#spent a while thinking about what to include and what would be leaning too far into spoilers

[on-a-lucky-tide]

A soldier yearns for home as a pining pilot watches on.

cw: hints of a shitty ex, soldiers away for Christmas.

Nik hadn’t questioned the guitar that John had loaded onto the Black Hawk. He had transported more unusual things into the heart of eastern Europe, and would do so in the future at John's behest, no doubt. That hadn't stopped him inspecting it while John had been busy briefing the 141 and an attaché of mercenaries Laswell had sent to support.

The case was solid black plastic, chipped and dented, and littered with band stickers. Some had faded to white completely, while others had peeled in places. His eyes lingered over a few bands he'd never heard of - The Fratellis, The Wombats, The… Pigeon Detectives - and some he did. John had a rather broad musical palette.

The instrument itself was well loved too, with a chip out of the main body and more faded stickers across the back and front. The varnish had worn off the fretboard, but the strings were relatively fresh; Nik ran the pads of his fingers over them and they hummed out a warm note. The musical echo of John's smile, Nik thought fondly. He clipped the case closed and grabbed a ratchet strap from a shelf to keep it secure.

They made camp in an abandoned building in the suburbs outside Timișoara. Nik could think of worse places to spend Christmas than the City of Roses, but everyone else's spirits were low. It was Christmas Eve and every soldier huddled in that little building was yearning for hearth and home. Nik had spent so long without one that he had learned to find solace where he could, and if that was enjoying the philharmonic opera and a glass of Țuică in a beautiful Romanian city after the mission, then so be it.

As he walked the floors, he heard Gaz talking softly on his phone, Soap and Ghost too, with muted Scottish voices coming through from the otherside. The lieutenant had lost so much and the sergeant had taken to including him in his own family. One day they would make it official. Nik had already picked out his suit for the occasion.

The team had a limited amount of downtime before all boots hit the ground and they went dark, and every single one had searched out their loved ones in whatever way they could. Nik hadn't realised his own heart had done the same until he ended up outside John's door.

It was ajar and Nik could hear him moving around. He was about to knock when he caught sight of John sitting down in front of a laptop, and his hand hovered in midair. A hazy picture appeared on the screen, flickering once as John adjusted the antennae.

“C'n y’ear me, Carol?”

“Yeah, John. C'n ‘ear ya, la.”

“‘Ow ya keepin’?”

“Fine, it's… I wish y’were ‘ere. I'm… it's hard. Bizzies were round lookin’ fer ‘im, he's gone an' been a prick again.”

“I know, ‘m sorry, be home soon–ahh, there she is!”

Nik leaned in and saw a new face appear on the screen. Kimmy. She was a combination of John and his sister, without a single trade of her father, as far as Nik could tell; erratic brown hair that had fought a comb to the death, broad nose and distinguished forehead, and those blue eyes were clearly a Price birthright, because they gazed owlishly from the screen as she worked out who her mother was talking to and then squealed with delight.

“Uncle John! You commin’ fer scran? Ma go’ pigs in blankets from down The Asda an’.. an’ that spotted dick wi’ custard, an’ an’...”

John chuckled. “Naw, love. Gotta sort out some bad men, then ‘ll be ‘ome, but ‘m gonna miss dinner.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, love, ‘m sorry. Ma got the clobber ya asked fer though.”

“Yeah…”

She didn't look convinced and Nik's heart ached for her.

“Bu’ listen, figured we could still do ar sing along at least. You ready?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Eh, yeah! Wait, wait…”

She left the screen, returning moments later with what looked like an Action Man doll in a carrier vest, and plopped herself back down on her mother's lap.

“Ready!”

John tweaked the strings and played a few trial notes to test the tuning, before he opened up into the introduction. Nik had never heard him play before. Not in all the years they had known each other, and it felt strangely intimate now, John's full bicep sloped over the body of the guitar as he strummed through the chords, agile fingers moving across the frets. Nik wished he could see from the front. Imagined it so clearly in his mind’s eye.

And then John started singing and Nik had to place a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“I wanna thank the storm that brought the snow, and thanks to the string of lights that make it glow, but I wanna thank you, baby. You make it feel like Christmas.” His voice was rich, the auditory companion to the dark amber of the whiskey in his office, gravelly and a little rough from so many years smoking strong cigars, but he carried a note perfectly, even if he was keeping the volume low. Nik felt his heart trying to beat out of his chest, a little breathless as he drank in every word.

Despite the subtle crackle of the poor laptop speakers, Carol’s voice carried just as well, low and silky, as John played through her verse, his smile visible even at the sides through the perk of his round cheeks. “It barely took a breath to realise, we're gonna be a classic for all time. I wanna thank you, baby. You make it feel like Christmas.”

When they fell in together, Nik realised this wasn't a one-off. They harmonised perfectly, practised, John dropping his lower baritone to allow Carol's voice to carry over the top, and Kimmy’s delighted squeak made Nik grin so broadly his face hurt. “Sweet gingerbread made with molasses, my heart skipped and I reacted, can't believe that this is happenin’, like a present sent from God, sleigh bells singin’ Hallelujah, stars are shinin’ on us too, I wanna thank you, baby… you make it feel like Christmas.”

John leaned back, dipping his shoulders, chuckling as he played through another bar, before he carried the next verse with Carol humming and echoing beneath. “Thought I was done for, thought that love had died, but you came along, I swear you saved my life, and I wanna thank you, baby, ‘cause you make it feel like Christmas.”

It was as Carol squeezed Kimmy and pressed a kiss into her hair, the Action Man dancing across the screen in Kimmy's small hands, that Nik realised John was singing to his niece. Not some abstract lover provided by the song, but the little girl that beamed at him like he was a superhero, held by the sister he had raised himself. John had no wife, no children, but he did have a family. A family that loved him, missed him, looked at him like he hung the stars.

Nik dropped his eyes for a moment, but he couldn't look away for long. It was like staring into a bonfire in a snowstorm; the warmth on his skin warding off the bitter cold, but the intensity of the light hurting his eyes. He wanted it so ardently that his entire body ached.

“I never thought I'd find a love like this, but I found forever in that very first kiss, I wanna thank you, baby, you make it feel like Christmas.” Carol finished the lyrics and they harmonised through the last few bars as she kissed her daughter’s rosy cheeks, bouncing her on her lap as she giggled.

John struck the final note and rested his palm over the strings to bring their warm hum to an end.

“Ahh, ‘gain! Again!’

John chuckled, a sound even warmer than the one made by his guitar. “Naw, sweet’eart. S’time fer bed, or Santa ain't gonna visit."

“Yer Santa,” Kimmy said tartly. “An’ y’ain’ ‘ere.”

“Olrigh', smartarse, but if I ‘ave t’ get a flight back over ‘specially t’ rob yer presents back, I will.”

“You wouldn't."

He said nothing, but Nik could picture the raised eyebrow, the stern set of his eyes and lips. Kimmy pouted and slid from her mother's lap, looking mischievous and reluctant, but complying because she knew there was no room for negotiation. Before she disappeared, she leaned in and the camera caught the top of her head as she kissed the screen.

“Love ya, Uncle John. See soon.”

“Sleep tight, ya little beast.”

She scurried away and Carol looked back at her brother, her eyes, just as blue as his, brimmed with anxiety. “You come back safe, y’ear? Safe. No heroics, ya get the job done, ya get yer arse t’ my dinner table before New Years.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kissed her fingers and they covered the camera briefly. “Love you, big brother.”

She took one final look at him and then the camera went black. He stared at the screen and then let out a long, rattling sigh, his face falling to his palm. Nik’s heart caught in his throat and he was frozen between leaving John to his sadness or offering comfort and revealing he'd been hovering there the whole time, invading his privacy.

He didn't need to worry for long. John's phone rang and he snatched it from the nearby table, sliding his guitar behind him to hang down his back. “Price,” he said, a stern bark. Back to business; John tidied away into the recesses of his heart, Captain Price assuming his place. John listened intently, hand on his hip. “Copy. ETA?” Another pause. “Fuck, that's too soon, we’re… yeah, Rog, we’ll be ready. We’ve got Nik with us.”

Nik smiled, stepping back. He had barely retreated four paces down the hall before his phone buzzed in his back pocket. It was John: “need you, 5 mins”.

Nik ducked into a nearby room to wait out the time. If he appeared too quickly, John would know he had been lingering nearby. He had no right to have invaded that private moment, and John deserved to believe it had been all his. A quiet moment to himself before the clusterfuck to come.

As Nik waited in the dark for the minutes to tick by, he added two new people to his silent, unwavering commitment to John Price. Nikolai would personally return John to Carol and Kimmy, their hero, safe and sound. They would sing together at Carol’s dinner table by New Years, Nik would make sure of it.

Nik left the room and knocked on John's door. When he entered, he was greeted by a lopsided smirk as John looked up from checking his M1911. “Time to get evil, Comrade.”

Nik grinned back. “It would be my pleasure.”

[biocrafthero]

Can we get crumb of info on Shay?? I can feel my blood sugar low without it

Of course!!

They're the most normal one out of the cast, but honestly that margin isn't that wide.

Physically capable. This, unfortunately, will not save them.

Occasionally wears a binder.

Dissociates when extremely stressed. Nightmare-prone. The threshold to actually reach that point is pretty high, thankfully.

There's also this :3

Picking out some songs from the non-spoiler playlist, I'd say that Animal Cannibal and Sleepwalk are good songs to understand their vibe for this story.

[chrissdollie]

warnings/notes: suggestive, matt x tumblr writer reader, no smut (but there will be soon), unedited, incomplete, nicknames (baby, babe)

matt sighs, boredly scrolling through his phone while you are sound asleep next to him. your boyfriend uses his free hand to gently rub up and down your thigh. the morning sun tries to peak in through the dark curtains, but the room is still dull. comforting though. especially with the sounds of your soft snores, matthew couldn't be any more comfortable.

that is until a few minutes pass, and he decides to open an app called tumblr that he "jokingly" installed not too long ago. a small smug grin spreads onto his face as he searches up "matt sturniolo x y/n". many results come up, some sweet and fluffy-- and others disgustingly filthy. on camera, matt would completely disregard any "you should read smut" comments... but he can't help and listen to the inkling of interest inside him.

he finds a random blog where he scrolls down to the pinned introduction post to find where all of the fics may be. you sigh sleepily, matt's head immediately snapping to you with wide eyes. you reposition yourself slightly and fall back into your deep slumber. your boyfriend wouldn't want you to know about him reading dirt. especially if it's about him!

he looks back down at his bright phone, scanning the introduction post quickly. he pauses all of a sudden. "yn?" he thinks to himself, his eyebrows pinching. but they quickly rest again, there's no way you, his sweet little angel baby writes nasty smut. and plus, plenty of people can have the same name as you.. right?

he taps on a link that says "about me" which brings him to a cutely decorated page. it's very girly-- definitely reminds him of his unaware girlfriend sleeping right next to him. he reads through the bullet points that include: your age, where you live and where you're from, and a list of things you love! this has to be you. not to mention, your profile picture is your favorite photo of him. he'd know, the physical picture is in a cute frame right next to your side of the bed.

he doesn't feel too embarrassed about wanting to read imaginary sex scenes anymore. matter of fact, he feels like a saint compared to you, who actually writes them! he finds your "masterlist" and it's an entire page just about him. he taps on the first link that reads "daddy's home".

in the years he's known you, including the HOURS of time you two spent having fun in the bedroom, he would've never expected to see kinks like these! by now, he's already gone through most of your fanfictions under the category of "smut". so far he's read drabbles of daddy/breeding kinks, bondage, roleplay, age gaps, sub!matt (this got him feeling a little tingly), and more. he wears a smug smirk on his face as your pretty eyes blink open.

