplate something she can’t understand.

she doesn’t want to disturb, but she’s been waiting for a decent time to ask. it’ll never feel good, though, so she settles for right now.

“who gave you that shiner?”

you audibly suck in a breath, because you were dreading this inevitable conversation. “is it really important? i’m fine, and it won't happen again.”

“of course it’s important. someone hurt you, and i…i wasn’t there. but i can help, if you let me.” she’s practically begging you to trust her, and it’s obvious in her voice.

but you refuse. you fight against yourself yet again, like you’ve been conditioned into it.

“why would you have been there? i was at home. or my hometown, whatever. either way, it’s not your job to protect me.”

ellie’s eyebrows furrow in exasperation. “why d’you have to be so damn stubborn? can’t you just let someone care?”

“oh, and that someone is you? c’mon, don’t pretend like you suddenly give a fuck about me. you just want the thrill of acting like a savior.” you snap coldly.

the insult pierces through her like a shard of glass. her jaw ticks, fingers tightening against the steering wheel.

she can feel the angry truth welling in her throat. normally she’d choke it all back down, force herself to keep everything routine between the two of you.

but the flood gates are open, and you’ve pushed her beyond her limit this time.

“is that what you think? that i’ve never lost sleep over you, or gotten worked up over you? i was about to put out an APB when i realized you’d skipped town, and you’ve got the nerve to suggest that you don’t matter to me? i mean, fuck, all i can do when you’re not around is wonder where you are.”

this revelation makes you sit upright again, dumbfounded by the things coming out of her mouth.

so much is racing through your head at once, yet you remain eerily quiet. when ellie gains the confidence to glance over, she realizes you’re studying her face like you’re enraptured.

“stop lookin’ at me like and say something.” she grunts and turns her attention back to driving.

but a telling blush creeps up her neck, which you’re rarely lucky enough to see.

she doesn’t usually break a sweat like this, and you feel like you owe her the same candor in return.

even if it’s hard.

“that call that i got when we were together was from the hospital. it was my mom.”

you pause, taking a moment before throwing yourself forward. “so i visited, tried to get her on track again, but she didn’t want my help. she never has. and then things got heated. you can put the rest together.”

ellie can connect the dots, even though she hates what it leads her to.

you’ve always been self sufficient, but you also kept it a mystery as to why you’d moved or why you were all on your own in the first place.

she never pushed, mainly because you wouldn’t let her, but she can appreciate why you have the boundaries that you do.

instead of saying anything, she places a warm hand on your leg. not high enough on your thigh to be suggestive, but not low enough on your knee to be overtly friendly.

it’s not what you expected, but it’s what you were lacking all along; something to ground you, a reminder that she’s still beside you.

“i’m not going back again, y’know? seriously. i’ll be alright.” you reassure her solemnly, like it’s a pact now that you’re voicing it.

ellie nods, thumb brushing against your jeans naturally.

“i know you will. it’s who you are. but i’m sorry that you’ve been goin’ through this alone.”

her subtle movements send tingles of electricity through you, and your body is a little too excited by it.

“it’s mostly my choice anyways. i don’t let people get that far because i want to be alone. or, uh, i used to.” you fumble over it gracelessly.

you’ve never been very good at conveying your feelings when they’re positive, and with ellie it’s even weirder.

it’s easy to read between the lines, but she also wants you to say it. “and now you don’t?”

“no. not anymore.”

her cheeks grow even more red as she turns down your street, rocking slightly as you hit the numerous little potholes.

she slides her palm higher up your leg, whether it’s conscious or not. “interesting.”

your stomach flips in response, and when her eyes run over you again, they’re visibly darker than before.

there is something on your mind plays softly in the background, which is ironic because she’s overwhelming every single one of your senses. it’s been a while since you’ve felt like this, completely engulfed in another person.

maybe you had been mistaking passion for hatred this whole time.

a moment later you come to a screeching halt, and ellie moves her hand to throw the truck into park. it’s quiet; everyone’s lights are off, a sleepy fog crawling through the town.

“well, uh…” she attempts to start a sentence, a goodbye maybe, but there’s nothing coming to mind.

you’re so restless that your body decides to speak for the both of you; you unbuckle your seat belt, inching closer instead of heading for the door.

you grip her right shoulder gently, stabilizing yourself as you throw your leg across her lap to straddle her. a groan slips through her teeth when you readjust yourself on her hips.

you hold her neck, tracing her jawline slowly while she stares up at you.

“you sure you know what you’re doin?” ellie asks, restricting herself to grasping your thighs for now.

you nod, leaning in just enough to leave her aching for more. “i think i can handle it, sarge.”

the sweetness of your shampoo is intoxicating, and all it would take is a tiny move forward for her lips to close in on yours.

maybe it’s the longing on your face, or the way your hair is framing your cheeks, but the boundary of professionalism has completely blurred by now.

how can it be wrong when it feels this right?

so instead of arguing or being sarcastic, she closes the distance and kisses you. it’s soft, almost surprised at first. then she gets a taste of your minty chapstick and it’s hard not to devour you.

you pull her in even closer, tongues and teeth clashing together, and in the heat of the moment she barely notices you biting at her bottom lip.

it only electrifies her more when she does feel it, so much so that goosebumps crawl across her skin.

her palms travel to grope your tits needily and you let out a sigh that gets lost somewhere in the midst of your make out.

ellie had nearly snapped earlier seeing your cleavage on display in the little tank you had on under your jacket. she didn’t think she’d get to do anything about those indecent ideas, though.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting for this.” she breathes against your mouth, effectively working her way to your neck right after.

a moan finally escapes, a sound so goddamn divine she almost forgets how to function.

but she keeps peppering sloppy kisses down past your collarbone, determined to elicit that noise from you again.

“so you’ve always been hot for me, then?” you goad, though it’s hard to banter when you’re being so pleasantly distracted.

“i’d still call it a recent development.” ellie pauses to joke back.

but even after saying that, she’s dying to worship more of you, so she diverts her attention again to slip the straps of your top down.

her knuckles stroke your skin as she goes, and she’s got your bra unhooked in one suave maneuver.

you raise your eyebrows at her as she helps you out of it. “cute trick.”

she just smirks as she tosses the garment to the passenger side. you’re still decently concealed by the worn zip-up resting on your shoulders, but your cami is pulled down to your stomach to reveal your chest.

the sight of you alone makes ellie throb, pupils the size of saucers by now.

“i can do a lot more than that, sweetheart.” she promises, cupping your now exposed breasts so that she can drag the pads of her thumbs across your nipples.

you shiver at the sensation, pushing your torso into her harder without even realizing.

“show me, cowboy.” you whisper, and she can’t help but reclaim your lips before you even finish.

she continues grazing over your sensitive buds, which makes you whimper a little louder into her kiss.

it’s completely illogical to be doing this out in the open, but the homes are spaced out enough and her brain is too immersed in you to care about consequences.

you grind into her a little in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building in your gut, though that’s not what you really want.

ellie knows it too, so she breaks away enough to speak. “something i can do for you?”

“just wondering what those fingers would feel like inside me.” you hum, and her hands drop to your waist without hesitation.

she wanted you to be in charge of how far this went, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want show you real pleasure.

and now she’s got the green light.

“filthy girl…can’t even make it into the house.”

there’s admiration in her tone as she frees the metal button to unzip your jeans, tugging them down your hips just enough to access you easier.

“it’s way more fun to live life on the edge.” you preach sarcastically, which she takes as more of a challenge than she should.

her hand dips into your pants and she skims across your clothed heat, enticingly slow to start.

your breath hitches in your throat and she feels your fist shift to grip her hair.

“then i sure hope you can be quiet for once.” ellie tests you right back, applying a bit more pressure as she traces the soft cotton.

you bite down on the inside of your cheek to try and hide your reaction, though every fiber of your body is ablaze.

it doesn’t help that she shifts down in the seat slightly, bringing herself more even with your breasts. she steadies your waist with her free hand as her mouth trails across the supple flesh, nipping at you every once in a while.

your panties are already damp, which rouses her so much that she decides not to boast. instead she pushes them to the side, letting her fingers run along your slick pussy.

the both of you groan, you into the open and her against your skin. she likes that you’re already clinging to her harder.

it makes her feel like you need her just as much.

ellie keeps the pace even but presses her tongue flat against your nipple, taking her time flicking back and forth. you squirm a bit, overwhelmed by the dual stimulation in the best way.

“a—aah…shit.” you whimper, rubbing yourself against her movements rhythmically.

she grins, lazily trailing her tongue across your skin, silently vowing that she won’t neglect an inch. “y’sound pretty when you’re not being a brat.”

“i’m not a—oh, holy fuck.”

without warning, ellie curls her middle finger and lets it slip inside of you, effectively cutting off your defense.

she slides it in and out a few times, giving you half a second to adjust before she adds another. you let out another lament, stunned even though it’s exactly what you want.

you clench around her and she swears under her breath. “so wet, so warm. you little minx.”

the praises go straight to your head, and you’re thirsting for her at this point.

she’s taking it slow, licking and sucking at your chest and neck while you move with the stroke of her arm. heat is building in your stomach, and you’re aching to spur the fire.

“faster ellie, please.” you beg, too far gone to worry about trivial things like dignity.

hearing you say her name while you plead is exhilarating, and all she wants to do is gratify your desires.

so she does just that, speeding up her fingers but ensuring that she buries them fully each time to hit all the right spots. and boy does she.

you tilt your head back slightly, giving her a better angle as you moan a little louder. it’s a sight to behold; your eyes screwed shut, tits bouncing in her face while she goes to work.

“please? didn’t realize i could’a just fucked some manners into you all this time.” ellie teases against your skin, and you give her a faint tug at her roots.

“shut up, i’m totally polite.” you bite back.

the way you’re sinking your hips down to fill yourself with her says otherwise, but it’s also ridiculously hot, so she doesn’t argue.

instead, she hums in agreement. “mhmm, such a lady, takin’ it so well.”

her compliments are leaving you absolutely spellbound, as much as you hate to admit it.

they’re dirty, and yet they sound so heavenly when she says them regardless.

your muscles are beginning to tighten from the pleasure, and ellie can feel it. but she knows she can get you there faster, make it even more intense.

so she continues pounding into you relentlessly, adding her thumb to the mix so that it brushes your clit.

your thighs twitch around her, and an involuntary cry leaves your throat.

“fuck, jesus christ!”

she smiles, completely ignoring the way her boxers are rumpled and sticky at this point. she’s not worried about herself; all she wants is for you to keep making those sweet little noises.

“feels good, huh, angel?” she asks, curving her fingers perfectly inside your cunt.

you nod, muttering something that’s not even coherent. your whole body is ablaze now; no part of your skin feels untouched by her goddamn magic.

ellie can’t believe she’s got you melting in her arms, exposed for anyone to walk up and see, but she loves it.

“right…there.” you gasp, clutching her hair and shoulder for dear life at this point.

she circles your swollen bundle of nerves harder while continuing to hit that sweet spot, and your legs feel like jelly.

you’re tensing around her hand with every stroke, all while she draws your skin between her teeth to leave hickies across the swell of your breasts.

huffs and groans fill the air, and it’s hard to tell where you begin and she ends. ellie doesn’t think she’s ever been this entranced by anyone, at least not in a very long time.

you’re goddamn beautiful, completely wild in this moment, and she adores it.

“i’m—mmm, gonna cum.” you whine, trying and failing to keep the desperate from your tone.

she doesn’t want it to end, but she hangs on to the hope that this is just the beginning and puts the rest of her energy into your satisfaction.

“give me everythin’, baby. let the whole fuckin town hear how dirty we are.”

she’s adjusts her grip to help rock you into her fingers, somehow filling you even more perfectly in the process.

your toes curl in your shoes right before your high crashes around you, mouth agape as you chant her name. your eyes squeeze shut while you finish, shaking lightly from the sheer force of it.

ellie keeps you steady while she gradually slows her tempo, simultaneously shimmying back up in the seat a bit so that she can watch you ride it out until the end.

the feeling of you cumming around her is something she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to forget, and the expression on your face is a close second.

finally, she stills completely, waiting until you’re able to look at her before she retracts her fingers.

they glisten in the nearby streetlights, slick from your orgasm, and your gaze glitters back as you watch her take them into her mouth.

you can see her tongue working, and she groans when she pulls them out fully clean a beat later, chest still heaving from all the activity.

“god, y’taste like heaven too.”

you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, peeking through them as you shake your head slightly. “stop saying shit like that.”

ellie chuckles and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear for you. “why, cuz it turns you on?”

“no, because you sound like a dork.” you lie, though the mess in your pants says otherwise.

ellie smacks your ass lightly in response. your arms fly down to wrap around her neck again as you let out a squeak of surprise.

“always gotta be a rebel, don’t ya?” she says, smoothing her palm over the place where it had previously landed.

there’s a smile plastered across her face though, probably similar to the fucked out one you’re wearing yourself.

you tangle your fingers in her hair, forcing her attention back to you. “well, someone has to make you do your job.”

“please, i know you’re soft for me under all that armor.”

you narrow your eyes playfully before pressing your forehead against hers. “i’ll deny it in public.”

ellie chuckles, and you feel her breath fan across your face. “we can work on that. how ‘bout we go inside and getcha cleaned up for now?”

“is this an excuse to see me fully naked?” you question as she slips the straps of your tank back over your shoulders gently.

“oh, are we still pretending that you don’t want me just as much?”

you place a chaste kiss to her lips. “yeah, yeah. touché.”

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x male reader who likes to cuddle

Alright. *cracks knuckles*, Lets do this. Some nice fluff. Also, it took me far too long to find a nice GIF. Also, should I do like head cannons? Is that what they are called? And also, this is a bit shorter than normal.

Summary: (Y/N) loves cuddles.

Warnings: nothing, pure and utter fluff.

Bruce wouldn't consider himself to be an affectionate dad. Does he hug them and provide them with advice and words of encouragement? Yes. He isn't a cruel father. His children are his priority, despite the way he might look cold in general. But he truly loves all of his children. None of his children were particularly affectionate, besides Dick.

That was until (Y/N) came into the picture. He was the youngest, a year younger than Damian. Bruce saved him from the streets and he wasn't always so cuddly. He was more cold and standoffish, the streets leaving a mark. Not trusting, not anything. Simply living there.

But as time went on, Bruce has noticed that (Y/N) became showing more physical affection. It became with leaning on his siblings if tired and with Bruce it would be reaching for his hand when in public, since he would get overwhelmed by the attention of the paparazzi. Bruce never minded, understanding how (Y/N) is still a child, not used to this. He would be scared of it, which is normal for a child. And Bruce had no issues protecting him.

Soon enough, when (Y/N) had nightmares from living on the streets, he would go to Bruce. And Bruce always lifted the blanket for him, tucking him in with it, making sure he was warm physically and emotionally. Bruce wanted (Y/N) to know that he had someone in his corner, he had a protector.

Soon enough, (Y/N) became the cuddle bug of the family. Bruce never minded it. How could he? He enjoyed it, but he would never really say it outright. He has a certain reputation to uphold. But (Y/N) cracks that reputation and Bruce allows it.

Dick enjoyed (Y/N)'s cuddling. More often than not, the two could be found together, lounging on the couch, Dick's arm around his shoulders, watching TV or just napping. Depending on the day. Sometimes, (Y/N) wouldn't be in the living room since he needed to study, since he started school officially. And if Bruce wasn't available for comfort during nightmares, Dick was.