"hi babyy.." he coos sweetly as if he hadn't read your dirty thoughts for almost an hour. he brings you into a warm snuggle, his hand caresses the back of your head while you yawn into his bare chest. "sleep good?" matt asks in his raspy morning voice. "mhm.." you sigh, holding onto him like a koala. the smug shit-eating grin is back on his face when he randomly says, "i found your tumblr."

your body tenses. oh shit. you've been caught. there are two things you can do here: play dumb or ask him if he liked what he saw. you lift your head to look up at your boyfriend. comfortingly, he looks amused. before you can speak however, he reminds you of what you've written. "yeah i read all of your kinky shit. i didn't think you'd be into some of the stuff i saw there, babe."

you feel your arousal sticking to your panties. you gently bite down on your lip, bravely staring into your lust-filled boyfriend's eyes. you seductively lean up so your mouth is only an inch away from his. "so what're you gonna do about it?"

THERE WILL BE SMUT TRUST BUT THIS IS ALL IM GIVING FOR NOWWW!! UH NOT PROOFREAD LIKE ALWAYS XX

[lecsainz]

could you please write a smut of carlos? i don’t have any ideas other than the smooth operator song being included and like a “smooth opera-te me” type of joke.

SMOOTH OPERATOR

parings: carlos sainz x girlfriend!reader

authors note: I'm not entirely sure if this is what you were after, but hope you dig it!

warnings: (+18) smut, minors dni!

☆. . . masterlist !

Having a boyfriend who was a Formula One driver was something Y/N always adored, not because he was famous or wealthy – far from it. She and Carlos had known each other since school, and from the first year of elementary school, Carlos knew he would one day call Y/N his girlfriend, and that's exactly what happened. Y/N could confidently say that what she loved most about dating the Ferrari driver was that Carlos had a penchant for speed, and it reflected in all their encounters.

It wasn't that Carlos was rough or anything, but she loved the ideas he brought to the bedroom, and he was always open to hers. So, for her, dating an F1 driver was amazing.

Then, like every night after a long day of training at the gym, Carlos entered the apartment he shared with his girlfriend. However, as soon as he stepped into the apartment, he found it unusually quiet, with no lights on.

"Y/N?" Carlos dropped his gym bag on the shelf next to the door. "Cariño?"

With no response, Carlos decided to call Y/N, but just as he was about to dial her number, he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. "Hmmm." He was certain it was Y/N.

Carlos approached and leaned against the slightly ajar door, finding his girlfriend with a vibrator in her hands.

"Oh, my God..." he moaned softly at the sight.

Carlos had nothing against Y/N satisfying herself, especially since he spent a lot of time away from home due to his commitments with Ferrari. He thought he might climax just from watching his girl find pleasure.

Carlos moved closer to the door, and then, as if it were meant to happen, he fell to the floor with a thud.

"MY GOD!" Y/N tossed the vibrator aside and rushed out of the bathtub to help her boyfriend on the floor. "Carlos Vázquez de Castro, what the hell was that?" She tried to hold back a laugh at the boy on the floor who had a pained expression.

"Do you want help?" she asked and received a mumble in response.

"I think it's better if you don't get too close unless you put on some clothes because this sight is too tempting, and I have a strong desire to fuck you right there in that bathtub." As soon as he said that, Y/N could feel her entire body tense up, and she got slight shivers just imagining Carlos taking her in the bathtub.

"Do this," Y/N leaned in and took the opportunity to sit on her boyfriend, who was lying on the floor. "Smooth opera-te me." she whispered in Carlos's ear, and he could swear he would never find anyone more perfect than the girl in his lap.

As if that served as a response, Y/N felt her boyfriend's member harden beneath her. "Make me climax like you always do, mi amore..."

Without any prior warning, Carlos got up, taking her along. "Is this a challenge?" he asked, raising an arched eyebrow.

"Who knows?" she replied, and Carlos playfully slapped her on the behind.

He pressed her torso against his with increasing desire, feeling her respond in the same way, as if they wanted to merge their bodies into one. When Y/N's lips were starting to ache from the pressure against Carlos's, she decided to start pulling up Carlos's gym shirt as she explored her boyfriend's muscular body with her hands. Her legs unconsciously tightened around Carlos's hips, lifting her up, and he took advantage of this to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He continued to escalate his touches until he found Y/N's breasts, which he cupped with his hands, releasing a muffled groan against her lips. Y/N allowed him to enjoy for a while, and then she broke the kiss with a bite to his lower lip, signaling for him to remove Carlos's shirt.

Carlos quickly moved, letting out a frustrated groan at being apart from her. He removed his shirt and hurriedly took off his sweatpants. When Y/N realized her boyfriend was without underwear, she let out a low moan.

"Carlos..." She hugged Carlos from behind.

"I-I know, mi amore," he replied, tossing his pants aside and returning to kiss Y/N. Carlos broke the kiss calmly and somehow managed to get into the bathtub, bringing Y/N with him. She lifted herself until they found the right position. Carlos placed his hands on her waist gently, as if to encourage her, and Y/N took him inside her slowly. She felt him grip her waist tighter as she reached the limit.

To find some stability in the small bathtub space, Y/N held onto her boyfriend's shoulders, trembling, and let all those new sensations wash over her. The couple stopped kissing and opened their eyes, staring deeply into each other. The connection through their gazes was so intense it could almost be touched.

Carlos closed his eyes, furrowing his brow slightly and sliding his hands down to her hips, while Y/N resumed the kiss, feeling pleasure growing monstrously and suddenly inside her. She wrapped her arms around Carlos's neck, tangling her fingers in his damp, sweaty brown hair, and began moving over him, accelerating with each passing second. Soon, Carlos was moaning again, as was she, and it was becoming almost impossible for both of them to kiss to muffle their moans and not disturb the neighbors.

"I-I'm close," Y/N gasped.

Carlos adjusted the angle and helped her go faster, intensifying each thrust and drawing a loud moan from her. "Shhhh, we have to be quiet, cariño."

Their faces remained close, intensifying the warm mix of their breaths until Sainz hit a sensitive spot in Y/N, bringing her to climax, followed by him.

She allowed her body to rest against his, unable to determine which of them was more breathless. She buried her face in the curve of Carlos's neck, letting his scent calm her, and after a few seconds, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her even closer to his chest. She closed her eyes, embracing him around the waist as well, and could hear him chuckle softly.

"I love it when we do something different," he said.

Even without much breath left, she couldn't help but let his soft laughter infect her. Carlos laughed along with the girl in his arms and kissed her head.

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 6 - Sadism & Masochism

Ghost x Soap - 1.2k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost appreciates all the things he's done to Soap and thinks about all the things he'd like to do. (Ghost POV)

cw: rough sex, bondage, degradation, spitting, belly bulge, dacryphilia, description of cutting someone during sex, somewhat unhealthy (but consensual) bdsm dynamics, ghost wants to hurt soap very badly and is restraining himself, violent thoughts about hurting someone while having sex, the sex is consensual but ghost fantasizes about forcing johnny, please hear what i am saying and do or don't read accordingly

note: i didnt reread through this one bc it's out of my comfort zone, so pls forgive any glaring mistakes lol

Ghost snarls as he fucks more harshly into the bound body beneath him, Soap’s whines and moans echoing off the walls as he squirms in his bindings. The ropes are tied too tightly – not so much that they’ll cut off circulation, but enough that Johnny’s wrists are red and irritated and will be for days.

Simon’s lips peel back from his teeth, expression twisted into something mean as he drags his nails down Johnny’s chest, irritating the cuts he’d spent hours on earlier. Each one placed so they blend in among his other scars, deep enough to drip steadily but not so deep that they’d need stitches. The dark red trails against Johnny’s tan skin makes Ghost’s pale hands look even more out of place, reminds him that he’s out of place above Johnny’s body, doing something he shouldn’t be.

It only makes his cock harder, the thought that Johnny doesn’t deserve this, that he’s only putting up with it for Ghost. It doesn’t matter much either way – if Johnny didn’t want to give, that wouldn’t stop Simon from taking – but Ghost knows Johnny’s nowhere near as much of a masochist as Simon is a sadist. Knowing that Johnny’s forcing himself to endure what Ghost wants, just so he can get fucked…

“Whore,” Simon spits, forcing Johnny’s knee flat to the bed when he starts kicking out in defense. “You’re just a whore for me, huh? That all you wanna be?”

Johnny arches his back, degradation always quick to get him begging for more. “Yeah, yeah, just for you, L.t.”

Ghost twists one of Johnny’s nipples far past the point of pleasure, watching avidly as Johnny’s mouth pops open into a perfect o, the pain shocking him quiet. Ghost leans forward as much as he can without forcing himself to stop fucking the stretched hole beneath him, and spits onto Johnny’s face.

“Mine, yeah?” He rumbles, gathering enough spit to do it again, making sure to hit Johnny’s cheekbone this time. His eyes are bright and dazed, too fucked-out to care much about what’s going on if it doesn’t include him getting off. Simon grabs him by the jaw, smearing the spit over his face with his free hand and shaking him roughly.

“Sir, fuck,” Johnny gasps, hips working to try and push himself further onto Ghost’s cock. Ghost knows that’s all he cares about, knows Soap would let him do just about anything as long as it meant a fat cock in his ass and at least one orgasm. 

“Gonna let me do whatever I want to you, then?” Ghost goads, big hand still pushing at Johnny’s face. He smacks him soundly a few times, relishes in the way his skin goes from pink to red, backhands the other cheek to make it match. 

He grips Johnny tight by the jaw again, pushing his lips out into a pout that he can bite, drawing another whine from Johnny’s raw throat.

He pulls back again a moment later, holds himself up with a hand placed over Johnny’s chest, gives him enough of his weight to make sure it’s a little harder to breathe. He trains his eyes on the bulge in Johnny’s gut, the outline of his cock visible.

Ghost wants to slam his fist there, listen to Johnny choke as he keeps fucking him, maybe see him struggle for breath. He’d be able to feel his hand on his own cock, could give himself that spike of pain that always makes his orgasms last longer.

He doesn’t, though, and manages to keep his fingers spread flat instead of tucked up into a fist. There’s a line for how much he can make Johnny take every time, and he has to push it forward slowly if he doesn’t want Soap to crumble to dust beneath him.

He wants to hurt Johnny, but that doesn’t mean he wants to break him. 

He knows that he’ll probably never be able to do everything he wants with Johnny – for as kinky as the Scot is, even he would back away if he could see the fantasies Ghost dreams about. But no one’s ever let Ghost do as much as Soap has, and that’s enough for him.

Johnny squirms beneath as Ghost fuck him, and Simon’s sure he’ll be limping tomorrow. He’d stretched him as little as he could get away with, using as little lube as he could to make sure it would sting when he slid inside. Johnny had cried until Ghost was buried hilt deep, and then he’d traded the crying for sobbing.

His face is soaked in his own tears and Ghost’s spit, and it makes his suffering that much more pronounced. Johnny’s dripping in evidence of what Simon’s done to him. 

He wants to make things ten times worse. He wants to bend Johnny over the sink and shove him face first into the mirror, wants to refuse to reset his broken nose until Johnny makes him come, wants to watch the tears on his face mix with blood – he’d lick the cuts when he was done, get a taste right from the source and listen to Johnny whine about the sting. He wants to brush his teeth every morning and look into a mirror he broke with Johnny’s face, knows Johnny would blush every time he washed his hands and had to see it.

Ghost runs his nails down sensitive skin, leaving behind pink streaks in his wake and thinks about standing on Johnny’s chest, making him hold his full weight. He’d wear his combat boots, the ones with rough soles that could leave red marks for hours. He’d jack off on Johnny’s face, watch him desperately try to get a deep enough breath to beg. Maybe piss on him a bit – Soap hates that, hates the stench and the taste, but that just makes Simon want to do it more.

He’s already gotten Johnny used to the knife. He could force him to his knees, fuck him from the back with a hand wrapped in his mohawk and another keeping the blade steady at his throat. Johnny’s tender headed, gets bitchy quick when Ghost tugs him around by his dumbass haircut, and Ghost can imagine just how he’d panic when he realized leaning away from the hand in his hair meant leaning towards the knife. 

Ghost wants to hurt Johnny. Wants to kick him and hit him, tie him up in ways that make his joints scream then whip him until he bleeds, wants to bend him in half so Johnny can watch as his cock wrecks his hole. Wants to share a bed and listen to him bitch and moan all night about how he can’t get comfortable because of the pain, then beg for more when he wakes up hard the next morning. 

He settles for this, for now – for streaks of red from shallow cuts, for swollen nipples and lips and a cock so red and achy that it can’t be anything but painful. 

Ghost can be patient. For Johnny, he can go slowly. He knows that they’ll get closer to what he needs someday, that he can make Johnny stretch enough for the both of them.

[zerokurokawa]

Daughter From Another Lifetime, Part Two (Bonten!Rindou x Reader)

(part one)

After the conversation with his you, the mother of his child, Rindou did everything he could to make up seventeen years worth of lost time with his daughter. He picked her up from school in his nice car, took her out to eat, took her shopping, and even taught her how to drive like a father should. Other than spending time with d/n, he had other things on his agenda was well. 

He couldn't help but to notice how great you looked to be in your early thirties. Both of you looked amazing. You, with your e/c, h/c and h/l, and overall beautiful physique, were as stunning as the day he had met you. Truth be told, he had never fallen out of love with you and thought of you often. He craved you, needed, and wanted you. Hell, he even thought to himself about having a second child with you if it wasn't too late. He enjoyed being a father after all. 

One night, after taking d/n out to eat, he brought her home on time as promised. You and Rindou had a set schedule when it came to your daughter. He would pick her up from school, take her out on certain days, and drop her back off at home before or at nine. Only this time, Rindou had invited himself inside to talk more. 

As d/n went to her room, he sat himself at the counter once more, making himself at home in your humble apartment. 

"I think I should buy you a house." He stated, out of the blue. 

"I don't need your help with that, I've got plenty in savings and we're doing just fine here." You sounded cold. 

"It would be my gift to you, y/n... I want you to live comfortably and never have to work again." He said, taking a sip of the wine you had poured him. He was still wearing his suit, which was neatly pressed, from work. His lilac and purple hair cascaded down his shoulders as he watched you intently. 

"You would really go that far, huh?" You were leaning against the counter now, cleavage out. He was obviously trying not to stare, but what could a man do? He wanted you, badly. He wanted you back so bad that he even told his brother about your return and the fact that he was a father. Needless to say, Ran was surprised that he was an uncle and couldn't wait to meet his niece. 

"Yeah, I would. I would do anything for you both." He said, leaning in across the counter and propping his arms on the edge. He wanted to get closer to you, but the damn counter was in the way as you were standing opposite of him. You stayed silent while he spoke up again. 

"I want you both to live happily, without worry. I've kept my promise by putting her first. I've been leaving work early and picking her up. I've spent time with her. I've gotten to know her likes and dislikes and she's just like me!" He rambled, a wide grin creeping upon his face. He was trying to win you back. 

"I'm glad, Rindou." You smiled at the thought of your daughter finally having her father in her life. You had seen how happy it made d/n to be around her dad. She even came home one day and told you all about the awesome shopping trip he took her on and how she got everything she ever dreamed of, including the newest iPhone. 

"So why don't you give me a chance to prove myself even further?" He smiled, taking his hand and placing on top of yours. He got up from the counter and walked around to where you were standing. He towered over you, his eyes gazing into yours. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. You wanted him, but not all that he came with. You knew he was in a very illegal, dangerous line of work and you didn't want that to affect your relationship any further than it already has. You caught yourself thinking about the Tenjiku days and how often Rindou would come home with wads of money from seemingly nowhere. That's when you knew he was up to no good. 

"I mean... me and you. Let's give us another chance." He started to wrap his arm around your waist. You let him, for a split moment, as you were lost in his gaze. The next thing you knew, you two were inches apart and he was leaning in further. Right when he was about to kiss you, or so you thought, he tilted his head while brushing back a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"I think... we can make it work this time." He whispered gently into your ear, his breath grazing your skin, causing you to shiver. You stayed silent; lost in a daze of confusion and thoughts as he leaned back, arm still wrapped around your waist. 

"I need time to think about this, Rin..." You trailed off. You wanted him, badly. You were scared though. You were terrified of numerous things. What if he brings work home and someone comes after you and your daughter? What if he gets caught and gets sentenced to prison? What if... he gets killed? 

He backed away, trying not to upset you. He could see the look on your face. As he turned to leave, he asked one more question. 

"Promise me, you'll think about it?" 

You nodded your head in response, still in a daze of thinking. He left without a single word. 

(Tagging: @rukiasluver @merrymerrykiss @burndownyourparade) <333 <333 <333

[chloe-skywalker]

My Boy - Bucky Barnes

Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,229

Summary: Bucky loves your son, Y/n has a son from a previous bad relationship. And Bucky loves him as his own.

Song: My Boy - Elvie Shane

Authors Note: This is the first song imagine I believe I have ever written. I really love this and again its essentially based off of the story the song gives. I definitely recommend listening to it.

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“So how's things going with Y/n?” Steve asks as Bucky comes to sit on the couch and join everyone.

“Great. She gets me and I seem to get her.” Bucky answered taking the water from Steve’s offering hand, leaning back into the couch.

“How’s it going with her son?” Natasha raised a brow at the super soldier. To her that was the real test. 

“Good. It seems good. He doesn’t hate me. Y/n says he’s always talking about me and when they’ll see me again.” he nodded along with a smile tugging on his lips.

“He likes you Bucky.” Wanda smiled knowingly.

“So far.” Bucky let out a relieved but stressed breath.

“Are you expecting him to hate you at some point?” Steve raised his eyebrows at his childhood friend with shock and confusement.

“I don't want him to but it’s just him and y/n his whole life. I don’t want to think I’m taking his mom from him.” Bucky told them his recently insecure thoughts.

“The kid loves you and you include him in almost everything you do with Y/n. I doubt he feels like you're taking his mom from him." Nat says looking Bucky in the eye’s to get across her words are fact.

“Bucky, you love that boy. The way you talk about him, it’s obvious.” Steve points out leaning forward.

“Why don’t you bring them over? It’s not like you don’t have the space. You have a large apartment to yourself.” Tony gives Bucky the idea. They all had their own huge apartment in the compound.

“That’d be okay?” Bucky questioned warily. He would love to have Y/n and Y/s/n over, maybe even eventually move in.

“Diffidently.” Tony nodded, he loved the idea of another kiddo running around.

^     ^     ^

“Hey” Y/n greet’s as Bucky opens the door. He had invited them over for the day and over course they would come over. Y/s/n wanted to see Bucky really badly, not that he hadn’t seen him a day ago. Y/n was excited and slightly nervous, she knew inviting them over was a big deal for Bucky.

“Hey, welcome.” Bucly smiled, covering his nerves well.

“Bucky!” Y/s/n yells out excited to be visiting him with a huge smile on his face.

“Y/s/n” Bucky smiled at him, really glad that the boy was excited to visit him.

“So what do you think?” Bucky asked y/n as they entered his place in the compound, Y/s/n had already run off to go explore Bucky’s place.

“Its very nice.” y/n smiled back absent mindedly as she looked around.

“Its huge.” Bucky stated plainly.

“Yeah, but that’s not a bad thing.” Y/n turns to him with a smile on her lips.

“It gets lonely.” he told her admittedly.

“Well Y/s/n and I are here now. Less lonely. Right?” Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Definitely.” Bucky smiled back at her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The 3 of them spent the day together, playing games, coloring and making lunch.

Y/s/n decided to color a surprise as he called it.

“What you got there bud?” bucky asked him as Y/s/n approached him.

“For you. Its mommy, me, and you.” Y/s/n handed the coloring picture to Bucky shyly.

As Bucky looked at the picture hennoticed a very important detail. In the picture under the drawing of Bucky Y/s/n didn’t put down ‘Bucky’ he wrote ‘Dad’.

Y/n noticed how Y/s/n handed it over shyly to Bucky and that Bucky was staring at it for a while. y/n leaned over and saw why.

“Bucky, I understand it its to soon for this-” Y/n watched him nervously, trying to find the words too explain.

But Bucky didn’t let her finish, he got up and walked over to put it up on his fridge. The only two items on the fridge was an old picture of him and Steve in black and white, and a picture of the Avengers team. Plus now y/s/n’s drawing.

“Thank you Y/s/n.” Bucky smiled, picking him up and hugging him. Maybe the kid loves him just as much as Bucky loves the kid back.

That drawing ,eant more to Bucky than he could put into words, and he loves it. Its not something he thought he could have. That he’d ever have.

From then on it became a normal occurrence for y/n and Y/s/n started staying over at Bucky’s place in the compound a lot more.

^     ^     ^

Weeks Later

“Okay buddy time for bed.” Y/n tells Y/s/n as it was getting late.

Y/s/n mumbled under his breath not wanting to go to bed. But maybe he could work it in his favor.

“What was that bud?” Bucky asked, having heard him mumble something but couldn’t make out what it was.

“Can I sleep in your room?” Y/s/n spoke up louder this time.

Y/n goes to say no, not wanting Bucky to feel obligated or pressured by Y/s/n request. At home it was fine for y/s/n to come into bed with his mom sometimes. But before she could Bucky cut in.

“Course you can Y/s/n.” He smiled down at y/s/n encouragingly, not having a problem with him joining them in his bed.

“Can I mommy?” Y/s/n turned asking his mom to double check.

“If Bucky says so, its okay with me.” Y/n smiled down at him kissing his head to go to bed together.

Y/n wakes up to an empty bed. So she got up and followed the sounds coming from the living room. As she walked into the main area she saw Bucky and Y/s/n watching saturday morning cartoons.

“Mommy!” Y/s/n exclaimed excited;y running over to his mom, hugging her around the waist the best he could.

“Hey Y/s/n. What are you doing with Bucky?” She questioned even though it was obvious.

“Me and Daddy were watching cartoons!” Y/s/n told her excitedly to share his morning with Bucky.

“You were?” Y/n raised an eyebrow showing her son she was inturged.

“Yeah.” Y/s/n nodded smiling widely.

“Well now that mommy’s up, let's make breakfast.” Bucky spoke getting up from his spot on the couch.

As Bucky approached her and Y/s/n went to the kitchen to wait for them, y/n looked at Bucky apologetically. “I’m sorry if he’s pushing this whole dad thing on you.”

“Y/n.” Bucky stop’s her reaching forward to grab ahold of her hand, smiling at her. The look on his face made it obvious no apology was needed. “He isn’t my blood, he doesn’t have my name. But that doesn’t change anything. I feel the same. I wasn’t there for his first steps or words, but I haven’t missed a ball game yet. And that won’t ever change, I could never walk away from him or you. He’s my son, that's my choice. He’s my boy. And he sees me as his dad and I’m honored to hold that title if you’ll let me.” 

Y/n smiled at Bucky happily. “Of course.”

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 18

The last one!