Jason... Jason was around the middle when it came to physical affection. He didn't mind it occasionally, but he had his limits. (Y/N) tried to respect those boundaries, but sometimes he just couldn't, seeking comfort in his big brother after something. And considering that Jason grew up on the streets, who better to understand his problems than Jason?

And Jason helped his brother, even with physical affection and cuddles during the night when (Y/N) couldn't fall asleep. Whenever he had a night off of patrol and (Y/N) couldn't sleep, they would be lying down in Jason's room, either talking or just lying down together, Jason holding his brother in his arms.

And while he hated to admit it, he was starting to like it. To share and trade experiences from living on the streets... And cuddling wasn't so bad. It was nice. But would he ever admit it out loud? Nope. He would like to remain his reputation, just like Bruce. But is he ever found in public with (Y/N), arm around his shoulder? Yes.

Tim... He never minded any affection to be frank. If he was on his laptop working, (Y/N) would have his head in Tim's lap, just enjoying his time with his workaholic brother. And Tim liked the weight on his lap. It was comforting. Tim is often heard saying that (Y/N) is a great addition to the family.

Damian... He's not a fan of affection. Never have been. Being raised by the League of Assassins, under his grandfather and mother. Affection was never on the table for him and never will be. But... Being an older brother... It awoke something in Damian. He didn't know what, but he was feeling protective.

Of course, he would rather die than show it outwardly. He was cold and he would have liked to keep it that way. But then (Y/N) came into their lives. At first, Damian was kind of steering clear of him, trying to assess him. Damian is a distrustful individual and he doesn't let just anyone in.

But (Y/N) was a persistent bastard, as Damian would often say. It took some time, but soon Damian didn't mind the cuddling. If they were watching a movie and (Y/N) wanted a cuddle? He would allow it. Would he be grumbling about it? Yes. Did he mean any of that grumbling? No. He may say yes, but everyone can see that he adored his little brother. But Damian would deny it. Until the day he died.

It was a night where everyone took a night off and Bruce wanted to spend time with his sons. So he called in a family night. A movie night in specific. Alfred was invited too. There were blankets, pillows and a lot of space in the home movie theater so they could all lie down comfortably. There were snacks and everyone was just happy to take a night off.

(Y/N) came in last, assessing where to lie down. Where is the best position for snuggles and cuddles. Bruce is a most certain option since (Y/N) started calling him dad and it warmed Bruce's heart. (Y/N) moved next to Bruce and Jason, moving to be in between them. The two chuckled and Bruce pulled a blanket over (Y/N), making sure to keep him warm.

Jason put an arm over his shoulders, allowing him to lean onto him.

" So, what are we watching? " (Y/N) asked, curious about what they choose while he was gone.

" We've managed to agree on Netflix. Not a movie yet so you made it in time for the vote, " Jason explained as he watched Dick and Tim arguing over the genre of the movies. (Y/N) smiled as he leaned on Jason, who adjusted his hold on his brother.

" What's the smile for? " Bruce asked in a quiet murmur.

" I'm just happy to have a family. To be loved. Despite the chaos that surrounds this family. "

Bruce smiled at that and brought (Y/N) closer to him. Jason didn't mind it, he allowed it. Damian watched everyone with a critical eye, trying not to smile. He has heard (Y/N)'s words and he was happy to hear them. He handed (Y/N) some popcorn and (Y/N) took them happily.

Alfred finally sat down on the couch after preparing the rest of the snacks. " Still undecided? "

(Y/N) sighed quietly, a smile still on his face. This family may be chaotic, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

[jaydenism]

been thinking about this bug a lot recently...

i want a big kanade arc pls pls pls 🙏 its her turn to go through the horrors ♡

long kanade ramble ahead!!

i think that savior complex of hers is gonna send her crashing down. hard.

we haven't gotten any huge kanade focus events yet, or anything that really progresses her story or builds her character in a significant way, but im really looking forward to see what they have in store for her character arc. im hoping kana5 will stir the pot a bit and get the plot moving.

i feel like overall shes been really mysterious and strangely without much going on, and at first i thought she was a little boring even... but i think that's by design. she doesn't open up about herself much, and generally appears to be pretty put together, maybe aside from her poor self-care. she doesn't talk about many of her own problems, because she doesn't want to have the others worry for her, when her problems are "insignificant" compared to the others, as she says. i think the lack of progression in her story also fools the audience into believing she has her shit together. ena has had her fair share of struggles. mafuyu had her big arc, but shes also been trying to find herself since the beginning. mizuki just went through hell and finally fell apart after the long-lasting growing tension in her story. but kanade? she's been stagnant. unchanging. it makes it easy for her to be overlooked. but that's exactly what she wants-- to not weigh the others down, and to be their support. but she can't keep that up forever. so yes, i admit i wasn't super interested in her character before, but I've now realized that's because they've hardly even started her story yet. as one of my oomfs said, she was always going to be the last wall to fall.

when reading the story at first, kanade has a lot of warning signs you might glance over. ive only recently started to see them more, like just in passing comments here and there that are REALLY concerning and unhealthy. i mean the most obvious sign is that she barely gives herself time to eat or sleep of course, but the more you pay attention to the subtle things, the more apparent it becomes that she's got some serious shit she needs to unpack, or she may just end up crumpling under the weight of it all. i think her undoing has the potential to be huge. catastrophic even. i really wonder what the writers are planning for her, but all this waiting leads me to believe they could have something big planned. like okay, looking back to the card i drew from, the bloomfes kanade card, shes got some wild shit going on... there is nothing normal about that !!!

i also posted abt this on bluesky, but reiterating it here, i felt like her newest card for her mixed focus event kinda seemed like foreshadowing... specifically because of the niigo colored star charms. mizuki and ena's charms are together, facing each other (yippeeeee), but mafuyu's charm faces kanade's, who's charm is not facing hers. mizuenas charms also seem to glow in the light, while kanamafus dont reflect as much light. could just be coincidence, but i know they love hinting and foreshadowing with card details like this. and overall, kanade's expression is unreadable, like a still, empty doll. the card has a bit of a melancholic feel, to me at least. im not sure how soon the next niigo event will be, but it's gotta be a kanade focus, unless they pull a saki. i dont think its the biggest leap to suggest this could be some foreshadowing for the next event.

but anyway, i think kana5 will start building up the tension at least, maybe entering a kanade arc even. i need to see her snap pls pls pls pls pls

if you read all that,,, wow thanks, u get a star ☆ :)) also lemme know ur thoughts and if im off base about anything

[wingsofmud]

The Star-Crossers

Doomed lovers my beloved. I want to make their relationship a lot more messy in my rewrite. So I want to make the shitty and good qualities between them a lot more even. I have so much to say about them so, without further ado:

Info + Heights Below:

Prince Arctic

Queen Diamond's only son and the betrothed of Duchess Snowflake, his life has been determined since before he was laid. Of course, the animus abilities were a bit of a surprise, but the possibility had already been accounted for. Such is the life of a drake in the Everfrost Palace. Arctic was prepared to live an uninteresting life as a fixture in Snowflake's household... until he met Foeslayer.

Big, bold, and a bit vulgar, she caught his eye immediately. Like most Icewings, Arctic had never seen a Nightwing before. She was incredible. Like something out of a fairytale. A knight with shining scales. She had so many stories of her home, of places and creatures he'd never seen and never would see. Arctic fell fast and fell hard in the month she was there.

So hard in fact, that on the eve of his 20th hatchday, his wedding, and the night Foeslayer was to return home, he fled to her quarters and professed his love and intention to run away with her. Things escalated very quickly from there. There were dragons chasing them. Someone grabbed him. There was a scuffle but...well... Icewings, upper circle Icewings at least, don't feel the cold. But there was suddenly blue on his scales and he felt its chill. He'd never seen a body before.

They married that same year. Arctic did not expect to be so...alone. A prince has more allies than friends, but at least he was surrounded by dragons like him. He didn't understand the way Nightwings spoke, their differing formalities, their jokes, their gods, their stories, their food, their...anything really. Not to mention their spirit-forsaken sleeping schedule. Sleep deprivation has become a constant in his life, especially after the dragonets were born.

On top of that, Foeslayer was around less and less often as things escalated between the Nightwings and Icewings into full-scale war. Arctic was often left to care for the dragonets on his own while also having to navigate the Nightwing Court by himself, which was a different beast entirely than the Icewing Court. While Prudence is often there, she doesn't exactly have his best interests in mind. He has little authority in the decisions made surrounding his children.

He doesn't quite regret leaving his mother's Queendom, especially after she attempts to assassinate him, but he does wish he'd done things differently.

.

Foeslayer

So Foeslayer fell for the elegant little Icewing prince like some sap in a dragonet's romance scroll. Sue her. But, truth be told, Foeslayer had no real intention of marrying Prince Arctic when she first met him. It simply couldn't work. They could have a bit of fun, but she would have to return to her Queendom and he'd be married within Oracle's blink.

Safe to say that having the prince barge into her room the night before his wedding day wanting to elope with her then having to suddenly flee under threat of death for kidnapping a royal thus ruining months of careful negotiations was not exactly on her year's bingo card. It is unclear whether or not Foeslayer would've married Arctic were their situations different. As it were, she could not simply leave him to fend for himself in a foreign land. She loves him, truly, but it would be a lie to say the marriage wasn't at least partially out of obligation.

Yes, perhaps Arctic does have a point that she tends to ignore issues, especially those in the household, but she does not want to return from a bloody, death-ridden battlefield to problems at home as well. She doesn't exactly get to spend much time with her dragonets. And for Imperial's sake, he could stand to lighten up a little. He's not in the court 24/7, he doesn't need to act like it.

While Arctic generally isn't shy making it known when he has an issue with something, Foeslayer tends to keep it all in. She treats personal problems like they'll go away if you ignore them, but of course this only lets them build and fester. Spending days, weeks, or even months at a time on the battlefield does not help. She has... so many feelings about this whole situation, about Arctic, about this war, about her family, but she's unwilling to examine any of them. She's afraid of what she might find if she does.

That isn't to say their relationship is all bad, much of it isn't, but they do seem to be fighting more and more as the children grow.

.

Height Comparison:

Foeslayer is very big for a Nightwing. Upper Circle Icewings tend to be taller while Nightwings tend to be larger.

Male and female Nightwings are about the same size while male Icewings tend to be smaller than females.

Foeslayer and Arctic are about 2 years apart in age. Foeslayer is older.

[batsplat]

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

[nightwolf14292]

I got a Scogan fic idea for anyone who wants to write it (I might try and write it myself when I'm done with GoreTober but I'm not very good at writing lmao)

Fanfic where Logan, who isn't gentle about anything, has to learn to be gentle with Scott.

In which Logan tries to approach Scott in the same way he approaches everything else, rough and uncaring, but realizes that he can't exactly do that. Like when it comes to sparring, and bickering/arguing, and just generally living life together in the X-Mansion, he still just as rough with Scott as he's always been with anyone else.

BUT that turns out to be a problem because of Scott's glasses.

Because if he accidentally knocks off or breaks the Ruby Quartz lenses not only is he going to get a face full of energy blast, it could just cause a big ruckus.

Except since he doesn't think much of it he just goes on being all harsh, and because of it he ends up breaking all three pairs of Scott's special glasses (His X-Men visior, his every day glasses, and the goggles he sleeps in)

So then while Professor X is working on getting him new glasses, Scott has to go back to wearing his old glasses. As in, the original pair he got from Mister Sinister when he was being tormented and experimented on in the orphanage.

And it brings back a bunch of memories and Logan has to see the result of his actions and finally understand why he needs to be more gentle with Scott, after being hard on the team leader for so long. Emotions ensue.

Idk, figured it could make a cute hurt/comfort fic :3

[samkerrworshipper]

exhausted | barca femeni/alexia putellas x reader

reader has insomnia… but doesn’t tell her teammates alexia begins to figure it out though

was gonna make yall wait till tomorrow butttt i rlly can’t fucked lol

Sleep is something that has never come easy to you.

No matter how hard you try, no matter how much melatonin or herbal teas or meditation you tried, none of it worked.

You, quite simply, could not sleep.

It was fine when you were just a student, when you could dip out of your morning classes or sneak in a nap here and there between classes, when you didn’t have to make it through full days of work.

It was fine when you were playing for London City, when nobody cared about what you were doing, only if you could stop other players from getting past.

It had all changed though when the Barca offer had come in though.

It was known to every single footballer in the women's league that Barca had major injury problems, specifically in their backline, injuries that wouldn’t be resolved until long after the season was over.

You’d never thought though that some absences in Barcelona’s star squad would crate an opportunity for you, but for whatever reason, the Barca selectors had seen something in you, and even though it was mid season, had been desperate to sign you, it was a big move to go from England to Spain, but one you were more than happy to make for the sake of your career.

You’d never thought that the move from home would be so much more detrimental to your sleep schedule, but slowly you’d found yourself becoming more exhausted as you struggled to keep up with your new life.

There were a lot of things that were different about Spain, or more specifically the Barcelona Women’s team. When you were playing in London, training every couple of days and playing once a week, you could afford to miss some hours of sleep during the night, especially considering that nobody in London was concerned about making school a priority over there. You could take some naps during the day, laze around as much as you wanted and go to school whenever you could be bothered.

Barca was different, and not in a good way.

It was good for your football, internationally and just in general. Before Barca, you’d been more of a bench player then a starter for the England under 17s, but your game had lifted and you’d been a consistent starter in every tournament and friendly since.

You were exhausted, more than you’d ever been in your entire life, and you were sure it was starting to show.

It was hard enough being 16, in a foreign country, getting hardly any hours of sleep, training at least three hours a day as well as gym sessions and playing twice a week. Trying to be a full time student as well, it was completely unrealistic and it was starting to show.

“Nena, do you want to slow down on the energy drinks? Someone so itty bitty and young like you shouldn’t be consuming any caffeine, let alone two red bulls before noon, we’re lucky you aren’t pinging off the walls yet.”

Mapi’s hands are on your cheeks, pinching and squeezing them as if you are a baby. Instead of paying her any kind of attention you keep your eyes fixed on your laptop screen and lips pressed to the can of red bull that you’ve been tirelessly sipping at for the past couple of minutes.

Integrating into the team had been hard, but you’d actually become far closer with the crew of injured girls, mapi specifically, as well as her girlfriend Ingrid. Frido had also been one of the first people to welcome you, accompanied by two familiar English faces, Keira and Lucy.

Mapi particularly, had taken you under her wing, or had sort of adopted you in an older sister type fashion. It was sort of annoying, the older Spaniard was constantly talking, to the point where you’d learn to pretty much drown out everything that left her lips.

“If you keep touching my face then it won’t just be your knee that’ll be injured, your hands will be broken as well.”

Mapi frowns at you, her pinching fingers moving to brush loose hair from your face and rub at your temples, trying to rub away the frown lines deeply ingrained on your forehead.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning did we, nena? You know you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, it’s not good for your little baby face.”

You shake your head in an attempt to get Mapi’s hands off of your face, it partially works, but not fully.

“María I am serious, you’ve got three seconds before I tear this can in half and use it to cut off your fingers, don’t you have rehab to do or something more entertaining than bothering me?”

Mapi’s hands fly up in surrender, something you are infinitely grateful for.