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Clockwork leaned against one of the cool stone walls of his lair, eyes closed.  The months he had spent away amounted to little more than a blink in an unimaginably long life, and yet he was happy to be back.  

And happier still that Daniel was back with him.  

Oh, he would have been glad enough to have him safe in the Far Frozen or Pandora’s kingdom, that was true.  Frostbite and Pandora were easily and obviously the best of the applicants.  Jasmine wouldn’t have been a terrible choice, either.  

Still.  What he had wanted most of all, but had barely dared to hope for, was for Daniel to choose him.  

It was selfish, perhaps.  Clockwork had limitations, restrictions, that Frostbite and Pandora did not.  He was still beholden to the Observants, and he had duties to the timeline apart from that.  Daniel might certainly have a more peaceful life away from Clockwork.  

But he might have a more tumultuous one as well.  Clockwork had seen many paths, waiting for Daniel to return from his visits, many ways that time could unfold.  He had not been able to, and still could not, pick the one that was most likely.  There were timelines where Daniel returned to Amity Park, timelines where he spent his days in idyllic, peaceful Realms, timelines where he accompanied his new guardian or guardians to war, timelines where he grew up and moved away, timelines where he remained childlike forever, timelines where he fell into corruption and evil, timelines where he rose up, becoming even greater than he was now.  

There were too many variables for even Clockwork to begin to sort them out.  Anything could have happened.  

Including this.  

Clockwork let himself smile.  Neat braids of timelines spiraled out from this moment, all of them golden bright in the near future, even if some of them tarnished in the more distant future.  

Clockwork could avoid those.  He was sure of that.  

There was much to do before then.  Lessons needed to be arranged.  Jasmine, while far too zealous, hadn’t entirely been wrong about that.  And Clockwork should contact her sooner rather than later.  She was a good sister for Daniel, even if she wouldn’t have been a good parent.  Daniel’s things from the temporary house would need to be brought over.  Arrangements regarding Amity Park should also be made.  Daniel might not remember the place at all, outside of stories he’d heard from Vlad, Frostbite, and the like, but his normal affection for it was great.  And, on the subject of memory, Clockwork ought to look into ways to compel the Observants to return Daniel’s memories, or even call upon the doctors of the Far Frozen–

A soft sound stirred Clockwork from his musing, and he opened his eyes.  He had prepared a room for Daniel, against this very scenario, and his preparation had paid off.  Half hidden by gauzy curtains, Daniel laid in the large bed under star-patterned sheets and blankets, exhausted by the emotions and exertions of the day.  

Although, he wasn’t entirely under the blankets.  He had rolled over in his sleep and knocked his sheets askew.  

Clockwork flew forward, brushing the curtains aside, and tucked Daniel in.  He took a moment to pull some of Daniel’s hair out of his face as well.  It was getting long.  Perhaps they should think about braiding it.  

But doubtless Daniel would tease him if he knew that Clockwork was watching him so closely in his sleep, and rightly so.  As he had been thinking only moments before, he had much to do, and he had no desire to disturb Daniel’s rest.  Regretfully, Clockwork flew back, towards the door.  So many things to get ready…

He paused, though, before closing the door, watching Daniel sleep for a moment longer.  Watching his son.  

He smiled, a little more broadly than was his usual habit.  Everything was exactly how it should be.  

He closed the door, and, for the moment, left Daniel to his dreams.

He hoped they were good ones.

[amournoir]

play toy 🧸

characters: f!reader x innocent!rafe cameron

warning: does implied smut count?

count: 1k

note: okay so i decided to do a thing. it’s a very short blurb but please lmk what you think!?

It was a random day in the middle of the week but when the Camerons throw a party, attendance is not a question. I had been friends with the kooks since childhood although I was something of a hybrid, kook mother and pogue father, I still fit in both world. Sarah, a few of her friends, and I had been in her room enjoying the party from there. After a while, they left but I remained, there was a knock on the door then her brother walked in. Rafe noticed me sitting on her bed and immediately walked up to me, “Who are you and why are you in my sister's room?"

“I’m Sarah’s best friend, Y/N.”

He eyes you up and down, “Best friend eh? You two been 'best friends'?”

I smirked and replied, “Yeah, I like having fun with her if you know what I mean.” It’s not as though Rafe had never met me, he had dozens of times but majority of those were in public settings or when he wasn’t drunk out of his mind.

“Oh I bet you have. How long have you two been 'best friends'?”

“Almost two years now.”

“Two years and I haven't seen you? I would have thought you two would have been inseparable, have you spent the night with her?”

Rafe was suspicious of me and my intentions with his sister but it felt less like him being a caring big brother and more of him just being nosy with a hint of jealousy. So of course I was going to play along.

“Why do you care who I’ve spent the night with?” I ask with a slight raise of my brow. “And you have seen me, you’d remember if only you weren’t an alcoholic frat boy.”

“I just don't think my sister should be hanging around such a...” He glances my way with a slight look of disdain. “Type of person.”

“Oh I get it. You’re just jealous I’ve never spent the night with you.”

“Why would I be interested in you? You're too trashy for anyone to want to be with including your supposed best friend who should have much better priorities.”

“Your mouth says trashy but that bulge in your pants says otherwise and so do your eyes.” I smile playfully at him, “Have you been watching me Cameron?”

He is taken aback by the remark, a slight blush rising to his cheeks and his heart starts racing. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the dresser. Rafe doesn’t respond, he just glares at me quietly.

“You know, I think I might spend the night with Sarah tonight. But don’t worry, I promise we won’t be too loud.” I wink at him knowing full well it’d get under his skin.

“You fucking—” Rafe tries to keep it together but is becoming more enraged by the minute. “I swear if you so much as even touch her.”

“Oh I’ve done far more than touch her. Your little sis is such a freak, don’t you know? She loves going down on me.”

“No. She wouldn't.” He shakes his head, either to deny it or erase the image from his head, who knows. His face is becoming more red with anger the more I continue to talk. “She's...my sister!”

“Yes and she’s my special girl. And just for that I’ll be sure you hear how loud I make her.”

“N...No. You—” Rafe is trying his absolute best to remain calm, but the thought of his sweet little sister with another girl is far too much for him to bear.

“She’s such a good girl when she’s tearing up especially when she begs me to keep going.” I honestly can’t stop. Who knew all I had to do to get under his skin was tease him about his sister’s sluttiness.

I can see the effect my crude comments have on him, they are making him feel sick to his stomach. His chest is quickly rising and falling, getting tighter as his breathing becomes heavy and quick. “STOP! Just stop!”

I smirk and ask, “Why don’t you make me Cameron?”

He glares at me, uncrossing his arms from his chest and clenches his fists. “I could.”

I pull myself to the edge of her bed and let my feet dangle off the side. I look at him and simply say, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop playing with your sweet Sarah if you become my play toy.”

He is speechless but his eyes narrow. “You're serious? You would really leave my sister alone if I did...that…for you?”

I shrug nonchalantly and add, “I might screw her one more time for old times sake but yeah, I will.”

I can see the internal battle going on just by reading his face. Rafe’s body is filled with a mix of rage and excitement but he can't decide which emotion he is feeling more. My interest is slightly piqued just by watching him actually consider my offer.

“Five seconds Rafe before she returns and I bend her pretty firm ass over this bed as you watch.”

He unclenches his fist and lets out a heavy sigh before nodding his head in agreement.

“Say it.”

There's a long pause. Rafe's eyes water and he is visibly shaking but eventually he is able to respond, “I— I…will be your play toy.”

“Good boy.” I smile in satisfaction just as Sarah walks in. She’s in a short black skirt and a white tube top with the first two buttons open. I look over at Rafe and instruct Sarah whilst keeping my eyes on him, “Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees on the bed for me.”

His eyes instantly widen. I couldn’t believe that he would actually agree to being my play thing. I could just see the rage-filled thoughts running through his mind and the helplessness coursing through him as he watches his precious little sister obey. Still locking my eyes with Rafe’s, I flip over Sarah’s skirt, exposing her thong and slap her ass.

“Good. Now let’s get started.”

🏷️ taglist:

⤷ @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @jjsbank444 @moremaybank @ungodlyfeminine @rafesangel @rafesthroatbaby @rafetopia @tinyluvs  @mrs-maximoff-kenner @thatfanficstuff @elijahmikaelsontrash @mxacegrey @thatfictionalwh0re @catmikaelson20 @loverswillowed @panic-at-the-fiction @iiskittles16ii @original-siphon @onlyfreds @onlyfredslibrary @slinthoex @i-love-nora @multiversediaries @decoffinated-vamps @hopester08 @aloneatpeace @hopes-wife @klaustopia @sweetestdesire @cottontears @cottonreads @buckyysdoll @spnandtvdudeservedbetter @impossibleheartflower @spike-and-angels-gf

home ✰ navigation ✰ masterlist

[kaija-rayne-author]

Did Solas actually kill Felassan?

It's interesting to me that, as objectively bad as DAV is, Felassan was noticeably not in Solas's regrets.

Spoilers for all dragon age materials, games, comics, and books included.

Obligatory 'I'm not an asshole' disclaimer. Feel free to jump to the cut if you've read it.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I was on media blackout while I played DAV. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Note. None of my writing on DA, but especially DAV, is edited. This is just my off the cuff writing. I don't have the time, energy, or heart to edit them properly.

So did Solas kill Felassan? If you asked probably 99% of the fandom, they'd look at you funny and say 'of course'. You can call me deluded, it's fine. I legitimately don't care. I know that most people in this Fandom love to think Solas killed Felassan. (I have my theories on why, too, but that's another post.)

But ya know what? Solas would barely even be questioned if it were a modern setting. And unless the trial were rigged, he'd never be convicted of it. Yet the Fandom just loves to crucify the character.

I mean, there's plenty of other things he's definitely done that you can hate on if you want. He's never been all that shy in admitting he's a bloody handed rebellion leader. I think if he'd actually killed his friend, it would've been one of his biggest regrets. It's not like the elf has very many FFS. And I think he would've sadly admitted it too, if anyone had asked.

So why don't I think Solas killed Felassan?

There. Is. No. Proof.

So, look. I have a background in bioanthropology and forensic chemistry. Crime scene work. I honestly think the whole thing about Solas and Felassan is a Weekes twist.

1. It doesn't make sense that Solas killed someone who was spoken of as his friend. Not someone who served him.

2. Would Solas be capable of it? Yes. He's an antihero character. As such, he's capable of killing even a romanced Lavellan if she gets in his way. That's what an antihero does, they (usually, when written with any sort of competency) have a Goal TM. The only thing that can be allowed to matter to a true anti-hero character, before the goal is complete, is The Goal. I just don't think Solas actually did it.

3. I didn't want to believe Solas had killed Felassan. (Feel free to let me know, politely, if there was incontrovertible evidence in Veilguard, cause no way in hell am I playing it again unless someone pays me. A lot. It won't really matter to me, because DAV doesn't exist and is not Canon as far as I'm concerned because of the bad writing and disrespect of the Lore.) But you can tell me if he actually admits it or is shown doing the deed somewhere. So I went searching and analyzed everything. I can't find a lick of substantial proof that Solas definitely killed Felassan.

4. But it also tickled all those old crime stuff senses I spent so long training to do. My kids think I'm hilarious to watch true crime with, because I scoff at everything authorities missed re:evidence, a lot of the time. I have a gift for it, and misogyny drove me out of STEM.

Anywaaaayyyy.

Weekes has said several times that they love to write the kind of twist that 'was right in front of you the whole time'.

I don't honestly think Solas killed Felassan. And I have actual reasons why. Other than, I didn't want my blorbo to have done that. It just doesn't make sense. I don't generally have a problem with anti-hero characters being murderous fucks in pursuit of their goal, because literarily, that's kinda part of their purpose as an archetype.

Do feel free to look all this up for yourself, I have annoted notes on it all, but the big bad happened in Masked Empire. Felassan is an interesting character, I enjoyed reading the book (3x).

Motive: Felassan didn't get the key to the Eluvians to give to whoever he served.

Actions: Felassan knew he'd be killed for disobedience. He catches a rabbit, roasts it, gives himself a last meal, considers staying awake to avoid his employer, and decides an ancient Elvhen needs more courage than a 'stripling human'.

He tosses herbs on the fire, lays down, and dreams.

He wakes in the Fade in the same wintery forest he went to sleep in. He feels his dangerous employer nearby and starts talking.

He tells employer that he didn't get the key, which is a fib, because he chose to not take the key from a young elf he mentored.

He senses his employer knows that's a lie.

He tells employer he feels the modern elves deserve a chance.

He compares Briala, his mentee, a decidedly 'defines self as woman/female elf', to employer.

Employer crunches through leaves behind him.

'He never felt the blow that killed him'.

It never, anywhere, says 'Solas killed him'.

1. Felassan's body wouldn't be dead, it would be tranquil and still asleep in the cold forest he went to sleep in. That's what happens when a spirit is killed or separated from their body in the fade. This is deeply established Lore (as is the fact that tranquility is cureable.) Solas, even on a technicality, couldn't have killed Felassan cause he's tranquil, not dead.

2. Felassan compared a decidedly female elf to his employer. Solas isn't straight for any reason but misplaced 'avoid evil bisexual trope'. He was originally written as bi, but he's definitely more on the masc side of things, gender and sex wise. (You could make a case for him to be non-binary too, that would make a lot of sense, but that's a headcanon, not proof.)

3. Wolves move silently through bracken, like dried leaves. And all throughout DAI, Solas is shown as pretty graceful and easy moving. It's not hard to walk relatively quietly, if you're abled, through dry leaves. You'd kinda have to not care to crunch through them. Or want someone to hear you coming, which is a very un-Solas like power move. "He comes in humble guises".

4. Felassan wears Mythal’s Valleslin.

So, quick side jaunt on the Vallaslin. They aren't just pretty decorations. They're not make-up. They're called 'blood writing' and heavily implied as a method of control over the branded Elvhen by the Evanuris in the Lore.

So. By wearing Mythal’s Valleslin, he's sworn to her, and likely serves her.

Mythal is also a dreamer. (Or even lives in the fade like a lot of other Evanuris did.) It's implied in the Lore, that almost all ancient Elvhen were somniari, and definitely all of the Evanuris. She's still in Flemyth at the time of the murder. Flemyth hasn't ever been very pleasant and, y'know, not murderous. If you've played through all three games, the ones that actually were good, written decently, and that mostly followed the Lore? You'd know Flemyth isn't an awesome person. Mythal is even bloody worse.

Whatever you think of Solas as a character, he doesn't outright lie except for once in DAI. During WEWH. (Obscure, obfuscate, deflect, mislead, yes! Outright lie, based on the dictionary and philosophical definition of a lie, no.) And I don't believe in the 'lie by omission' nonsense. Why everyone thinks they have the right to know every little thing about someone else immediately is beyond me.

All circumstantial evidence points toward Mythal and away from Solas. (Except people love to hate Solas, so of course, everything a decidedly not awesome ancient, uber powerful mage with a god complex does is his fault. Makes perfect sense because he's eeeeevvvvviiiillll. Ripest of Sarcasm and glares at Epler, Creative Director of DAV. )

Solas has also been shown to be someone who listens to his few friends. He listens to Inky, Varric, and Bull a few times in DAI. So it's also odd that Felassan's employer wouldn't even consider listening. That Felassan knew he'd die rather than be listened to. Felassan is Solas's friend, ergo, he'd have been likely to at least listen.

Solas is also shown as someone honourable 'I have distracted you from your duty, it won't happen again'. 'I wouldn't lay with her under false pretenses'. When you're honourable, you kill an enemy face to face, not a stab in the back. Mythal? Yeah, she missed the honourable boat by oceans.

Oh! But what about Cole's line in Tresspasser?

To be completely frank, so many of Cole's comments are 19th/20th/21st century TV, game, movie, and book references, I don't know why anyone gives his commentary any weight at all.

So, Cole's line is, "His friend had to die. Because he thought they were people. A slow arrow breaks in a sad wolf's jaws"

You could take it on face value, sure. But, you'll pardon me if I think it's silly for anything Cole says to be considered fact on face value alone.

So let's break it down, assuming (possibly incorrectly) that this comment has anything to do with Solas.

His friend had to die. Sure, I guess? But this doesn't tell us who killed him. Simply that Solas knows Felassan is dead. And again, Felassan is referred to as Solas's 'friend'. Not servitor. Not employee. Friend.

Because he thought they were people. Unless I'm mistaken, the 'real people' line is another one of Cole's, just from DAI, not Tresspasser, so we're making an even weaker case by stacking a comment of Cole's upon another comment of Cole's. Talk about confusing. Also, Real people was a tv show. Real People (TV Series 1979-1983)

It could also easily be social commentary on the dehumanization of people in... so many ways and cultures historically and even up to today.

A slow arrow is definitely a literary reference.

"THE SLOW ARROW OF BEAUTY. The noblest kind of beauty is that which does not transport us suddenly, which does not make stormy and intoxicating impressions such a kind easily arouses disgust but that which slowly filters into our minds."

Friedrich Nietzsche

"Fate's Arrow, when expected, travels slow."

Dante Alighieri

So if it’s a Dante reference, Weekes is alluding to Fate. If Nietzsche, Beauty.

Based on the fact that so many of Cole's comments are references, I'm going forward assuming 'slow arrow' to be a reference.

Beauty/Fate breaks in a sad wolf's jaws.

The veil is considered beautiful, and Solas is intent on destroying it (because in the Lore, it's actually destroying Thedas, sucking the life and magic out of it. Which would matter, John Epler, a lot! *bombastic side eye*)

It could also be a reference to Lavellan in a romanced Lavellan playthrough. Solas destroyed or rejected the beauty of love. Or even fated love, by leaving her behind.

Sad wolf is also a literary reference. Likely to one of these poems. (Given our degrees, Weekes and I probably had to take very similar classes. I originally went to uni to be an English teacher.)

"The Wolf" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Lo! the calm moon comes forth!—The sad wolf howls!

He seeks his fellow in the hungry night.

With fiery eye—how red his mouth is!—howl

The lonely wolf, for, lo!—he is not there.

So if we want to go with Tennyson, the reference could imply that Solas tried to help Felassan... which, yeah. Mythal is also a twat of epic proportions. That wouldn't have worked.

This quote feels relevant to me. "The wolves in the woods have sharp teeth and long claws, but it’s the wolf inside who will tear you apart."

Jennifer Donnelly

Sad wolf could then be a reference to Solas's feelings. If Felassan was his friend, he'd be pretty torn apart by his death, no matter how it happened. Yet, it's still not among his regrets in DAV. Even though an entire story in Tevinter Nights is focused on his regrets surrounding his time in the Inquisition. (IIRC Felassan isn't mentioned there, either.)

From a literary perspective, this one also feels relevant.

The wolf changes his coat, but not his disposition.

Traditional proverb

Solas is many things, but he's always Solas. Why would he do something so out of character as kill a close friend? (I'll even tell you a motive for why *Solas* might’ve killed Felassan. It's well established in Solas's character that he abhors betrayal. I suppose you could technically call Felassan's support of Briala a betrayal.) Still doesn't make sense to me. Because it actually is out of character for Solas to hurt what few friends he actually has. But, enh, you could call it motive. Do NOT get me started on the ham-handed writing and the fate of Varric Tethras in DAV. Epler has already said they only had him in the game so Solas could kill him and it would make the player hate Solas more. Didn’t matter to Epler whether it was in character or not. And it's not. Solas saves Varric in the comics. Numerous times.

1. That failed. Ugh. What a shit end for Varric. An author killed by bad writing.

2. Fucking bad writing ruined DAV.

I've rambled enough. I guess my point is that I'd love it if more people would think about things they saddle heavily neurodivergently coded characters with. It's not harmless.

The very first demographic blamed for a violent crime are neurodivergent people. Usually, the first is Autistic people. (We're almost hardwired to not hurt people. We tend to be the white knight tilting at windmills type. It takes a lot to push one of us to violence.) It can be done, but to automatically assume it's an autist is ableist and harmful.

The second group blamed are the mentally ill.

Statistics don't support that either. Neurodivergent people are guilty of 3% of violent crime. All the rest of the 97% is on all you neurotypicals.

Blah, blah, recovering from pulmonary embolism, partner recovering from broken back, money is tight if you've anything to spare. www.kaijarayne.com

[stevieschrodinger]

“Rob, come on!”

“Don’t you ‘come on!’ me!”

Steve immediately snorts a laugh.

Rob gets all flustered, “I didn’t- I mean- oh fuck you very much Harrington.”

“Don’t worry Rob,” Steve chokes out around his laughter, “I’ll try not to come- try not to get it- oh my god,” Steve dissolves into breathless laughter.

Rob slaps the manila file into Steve’s hands, “I don’t have time for your bullshit,” and she marches off down the corridor, kitten heals clacking on the linoleum.

Steve jogs to catch up, “what would Vicki say?” Steve asks, mock scandalized.

She cuts her eyes at him, scowling from behind her too long bangs, “don’t even joke.”

Steve opens the file while Robin pulls out her key card and straightens her jacket. What she wears is far more stylish than what she did when they were teenagers, but she’s never quite grown out of being a little gangly. Where Steve filled out even further, what with the morning runs and evening swims, weekends spent at the local gym and basketball court, Robin has always remained very slim. She looks good today though, she’s definitely grown up, but thank god she never grew out of being Robin – for some reason today she’s paired an emerald green jacket with navy pinstripe pants and shiny, cherry red shoes and somehow, it kind of, sort of, works.

It’s probably the colorful scarf pulling it together, or something.

“The files a little light,” Steve comments as she activates the security lock and holds the door open for him to pass through.

“Yeap. First fourteen years are...pretty vague. I’ve tracked the parents; the mother’s been dead a few years,” Steve makes a face, “and the dad is a guest of the state,” Steve can feel his face crumple even further. “Yeah. He’d been in and out for a while, assault, aggravated assault, theft, possession, possession with intent, honestly it’s a laundry list, the one that stuck was manslaughter.”

“Oh man, not the mom,” Robin makes a face in answer, “fucking hell.”

Robin holds up her badge for security to see, and they get buzzed through. Steve’s nose tickles with all the Omega scents.

“Luckily he wasn’t around at the end, I don’t know if he even knows about his parents. They kicked him out when he presented,” Steve tuts, “yeah, I know, but it was actually the best thing they ever did for him. He was picked up by his uncle, dad’s brother. The guy had regular, full time employment, suddenly the kid’s got medical records, there’s regular prescriptions for blockers and birth control, his school attendance goes from fifty five percent to ninety seven.”

“So the uncle is a good guy?”

Robin sighs, nods, “hopefully he pulls through.”

Steve continues to scan the file as Robin stops them at the final doorway, leaning against the closed door, “says here he’s non verbal?”

“Most of the time, it’s behavioral, he can speak, does, occasionally. We picked him up from the hospital; he’d gone in with his uncle, cardiac arrest that led to some complications, he's had a couple of surgeries already, but he might be in for a while. He's waiting for a pacemaker now, I think.”

“Shitty.”