“Fine, you want to be grumpy then you can be grumpy by yourself, don’t come looking for me later when you’re bored of school and looking for some fun.”

You don’t bat an eyelid as Mapi retreats from your table.

You take another sip of your drink, praying that it’ll somehow make it easier for you to read the words on your laptop screen, even though it does absolutely nothing.

You’ve read the same page, over and over again and yet it’s done absolutely nothing to make you understand what it is you are supposed to be learning. It’s a mess of consonants and verbs, jumbled up words that just can’t seem to resonate in your brain.

Whilst Mapi has left, unbeknownst to you, you aren’t completely alone in the recovery room.

Alexia has been sitting on one of the massage tables, doing her exercises for the last hour, watching as you’ve gradually been getting far more frustrated with your work.

Alexia’s relationship with you so far has been… rocky.

The captain had made it clear from day one that whilst the club needed you, that your studies were going to be a priority alongside football. If you had known that you’d be going from doing as much school as you liked, to hours of online school everyday, you probably would have reconsidered your move to Spain, but you were here now and struggling more than you cared to admit.

Alexia knew something was up, beyond your clear hatred for school, she just wasn’t sure what yet but she was determined to find out why.

“Everything alright pequena?”

You practically jump at the sound of Alexia’s voice, hand clutching at your heart as you suddenly become aware of a presence in the room that you were unaware existed.

“Perfectly fine.”

You do well to recover from the shock, your eyes darting straight back to your screen almost as quickly as they had left it.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes.”

Alexia notices that your hands are shaking slightly, most likely due to the insane amounts of taurine that your body is processing.

“There’s a lot of writing on one page.”

You take another sip, finishing off the can and sliding it across the table.

“Mapi’s right, it’s not good for pequena’s like you to be drinking stuff like that, it’s bad for your brain cells, and don’t get me started on what it does to your body.”

Alexia moves to take a seat beside you at the table, her concern for you growing even more when she took a look at your face and realised how exhausted you looked.

“I don’t need the lecture, I’m poisoning my body, I’m aware of it, now can I please have slime peace so I can finish this off before training starts?”

Alexia isn’t anywhere near satisfied with your answer, she wants you to argue with her, not admit your wrongdoing like it’s nothing.

“Yes, you are, you aren’t an adult, you don’t need energy drinks, you will do perfectly fine without them.”

Your eyes leave the screen to look at Alexia for a second, a little exhale huffing out between your lips.

“Okay, whatever.”

Alexia can’t get past just how tired you look, so tired that you’re seemingly agreeing with her just to avoid conflict.

“Pequena, how about you take a break for a couple of minutes, go get some fresh air, I’m sure you can finish this up later.”

Alexia’s never let you finish school early, you don’t understand why she’s deciding to today.

“I need to get it done.”

Your body is so tense, Alexia’s scared that you’re going to pull a muscle just from how tight your body looks.

“I’m sure it can wait till later, you’ve been sitting here for two hours now, you need a break.”

Your hands are still shaking, and you’re as hunched over as possible without being asleep on top of your laptop.

“Alexia, I’m fine, I’ve just got to finish this and then I’ll be done.”

Alexia’s hand reaches up to meet your shaking one, somehow hoping that it’ll stop the frantic tremors.

“You’re taking a break, just go and spend some time in the team room, or go for a walk, just take fifteen minutes and I’ll next you when you need to be back. Go, now, I’m not asking.”

You slam your laptop closed with more aggression then Alexia’s seen from you all morning, your body dragging itself out of the room without any regards for your captain whatsoever.

Alexia begins to get worried when twenty minutes later, after multiple text messages, you are yet to return.

She knows you’re stressed, that school isn’t what you want to be focusing all of your energy on. But Alexia knows from personal experience how easy it is for somebody of your age with your kind of talent to disregard things like education, something that she believes is so crucial to any adult's life. You need options, Alexia is trying to give you them, even if you seem to hate them with every single fibre in your body.

Alexia decides to go looking for you once twenty five minutes have passed and you are nowhere in sight and have ignored every single one of her messages.

It doesn’t take her long to find you, although she does almost miss you.

Alexia peeks her head into the locker room, simply to ask if anyone has seen you, the room is silent and empty though.

She almost leaves, but just as she’s about to close the door, she spots your body, tucked up inside of your locker, your head tucked into your knees.

You look frightfully unrestful, you don’t look like most people look when they’re sleeping, most people look peaceful, you look bothered, like your body is fighting against the sleep that you so clearly need.

Alexia walks over to you, now more than ever she’s certain you’re sick, that you’ve caught some kind of cold that’s causing this exhaustion and the short tempered mood you’ve been in.

She brings the back of her palm up to your forehead, an action that has your eyes snapping opening immediately.

Alexia’s sort of surprised when she realises you’ve got no fever whatsoever, although she’s well aware that not all sicknesses result in fever, something about it is putting her off.

“Hola pequenita.”

It takes you a few seconds to realise where you are and what’s happening, but as soon as you do you are shaking Alexia’s hand from your face and pushing yourself out of your cube.

“Sorry, time completely slipped past me, I’ll head back now.”

Alexia’s hand grabs your forehand before you have the opportunity to slip past her, tugging you backwards until you’re standing directly in front of your captain, forced to look at her.

“Are you sick?”

Alexia isn’t sure what’s wrong, but it’s clear something is up and sickness is the clearest option. She knows that you are no stranger to energy drinks, she spends most of her time heckling at you to try and put down whatever drink you’ve got in your hands. She’s never seen you down two in such a short amount of time though and sickness would be a good explanation.

“No, I’m fine.”

Alexia can’t find any deceit in your words or mannerisms, it appears that you are being completely honest with her, something that makes Alexia even more confused. None of the tell-tale signs are there, you are telling the truth.

“I know you aren’t a stranger to a midday nap, but it’s unlike you to be so tired.”

Alexia’s arm moves from your forearm up to your face, gently tracing the deep purple bags that are sitting below your eyes. Her thumb is soft, it feels like she’s mending all of the fatigue that lies there, but as soon as her thumb moves it all comes back.

“I’m fine Capí, just stayed up a little bit later last night.”

Alexia can tell that’s a lie, a cover up from whatever it is that you’re hiding from her.

“Well see to it that you get into bed earlier tonight. The team is out on the pitch, I told Jona that you’d join them once finished up with your work that you’d head out but I think you need some fresh air. Better get moving.”

Alexia’s voice is ridged and your body reacts to it, reaching into your locker with more speed then she’s seen you work with all day, you grab your cleats and before Alexia has the chance to speak anymore you are marching out of the rooms and out towards the pitch.

It’s perplexing to Alexia, she hates being lied to, especially when it’s clear something is wrong. She waits in the locker room for a few minutes, trying to piece together the mystery yet she comes up with nothing.

Eventually she makes the decision to go out and watch the training, pitchside, maybe you’ll have perked up now that you’re out doing something you enjoy.

The first thing Alexia notices is how frantically you are playing, it’s unlike you to be sloppy and yet as she watches you it’s all she can observe.

You are sloppy, messy and uncalculated, something that you are normally the opposite of.

You are a technical player, something that has helped you settle into the Barcelona squad with ease, you adjusted to the Spanish way of playing without much fuss.

What Alexia is watching though, you look like a completely different player. You’re practically passing the ball directly to Salma, goal after goal being put through your legs and around your body. It’s embarrassing, and she’s certain other people are picking up on your abnormal behaviour, multiple people, specifically Ingrid coming to check on you and make sure everything is fine.

You shake all of them off, even though it’s clear that something is up and whatever that something is, it’s big and it’s affecting your game and mood majorly.

Alexia’s not surprised when Jona drags you from the field, already yelling at you and sending orders your way, what she is surprised by is the way that you don’t even flinch as he throws never ending criticism your way.

You just stare at him, neither nodding or trying to reply to him, Alexia’s not even sure if you’re hearing him, if you’re present enough to be listening to the words that are leaving his mouth. For a second she considers the possibility that you’re violently hungover or acting under the influence of some kind of substance, it would explain the drowsiness and weird behaviour.

The idea makes Alexia instantly filled with anger, you are 16 and she will take you to the grave if you’ve been touching any kinds of substances. She’s mad enough as it is over the energy drinks, and she’s going to express that when the two of you are in private later on, but the chance that you’ve consumed something illegal for someone of your age, it sends shivers down her spine.

Jona has you back out on the field before you can even begin to respond to his critiques, back into defence where you are brutally humbled time and time again by the likes of Aitana, Salma and Caro.

Alexia cringes every single time, she knows that you are struggling, what she’s completely unprepared for is for you to fully collapse on the field.

Caro volleys another ball over your head and for a second Alexia doesn’t even notice you crumpled up on the ground of the pitch, she’s too busy watching the sight of Caro’s ball perfectly managing to slot in behind Cata. It’s a truly beautiful goal, and truly there isn’t much you could have done about it.

She only notices you when Cata doesn’t turn around to grab the ball, instead, she rushes forwards, leaving the ball long forgotten beside the bottom right post. She’s rushing forwards, down to her knees, directly beside your crumpled up body.

Alexia jumps up from her spot immediately, running faster than she should considering the current state of her knee, it doesn’t matter to her though, seeing your tiny little body all clumped up against the grass terrifies her.

Cata’s smart, and apparently fast acting because before Alexia is sitting down next to you, Cata’s already got her shirt off, drenched it with her drink bottle and has it folded up over your forehead. The cold water seems to bring you back a little bit, your head jerking upwards in reaction to the sudden change of temperature across your skin.

Just as Alexia’s crouching down next to you, the medics are pushing everyone out of the way, kneeling down next to you and doing the same as Cata had done, placing wet towels across your skin. They’re treating it like you’ve got heat stroke and whilst Alexia is aware it’s a warmer day, she knows that whatever is wrong with you, it most definitely isn’t heat stroke.

One of the medics squirts some water onto your face, something that Alexia doesn’t like the look of, but it seems to bring you back awake, your eyes bursting open and blinking furiously as you take in your surroundings.

Alexia can see you panicking immediately, your eyes flashing to the multiple faces that are crowding your vision.

“Everyone take a step back, give her some space.”

The medics and your teammates take a step back, leaving Alexia to skoot herself closer to you. Her hand comes to rest on your face, gently brushing the water residue off.

“Hola nena, stay calm for me, you had a little fall, we’re going to get you inside now, do you think you can get up for me?”

You nod at Alexia, you can’t remember what happened but you don’t want to be on the floor any longer than you have to be.

Alexia helps you up and off the pitch, the medics leading the two of you inside.

Alexia immediately gets you situated on a table, the medics immediately getting their hands all over you.

“Test her heart for me please, and her caffeine and sugar levels. I’ll be right back nena, I’m just going to grab something from my locker, text me if you need anything.”

Alexia is inexplicably angry and she knows that if she spends any more time in a room with you she’s going to yell, or say something that she’s going to regret. If it wasn’t for all the doctors, she probably wouldn’t care but she doesn’t need to air out private situations in front of people who have no business in your private life.

So she stomps her way to the locker room, set on trying to detangle the mess of emotions that has developed deep in her gut ever since this morning.

It’s been longer than this morning, Alexia’s noticed oddities in your behaviour, ever since you’d arrived. The energy drinks, the constant eye bags, power naps whenever you could fit them in. You live by yourself, something that Alexia deeply disapproves of and after today she doesn’t think it should continue on like this. You’d requested your own apartment for two reasons, privacy and because you didn’t want to disturb the private life of your teammates.

Alexia wanted to punch a wall, or throw something. That was all that was running across her mind as she paced back and forth in the locker rooms.

All Alexia could think about was your body, crumpled up on the pitch and she had no idea why and no idea how to help you.

You were sitting in the medical room, by yourself, beside the many doctors and physios who were poking and attaching you to different things.

You were exhausted, you were finding it hard to keep your eyes open. You’d felt the same way all day, hitting the pitch had been too much, too hard, too much energy for your exhausted body.

You wished that you’d feel the same every night when you tried to go to sleep every night, but alas, it felt like as soon as you got into bed, or as soon as you tried to close your eyes sleep just avoided you.

Alexia was probably two laps of the locker room away from throwing her phone at a wall when Mapi walked in, weirded out by the sight of her best friend grinding her feet into the floor as she walked back and forth in the locker rooms.

“Ale?”

Alexia’s pacing doesn’t stop, but she does take a second to look up at María and for some reason the concernedly smiley face of her best friend seems to help the anger bubbling up inside her simmer down slightly.

“Alexia, what’s wrong?”

Alexia’s hands are fidgeting wildly in front of her, her fingers clicking and toying with each other.

“Somethings wrong with Nena, she’s exhausted and frantic and she looks like she hasn’t slept and she’s downing all those energy drinks and maybe they’re getting to her heart? Maybe that’s why she collapsed or maybe she’s sick but somethings wrong and I don’t know what and she collapsed right in front of my eyes.”

Normally, out of the two, Mapi is the one who confides in Alexia the most. Alexia isn’t an openly emotional person and when she is it’s with Olga, because for some reason that woman can get everything and anything out of her. Here though, it’s clear Alexia needs someone to de stress with and Mapi is happy to take up that role.

“It’s just her Alexia, she’s always tired and drinking energy drinks, it’s how the kids these days do it.”

Mapi’s words are supposed to soothe Alexia, honestly they do the complete opposite.

“But she shouldn’t, she’s an athlete, she shouldn’t need them. Mapi, I am telling you, something is seriously wrong, I can feel it. I know she’s always tired, but she looks like she hasn’s slept in weeks and I don’t know why.”

Mapi, for the sake of trying to calm Alexia down, decides that instead of trying to invalidate her worries, it’s best to just try and reason with Ale.

“Ale, how about we go see her, if somethings wrong I’m sure she’d tell us.”

Alexia nods at Mapi, taking the extended arm that her friend gives her and allowing the Zaragozan to lead her back to the physio room she’d previously been in.

When she returns, she’s relieved to see that you look a lot better than how you had on the pitch. There are still grass stains across your face, but you’re less pale than you were before and you’re sipping on a gatorade which somehow makes Alexia feel less guilty about the whole situation.

“Hola pequena.”

Your eyes manage to meet Alexia’s, something that kind of shocks her, considering just how weighed down your eyes seem to be by the deep purple bags underneath your eyes.

“Bon dia.”

Alexia would not call this a good morning, she couldn’t even call it an okay one.

“What’s wrong?”

Alexia’s focus is on the physios, not you, she’s saving you for later.

“Luckily, not a lot. I checked her heart and I couldn’t find any abnormalities, it’s clear that she’s tired, she’s told me she woke up a little bit earlier than normal this morning which paired with the warmer weather and some minor dehydration is probably the main cause. She’ll take today off, rest up, but I can’t find anything that would indicate any serious underlying problems so there isn’t any reason why I would say she couldn’t be back on the pitch tomorrow.”

It’s a positive sign, but not what Alexia wants to hear, she wants something to be wrong, so that she can get to the bottom of whatever is happening to you.

“Good, thank you, do you think you could give us the room for a couple of minutes, por favor?”

The physio smiles at Alexia, giving her a nod before leaving the room discreetly.

As soon as Alexia is certain he is no longer within hearing distance, she pivots on her heel, so she’s facing you directly.

“What are you hiding?”