“Yeah. Steve, listen a second. This kid...it could be anything. He was clearly malnourished growing up, this could be a trauma response. He might suffer with PTSD, might get separation anxiety-”

“Yeah, Rob, I get it.”

“I just,” she deflates a little, hopeless, “this isn’t the place for him. The other Omega, they mean well, they try and include him, and you know what they’re like, curious about new people, but that just drives him away. He doesn’t come out of his room much. Stopped coming into the dining hall for meals; I tried to wait it out, thought if he got hungry enough he’d cave,” she spreads her hands, “nada. I had to cave; he just eats in his room. And he’s terrible with food. Basically unless it’s been shaped into a nugget or came out of a can, he doesn’t get it. Like he’s never even seen real food before...this just...it’s not the place for him here Steve. All the others, it’s like...like a camp out for them, you know? Not him though, he needs some stability. He needs a home.”

“I get it Rob, it’s not my first rodeo.”

“I know, I know, that’s why I called you first, obviously...it’s just. I know it’s a lot. And I know it’s hard on you, after.”

Steve thinks of Dustin, who still calls him the first Sunday of every month without fail; how he’s expecting his first pup with his mate Suzie. Thinks of Max, how fierce she is, how close they got even in the short time they were together. Her mom made it through rehab though, and got custody back. She still drops by sometimes, and Steve loves to see her. The last time she brought her new boyfriend, Lucas, with her, looking for approval from the only father figure she’s ever really had. The Byers boys who came into his care when their mother had some sort of psychotic episode. How the Beta Jonathan had been so stand offish, where Will, too young to have presented yet, had sort Steve out to cuddle into every night. It was bittersweet, the day Joyce got custody back; Steve was glad it worked out for them, but he was still devastated to see them go.

He’s helped out with a lot of kids over the last six years; he can do this.

“It is...but it’s worth it.”

“Steve,” Robin touches his arm, briefly, “this one will be worse. Fostering kids is one thing, being a temporary pack Alpha for them...Eddie is two months off being eighteen years old, legally able to take a mate, potentially sexually active-”

“Rob, I’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. And if he needs me,” Steve shrugs, “it is what it is.”

“Steve,” she tries again, voice gentle, “I just need you to be sure.”

Steve’s only had one other Omega in his care who was old enough to need Steve in a sexual manner, as well as all the other needs that the people in his temporary pack often have; when she left it was...bad. Neither of them ever say Nancy’s name out loud, haven’t for a couple of years. But Steve knows now, what it is he’s getting into.

He knows this has the potential to be painful, he’s broken enough bonds now. Pack scent bonds; it’s unavoidable. It’s the support of an Alpha, it’s exactly what Steve is there to provide. What happens after will not be Eddie’s problem; it’ll be Steve’s.

And he won’t make the mistake he made with Nancy. This time he’ll remember that Eddie’s going to leave, won’t let himself fall into the illusion that it’s real. He knows now, that it hurts.

Just like it has every other time, when his new pack leaves.

“It’ll be fine Rob. I’ll be fine.”

She bites her lip, not looking sure at all, but she nods and leans more against the door, pushing it open with her shoulder as Steve follows her though. There’s laughter along the hall, two young Omega playing chase rush past them, “take it outside please!” Robin yells after them.

Steve tags along, knows all the doorways are bedrooms; young Omega on this wing, all in need of a safe haven. Steve can hear the bustle and chatter of the dining room, the clatter and scrape of cutlery loud as they pass the doorway. At the very end of the hall, the last door stands propped open by a plastic chair, there’s a red plastic tray with a plate sitting on it. There’s evidence of crumbs and sauce from what had been eaten, but the peas haven’t been touched. The window is open too, letting in a fresh breeze. The Omega is curled up, wedged in the corner of the room on his single bed, a book held open in his hand as he stares at them in the doorway.

“You know you won’t die if you eat a green thing, right?” Robin asks him.

He tilts his head, his curly hair shifting, and purses his lips, kind of frowning with one eyebrow quirked up, to Steve is sort of says, ‘why take the risk?’. Steve has to school his features so he doesn’t laugh.

“Okay Eddie, this is Steve, and he’s been kind enough to offer to put a roof over your head for the next little while, how does that sound?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Good enough for me,” Robin replies like Eddie’s spoken, “okay, pack your things.”

It’s not a scowl, not really, but the way Eddie side eyes the radio means...well, Steve’s not even sure what it means, “you can change it, if you like.”

Eddie huffs and shrugs, crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the car seat, looking out of the window. The next song comes on; Steve pretty sure it’s Taylor Swift, and Eddie suddenly lunges for the radio. He presses the seek button until he hits something that, to Steve, sounds like two angry guitars hate fucking in a bear infested mine, but he lets it go since Eddie doesn’t turn it up any louder.

Steve carries Eddie’s unfortunately light bag of belongings into the house, “we can go shopping, maybe tomorrow or the day after. I don’t know if you know how this works or not, but you have a state budget, or rather, I do, for you. So don’t worry, if you need anything, just ask.”

He leaves Eddie’s bag at the foot of the stairs, Eddie cautiously following him as Steve points out the blindingly obvious, “lounge, kitchen, through there is the garage, that’s out to the yard.” Eddie eyes are huge in his head, darting around like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Utility through there, bring me your basket when you need, I’ll show you how to use the machines. That’s my office, I work from home two days a week, but I have to go into the office for three,” there’s a distinct spike of anxiety in the air, “but that isn’t for a couple of weeks, or until your Alpha is better, so don’t worry yet. One of the perks; you get me PTO.”

Eddie frowns at him, “Paid Time Off.”

Eddie frowns again like Steve’s presented him with an alien. Never mind.

“Okay, upstairs, this is my room,” Steve opens the door, watches as Eddie scans the room with poorly disguised interest. The bed is neatly made, the thick comforter and pillows all fluffed up. The carpet a deep gray and the rest of the room dark rich wood with some splashes of forest green, “now, I’ll show you your room, but it’s entirely up to you where you sleep. I under stand that your uncle was your familial Alpha and you lived in close quarters so...where you sleep is up to you. If you need that.”

Eddie’s gone so red Steve worries his head might explode; Steve, somehow, manages not to laugh at him. He shows Eddie to the next door down, “this is your room, I will never come in here unless you explicitly invite me or I think there’s a genuine cause for concern, okay? There’s a lock on the door, but I do have a master. So if you don’t want me barging in, you need to let me know you’re okay when I ask, okay?”

Eddie nods.

“Good, I need to be clear about that from the start,” Steve puts Eddie’s bag down in the threshold, “there’s extra nesting materials in the top of the wardrobe, the bathroom is through there, help yourself to all the toiletries, they’re for you. Feel free to chill out for a bit, get cleaned up, I’ll do food for about six ish.”

And Steve leaves him to it.

Steve’s chicken parm is, even if he says so himself, pretty damn good. His sauce is ninety percent blended vegetables; carrots, tomatoes, bell peppers; a trick he learned when trying to hide more vegetables in the kids food. He’s got a similar recipe for mac and cheese that no one has ever complained about, even though the sauce is at least fifty percent carrot.

Also, he figures the breaded chicken is just, like, a giant chicken nugget, right?

So that has to look sort of familiar. And you can get spaghetti out of a can so, surely, this isn't so different.

If Eddie doesn’t like cheese...well, that’s just unnatural. Steve’ll just have to take him back to Robin.

Steve’s got everything on plates and is about to call for Eddie, but the kid appears in the doorway, exactly six oclock. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, uncertainty coloring the air, but he’s here, that’s the important thing.

They eat together in the breakfast nook, Eddie picks at his food rather than just eating. Steve tries to match his pace, suspicious that as soon as Steve stops eating, Eddie will stop too. He’s right.

Steve makes a mental note to do a grocery shop and go heavy on the snacks. Steve can see the evidence of Eddie growing up malnourished. He’s too pale, his eyes far too large in his face, his joints protrude and his clothes hang off his frame.

There’s no conversation, but Steve doesn’t push it. It’s not time yet.

They watch TV for a while before bed, Eddie curled up tight at the opposite end of the couch, as far from Steve as he can get. Steve adopts a relaxed posture, lets himself sink down. Pulls a blankets off the back of the couch to go across his knees and leaves another in the middle, an obvious hint to Eddie if he wants it. He doesn’t touch it.

Eddie slips away after an hour, heads upstairs. Steve watches the kid go but doesn’t say anything. It’s a pretty solid start; he’s had much, much worse. Eddie doesn’t appear to be any kind of flight risk, which is a huge plus in Steve’s book.

He messages Rob with an update before pulling out his laptop and responding to some emails. He might legitimately have a couple of weeks off work, but that doesn’t mean he wants to return to a landslide of unanswered messages when he does go back.

He heads to bed a little after. Showers and goes through his night time routine; it’s only nine but it’s been a bit of a day, and Steve intends to read for a while. It’s thirty minutes before he hears Eddie’s door open and close. The creak of the stairs. Steve sneaks to his own door, opens it a little and stands there, ears straining.

Listens as the front door rattles but doesn’t open. The key is right there, Eddie’s not trying to escape; he’s checking the house is secure. Steve hears the fridge door a few moments later, then the TV, turned down low.

Steve goes back to bed, happy that Eddie is already making himself at home. He’s asleep thirty minutes after that. And he sleeps well, until something disturbs him, the bed covers shifting. Eddie freezes when he realizes he’s woken Steve. Steve’s still half asleep, and it’s easy to just not make a big deal of it, he yawns, lifting the covers. Eddie slips in, rolling over and wriggling back, allowing himself to be the little spoon. Steve throws a leg, an arm, and the covers over Eddie’s slim frame, and easily goes back to sleep.

When Steve wakes up, Eddie’s gone again.

Steve finds Eddie on the couch. It’s a scene he’s used to, the TV displaying the little, ‘are you still watching?’ box. He’s had a lot of kids who can’t sleep without company, or background noise, or something, and finding them on the couch is pretty normal.

What’s not normal is the position Eddie is sleeping in, his head hanging off the edge, one arm flopped awkwardly above his head and the other bent underneath him, one leg hooked over the back of the couch. He’s snoring. It’s...kind of loud.

And also kind of adorable. Steve pushes those feelings down reminds himself; he cannot get attached to this one.

He knows how much it hurts.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 7

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You push yourself up, pausing at the dull thrum in your back. It’s better than it was but you’re still struggling. The better part of the last two days have been spent in bed. Your lack of mobility is starting to get to, eroding at your already frayed patience.

You hiss as you turn your body, hanging your legs over the edge. A click cuts off your thoughts as you brace the mattress, ready to stand.

“Don’t even fucking think of it,” Lloyd’s voice echoes around you. Those damn cameras.

You sigh and tilt your head back, “I gotta piss.”

“Wait.”

You obey, if only because the prospect of getting up offers little optimism. You hate to admit it and you won’t aloud, but he’s probably saved you from fucking yourself up worse. Lloyd enters, sporting a polo and too tight slacks in his usual style.

“Have you just been watching me lay in bed all day?”

“No, I’ve been working. I just happen to be able to multitask,” he approaches, “come on, grab on.”

He offers and arm and you stare at him dully.

“For instance, right now I’m playing prince charming all while dreaming of railing that ass,” he snorts, “hurry up, babe, I don’t got all day to play doctor. Not when there’s no probing involved.”

You roll your eyes and grab onto him. He helps haul you up and you lean on him more than you mean to. He angles you around and directs you to the attached bathroom.

“You know, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for us. Not for a while anyway. You know, maybe in a few decades but–”

“Would you stop? I get it, alright? Trust me, I’m all too aware of how helpless I am–” You puff out as he pulls up your nightshirt and sits you down on the seat, so humiliating.