It’s so ominous, even Mapi thinks it’s a little bit far-fetched, as a 16 year old, Mapi was probably hiding more than she was sharing, it’s not really a fair question.

“What am I hiding?”

It sounds like you're even struggling to get words out, your voice is just so tired, like it’s taking up so much energy for you to speak a few simple words.

“Somethings wrong, you’ve been drinking all these energy drinks, which are not only far too caffeinated but also extremely bad for you and you look like you haven’t slept properly in weeks.”

You want to tell Alexia that she’s right, you aren’t sleeping properly, you haven’t been your whole life, but she wouldn’t be the first person who tried to help you and has failed miserably in the process, it’s quite simple, sleep and you just simply do not work.

“Anyone from England would tell you that I just drink energy drinks, it’s not that deep Alexia.”

Mapi is teetering on the edge of having to hold Alexia back from causing you bodily harm.

“Deep? Collapsing on a pitch is not deep? It seems pretty deep to me amor, you can hardly talk, you could hardly read this morning, it’s clear something is wrong and I want to know what.”

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that something isn’t wrong, this is just you, or the new version of you in Spain. Your insomnia had always affected you, moving to Spain had seemed to make it worse but you’d always lived like this, ever since you could remember, sleep was just something that you could never have consistently.

“Nothings wrong, I am fine, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

Alexia’s jaw sets and for a second Mapi does truly worry for you.

“I want you to not lie to my face.”

You visibly flinch at those words, you don’t want nor mean to lie to Alexia, but you figure you are saving yourself from a merry go round of painful conversations.

“I’m not lying.”

Alexia knows you are, she’s not stupid.

“Right, well you’ve got the day off, you’ll be coming home with me and staying with Olga and I until you look less like you are on the brink of a coma. María will go get your things.”

Mapi nods quickly at Alexia, walking out of the room as quickly as she can manage, leaving just you and Alexia.

Even though Alexia is mad, she begrudgingly helps you up from the bed, draping your arm over her shoulder to give you somebody to lean on as she walks the two of you out to her car. She’s just gotten you seated in the passenger seat and closed your door when Mapi pops up with your things. Before Alexia can hop into the car and get going, Mapi stops her.

“Be easy on her, si? She’s going through something and I know you want to know, I know you want to help her but whatever is wrong, she’s not talking about it for a reason. Maybe she doesn’t need you questioning her, just take a look, a proper look at her and see if you can get a better idea. For me?”

Alexia knows that Mapi won’t let go of her shirt without some kind of acknowledgement that she’s going to agree to her.

“Okay, I’ll go easy on her.”

It’s a half truth, Mapi seems to accept it though, letting go of Alexia’s shirt so that the Catalan can take her seat in her car and begin to drive the two of you home.

The car ride home is eerily silent, Alexia keeps her eyes focused on the road, her knuckles whitening from the grip she has on the steering wheel and her jaw so set that you begin to worry that her teeth must hurt from the constant clenching.

When the two of you pull up to Alexia’s house you’re feeling a lot better, your head is clearer and you don’t feel as broken as you had earlier.

You clamber out of the car, walking your way slowly to Alexia’s front door. Alexia bothers around with the keys, twisting them in the hole before opening up the door for the two of you.

“Ale? You’re home early.”

Olga’s voice filters in from the kitchen, the two of you making your way through until you spot her.

“Nena, is that you? I didn’t know we were going to have company, if I had I would have cleaned up a little bit for you.”

You shake your head at Olga, giving her a small smile that you’ve reserved just for Alexia’s partner.

“Go sit down on the couch, get your feet up.”

Alexia’s voice is stern, it immediately makes Olga frown at her.

Alexia allows her girlfriend to drag her from the kitchen and into their pantry.

“What’s with the mood?”

Olga’s happy space is her and Ale’s house, it’s supposed to be the one place that the both of them can get away from football and stress.

“Nena is hiding something, she collapsed at training and we don’t really know why but she does and she won’t tell us.”

Olga nods her head, the somehow younger but wiser woman putting on her thinking hat and trying to rationalise what Alexia is telling her.

“Don’t you think it would be smarter to try and be nice to her? I know that she’s fucked up, but it’s clear she just needs some love right now, maybe you should be giving it to her.”

Alexia thinks that Olga doesn’t understand the whole situation, she doesn’t see you everyday, doesn’t see how ragged you are and how deep this issue stems, but she also can’t not listen to her, the woman somehow tends to always be right and she can’t see why that would change now.

“Okay, okay.”

Olga smiles at her, getting up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Alexia’s jaw before pushing her out of the pantry and back into the kitchen.

Alexia is unsurprised to find you dead asleep on her couch, your head lulled against one of her couch pillows. She’s glad, and decides to pocket the inevitable conversation she is going to have to have with you, instead opting to help her girlfriend make lunch.

You sleep for a total of 40 minutes, something that Alexia is less glad about. As soon as she notices you’re awake she’s forcing a bottle of water into your hands and two aspirins. You take them before she shoves them down your throat, taking multiple gulps of the water so Alexia didn’t have another reason to be mad with you.

To be fair, she looked a lot less mad than she had earlier, you wouldn’t even really describe how she looked as mad, more concerned.

Alexia sat down in front of you on the couch, taking a deep breath before she started speaking.

“I’m not going to force you to tell me anything, I understand that you are going through a lot, I just need you to know that I’m here for you, anything you need nena I am here to support you and try and help you however I think best.”

Alexia’s words cut deep for you, it’s a struggle for you not to break out in tears, as much as you really want to.

“I know Ale.”

She nods at you, holding back her own tears, there’s some kind of understanding between the two of you, that you aren’t going to cry or speak, just acknowledge each other for now.

“Olga’s made up the spare room for you, you’ll stay here until you’re in a better place. You’re welcome here and you’ll be no bother for the next couple of weeks.”

You nod your head, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from arguing back to her.

The rest of the afternoon is fairly similar, you are fed by Olga and then spend the majority of the rest of the day lounging on the couch, occasionally falling asleep, but as Alexia notices, never for longer than 40 minutes. It’s like your body refuses to properly rest.

When dinner comes around you look just as exhausted as you had this morning, you just look a little bit less dead.

After dinner, you head off to bed, alexia’s glad, she’s hoping that you’ll have a nice long proper sleep and that all of this will be solved.

She’s wrong.

Instead of hopping into bed, you pull out your laptop, knowing that if you stand a chance at getting even two hours of sleep it’s not happening any time soon.

You work at your school work, completing the things you hadn’t finished earlier. When 12 o’clock rolls around, you force yourself away from your laptop and underneath the covers of alexia’s extremely comfortable spare bed.

You stare at the roof, every now and again you’ll twitch and for some reason it’ll hurt your brain. You play your favourite song over and over again in your head, praying that it’ll somehow lull you to sleep, it neves does. You stare at the ceiling and try to focus on the sound of the fan. You stare at the ceiling and wonder if the swirl pattern in it is mobing. You think about your favourite film and how the characters used to provide you so much peace. When you remember how much they meant to you, you let a few stray tears fall.

You stare at the ceiling.

Every once and a while, you’ll roll over and press your face into the pillows and pull the covers over your head and hope that if you hide somehow you’ll fall asleep.

Eventually, you’ll fall asleep.

Sometimes it takes hours, all for you to wake up half an hour later feeling as unsatisfied as ever.

It’s how you live, it’s the same routine every night, it’s your normal.

When 4am rolls around and you’ve managed to get a measly twenty minutes or so of sleep, you climb out of the sheets, annoyed that your glass of water is empty. Your eyes are dry and itchy with the feeling of needing to cry, you push that feeling deep into your gut, ignoring the desperate need to ignore your feelings in favour of keeping a strong face.

You try to be as quiet as possible, filling up your glass and taking a seat on Alexia’s couch, looking out of the window of her lounge room at the Barcelona skyline that lights up along her back fence.

“Nena is that you?”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

Alexia is standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the island, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and staring at you inquisitively.

“What are you doing awake?”

The words trigger something in you, it’s probably the half dazed state you’re in, the complete exhaustion and annoyance you’re experiencing at your inability to sleep, but all of a sudden, tears are dripping your face and you don’t know why or how.

Alexia freezes for a second, she’d expected something obviously, but crying was not one of those things.

She’s never seen you cry, she’s never had to deal with a teenager who is breaking down right in front of her eyes. She doesn’t know what to do, or how to help you, all she knows is that you are crying a lot and she is just standing and watching.

The problem solver in Alexia tells her that she has to do something, so she paces her way over to the couch, sitting down beside you and tentatively wrapping an arm around your shoulder. She doesn’t know whether or not it’s the right way to go, but it seems to pay off when you immediately relax into her, your head craning into the pocket of her neck and shoulder. Fresh, warm tears drip down onto Alexia’s skin.

Alexia is tense, her back as straight as a board. She doesn’t normally have to deal with this kind of thing, she doesn’t have to try and sympathise with feelings. She’s not an emotional person herself, she cries once a year normally and that’s on the anniversary of her fathers death.

“Nena, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Alexia’s words are calculated, strategic, like she’s reading them off of google or something. Truly, she doesn’t intend for them to come off that way, but it’s kind of just how they do.

Alexia waits for the tears to stop coming, she figures it has to happen, you can’t just cry forever.

The two of you sit like that, crisscrossed on the couch until you manage to compose yourself, until you’ve cried out all the annoyance and grievances over your current predicament.

In the past, your insomnia would stop you from sleeping for days, but eventually the exhaustion would catch up with you and you would get a good night or a few of sleep, but it had been weeks now of you living in Barcelona and sleep had been avoiding you the whole time.

“Nena, what’s wrong?”

Right now, it feels like everything is wrong, it feels like your whole world is upside and you want it to be normal, you want to just be able to close your eyes and get some fucking sleep.

“I can’t sleep.”

Alexia’s brow furrows.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have had so many energy drinks, no?”

It’s the kind of reply you should have expected.

“No Alexia, I can’t sleep, I have insomnia.”

Alexia struggles with the translation in her head, in-som-ni-a?

“Sorry, what?”

You take a deep shaky breath, pulling your head away from Alexia’s chest so that you can rub the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Insomnia, I can’t sleep, medically. I have a condition that stops me from being able to sleep regularly.”

Alexia’s head all of a sudden starts working, she’s a little bit behind, it’s 4am after all and she’s struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, Alexia wants to tell you that you’re being silly, but when she sees the pure heart break and exhaustion in your eyes she knows that you can’t be lying. You look so young, tear tracks all over your face and body caved in on itself.

“I can’t sleep.”

It makes more sense to alexia now, all the energy drinks, the exhaustion, the power naps.

“Have you talked to the team doctors about it, I’m sure they could give you medication or something that could make it better, this can’t go on forever, nena.”

You shake your head at Alexia, your exhaustion turning to fear.

“No and you have to promise you won’t either. I’ve been through it, the sleep tests, all of it. I won’t take drugs, you can't make me and I refuse to.”

It’s like you go from being a mellowed out version of yourself to an attack dog.

“Nena, you need help, you can’t keep playing when you can hardly keep yourself standing.”

You shake your head, so fast that Alexia worries you might pass out from the sudden and frequent movements.

“I’m not taking drugs, you can’t make me, I won’t do it.”

Alexia doesn’t know where this sudden defensiveness has come from, but she knows two things. She needs to make sure that you understand that she can be there for whatever you are going through whilst also trying to figure out what is your random refusal to not take medication.

“Wouldn’t it help some?”

It’s hard to explain your complete hatred for any kinds of drugs. You’d grown up in a household where your mom might as well have been a druggie with how little she was invested in your life and where your dad was a legitimate druggie.

You struggled to take paracetamol, let alone any kind of prescribed drug.

You were scared shitless that somehow, you would turn out like your father and that was the last thing you could ever want.

You didn’t come from a loving home, you didn’t come from a place where you got the newest cleats every year and the best training. You came from a home where grocery money was spent on cocaine and any football money was spent on heroin. You’d been lucky enough that you were good enough for England teams to notice you, for academies to notice you. You were always good enough that you didn’t have to fork out the extra money and if you did it was your own money.

That’s why you’d been so eager to get out of England, to come to Spain. It saved you from the lifestyle that you had been so desperate to get away from.

“I’m not going to take medication Ale.”

For a long time, you’d blamed the insomnia on the constant partying that happened at your house as a kid. Your dad was a revolving door house kind of person, there were always people inside of your house, women, druggies, sex workers, partiers. It was never ending, and for a logn while you’d just thought you couldn’t sleep because of the constant noise inside of your house. When you went away for your first camp at 11, you realised that just simply wasn’t it, you had a serious problem. Maybe it was a byproduct of always being in a house full of noise, or maybe it was just your fucked up ness, you just knew that somewhere along the way, everything in your brain started working backwards.

“Nena, you don’t have to take medication, but can you tell me why?”

You figure that you’ve already told Alexia too much, why stop now?

“My dad has drug problems, always has, probably always will. My mom was never really home as a kid, when she was it wasn’t pretty. I don’t want to turn out like them. That’s why I didn’t go home over the break”

Alexia’s heart drops. She’s been through her own problems with her family, her fathers death and so on. But she’s always had something and that is a safe place to go if she ever needs it. Her parents loved her, they did everything to protect her as a child, Alexia grew up in a space where she could be whoever she wanted and her parents would support her. You, to some extent, clearly didn’t and it explained a lot to her. It explained why you were so hesitant to accept help from anyone, and why you were such a lone wolf, you had to be for survival.

Alexia suddenly wraps her arms around you, all of a sudden feeling an overwhelming sense that she has to protect you, that you need her to keep you safe.

You’re crying again, it hurts less this time, it comes more from a place of exhaustion than annoyance and anger.

“I just want to rest Ale, I just want some peace.”

Alexia’s grip tightens, she’s compressing your bones in the best way possible.

“It’s okay nena, I’ve got you, it’s going to be okay.”

Alexia just holds you, until you exhaust yourself so much from the crying that you fall asleep.

She doesn’t want to wake you, not after everything you’ve just confessed to her, so she lays herself down on the couch, keeping you pulled tight to her chest as she drapes a blanket over the two of you and rests down against the pillows, deciding that she might as well get a few hours in for herself.

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and the smell of bacon and pancakes.

You feel better than you have in weeks, blinking the sleep away from your eyes and slowly sitting up as you adjust to your surroundings.

Alexia and Olga are in the kitchen, talking hushedly as Alexia cooks over the stove and Olga rocks with her from behind. It feels and looks intimate and you are so tempted to sneak out of the front door to leave them to their peace and avoid all the obvious issues that are going to have to be unpacked with your captain.

You’re seriously considering, but your plotting is stopped when Olga turns around to grab something and she spots you on the couch, conscious and awake.

“Bon Dia, nena.”

Alexia pivots as well, sending a smile towards you.

“Good morning, what time is it?”

Olga detaches herself from Alexia, moving towards the fridge.

“It’s just past six.”

2 and a half hours of sleep, that’s not bad at all, it’s better than you’ve had in weeks.

“Breakfast is almost done, if you want to take a seat at the table.”

You nod at Alexia, standing up from your spot on the couch and walking over to the dining table, taking a seat at the table and trying to tame your bed head whilst Alexia plates up the food.

The plate she hands you is full of food, bacon, toast, pancakes, sausages, fruit. It reminds you of home in a weird way, it’s not a truly traditional Spanish breakfast, more English and it seems like Ale’s done it for a reason.