“Right, you don’t need to stay for the show,” you wave him off.

“Ah, you know, I never thought about waterworks but I might change my mind,” he winks.

“Ew.”

He chortles and leaves you, closing the door gently behind him. You let out your bladder and go about the usual routine. You take a breath and stare across the room. You can do this.

You stand and flush. You wobble and support yourself against the counter, moving to the sink to wash your hands. The door opens and you look over as you rinse off.

“Really?”

“I’m fine, Lloyd, I can make it two steps–”

“You’re pushing yourself–”

“And you care so much.”

“I kinda have to. You got a baby on board and… my dick’s ready to explode.”

“Right,” you tut and turn off the faucet, drying off with the hand towel. “You really are a smooth talker, you know that, right?”

“Hey, I could fuck up your back more but I’m tryna be a decent husband,” he shows his palms, “that’s gotta count for something.”

“Husband,” you scowl, “uh huh, well you’ll have to settle for caretaker right now.”

You stretch out your arm expectantly and he exhales deeply before crossing to you. He helps you out of the bathroom and back to the bed. The thought of the scene is almost comical. Maybe he’ll realise how pathetic you truly are and call off the equally ridiculous wedding.

He lowers you onto the mattress and you grit your teeth. You hate this. All of it.

“I can’t do this,” you rip your arm away from him, “fuck off, Lloyd, I can’t–”

“Oh, suck it up, baby cakes, you done it so far,” he snarls, “now lay back and relax. I could ask a lot more of you, we both know that.”

“Jesus, don’t you understand? I’m only going to get bigger and what do you think then? When I can’t even tie my own shoes?”

“Perfect opportunity,” he smirks, “I’ll give the kitty a kiss while I’m down there looping bunny ears.”

You blink and slowly move back against the pillows. You wish you could knock that stupid grin off his face. If only you could.

You close your eyes and cross your arms, blowing out an unimpressed raspberry, “thanks. You can go back to your… work or whatever. There’s silence as you wait, listening for his retreat.

The bed dips and your eyes snap open as you feel his hand on your leg. He pushes your knees wide as he climbs between them. He lowers himself on his stomach and you sit forward, yowling as it sends a strike up your spine. You fall back as he settles on the mattress and trails his hands up your thighs.

“I told you to fucking relax,” he sneers as he bends his head to kiss your thighs, feeling a dimple with his thumb as he purrs, “I gotta do fucking everything.”

He nuzzles up to your cunt, pulling you down gently as he angles your pelvis. His tongue flicks down, gliding between your lips as he circles your clit cloyingly. He sucks on the bundle of nerves and wiggles his head emphatically.

You gasp and reach to grasp his hair, leaning back as you whine through your teeth. Fuck him and his stupid helpfulness. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

💎

You finally feel lighter, easier. Getting out of bed is only the usual subtle reminder of your aches but nothing so succinct to have you stumbling or whimpering. You stretch, carefully, afraid to strain anything too far.

A long shower coaxes you back to form as you press your palms to the cool porcelain and bask in the steam. You get out after nearly an hour under the stream and search out anything but the ridiculous skimpy pieces curated by the perv-in-residence. You opt for a pair of booty shorts and a belly shirt. It’ll have to do.

Your descent is filled with an internal battle of will and whims. The baby, regardless of what you want, is coming and you can only try to make its arrival bearable. So you can’t just sit around and wait, you need to start taking care of yourself. Really, not the way Lloyd claims to.

You near the gym door and stop. It’s not that you’re lazy, that you’ve been inactive, it’s just that you never were into the whole cardio or pump trend. You slowly open it and a clang makes you jump in your socks, no sneakers to be found in the rows of heels.

“Uh,” you stop short as Lloyd stands over the long weight bar, large barbells set on each end, “sorry, I–”

“What’s up, cupcake?” He breathes as he reaches for his water bottle.

You look away, “nothing, I’ll come back later–”

“Ah, don’t,” he warns as he huffs, “you wanna be workout buddies?”

“Lloyd,” you growl.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to keep up. Baby and all,” he flicks his brows up as he bends to lift unclamp the weights from the end of the bar, “easy pace on the treadmill. That’s what the literature suggests.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you say flippantly and surpass him, going to the machine. You climb up and look over the controls. “Um, if I decide to keep this up, do you think you could get me some runners or something?”

“Babe, I’m more than magic beneath the sheets, I’m your own personal genie. Say it and you shall have it.”

“Oh really? So can I just not marry you–”

“Cut it out,” he girds as he nears and reaches over the panel, “speed,” he points to the screen, “timer, power…” he hovers over it as he explains, “and a few pre programmed modes. I don’t know.” He steps back, “make sure you hold on.”

“Thanks,” you swallow, “it’s just walking, right?”

You push down on the screen and figure out the proper mode, moving your feet with the belt as it starts up. You reach for the bars and keep pace. Nothing too strenuous but you could probably do more. You feel him watching and grimace.

“Got it,” you give him a thumbs up.

“I know,” he steps back and takes a seat on the weight bench, “good to see you on your feet, doll face. Can’t wait to see you on my dick.”

His crassness assures you that all is as it will ever be. Lloyd Hansen will always be the rudest man you ever met. You stare at the screen and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, your socks giving little traction.

Still, you’re irked. The way he looms, watches, as if you’re a complete idiot. As if you can’t handle a mile or two.

“You know, I’m not lazy. I never was. I was a maid for fifteen years. I cleaned entire office buildings. Do you think I didn’t get my steps in?” You sneer.

“I never said anything about it.”

“I see how you look at me. Like everyone else. Just cause my belly hangs over just a little. Well, working out never did much but make me tired,” you scoff, “so please, I don’t need an audience.”

He sighs, “I like the cushion, baby. You got a real nice basement, I’m not shy about saying so.” He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, “but if you need a bit of extra love for the pudge, I’ll be happy to give a few more love bites before the main entree.”

You shake your head and glare at him, “do you ever think of anything but your balls?”

“Not really, the good lord put my brains behind by dick to keep ‘em extra safe,” he snickers, “just like he blessed you with the finest ass I ever had the pleasure of fucking.”

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 2

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘What was the Prince’s mood?’ ‘Delightful,’ said Damen.

His blue eyes were as innocent as the sky; only if you looked carefully could you see something genuine in them. Such as dislike.

‘You have a cut on your lip. Someone hit you. Oh, that’s right, I recall. You stood still and let him. Does it hurt?’ He was worse sober.

‘We must have some conversation. You see: I have asked after your health, and now I am reminiscing. I fondly remember our night together. Have you been thinking about me this morning?’

laurent's main coping mechanism in vere is improv comedy. damen just won't commit to the bit 🙄

‘Maybe,’ said Laurent, his eyes widening a little, ‘you strayed after he fucked you.’ That idea revolted him so much, took him so unawares, that he tasted bile in his throat.

context: laurent has been frequently taunted in his court for being a little too close with his brother, so he’s using the same taunt against damen, KNOWING that he is both kastor’s half-brother and auguste's killer. 5d chess insult, he must have been working on that one all night

There was something obscene about someone with a face like that speaking those words in a conversational voice.

what kind of face? a pretty one?

‘It’s so rare to see you at these entertainments, Your Highness,’ said Vannes. ‘I was in the mood to enjoy myself,’ said Laurent.

laurent's conduct in the veretian court bounces between "deadpan sitcom character" and "unrepentant sadist but only towards damen." like i'm pretty sure that prior to damen's arrival, laurent spent his time in court lounging around, scheming, and making bitchy comments that may or may not have gone over everyone's heads

The other, to whom Damen’s attention naturally gravitated, was blond, though his hair was not the buttercup yellow of Laurent’s, it was darker, a sandy colour, and his eyes weren’t blue, they were brown.

damen likes blondes mention #2. this time he compares a less blonde, less attractive person to laurent, who he despises. nobody asked him to compare this person to laurent. he just does.

‘Sweetmeat?’ said Laurent. He held the confection delicately, between thumb and forefinger, just far enough out of reach that Damen would have to rise up onto his knees in order to eat it from Laurent’s fingertips. Damen jerked his head back. ‘Stubborn,’ Laurent remarked mildly, bringing the treat to his own lips instead, and eating it.

he’s having fun.

He sat in a graceful sprawl, one wrist balanced on the armrest of the box seat. At any moment, he might contemplate his nails.

laurent lean #1

Only Laurent seemed immune. He was probably so jaded that this display did not even cause his pulse to flicker.

context: on first read, you’d assume that laurent is just deeply cruel and apathetic (which, to be fair, he sometimes is). but in a re-read, i know that he is disgusted by these kinds of displays, and would not have them in his court. his measured apathy is a coping mechanism while he waits to come of age.

Laurent had threatened to have him raped. 

context: laurent despises damen. he most likely would have already murdered him in auguste’s name, if the regent hadn’t stopped him. laurent intends for damen to lose this fight, having previously drugged him. part of the motive, for laurent, may be retribution for what his younger self had to endure after auguste’s death. it is very, very personal. 

this is an unequivocally evil thing to do, regardless of outcome or motive. laurent’s eventual apology is necessary and i think that the memory of this will haunt him for a long time. i'm not sure the story could have gone the same way, if damen hadn't won and ended that fight.

honestly, i kind of want to use a different passage to discuss this plot point, but it is what it is. that's what damen perceives, no matter what may have been happening in laurent's head. and the author must have used the word "rape" for a reason. maybe to make sure the reader thinks the absolute worst of laurent for the majority of the book, so they don't catch on to the fact that he isn't actually in control.

Laurent extended his right leg slightly, the tip of his well-turned boot presenting itself to Damen. ‘Kiss it,’ Laurent said.

“yes, and” improv response to damen fake-swearing his loyalty

‘Every dog can be brought to heel,’ said Laurent.

boot pun

He gathered the last of his strength to himself and said: ‘Do whatever you want to me. I’m not going to rape a child.’ Laurent’s expression flickered.

context: laurent legitimately did not expect this ethical stance from damen. he views damen as depraved and barbaric; he killed laurent's brother and keeps (adult) slaves in his homeland. damen's refusal to cooperate goes directly against laurent's first impression in a way that hits close to home, since laurent is a victim of csa.

again, pacat uses the word "rape," which is heavy. i think this is one of the main reasons i refuse to call the series a fetishization of non-consent or sexual assault; the author is honest about the brutality of veretian practices in no uncertain terms. (the one possible exception is the garden scene in chapter five, and i have written several very long paragraphs trying to reckon with that.)

Laurent was looking from Damen to the boy and back again. Frowning as if something didn’t make sense. Or wasn’t going his way. ‘Why not?’ he said, abruptly. ‘Why not?’ said Damen. ‘I don’t share your craven habit of hitting only those who cannot hit back, and take no pleasure in hurting those weaker than myself.’ Driven past reason, the words came out in his own language. Laurent, who could speak his language, stared back at him, and Damen met his eyes and did not regret his words, feeling nothing but loathing.

this is great, in terms of perspective. they both think the worst of each other here. damen assumes that by asking “why not,” laurent is admitting his own lack of reservations about doing this irredeemable thing. meanwhile damen’s refusal actually aligns with laurent’s values, which confuses laurent, causing him to ask for clarification. the interaction ends with damen thinking worse of laurent than laurent probably thinks of damen (in this specific case, anyway)

Damen heard him say to one of the servants: ‘Have my horse brought to the north courtyard. I’m going for a ride.’

that’s fair. go get some air, buddy

also... is this the last time laurent gets to hang out with his horse while it's in good health? maybe i'm too nice to laurent this early on, but this makes me feel sad for the person he becomes/is revealed to be. i hope it's a nice ride for them both.

As for Damen, he had no idea what had just happened.

gonna have to get used to that, i'm afraid

‘You look surprised . . . were you hoping to enjoy that boy after all? You had better get used to it. The Prince has a reputation for leaving pets unsatisfied.’

laurent ethical W! pacat showing her hand just the tiniest bit after the chapter's earlier brutality. so many of laurent's worst threats are a form of personal revenge towards damianos; this line gives damen a hint that to anyone else, laurent would not be nearly as cruel. and like, there is no way in hell that laurent would have actually allowed anything to happen to a child, even if damen hadn't refused. after all, it had been audin's idea, not laurent's, in the first place.

[raayllum]

Already touched on this scene regarding the differences to the brothers, so I'm not going to repeat myself too much here, but I am thinking about the like... Purpose of this scene from a narrative/characterization standpoint in line with that. Because like, think about it... This scene would hit so different, as a debate, if we didn't know how far along Claudia and co. were in their quest to free Aaravos; then we could lean one way or another operating with the exact same information the characters have.

But we the audience Know that Aaravos isn't out, which is the primary reason Callum gives regarding incentive to get the Nova Blade. Nor is this the first time that Callum has a perspective we know isn't necessarily, well, necessary because we know more than the characters do. So we're already inclined to be more on Ezran's side because we know his line of thinking - that Aaravos isn't out and it's worth trying to just stop his release - is worth following.

It is likewise worth noting though, that Callum thinks the Novablade plan is good whether Aaravos is out or not. While he brings up that Claudia and Viren might've already released the Startouch elf, when Callum initially proposes the plan (shown above) he says, "Then we wait for Aaravos to get out." Even though if Aaravos gets out, that would kind of put him in the best possible place to possess Callum again, given how it operated last time. Even though if Aaravos gets out, he'll be even more powerful and likely to do real harm and even harder to defeat.

All of which to say this scene has approximately three purposes

To reinforce the differences between the brothers and possible seeds of conflict for the future, in both Ezran's pacifism (possibly to set up contrast with his latter choices) as well as Callum's more pragmatic side

To reinforce, by giving Rayla the deciding vote and having her side with Ezran, that Callum's morality and inclinations is different than both his brother and his partner

And on that note, characterization wise, to start highlighting what Callum is willing to do and that he's always had this streak in him (cue both he and Viren watching dark magic corrupted enemies die by their own hand at the Storm Spire while Ezran and Harrow feel somewhat conflicted about it, at least) / can often be more solution oriented ("How does this solve anything?" from 1x02) and willing to take the path he perceives as easier/more efficient

Sarai: You said you want to make a difference, to build a better world. But that's going to take decades of hard work. There's no monster you can slay to solve all of your problems. There's no shortcut.

Some other interesting notes:

Shows the different in the trio's dynamic regarding decision making, since previously it had normally been Callum and Rayla having the final call with Ezran going along with it (2x03, 3x08). Now, the brothers discuss first with each other, highlighting that they've spent the last two years without her and that Ezran has become more assertive, but that they still fully include her in the decision and have it be one they made as a group, signifying their heightened unity upon reunion and healing, and the way they all trust/look to each other.

It also demonstrates growth from Rayla, as last time she thought there was a potential threat to the world, she went the more violent route in wanting to track Viren down (alone) and kill him. But now that she's come back and reintegrated herself into the group, she's taking the more level headed, preventative route in some ways.

[bootstrapparadoxed]

Happy STS! What part of your story has been your favourite to write, or what part are you looking forward to most? (feel free to share a snippet 👀) - @trixierosewrites

I'm gonna answer for FrankensteinWIP because I think I answered a similar question about Up the Entropic Hill at some point (but I am to lazy to find that ask,,, maybe I'll do it later).

So far my favorite part to write was a long conversation that Kristian and Leith have at one point in the story because it is basically the moment Kristian falls in love. He doesn't know that in the scene, and he probably wouldn't be able to point to that conversation as that moment in retrospect either, but that is how I see it. And the scene has some fantastic dialogue in it, in my opinion at least. I'll include a small bit at the end.

And the part I'm looking forward to writing the most is the actual horror! There's going to be some very disturbing and unsettling scenes in this book and I want to get to them so bad. The story takes a while to get there because I am spending thousands of words to set up the relationship properly but I hope it will be worth it in the end.

Snippet under the cut:

By the time we were both too sore to keep walking up and down the shore, the streets were rapidly emptying of visitors. I glanced at the lock screen of my phone; it was fairly close to midnight.

“Don’t you need to go home?” I asked, once we picked a bench to rest on. “Get some sleep?”

“This is my normal routine,” he responded. “I don’t sleep much.”

“You’re a night owl, too?”

He did not confirm nor deny that, gaze drifting away into the distance. I decided not to push it further.

My leg bounced on the ground while my eyes passively scanned my surroundings: the air after-rain fresh, the sky cloudy and starless. Occasionally some drunken British tourists would pass by our bench, their booming voices carried an impressive distance. Apart from us, the only living soul around was a lone figure of a fisherman, stood knee deep in water a hundred or so meters away. Having concluded most of our discussion threads, we landed in a silent interlude. The conversation, though exhilarating, wasn’t exactly easy. Leith and I agreed on very little, and constantly changed our minds when presented with compelling arguments. Increasingly, I felt like my head was full of warm scrambled eggs.

“So yes.” Leith said, after a solid few minutes of utter silence.

“Yeah,” I agreed. We both shared a moment of laughter. “That was… yeah.” Suddenly, I blushed. I felt like we had just hooked up in the supply closet at the institute and were hurriedly dressing each other, afraid of being busted by a cleaner or a curious undergrad.

“You don’t have much people to talk to,” he told me – a statement, not a question. “And you are so, so bored. Even in this program, even surrounded by scientists. You’re so bored, it must be excruciating.”

“I think I am lonely more than I am bored,” I suddenly confessed. Up until a few minutes ago, I did not know this about myself. Feelings were a rare occurrence, and it usually took me days if not weeks to identify them. “All my classmates graduated and moved, and I don’t get along with younger PhD students. I don’t… connect to people particularly well.”

“What about your family?” Leith leaned back in the bench, looking away from my face.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone in years,” I responded calmly. “They did not take well to me being queer.”

“Ah.”

“Not that I got along with them much before coming out. My dad is a recovering alcoholic who did not get his shit together until most of his family stopped associating with him. He’s yet to gain back their trust. My mother did not want to have me, I think; I spent my childhood listening to her lament on how terribly my basic needs interfered with her work. And my grandparents, who basically raised me, thought it would be kind to bully me for my weirdness before my classmates did. Being disowned felt almost like being released from the obligation to like them. Still, that was my entire financial safety net I lost.”

“Did you know that living alone has comparable health effects to smoking?” he asked, in a very matter-of-fact voice. “They say the same about breathing the air in Krakow, so I must be at death’s door by now. Even now that I quit the actual smoking.”

I blinked, unsure of how to react. The remark felt like a dagger to the back.

“Unfortunately I can’t quit either Krakow or being alone,” I muttered.

“Oh,” his voice changed in a split second, “I didn’t mean to say you made yourself lonely on purpose. Really. The opposite. Actually,” he gave a nervous chuckle, “it was a, well, an attempt of a…” he made brief eye contact with me, and I could have sworn he seemed almost panicked. “Never mind,” he waved his hand, dismissing the topic. “Let’s just pretend I did not say that.”

[aprillikesthings]

s5 ep8 Shot in the dark

woohooo

Off topic but while looking for fan art of Catra from the portal (ugh I need to try different tags) I instead saw a bunch of anti-Catra and anti-Catradora and anti-spop blogs and jfc people need to get a life and touch some grass and if I'm saying that--

(I mean, I did leave the house today with Saer and their mom, we went to Powell's books where I spent too much money but I got a couple of wlw manga and a Judith Butler book among a few other things, and also we went to a vintage clothing store that seemed to have NO END but I bought one thing there, a lavender satin bathrobe, the short kind; the only thing wrong with it was that it's a bit faded in some places and it's a little small on me but it's a bathrobe, and it was like $26 AND 100% SILK)

a question many astronauts have surely asked as well!

these two squabbling but not actually fighting always sounds like flirting, it doesn't help that a split second after that screenshot, Catra actually smiles for a second

Look. I love them.

Bow: "Adora, Catra's right" Everyone's eyes: go wide Bow: "...that felt weird to say"

the startled noise they all make when he starts talking lolol

but Catra has some flashes (from when she was in the hive mind) and says Krytis is a planet, nice. There's something there Horde Prime doesn't want them to know--so they head for Krytis, roll intro theme

:O

oh man they really did start changing this up every episode. Look at poor Perfuma's face.

Anyway on Krytis they find an old Horde ship and everyone else is trying to figure out what happened but poor Catra is remembering what it was like to be chipped :(

there's a cute moment when she notices her tail is all fluffy from fear and smooths it out before joining the others

there's a "crack" video where Entrapta's little walk here is dubbed with a clip from an ancient Spiderman show's theme song

ahaha

LOOK AT HER the way Bow says this is so great

POOR CATRA

Adora laughs longer than anyone else after Catra gets the helmet off and Catra blushes and smiles and everyone stands around not wanting the ruin the moment--and then Entrapta finds something and squeals and startles the shit out of everyone and it's SO GREAT

Catra: "So, wait, the plan is to barge ahead into the structurally unsound building to find some mystery person that we know nothing about, in hopes that they somehow know how to defeat Horde Prime?"

Bow: "You know, we were just gonna recklessly blast our way through that blockade until you stopped us. So this whole thing is basically your idea."

Catra's starting to realize what DORKS they all are and that good-natured teasing is just part of the deal

the GLEE with which they are including her

I didn't mean to get a screenshot that makes it look like Adora is staring at Catra's butt, but(t) I'm not mad about it

Meanwhile, on Etheria:

yikes

"and yet we're still stuck with you?"

HAH

Back on Krytis Wrong Hordak is having an existential crisis as he realizes Horde Prime is not perfect

Catra fuckin' slices a door into the wall

Bow: dunno if that's safe Glimmer: yeah I'm not sure about this either Adora: MY GIRLFRIEND IS STRONK and has v sharp claws isn't she perfect

seriously tho Adora is BLUSHING

Catra's face

Glimmer's too, actually

oh god it's the bit where Catra keeps sneezing at the spore things in the air and Bow is just like 🥺

Adora's reaction to this conversation is also priceless

Anyway a second later, Catra leans on the wall and sinks into it, she shrieks and Adora yells "CATRA!!" and when they pull her out the wall starts sending out HUGE MURDER SPIKES

Back on Etheria:

Castaspella: "You said you had a plan. The only reason I'm following you is because if anyone would know about mind control, it's you." Shadow Weaver: "Mind control? Is that what they told you? No. My gifts were always far subtler."

I dunno, I think torturing kids is hardly "subtle." But abuse is often hard to spot while it's happening to you.

y'know, like this shit

Okay in fairness she says she was less powerful as well and now he's chipped he's under control by the enemy and they're not strong enough to fight him

On Krytis, the Squad realizes they've gotten confused/turned around in the abandoned ship--"Isn't this where we started?!" There's a growling noise. The hallway somehow gets longer while they're walking in it. Creepy as fuck.

Oh and also it turns out Horde Prime and the First Ones fought over Krytis ages ago and Prime won but then abandoned the place anyway.

Entrapta: also there's someone right behind you

yay i know who this is lol

ALSO Catra insisting on protecting everyone is v cute

also it took me three times to get this screenshot ahahaha

and when she tackles it they both disappear

the audible PANIC

OH HEY i hit the image limit okay hold on