She waits until you’ve started to tuck into your food before she starts speaking.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with Jona and the medical team this morning, for you.”

Your boyd goes from relaxed and at peace to tense, Alexia knows it’s breaking your trust in a way, but she also knows that she’s now obligated to protect you.

“I told you I don't want doctors or drugs.”

Alexia takes a deep breath, looking over at Olga and being reminded that sometimes she has to do hard things.

“I know nena, and i’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, I don’t think I could if I tried, but this can’t keep going. I did some research, there are some really good drugs for people that struggle like you, that aren’t addictive and can help lots. I’m not a doctor and neither are you. We don’t know about these things, it’s not our job, but there are people who do know about this stuff and they can try to help you, really help you. You can’t live like this, it’s not sustainable in any way, we need to find some way to fix this. Whether it’s therapy or medication or resting, you need something and you can’t provide it yourself.”

Alexia words are a punch to the gut, but they also make sense, she knows what she’s talking about.

“You promise that I won’t have to do anything I don’t want to?”

Alexia nods her head, she’s shocked that you’re already sort of agreeing with her.

“I promise nena, I just want to help you somehow, however that may be.”

You take a big bite of your food, and a gulp of the orange juice that Olga has set down next to you.

“I slept better than I have in months last night, because of you, I don’t know how or why but something you did made me sleep and if you think that I need help, then I can’t really argue with that. It needs to be on my own terms though.”

Alexia nods, this is so hard for you, accepting help, accepting that you have a problem that needs fixing.

“Of course nena.”

You nod, drawing all of your thoughts together.

“I think I need help Ale, I want help.”

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝕬𝖍, 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪: what we do in the shadows

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: you’re a half-blood vampire and you take your first victim.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤: canon typical themes, brief cathartic violence, (implied) attempted sa, minor character death, blo0d (obviously)

𝔞/𝔫: the ending may be a bit rushed I just really wanted to post this already

“I was bitten, I believe…” you began, pausing for a moment to do some math in your head, wiggling one of your feet as you sat on the couch. “Two months ago. And y’know, in terms of vampirism, being a half-blood has its perks.” you continued with a shrug.

The scene cuts to you sitting in your bedroom in the light of the sun, completely unharmed. And your bed wasn’t a coffin, but took a similar shape. You gave the coffin a try once when you were first turned, but you couldn’t really sleep. Another scene showed you snacking on a Kit-Kat while reading.

“I can still eat human food, though I am garlic intolerant now, which is kind of a bummer. But that’s not even my biggest problem.”

The camera shows footage of you unscrewing the cap on a liter bottle containing a thick, dark burgundy liquid before pouring it into a glass.

“My vampire half still needs blood, like once or twice a week. Found that out the hard way.”

During your first week of being a vampire, you got very lightheaded and fainted in the middle of the hall since you hadn’t drank any blood since turning. Since you could digest human food, you could go a bit longer than most vampires without blood, but you still needed it.

“Straight up, I’m not a fan. Drinking it is one thing, draining it from the body is another.” you admitted, shaking your head and shrugging. “I ju- I can’t. I’ve tried, and I can’t.”

Thankfully, Lazlo had recently taken a victim that day so they gathered enough spare blood out of the chap to give to you.

The cameras cut to an interview with Lazlo and Nadja, sitting side by side as per usual.

“We don’t really mind saving blood for them sometimes,” Nadja said. “Most of our victims, we don’t even finish all the way.”

The footage cuts to a short scene of Nadja holding up a still bleeding victim by the shirt whilst Guillermo holds the aforementioned liter bottle with a funnel in the top to collect blood, grimacing and trying to just focus on keeping the funnel in the bottle.

“Yes, but we do believe it’s about time they learn to attain blood for themself.” Lazlo said, and Nadja nodded in agreement. “The only thing I’ve seen them drain was a goose. And even after that, they insisted on burying it.”

“Even though it bit the shit out of them.” Nadja added. “In the wild, baby animals rely on their mothers for sustenance for the first few months of their lives before learning to hunt for themselves. (Name) is kind of like our weird little pup.”

You knew they were right. You had been a vampire for two months, and you still had yet to take a human victim. The problem was that you would always overthink it. For one thing, you didn’t want to kill an innocent person, but he cause of all the ‘what if’s, you couldn’t really detect anyone really deserving of such a gruesome and sudden death. Curse this big heart of yours. Plus it was New York, and Staten Island for that matter. Who knows where these people have been and what’s running through their veins?

But half-blood or not, learning to hunt is essential.

Anyway, you were walking through the streets one night with the others since they had recently found a good hunting ground and didn’t want to leave you alone in the house. Nandor suggested that maybe one of them would have the general disposition of a goose and you could drain them. You weren’t too sure about that, but thanked him anyway.

Now, one of the perks of your vampire half was an enhanced sense of hearing, and because of this, you overheard a conversation from inside one of the apartments,

“I’m should really go now… I can’t stand up.”

That made you stop. If your blood wasn’t already running cold, it just got colder. Guillermo seemed to notice you falling behind. “(Name), are you still coming?”

“Uh, yeah, um..” you hesitated, glancing between them and the apartment, bouncing on your feet slightly. “I’ll uh.. I’ll meet you guys there, okay? I’ll just be a minute.”

Before they could respond, you turned into a bat and flew up towards wherever the voice came from. A knot began to form in your tiny stomach as you dreaded what you might find, and when you came up to the window, your suspicions were confirmed as you peered into the dimly lit room. That was all you needed to bare your teeth and shift back into your human form, rearing your foot back to kick the window open.

It seemed the universe noticed you needed incentive and answered.

Nadja wiped some excess blood from her jaw and licked her lips, humming contently. It had been only been about twenty minutes since you went off on your own, and she hoped you were alright, wondering what you could have been doing. As if on cue, she heard a familiar squeaking and the sound of little wings flapping towards them.

“Nadja! Nadja Nadja Na-”

POOF

“Nadja!” you exclaimed joyfully after landing on your feet and regaining your composure. All three vampires and one human turned to face your direction, and were surprised to see you with a beaming smile on your blood stained face. “I did it!” you exclaimed with excitement, panting slightly.

Realization dawned on the pod of vampires, and Nadja’s smile grew to match your own.

“All by yourself?” “Yes!!”

Laughter filled the air as Nadja pulled you in for a short hug. You sighed in exhilaration, “Call em crazy but I kinda wanna do it again.”

“We have plenty of time before the sun rises again,” Lazlo said, smiling proudly at you with a hand around your shoulders as you walked with them. “Plenty of time to get your practice in.”

Yeah, you were gonna do just like fine.

[billskeis]

bill smut where he has a sort of wet dream and eats out the reader in her sleep (w her consent ofc) and then she softly rides him once she wakes up because theyre both pretty tired since its like late?? TYY

ᡣ𐭩 sleepy sex w bill

eyes wide open, bill couldn’t help but softly groan at the growing tightness in his pants. his highly vivid imaginations during the night had led him to dream about you and him engaging in well.. some very, indecent activities.

he knows exactly what to do about this, problem.

turning to his left side, he looks at your sleeping body. turned away from him cuddling the plush that he bought for you on one of your first dates. it specifically was a hedgehog and you wanted that one because it reminded you of him.

he wishes that were him you were hugging. and due to the lack of attention he’s receiving, decides that now is the time for payback.

lucky for him, all you wore to bed that night was a tank top and your panties. this for him, by all means, gives him easy access to what he desires the most. sliding down the bed to reach your lower body, he slides his hands up and down your legs, feeling the supple skin under his touch.

inhaling a deep breath, his fingers meet the edges of your panties to which he begins to slide down your legs ever so slowly, allowing them to hook at the ends of your ankles.

squirming a bit, he firmly holds your thighs down with each of his hands, head leaning into your cunt to lick a long stripe.

drawing his tongue between your folds, he’ll occasionally switch from doing that, inserting his tongue in and suckling on your clit. this leads you to stir awake from your slumber, grabbing onto the black locks on his head from in between your legs.

“b-bill..” “m’ sorry meine liebe..but i need you so bad right now.”

he’s now licking up and down your folds, your stomach clenches and you moan softly to the sensation, half hoping it won’t stop but also it does so you can go back to sleep. your mind is all scrambled as his tongue abuses your cunt.

“fuck..” “mm? feels good doesn’t it?”

lifting his head up, he wipes his chin, “get up baby.” his demand leads you to oblige to his words, he sits up, torso leaning on your headboard. your body heavy, yearning for slumber, but you want to be good for bill because he was so generous to eat you out.

holding his hand out under your cunt, you lower your body slightly to grind on his hands, pads of his fingers hitting the right spot leading your legs to sway a bit. he then frees his obvious hard on from his boxers, slathering the wet juices from your pussy onto the tip of his dick, mixing his precum with yours together.

bills hands snake around your ass, kneading it to then guide your hips closer to his. aligning his tip to your entrance, his mouth falls agape as soon as he enters you. “h-holy fuck yes..” bill can’t help but moan, it’s been a while since you guys done it and the sensation feels just as good as it has before.

you shudder with every inch of dick sliding into you, not only is he long but he’s big. it makes you laugh mentally to think someone this cute has such a big dick and knows how to use it.

“you okay baby?” he asks, placing a kiss on your lips, “mhm,”nodding, he begins to lift you up and down his length.

as you ride bill, you can’t help but moan softly. it’s late, and you’re tired, but holy shit.. his length hits all places good, the tip of his dick hits a certain spot that sends electricity up your body.

your legs are all achy, pain surges through your lower body, “m’ so tired bill..” shaking your head to initiate that you can’t move anymore. but instead bill holds your hair tight, fingers entangled with your hair, “nuh uh, no stopping, i’m close.. please, baby..”

a sob emits from your body, but you had to admit, you yourself are also close to release. you lean your chest to lay on bill’s while softly riding him. it’s not until the certain sensation from your clit rubbing on his lower abdomen with the added pleasure from his dick slowly and deeply hitting your g spot that you shake from orgasm.

trying to ride it out, bill can’t help but hold you still while thrusting up into you. you yelp as bill overstimulates you, having just came, you feel his ropes of cum paint your insides.

heavy breathing is all that’s heard from inside your shared bedroom, is he done? you hope your tired body he is.

bill gently lifts you off from his body, shuddering as you feel his dick slip out your sensitive cunt, he gets up from the bed to grab tissue. wiping him off to then clean up the cum from between your legs.

discarding the tissue to a nearby garbage, he comes back into bed finding you already laying down so quickly, “hold on princess, just one more thing.” he slips up the panties that were dangling off your ankles right back onto your body. to your surprise bill softly smacks your ass which leads you to yelp, him snorting at your reaction. “bill!” “what??”

laying down he begins peppering you with kisses, he hugs your waist and brings you closer to him. “thank you so much my love, i’ll make sure to make it up to you,” you scoff, “you better bill, you just woke me up from my beauty sleep.” he giggles and just kisses you again, “g’night schatz,” “night bill.”

you wondered for a bit, bill’s libido isn’t as high as you’ve always thought it to be.. so why tonight out of all nights? but that’s a discussion for another night.

that is, this becomes a daily occurrence and you just end up finding out on your own that his libido is definitely WAY HIGHER than you suspected ;).

[daeholuvs]

Right Now?

Kang Dae ho x fem!reader

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The sun had finally come out after a week of cloud and rain. You turned over to see your husband sleeping. The peaceful moment was soon interrupted by your nieces cries.

You went down the hall to pick up your niece, Ji-a, who you were babysitting so Jun-hee and Myung-gi could have a weekend to themselves. After all, they truly did deserve it.

“Oh good morning my little angel”

“Did you sleep well”

“Oh you’re so beautiful”

“Nice baby voice” Dae ho chuckles while watching you from the door

“Ha. Ha” you say blankly while continuing to coo at your niece. You playfully roll your eyes as you walk by him making your way to the kitchen.

“Hey quick question sweetie, uh when are Jun-hee and Myung-gi coming to pick up Ji-a?”

“Why, do you want her gone” you teased

“N-no I’m just uh wondering that’s all”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

“Who knew that such a tiny human could make such a big mess” Dae ho was dumbfounded while wiping oatmeal off the ceiling

“I know right, you would think that someone so little would be a little cleaner” you joked

After you had cleaned up the kitchen, you decided that this beautiful Sunday shouldn’t go to waste.

“I’m gonna take her on a walk, wanna come?”

“Oh no, t-that’s fine”

You mutter a small okay as you put Ji-a in her little pink winter coat. It seems that Dae ho has been avoiding the baby all weekend. Did he not want to be a father anymore? Did he suddenly change his mind after having to change Ji-a’s diaper? Or did he not want you to be the mother of his children? You push those thoughts away while putting your niece into her stroller.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

“Hey baby we’re home”

“Hi honey”

Dae ho pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head

“Can you watch her while i quickly use the washroom”

“Sure…”

There he goes again, not wanting to be with the baby, you think to yourself. This so isn’t like Dae ho, he said he always wanted a family of his own.

Hours pass and you had just put Ji-a down for a nap. You and Dae ho are cuddled on the couch while watching your guys’ favourite show. Suddenly your attention is shifted to the knocking on your door.

“y/nnnnn!!”

“Jun-hee!!!”

You give her a bone crushing hug. Ever since you had all escaped the games, you and Jun-hee became inseparable. The four of you guys occasionally have date nights or even just hangouts in general. You guys always make time for one another. Although you guys aren’t blood relatives, you guys insisted that all of your kids will refer to you guys as family.

“Be honest, was she trouble” Myung-gi asked, afraid of the answer.

“Oh god no, she was an angel. She slept all night, ate all of her food, and made bath times very easy” you smiled. “I’ll go get her for you, she’s still napping.”

As you made your way upstairs you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness come upon you. You had so much fun taking care of Ji-a, it only made your maternal desires grow stronger. Ever since you were a little girl you dreamed of becoming a mother, you had dozens of baby dolls growing up, each doll had their own name and you treated them all with love.

“Here she is, goodbye my little angel” you waved as Ji-a let out incoherent babbles

“Thanks again for watching her”

“No problem, we’ll take her anytime” Dae ho said, while waving to all three of them”

You shut the door and your emotions slipped out. You felt tears drip down your face. You let out a sniffle that didn’t go unnoticed by your husband.

“Y/n, what’s wrong my love” he asks, cupping both of your cheeks”

“I just- I want to have a baby. I want us to start a little family of our own. But you couldn’t be bothered to stay in the same room as Ji-a for more than five minutes” at this point you were choking on your words.

Dae ho couldn’t help but laugh at your antics. “Sweetheart do you know why I was avoiding the baby?” You shake your head and pout” “I was so scared that if I was taking care of her and made a mistake in front of you that you would think that I’m not capable of being a parent. I just wanted to prove to you that I would be a great father, but instead I got scared that I wouldn’t be perfect” he blushed, embarrassed by his confession.

Now you were the one laughing. “You scared me Dae, I didn’t think you wanted me to have your babies” you start to wipe the tears from your face as you both laugh at each other.

“Of course I want to start a family with you, you are my wife after all”

“Dae ho, listen to me, you are going to make a great father”

“And you are going to make an amazing mother”

You pull him in for a passionate kiss. Your lips start to wander to his collarbone and up his neck. You stop as you reach his earlobe “let’s make a baby” you breathe, while nibbling on his ear

“Right now?” He smirks

“Right now”

He picks you up over his shoulder and makes his way up to your bedroom.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

Hey it’s just me… continuing to feed my delusions 😄

[bansheeoftheforest]

Still refusing to reread PJO/TKC but it is still infesting my brain so woe crossover au be upon yall

Au where Anubis casually gets assigned to be Bianca's and Nico's older brother, anyone?

(messy points below, mostly from Anubis' pov coz he is my pookie, and keep an eye out in the reblogs section for add-ons/updates!)

Like, once the other Egyptian gods start dropping like flies because the magicians are imprisoning them, assuming they may also go after Anubis, he turns to Hades as a very very very last resort because, well, he would like to not be imprisoned for all eternity, thank you very much. Hades agrees on the condition that Anubis looks after his demigods, since he otherwise really isn't to any use of him, which Anubis accepts. So, Anubis is basically the Hades/Pluto demigods' divine babysitter in exchange for some protection from the magicians who may or may not also want to imprison him.

I shall say that this either works bc A) Hades kids radiate enough death so that he can be around them without a host or B) it is all just bureaucracy so when the rest of the Egyptian gods are gone those rules simply do not really apply.

Anyways, once the Big Three ProphecyTM rolls around and Maria Di Angelo kicks the bucket, Anubis is left in charge of making sure the Di Angelo siblings survive, taking them to and staying with them at the Lotus Casino and the different schools that Hades moves them around to, either as their "older brother"/guardian or as their pet dog that the authorities simply don't bat an eye at.

The siblings, with their memories absolutely fucked up, simply accepts that they either have a brother, a dog, an older brother who is occasionally a dog, or a dog that only conveniently shows up when their brother isn't there and vice versa.

And since I haven't read any RR books since I was 12 and I never read the HOO series, I can't really talk much about the logistics from here on out but. I have some thoughts in general.

Anubis makes sure that he takes the majority of the responsibilities, so that Bianca can be a little more happy and a little less stressed than she would have been if she was alone looking after her little brother.

He also happily distracts Nico when Bianca needs a break, he can genuinely listen to Nico ramble about whatever for hours, remembers it quite well and can return the conversation, which Bianca rarely has energy for.

(He was the exact same when he was young and wants to make sure Nico has someone that listens to him)

Genuinely cannot rest until he makes sure the siblings are fine and safe, which becomes a bit of a problem when Bianca goes on her first and last quest, and even more of a problem when he is more stuck in the Brooklyn House and he has to keep contacting Nico before he allows himself or Walt to rest as a result of that.

He is so so so so SO protective of the siblings. He is absolutely ready to die or kill for them. He is not a fighter, more often than not a pacifist, but when it comes to them he is the first to throw hands.

Also him absolutely being ready to kill the demigods that find the siblings at the military school coz he is so used to the "any demigod or magician is here to kill one of us and I have to protect them at all costs" mode that he has been kinda stuck in for the last 70 or so years, minimum.

He is merely an older sibling running on the equivalent of 3 hours of sleep and 2 strong coffees, which really doesn't help the situation once shit starts going down in Brooklyn/the Egyptian pantheon.

Speaking of the Brooklyn House. After being a Divine BabysitterTM for like 2000 years he genuinely cannot get rid of those base instincts, which ends up with him fussing over the Kanes/Walt/Zia and the rest of the initiates because those are CHILDREN and they need to REST and be SAFE and EAT PROPERLY and TAKE YOUR DAMN VITAMINES, WALT.

Because of those 2000 years of babysitting, Anubis is genuinely amazing with kids. You'd think they'd be scared by him, but no. He is the first one they run to when they scraped their knee and need a band aid and a hug.

He also 100% stares right into Percy's and Will's souls the moment he finds out Nico has/had crushes on them. Despite being raised in an entirely different time he definitely is a "no dating until you are at least 25 otherwise I might have a heart attack" sibling and he is not letting some random demigod break his lil brother's heart. He accepts Will well enough though coz he makes Nico laugh which in the end is the most important thing.

Will might actually be more intimidated by Anubis than Hades but that doesn't stop him. Nico is his babygirl and he knows Anubis is (probably) more bark than bite (most of the time).

No matter if Hades allows him to like. stop being a babysitter once the gods are restored and Ma'at is balanced and all, Anubis still sticks around and checks in on Nico (and eventually Hazel). He gets antsy if he hasn't heard from them at least once a day.

He probably has a good base relationship with Jason and Reyna (bc both are protective older siblings when it comes to Nico) but he keeps Percy at a distance ever since Bianca's death (not that he blames him). But he isn't particularly close to any of them, as his priorities lay with Nico, Hazel, and the Brooklyn House.

Assuming Anubis doesn't like. Introduce himself to the greeks as "Anubis" and instead says he is someone else, I have absolutely no idea when or if he would ever tell any of the greek demigods what he truly is. But I suppose Nico would eventually find out that his older brother actually isn't related to him at all, or even from the greek pantheon, and instead only happened to become his older brother as a favour to Hades. Depending on how he finds out he definitely could get upset but I like to believe he sorta figures eventually, and is just happy Anubis genuinely cares for him.

I also like to think that the greek gods they meet when the demigods take the siblings from the school to camp half-blood, just gives Anubis A LookTM. Either they are fully aware he is protecting the Hades kids or they think an Egyptian god is just casually hanging out with some random demigods. Which must certainly be a sight to behold.

Can yall for a moment imagine being the Kane siblings, trying to get the feather of truth from the god of death to avoid the impending apocalypse, who then says "sorry I am mostly on babysitting duty so I can't really help yall more than this, good luck tho."

Walt who meets Nico and is so conflicted because in one way he is slightly weirded out by this tiny depressed gremlin, but in another way the Anubis PartTM of him is just going "protect protect protect protect", which is a weird first impression.

One of the Kane siblings would be interested in Mythomagic, I just know it. Either Sadie coz it is funky or Carter bc it is nerdy. Either way, Nico has at least one Kane to bond with bc of it.

Nico just has the ultimate diplomatic immunity because he can go between Camp Half-blood, Camp Jupiter, and the Brooklyn House basically as he pleases.

On a completely different topic, the majority of Nico's wardrobe is just shit he has stolen from Anubis, he just lets it happen, in part because it is not like he as a god has a limited wardrobe, and in part bc Nico is absolutely adorable when he drowns in Anubis' jackets bc they are too big for him.

Also, Anubis helping Nico train his death magic, and teaching him the easiest ways to build endurance while using it.

Frankly the thought of the rest of the gods being banished, imprisoned, in exile or attempting to free themselves while Anubis is playing babysitter is very funny to me in general. Imagine being Isis or Osiris and attempting to ask your nephew/son what he did during the 2000 years yall were imprisoned and he goes "I took a side job as a babysitter to pay the bills".

Honestly I might reblog this with more thoughts eventually. They are all just so pookie.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 19

warnings: mention of fingering, mention of a blowjob, a lot of sex talk in general.

Part 19

Liana fell asleep on his couch. And all Art wanted to do was to lift her up in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. Then he wanted to lock the door until she had no choice but to agree to sleep in his bed. Instead, Art covered her with a blanket and moved her a bit to put a pillow underneath her, which caused her to wake up.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself. "I’ll go home, okay?" she said, smiling, looking at him with a tired expression. "Don't be stupid, I'm supposed to pick you up in the morning anyway. There’s a guest room here with your name on the door," he smiled. He hated that damn guest room. Her name was supposed to be on his bedroom door.

"I don't want to stay longer than I'm welcome," she sat up. Art looked at her as if she had fallen from the moon. He wanted to shake her, to check if she had accidentally lost the remnants of her brain. "Liana, I swear I’ll carry you to that room myself if you don't move your ass," he said, trying to feign indifference in his voice. In response, Liana simply stood up and raised her hands in surrender.

Three months had passed since Liana and Patrick broke up. Four if counting since Atlanta. Art still hadn't touched her, and he was very close to breaking. And what’s really difficult in this whole situation is the fact that Art knows she is also close to breaking.

He sees it in the way she behaves around him. How she can talk and suddenly touch his shoulder. Or run her fingers through his curls. The first time she did that, they were watching a movie and his head was on her shoulder (completely natural, not strange at all when the couch is so big), and then her hand started playing with his curls, and if Liana had looked at him, she would have seen him close his eyes, and the movie no longer interested him at all. Art could have started crying at that moment. He didn't think he would ever feel her fingers in his hair again. He didn't think his head would be so close to her. He didn't think she would touch him again.

Liana lay in the bed in the guest room and couldn't fall asleep. She knows she's playing with fire, and yet, she decides to hold a lighter in her hand. The main problem with knowing that Art Donaldson wants her is the realization that landed on her two months ago—most of the time, she is... well, horny.

Coming out of a relationship with a man like Patrick Zweig comes with dead time on the schedule that was devoted only to sex. Missionary sex, sex when she sat on his lap, sex from the side, doggy-style sex—God, how she loves doggy-style sex. And she can go on for a good few minutes describing all the positions in which Patrick fucked her for-4-years non-stop. And most of the time when she thinks about it, her hand finds itself between her thighs.

And lately, she spends so much time with Art that in her mind it no longer matters. Her dreams are mixing; Sometimes Patrick fucks her, and sometimes it’s Art. Sometimes Art tells her she’s a good girl, and sometimes Patrick tells her she needs to prove to him that she’s a good girl. Sometimes it’s Tom Cruise.

A few days ago, she looked at her colleague at work, a 57-year-old man, almost bald (the keyword here is 'almost'), and wondered what size his dick was. She’s not in a good state. She has to stop hanging around with Art, but he’s been glued to her thigh for a few months now. Although at this stage, maybe she’s glued to his thigh?

It's too confusing.

He looks good, Art Donaldson. He looks too good. The worst part is that he knows he looks good. And he’s winning his stupid game with the ball and a racket, and his smug face is plastered on a billboard across from her office. How is Liana supposed to concentrate on anything other than the fact that if she closes her eyes tightly enough, she can remember the taste of his dick and how it tickled the back of her throat?!

She’s lying in the guest room bed, and he’s lying in his bed, and she wonders if his hand is gripping his dick and he’s thinking about her. She wonders if he wants her help because she can help him. She can knock on the door and ask him if he needs help and how can she assist him.

But she won’t do that because Art Donaldson comes with baggage. He comes with hurtful words and a friendship that has already been ruined once, and neither of them can afford to ruin it again. Not because of horniness. It's not even a feeling. It’s just the need for someone to do what they want with her.

Liana went down to the kitchen to get a glass of very needed cold water, and Art was there for the same purpose. His cheeks were flushed while he looked at her. He had just finished jerking off and needed a moment to compose himself. “Didn't I put you to bed an hour ago?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, unable to ignore the fact that her nipples were hard. He had to divert his gaze from her chest. Now.

“Maybe you didn't put me in the right bed,” she mumbled while pouring herself some water, not looking at him. “Sorry?” Art really thought he hadn't heard right. “Not used to your fancy mattress, Donaldson; you should have forced me to stay on the couch,” she retracted in the most sophisticated way she could manage, afraid to cross that line.

“We have a five-and-a-half-hour drive tomorrow, Lia, go to sleep,” he swallowed hard and went up to his room with the glass of water, passing her and letting his shoulder brush against hers. Art is pretty sure that if he looks at her like that for another second, he won’t be able to control himself.

"I'm just saying, if there's an option for me not to sit next to her, I'd prefer not to sit next to Tashi." "It will be the best place, Li," Art sighed. He knows what it means for her to come to his game when Tashi is sitting in the coach's seat. He knows it takes extra mental strength from her. "I don't care where I sit, Art. I'm only looking at you anyway," she rolled her eyes, causing him to look at her with a raised eyebrow. Does she really not understand what she's saying? "Only at me?" He sounded amused. "Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean. I could really not give a shit about the tennis, I came because you asked me to," she shrugged as if it were obvious while he took his bag out of the trunk.

Art couldn't stop himself, he had to drop what he was holding and hug her. It wasn't up to him in any way. It was a higher power intervening. "I’d like to breathe again, Arthur, you're choking me," she rolled her eyes and giggled. "You know I appreciate you being here, right?" he asked as he let go of her. "Yes, I know," she smiled.

They started walking through the parking lot, and Liana suddenly stopped while Art, confused, looked to see where her gaze was directed. She was looking at a particular car and walked towards it with small steps. Art quickly realized what was happening. You don't have to be a genius—the only person whose car she could recognize was Patrick Zweig’s. He was lying in the back seat, scrolling through his phone, not noticing they were approaching until Liana (shocked) knocked on his car window, causing him to jump. Art rolled his eyes.

Patrick was in shock. He looked from Liana to Art and then from Art to Liana. This wasn't how he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her again when his shit was in order. When he had figured out life. When his tennis was focused. When he was Patrick fucking Zweig and that meant something. Not when he sometimes slept in his car.

He got out of the car slowly, wanting to die a quick death, but even that, God denied him. "Can you give us a moment?" she asked Art in her softest voice. He hated that pitying tone. He hated Art, and he hated her. "We're going to be late for check-in," he mumbled with his hand on his neck. That anxious fuck. "Four minutes, Art," she replied, leaving no room for debate. "Yeah, four minutes, Art," he couldn't stop himself from saying with a smirk on his face. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Liana and Art said together. In the same unamused tone. Interesting what else they do together to be so synchronized. "Four minutes, Liana," Art said and walked away, giving them privacy.

"How are you?" Liana asked, examining him. "This is a peak moment in my life, Liana, I'm really enjoying myself," he replied sarcastically. "Do you want something?" he added. "Do you sleep a lot in your car?" she asked, folding her arms under her chest, and he really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself (not Art) and go find someone else to build her self-esteem. She kicked him out of the house. Who is she to judge where he sleeps?

"You know what, Liana?" he started. "Think twice before you finish that sentence, Patrick," she recognized the tone. A tone looking for a fight. A tone that sees nothing but Patrick's need to argue. "Why, only you can ask questions that are non-of your business? Here's a question, does he fuck you?" he asked. And maybe it was a jab, but he really wanted to know, and he knew she wouldn't answer him, so he allowed himself to piss her off.

"You know what?" she sighed. "Yes, Patrick. He's been fucking me so much in the past few months that sometimes I can't walk. Who knew Art Donaldson knew how to do so many things to a girl's ass," she said, adding a smile. One that he couldn't understand if it was real or cynical. But Liana knew Patrick's love for her ass and used every bit of knowledge she had to continue torturing him.

"Good luck in the tournament. I hope you earn enough money for a hotel room, Pat," she concluded with an eye roll and walked away. Liana really wanted to ask how he was, but he was still incorrigible, and she still couldn't avoid falling into the petty arguments he started and neither of them knew how to finish.

"Are you okay?" Art looked at her as they walked together. "Ask me again in forty minutes."

"I swear I booked a room with two beds," Art said to Liana as they stared at the massive bed in the middle of the room they were staying in. They asked to switch rooms at the front desk, but it was impossible. There were no more rooms with separate beds. Why would there be? The hotel was packed with athletes and their coaches.

Art knew Tashi was behind this. He had no way to prove it, but he knew she had a hand in the fact that he and Liana would have to share a bed this weekend. On one hand, he wanted to strangle her. On the other hand, he wanted to thank her. He’d see how the situation developed and decide accordingly.

"We’re adults," Liana said, not taking her eyes off the bed. "We can share a bed, right, Art?" She added a question at the end, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. ‘Of course not,’ Art wanted to scream. ‘I can barely share a couch with you.’ "Of course, adults who can share a bed," he parroted her words, looking at her for another moment. God help him.

"Is this your doing?" he asked Tashi at the end of practice. "What?" she replied with a feigned innocence he recognized as fake. "I asked you to stop interfering. If she finds out you’re behind this, she’ll strangle you in your sleep," Art declared. He was sure of it. He was sure Liana would go to jail for Tashi Duncan’s murder. "Why would she find out something that can’t be proven? Say ‘thank you’ nicely to your coach and try to sleep at least four hours tonight, Art," she winked (shamelessly, it should be noted) and walked away, leaving Art alone with his thoughts.

When he entered the room, Liana was there. Fresh from the shower. She was sitting on the bed, fiddling with her laptop. She greeted him without looking at him too much as he headed for the shower. He considered jerking off in the shower but was afraid she might hear him, so he gave up.

Art was an adult. He could sleep next to Liana without being tempted to touch her. He wasn’t an animal. He could handle it.

"I have a question. You can totally tell me to fuck off and we’ll never talk about it again," she said as he came out of the shower shirtless and looked at her questioningly. "Talk to me, Lia," he nodded, examining her and seeing how tense she was.

Liana paced the room a bit neurotically, her leg twitching slightly, and her hand brushing her nose. "Liana, you’re giving me a headache. Just say what you want to say," he tried to remain indifferent, but he felt his heart start to race, not knowing why.

"Do you think we could be the kind of people who fuck without commitment?" She barely took a breath between words and looked at him, biting her lip.

All Art could think was; Bingo.

And then; Of course not.

Hey thereeeee, It took me a second to write. Hope you are still here and reading. Love hearing from you guys, so you're welcome to tell me what you think, as always

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico Di Angelo headcanons?? (I hc he has cfs, that’s basically canon though)

He DEFINITELY has ehlers-danlos syndrome. Always cold? Poor circulation. Frequent fainting? Poor circulation and also poor nutrient/water absorption and etc. Weirdly pale? Semi-translucent skin + did i mention the poor circulation. Weird vitals? Can. Can you guess. (Poor circulation). Chronic fatigue? All his joints are subluxating constantly. He tends to stand/pose weird cause his joints all bend backwards/hyperextend and it freaks people out but he finds it kinda funny. Plus EDS has comorbidity with adhd and autism babeyyy it all works. somebody get this boy a pair of crutches.

Also Nico bruising like a peach is funny. He wakes up covered in bruises and just presumes ghosts are beating him up while he sleeps but no, he just has paper skin and glass bones joints.

The skinny jeans are strategical they're compressive and the only thing keeping his legs from dislocating constantly. That and the bone powers. The bone powers help a lot with the dislocating problems.

NICHE ROGUE DEMIGODS WORLDBUILDING THING: Okay so short version is something something i like to think rogue demigods go by nicknames often instead of their real names cause of the whole "names have power" thing. Some rogues pick their rogue name, others just kind of end up with one over time from people calling them something, whatever. Nico's main one is "Hound"/"Hound of Hades" cause he keeps wandering around with a pack of hellhounds and intimidating the daylights out of everyone. Also the rogues who are less scared of him joke about him being CHB/Camp Jupiter's dog, since he's one of the few rogues with direct loyalties to the camps. Nico thinks the name "Hound" is badass though so he rolls with it.

The jacket is both a sensory object (autism babeyyy) and because he is constantly mildly cold. He likes having layers.

In terms of sensory/clothing stuff, he prefers clothes that are too big or generally baggy on him. Because of this he is a notorious clothing thief when it comes to his friends. No jacket is safe from his clutches. His own clothes are big enough that the Argo II crew can steal from him right back though and it'll actually fit so it evens out.

He got all his emo inspiration from Thalia. She gave him her ipod in TTC for like 20 minutes to get him to shut up and that was a canon event that changed the trajectory of his life forever.

He regularly does little chores and errands for different deities and is generally friendly with a ton of them and will hang out with them and help with stuff. He may or may not have briefly been an Eye of Anubis, and may or may not have partially influenced how Anubis ended up goth (by transitive property, this means Thalia has made at least one god goth. There Will Be More). Other gods he often hangs out with (besides his dad) include Thanatos, Charon, Persephone, Demeter, and more.

He also has kept in touch with Eurytion and Triple G ranch to help out there sometimes and he dogsits Orthrus occasionally. Mrs. O'Leary and Orthrus are friends.

The idea of Hades/Pluto kids being allergic to mint because of Minthe is very funny to me.

[bardhobibi]

The cautionary tale of Jason Todd, a not so Little Red Riding Hood

TW: Discussions about trauma and violence, child endangerment, very fast mention of non-related SA

Introduction

Jason Todd is, as many of you know, one of my favorite characters. And as many of you may have noticed, the only thing I do in my day to day is to overanalyze. So since I've hardly seen any comparative between Jason Todd and the Little Red Riding Hood, HERE I AM DOING THE HARD WORK.

First of all I'm sorry because English is not my first language, and even tho I have a C1 this was long, I was sleep deprived writing this in my native language and I used Google translate in some parts so even tho I tried to correct everything there going to be gramatical errors, and maybe the basis of this is incorrect but I like opening some debate. SO let's start.

What is a cautionary tale? Well, let's start by defining that a children tale, especially a fairy tale, is a narrative sub-genre existing since the foundation of humanity aimed at the little ones, generally transmitted orally in its origin and so, in its written versions, there are variations of the same tale. For example, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White. Now, a very common fairy tale sub-genre are cautionary tales. What are cautionary tales, those of you who don't know will ask again? EASY: These are those stories whose moral is to expose the consequences of bad actions to children. The greatest example of an existing cautionary tale, in my opinion, is Little Red Riding Hood.

In this story, a little girl, dressed in a red hooded cloak, decides to go alone to her sick grandmother's house to bring her food in a basket. Problem? She has to go through the entire forest to get there. So her mother lets her go on one condition: She must not talk to strangers and cannot get out of the way. What ends up happening? Just that. A big bad wolf crosses her path and tricks her into telling her where her grandmother lives and convinces her to take another route that is actually longer because there are beautiful flowers there for her grandma. We cannot forget that the Little Red Riding Hood is still a young and naïve girl who trusts people. This causes the wolf to arrive at the grandmother's house first, devour her, disguise himself as her, and when Little Red Riding Hood arrives, devour her too. In the end, somehow, they are usually saved by a hunter who was passing by and opened the the big bad wolf's belly to get them out, and a happy ending. Moral? Listen to your parents and above all, do not talk to strangers.

The original story is quite straightforward. It gives a very clear message to children that is scary enough to make them understand the point, but not so realistic as to truly terrify them. Because you can't tell a young child, "Don't talk to strangers because they might SA you and/or murder you." And this has unfortunately been a reality since the beginning of time. It is a story as old as time itself. But now let me ask you... Doesn't this plot sound like anything? I'm trying to create some tension and mystery, but let's face it, everyone here already knows what I mean. It is, point by point, Jason Todd story.

I am fully aware that the figure of Red Hood already existed long before Jason, he is only one of its several bearers, but it is today with whom he is most related. And I don't know to what extent the writers did it thinking about the allegory with the original children story, but without a doubt, they hit the nail on the head. Because it is an ABSOLUTE reflection of his story.

Jason Todd didn't start out as Red Hood, that's important to establish. He was a boy who lived on the streets of Gotham, with a drug-addicted mother and a criminal father, and that Batman, already with Dick Grayson independent of the figure of Robin to become Nightwing, found stealing the tires of the Batmobile in Crime Alley on the anniversary of his parents' deaths. In a very short way, Batman was amused, and since he is someone who does not know how to work alone (and I am not joking when I say this) he decided to adopt him as the new Robin. The story of this second Robin is quite tragic not only in its plot, but in the reception of the public. He is a character forced to live in the shadow of the original, first being a clone of Dick and later being known as "The Violent Robin" or "Rebel", which is not entirely true, but it was an unfair comparison with the "perfect original Robin". Part of the plot was Batman trying to manage a child who was too active and excited and unprepared for the mantle he had been given. This resulted in the canonical events of Batman's story and would affect the history and development of the entire Batfamily and all of DC in a way that no one would expect.

The death of Jason Todd

It is important to note that, on the part of the writers, this event was not intended in its origin in Jason's plot. It was a decision made due to the poor reception of the character, and to get rid of it they decided to do a telephone survey to the public of yes or no, being the question if they killed him. In the end, as it's easy to guess, the fate of a young Jason Todd was set in stone when the result was a discouraging YES.

As an anecdote, apparently he only won this option because a person had a special hatred for him and used a telephone repeater to send I don't remember how many times the YES from the same phone (if I catch him...).

Opinions were also extremely divided and it was a close result. So the writers took paper, pen, and got to work to get rid of that character that no one wanted, resulting in the infamous comic “Batman: A Death in the Family” in 1988.

In this story, in short, Jason discovers that who he thought was his biological mother is not, and he embarks on a journey in search of his real biological mother, whom he finds, after several previous options, in Ethiopia. However, this is synchronized with the Joker's escape from Arkham and his association with Jason's biological mother, who decides to betray and sell her own son to the Joker. This results in the Joker torturing the boy before locking him and his mother in a warehouse and blowing them up. Batman, unfortunately, would not arrive in time to save his son.

This event would mark a before and after in DC. Jason had died, but his influence on the plot had only begun, and it would never stop. The writers would squeeze like a good quality lemon the boy's death to put character development into Batman and his entourage as much as they could. Because there was no other choice. People didn’t liked him alive, but they would make sure that being dead he will not be forgotten. Without Jason's death, Tim, the next Robin, would never show up, as it was a consequential event. And so on after the fact. Until, years later, in the 2000s, the authors, rummaging through their drawer of abandoned plots to give somme sauce to the comics, found a perfect character to revive. Jason Todd. And that's how between 2002 and 2003 he appears revived for the first time in Batman: Hush, but it would still take a couple of more years to him to take command of Red Hood, a character that already existed previously like several criminals, but that he would appropriate and stay as his alias forever. His motive as an antihero would be to take revenge on the Joker for murdering him and on Batman for not avenging him by killing the Joker. Obviously I'm skipping a LOT of details, but this is the best summary I can think of now. And I suppose that many of you will see the parallels better, and if not, I will explain them anyway.

A Not So Little Red Hood

Let's start with the simple: The protagonists of this story.

Although Jason Todd would not receive the mantle of Red Hood until much later, the character is the same. A small, innocent, cheerful and naïve child, who has to cross an unknown place; the forest / half the world; to look for a relative; his grandmother/ bio mother; and both have a father figure; his mother/Batman; trying to instill in them the responsibility not to be careless. And in the end they make the same mistake: Trusting those they shouldn't, both resulting in their death and subsequent resurrection. The big bad wolf now takes the form of Joker, although poetically for his laughter he remembers me an equally terrifying hyena feeding on the remains of his victims. In fact, I consider the hyena an interesting parallel with the Joker, but that's another story. In both stories the Joker is presented with the same role: A charming adult in an unknown and dangerous world, manipulating, attacking and murdering a minor and a biological relative taking advantage of the child's naivety and his affection for the family figure he seeks on his journey. The objective of the trip is also, as I have just clarified, the same: the search for a relative, either his grandmother or mother, who are the same character, despite the fact that in one he is a positive figure, and in the other, negative. And last but not least, the responsible father figure: The mother/Batman, who here is mixed with the figure of the hunter as an avenging and righteous figure.

Batman's main conflict with the second Robin was precisely "responsibility". Jason was presented as a much more violent teenager than Batman was used to with Dick. In their battles he struck harder than Batman wanted, and their methods and visions were constantly in clash, something to be expected since neither of them has seen the city in the same way: One saw it from above, wrapped in luxury and away from poverty, while the other suffered it on the ground, incapable of taking flight from a destiny marked by the social inequality of the place. For Batman, control was responsibility. His education and way of seeing the city have marked that. What happened to his parents is undoubtedly a trauma and an injustice. No child should have to suffer from something like this and it is normal for them to have suffered a long trauma. But his relationship with Jason reminds me a lot of something I once read out there: "The rich can afford revenge for a single injustice, the poor live tragedies every day and are considered criminals if they lose their cool once."

Both have in common the traumatic loss of their parents, but only one of them had the resources to be able to do something. Batman I don't know to what extent he is aware of this inequality, but at least he is highly aware of one thing: His actions require responsibility. He cannot take justice into his own hands. That would be too easy, and it would give free rein for others to imitate him but do not have the same sense of justice as he does. Because Batman is not a judge. What he has decided to do as a result of the loss of his family he himself knows is serious and it is very easy to lose his composure. That's why, seeing himself reflected in Jason, he fears that he will lose and become even more impulsive and end up really hurting someone or, worse, himself. Batman fears that Jason will take the law into his own hands. That he ends up becoming an anti-hero instead of a vigilante. And it is very easy to get lost in that situation believing that one is absolutely right. There is a quote, in the film Conclave of this year of the Lord 2025 very apt for this case (dead you catch me before I stop quoting this wonderful film) "Certainty is the enemy of tolerance". In the context of Batman and Jason and responsibility, Batman is the bearer of "doubt." He knows that he can make mistakes. He knows that it is not in his power to judge. Jason, however, is someone who is very “certain” in his opinions. He's has seen the worst of Gotham, he's been born into it. ¿How, unfortunately, is he should not be certain that he wants to take justice into his own hands, when he himself has been a constant victim of a terrible world? This certainty is something that Jason would actually carry over to his future self. Like a Little Red Riding Hood who doesn't want to be a victim of the Big Bad Wolf again and doesn't want anyone else to go through what he did, becoming the figure of the hunter when Batman didn't do it for him. Because, and in this I agree with Jason, a victim should never have the responsibility to deal with his victimizer. Unfortunately Jason puts this responsibility, in my opinion, on the wrong person, Batman. Bruce Wayne. His father. Someone who is emotionally affected by his loss, and who, by extension, does not want to and cannot and should not be involved in it. But Jason sees in his father the only option for justice for his crime, because, let's face it, the system has failed him from the moment he was born.

The court system in Gotham is FUCKING SHIT. It is a bottomless pit of injustice, insecurity, corruption and poverty in which the geniuses who should be the future hope of the city become villains and in which a privileged few can afford to fight for what they consider to be correct. So Jason, who has lived in this swarm of chemicals and drugs forever, knows that injustice more than anyone. He knows that he cannot trust the judicial system.

And that is why he wants the only person who has been by his side until the end, who has given him security, paternal affection and a genuine education, his father, to avenge him. Because for him there is no difference between that revenge and justice. ¿Why is it that as someone who has never known true justice, can he differentiate it from revenge? ¿How, if for Jason Todd the hunter is the judge of the forest?

And it is precisely in this relationship that we can also see another feeling of responsibility, and that is paternal responsibility. Bruce, let's make this clear, is traumatized. The murder in an armed robbery of his parents is a horrific event. But I'm repeating myself. What I mean is that it's normal for Batman to appear as he appeared. And Robin's existence as a companion is just one more symptom of the trauma he carries. If Bruce shares the loss of his parents with Jason, this was no different with Dick Grayson, who saw his parents die in front of him in a terrible way at a very young age. Bruce, in his mind, could not help but take a step forward and would end up taking the boy as a ward and future adopted son. As we can see, Jason's story is almost a copy of Dick's, but with a couple of substantial differences. Dick was Robin before he was Robin. ¿What do I mean by this? Dick belonged to a circus. Robin was already a previous nickname basically because in the circus he literally flew with his parents. Damn, they were known as the Flying Graysons. He already had previous physical training and a sense of justice educated by parents and a community present who loved him and gave him security. In that he was very much like Bruce. He was privileged. Jason, on the other hand, lacked just that. Jason wasn't Robin before he was Robin. He was not prepared, physically and even less mentally, to inherit a title that did not belong to Batman to give in the first place. But Bruce needed someone by his side. A companion not only to protect, but who will outlive him, just as he outlived his own parents, and prevent that child from becoming what he almost becomes himself due to the grief of his parents' deaths. Despite his conflict with Dick, Bruce managed to raise him the way he wanted. He managed, in a way, to fulfill his responsibility as a father to keep him "safe", but because only Dick already came with that previous mentality. With Jason he could not repeat it, because he made the mistake of many parents do which is to think that the second child "will be easier". “I’ve done it once before, this one could do better”. But he failed to take into account that Jason came with a very different emotional baggage than Dick. And let's face it, even if it hadn't been, having children in the second line of fire was still dangerous. The thing is, Jason was NOT Dick. Jason was NOT Robin. Batman tried. Things as they are. He wanted to be a good father to Jason. And the mere fact that he tried to do so already puts points in his favor. And he wanted to teach him not to trust strangers, not to separate from him, not to go down dangerous paths. To not be careless. But just like in Little Red Riding Hood, a child is easy to manipulate. And even more so Jason, lost as he was in constant mourning for the injustice suffered all his life. Batman, like the mother in the story, failed to take this into account. And Jason, as in the story, failed into believing himself to be much more adult than he really was.

Because one would believe that seeing Jason's childhood and his attitude as Robin he would be much more suspicious of strangers than Dick. That he would be more mature. However, I think that here we fail to understand that in the absence of a normal family, with a totally lost childhood, Jason is easier to cling to whoever shows him some genuine affection, in this case, Bruce. And if there is one thing that defines the relationship between Jason and Bruce, it is unfortunately, love, and for that very reason, it is a tragedy. Bruce tried to protect him as much as he could and still failed, because sometimes things get out of hand. Jason wouldn't feel so utterly betrayed by Batman if he didn't love him. Because in Jason's eyes it is seeing the father he loves do nothing to avenge him. Jason's fury as Red Hood is motivated by the hope that the only father figure he has left will love him, and the naivety that he will avenge him. And I say naivety, because Jason knows Bruce. He knows his father. He knows what his ideals are. And yet he maintains a childish hope, a naivety that the Joker knew how to abuse, that Bruce is going to change. But deep down he knows that this is not the case. Because Jason Todd is someone who loves too much. That he trusted the adults around him and consequently, himself. Because he was a good kid who just wanted to do good when he was given tools he didn’t know how to use and got too excited.

Conclusion

Little Red Riding Hood is a cautionary tale for children to not to talk to strangers. But I think that also, although it is not taken into account, it is a cautionary tale for parents. No matter how much you try to educate your child not to trust strangers, a child is a child and makes mistakes. Because you can't, as a parent, trust that one day he will not be separated from your hand by accident, and a big bad wolf will take him directly by force instead of trying to manipulate him first. Yes, Jason was old enough to make his own decisions and he screwed up. But he wasn't solely responsible for his own safety, and he wasn't prepared to walk alone in the woods, any more than Little Red Riding Hood was prepared either. In his death they all failed him. The system, his mother, his father who tried everything and that make it worse. Everybody.

And this is how Jason Todd was the victim of a ferocious hyena that fed on the trauma he left in his blood trail, which unlike the big bad wolf, a hunter never came to avenge him, having to crawl himself out of his stomach with the trauma that this entailed.

So let me ask you, dear reader, ¿would you tell Jason Todd's story as a cautionary tale? If that so, to the children or the parents?

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Fall Season! 🍁🍂🌻🎃👻🧛🏻‍♀️ … Three faced goddess continuation 👉🏻👈🏻? God dammit shana i fucking loved this prompt, 2012 Tony is the only version that has rights and I’ve had such a problem with him ever since aou, but your writing took me back to when I actually loved his character

a continuations of 1

Rhodey heads to the smith, unsurprised to see a line of people outside of it, waiting for the man inside to succumb to his need to eat or sleep and pounce on him for whatever issue they believe needs his immediate attention. Peter is among them, the closest to an apprentice that exists, but he can’t enter the forge without everyone else pushing in too, so he waits with all the rest of them.

When they see him coming, they groan, knowing their chances have been destroyed, except for Peter, who just looks relieved.

He remembers a time when Edward belonged to him alone. Edward exists because of him, after all, and needs must, but sometimes he can’t help but resent that this is another piece that he’s had to share.

“When I walk back out, it better be to an empty hallway,” he says blandly.

He receives a chorus of, “Yes, General,” and a jaunty wave from Peter before he’s opening the door and then shutting it firmly behind him.

In the beginning, the alchemy lab and the forge had occupied the same space, the outpost not yet big enough to have the rooms to spare. It had been quickly remedied once Rhodey had found about it, because the last thing any of them needed was losing him to an explosion of his own making, but he can’t say he’s surprised to see a cauldron bubbling ominously in the center of the room. “You have a lab for a reason.”

Surprised brown eyes snap up to meet his, and then there’s that familiar grin that always causes tension to unspool from his spine, even when it really shouldn’t. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. How goes the battle on the Eastern border?”

As if he doesn’t know. “They’re retreating. Our soldiers are holding the line and it looks like they’ve given up attacking us on that front. For now.”

“Sounds like something you should tell the king,” he says, frowning down into the cauldron as if it’s personally disappointed him.

Rhodey closes the distance between them, grabbing his chin and tilting his head to the side, frowning at the bruising mostly hidden by his hairline. “I am. But it’s a bit of wasted effort, considering the king is half the reason for their retreat.”

“Just half?” he pouts. “I really think that I deserve more credit-”

Rhodey kisses him to shut him up, a strategy that he’s been employing since they were teenagers, the whole reason necessitating Edward in the first place.

The second prince could not be scene dallying with someone so below him in station, the fact they were known to be friendly was a fluke of a broken wagon and much derision to all who heard of it. But Edward was no one, an educated fifth son of some nameless noble with a talent for metalwork, and no one cared if he kissed a commoner.

Then war had come knocking and a king could not do what needed to be done and so Edward had shifted from Rhodey’s to the country’s overnight.

Tony hums happily against his mouth and Rhodey pulls back rather than deepening it. Half the trick with was not letting him get distracted. “You need to get some sleep. Have you slept at all since getting back from the battle?”

The deep bruises under his eyes already tells him the answer, but it’s still worth asking.

“Need to figure this out,” he says, tilting his head to the cauldron. “It’s a coating for the blades to get them sharp enough to cut through armor. Not our armor, obviously, but other people’s.”

“A day,” he says, because Tony is needed everywhere at all times in all ways, and someone has to keep him from running himself into an early grave, and at the outpost, that’s him. “Just a day at home. I know you miss it. It’s been a while.”

Tony’s eyes go distant and fond. “Yes,” he agrees, and that one word has all the exhaustion that he won’t let show.

“You disappear all the time, no one will question it,” he murmurs, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’ll go if you will,” he returns. “You haven’t been home in even longer than I have.”

“Less of a need,” he argues, and he should argue against this too, when it’s unnecessary and dangerous, but he’s tired too. “Fine. We’ll need to sneak out to the woods if you don’t want to get caught.”

Tony clearly hadn’t expected him to agree that easily. “You hate flying.”

He hates how much pain it puts Tony in, but since he’s flying either way to get home, it doesn’t matter. “I’ll deal.”

Tony kisses him again, writes down some notes, douses the cauldron, and then they’re using the secret entrances that had actually been the whole point of building a lab near the forge. When they’re far enough away, Tony’s chest glows, the light and sparks spreading out from his chest to effulge his body and liquid gold and mercury sliding down his limbs. Rhodey has to close his eyes against the light, but Tony’s arms around him are always welcome, even when they burn almost too hot to stand.

The Iron Mage flying to the castle is a common enough sight that it raises no alarm and the brightness of Tony in flight means no one can tell he has a passenger, seen as nothing more than their own personal shooting star.

Tony melts the iron shutters back with a wave of his hand, likely reforming it behind them with a more intricate pattern than they’d been wrought with, because he always had such opinions about anything he hadn’t crafted himself.

He’s barely set Rhodey back onto his feet and folded the star back inside himself when there’s the running of little feet coming straight for them. Rhodey’s not surprised.

She’s always watching the stars, looking for her father.

Tony bends to pick up Morgan as she rounds the corner, barreling towards him with single minded intensity. “Daddy!”

“Hey, buttercup,” he says, hoisting her into her arms and settling her on his hip. “Miss me?”

“Yes,” she answers, wrapping her arms around Tony’s neck in a hug. She turns her head to grin at him, Tony’s eyes shining in her face. “Hi Rhodey. I missed you too.”

“Hi, Princess,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. She frees one arm from Tony to grab onto the front of his jacket, keeping him in place. He settled a hand on her back and that seems to satisfy her.

The door pushes open and Pepper is standing there, still with hair up and braided around a circlet and in a deep blue silk gown. “Someone here is supposed to be asleep.”  

Tony and Morgan’s innocent faces are identical and equally unconvincing.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Rhodey asks.

“It’s all three of you, really,” she answers, striding forward. She squeezes his shoulder, then uses it as balance to push herself to her tip toes.

Tony bends to meet her in a kiss, chaste enough that Rhodey doesn’t feel the need to pull away but long enough that he assumes Tony’s sleep might end up experiencing a delay.

“I don’t want to go bed,” Morgan says. “Daddy’s home.”

“I’ll be here in the morning,” Tony says and Pepper’s face relaxes. “Come on, I’ll put you to bed myself, okay? And then you can tell me about all the new things you learned over breakfast.”

“I’m not tired,” she insists, but only waves at him when Tony pulls away to take her to her room.

Rhodey waves back, almost goes with them, but having the two of them there will just make her twice as riled up.

“I could have another, you know.”

He looks down at Pepper, blinking. “I thought – after the war?”

After the cave, after swallowing a star rather than being swallowed by it, Tony couldn’t justify staying on the sidelines, couldn’t justify only contributing to the war as Edward. Besides, being captured in the first place had shown him that he wasn’t safe as Edward anyway, but even Tony couldn’t justify taking to the battlefield without an heir, without a child of Stark blood to inherit, without a queen who could rule both while he fought and invented and in the event of his death.

Prince Gregory had been ten years older than Tony, he’d been the boy everyone knew would be king. Tony was just the spare, and not even one had on purpose. It’s why he’d had the freedom to meet Rhodey in the first place, to take on the name Edward and poke and prod his way through universities and labs and harassing blacksmiths into teaching him a craft a prince was never supposed to know. They’d assumed his father would arrange his marriage to some foreign noble for political reasons and Tony would install her onto an estate and do what was necessary to add a couple kids to the royal line and that would be that, he would then be free to spend his time on pursuits he enjoyed and with the man he loved. He was just the second prince, after all, it’s not like what he did really mattered, and he and Prince Gregory had never gotten along anyway.

Lots of people hadn’t gotten along with Prince Gregory, lots of people had thought his temper and his cruelty and several other attributes made him unsuitable as king. Maybe, on their own, they wouldn’t have mattered much – Rhodey thought Prince Gregory was not so much worse than King Howard – but he was constantly compared to the brother ten years his junior and found lacking.

They never found out who was behind the attack that killed Tony’s parents and brother. With their enemies sensing weakness and declaring war soon after, it was easy to pin the blame on them. But there were persistent rumors that it’d been someone, or several someones, that wanted Tony on the throne over his brother.

Rhodey doesn’t know if it’s true. All he knows is that relief rippled through the country far heavier than mourning.

The relationship he and Tony had, the future they’d mapped out, had been possible for a snubbed second prince and utterly impossible for a king. Tony had put off marriage for longer than he should have, but he couldn’t forever, and his urge to get out and fight now that he could pressed down on him.

Pepper had been his friend first. Their friend first. A noble, but only barely, and utterly unsuitable for the title of queen according to her pedigree and also the only one Tony would agree to marry so the rest hadn’t mattered.

If she were anyone else, he thinks he would have hated her. But Pepper had come to him after Tony had asked her and said, “I love him,” like throwing down a gauntlet.

He’d known. Who couldn’t help but love Tony, once they got to know him? And Pepper was beautiful and competent and trustworthy, could have Tony’s children and lead his country and keep all his secrets. And Tony might be able to resist falling in love with Pepper when she was only his friend and confidant, but as his wife, the mother of his children, his queen? He would fall.

“I want what’s best for him,” she’d continued in what he thought was going to be the worst conversation of his life, “and that’s me and you. He would never give you up. You know that. You should have a little more faith in him.”

“He needs you,” he’d said quietly. What Tony needed is something he couldn’t be, he wasn’t a noble or a woman.

Pepper had lifted her chin in defiance, every inch the queen she was going to become. “He needs us.”

That had been years ago. They made it work, awkwardly and painfully at first, but much smoother these days, warmer and easier. When the war ends, he thinks things might even be easy.

Tony and Pepper had needed to have a child and quickly, to secure the succession. She’d been pregnant within four months of their marriage and Princess Morgan’s birth had been greeted with relief by the country. Still, more heirs are better, especially with Starks being thin on the ground, but Tony resisted the idea of having another child in the midst of war, another child that he might die on and abandon.

Which is what makes Pepper’s statement so confusing.

“I didn’t mean right this second,” she says, lips turning up at the corners. “I know I’m not exactly your type, but I certainly wouldn’t mind the process myself. Morgan’s yours, of course, but if you wanted – I wouldn’t mind. Tony wouldn’t either.”

He understands what she’s offering and he’s shaking his head before she’s even finished talking. “We can’t – they’d know.”

“Maybe the next one will take after my genes,” she says. “Goddess knows Morgan’s all her father.”

She is, so clearly Stark, from her eyes to her intelligence to her love of trouble. But there’s no way a child of his could pass as a child Tony’s, which is what any child of the queen’s would have to be. Even if they came out pale enough to pass as a Stark, which isn’t any sort of risk they could take, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of anyone finding out that a child in line for the throne was not of the Goddess blessed bloodline.

“Tony’s children are my children,” he says, and means it. Pepper and Tony had always been clear about that and it had been a relief, to not have to be so close and yet so far, to be able to love Morgan as his daughter even if it was nothing he could ever say out loud. “Go and help him with her. I know you have a lot to catch up on.”

He’ll go to his room, with the bed and comforts that he’s missed quiet a lot, and get the sleep that he’s also missed.

She sighs, squeezing his arm. “Don’t wander. I get up early and Tony never sleeps through it.”

Tony will get up with her, and kiss her as she heads to the hall, then go down to his room and crawl into bed with him, still sleep warm, until he has to get up and put in an appearance as King Anthony.

Rhodey smiles and nudges her towards the hall. “Go on, your husband is waiting.”

“Our husband,” she corrects imperiously and doesn’t move until he laughs and nods and repeats her words back to her.