#that i was so. so. reluctant to leave him.

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet's mouth opened a little bit. Her dad was right, of course. That was self-defense. But she couldn't help but wonder if he had shot an agent in the leg before, to snap them out of a violent episode. And would she ever have to do it, if she became an agent? I don't want to become an agent anymore, she reminded herself, now that I know what Delta Green did to Dad.

Samantha nodded along. Sometimes, it was the only solution. The best one. Otherwise, terrible things could happen. She knew Killian counted on her to stop her if needed, just like she counted on him too. That was just another way of keeping each other safe.

At the mention of her dad's OCD, Violet thought about the Star Vampire, and all the blood. So much blood. Had this day triggered his fear of blood and his OCD? As for Samantha, she had a similar thought, though she was thinking of a different time. That night, in Ophir, with Ruby's blood staining everything. How Killian had washed his hands, how he'd avoided the bloody sink.

"Your dad is right. It's a heavy toll. It leaves its trace, on all the agents. It's why you need to talk to someone about the things you've seen," gently attempted Samantha, "I know and understand your reluctance, Violet. But you've witnessed so many terrible things already, and you're so young. If you keep it bottled up, it will explode eventually, and in ways you might not be able to control. Like phobias or disorders."

Violet thought about the windows in the living room. "I just don't want to talk to a doctor right now," she mumbled, before taking a spoonful of soup. "I know," gently replied Samantha, "but this is not the ward. The ward is closed. And you know Dr. Parrish, you've talked to her before. You know that she's a good therapist, that she'll listen to you."

Touché.

Theo sympathised with how scary being a witness to a violent episode could be and he hoped she would never see one from him. He could smash the bowl in his hand onto her head and kill her with the shards. Theo closed his eyes and twitched his head away, looking back into his soup again with a shaky breath as Samantha spoke and comforted Violet while he could not.

Samantha gave suggestions on how to deal with an episode and nodded along quietly for a moment but he couldn't help the small side eye before he was sure to add on, "you can also take action to disable them too, no one will blame you if you have to shoot someone in the leg to stop them charging at you, defending yourself." He was of course thinking of Sloane and how he wished he had seen the first attack coming.

She asked if people were in control and he shook his head, "not always, when an episode does hit, even if it is repressed, when it finally comes on it's not something that can be controlled." A breakdown he supposed should have been added onto the list of reactions but the word was scary to say out loud and he didn't want either of them worrying that much, though he suspected Samantha knew what was happening. "You can talk a person down and reason with them."

If only those in the ward had been trained in psychotherapy, how nice it might have been to have actual trained professionals in that place. Theo again looked to the doorway and then did a diligent check of the corners of the office while he was at it. His eyes landed on Violet and he paused for a moment, thinking about how she wanted to join Delta Green, how she wanted to fight monsters and help agents like himself. She could do it, but he wished she wouldn't. "There are some cases where you can't. Even in the moment when they appear calm." He put the remainder of the soup down and half turned his body towards her, not fussed about Samantha hearing what she already knew. "My OCD and my paranoia, they only really developed after episodes in the past." Who knew if he would have a new disorder after his latest. "The toll fighting monsters, cultists and all of it has on agents, Violet, it's heavy."

[liahaslosthermind]

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 3

Part 3 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle meets the most important person in Azriel's life. Warnings: Lia rewrites what the Carranam bond is to fit her own fantasy, (Mention of) Bad injuries and domestic abuse, (Mention of) Azriel's dad 🤢, Inner Circle loves to STAY in Azriel's business, I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

“My Carranam.” The Spy Master replied.

No one was given time to think, much less respond, before Azriel had commanded everyone to leave the room. They would have been more reluctant to do so, the desire to know what the hell he meant was painful, had the serious look on the strange female’s face, and the look of despair on Azriel’s, had given them the impression this conversation was better left between the two. 

Out in the hallway, Cassian finally voiced his concern, 

“Should we have left him alone with whoever that was? He isn’t in any state to be fighting back should he ne-”

Amren scoffed at the question. “I’d trust her with him far more than you all.”

 “What do you mean? Do you know her?” Elain asked.

“No, but he is her Carranam. You all might not know the significance of such a bond- I don’t even know much about it myself, but I know enough to believe there is no one who would protect and cherish him more.” There was a sort of amazement and respect in Amren’s eyes that told the rest of them that she was right. Gave them enough information to walk away from the bedroom, content on letting Azriel come to them when he was ready.

—

The Inner Circle was no longer content waiting for their Spy Master to make an appearance. All had been sitting at the dining table for what must have been millenia, plates full with no appetite as millions of questions swarmed their heads. Amren had seemingly been the only one to have any idea what any of this could have meant, but the second she got the chance, she disappeared so she wouldn’t be bothered with questions about something that had nothing to do with her. 

Finally, Nesta broke the silence.

“Do you think he is purposefully trying to torture us by taking forever?” She asked, eyeing the very apparent shadows in the corner that had been slithering to and from the room since they had all sat down. “Or do you think she is-”

“It would be my fault Azriel was occupied for a bit.” The strange fae announced as she entered the room, Azriel by her side with a slight limp. The two looked… strange together, but also so right. White feathered wings stood tall behind the female, nicely contrasting Azriel’s leathery Illyrian ones. Where he was crowned in darkness and shadows, she seemed to have bathed in light. It should have contrasted each other terribly, but their stark differences only seemed to compliment the other.

It also didn’t escape anyone’s notice how their friend looked thousands of times better than he did just hours earlier.

He was still clearly injured, but far from the edge of death he teetered on these past few days.

“How? Madja could only do so much for him.” Rhysand asked, astonished at how well his brother looked.

She helped him into his seat before taking the empty one next to him. Even as they got comfortable, her hand never left his arm, finding comfort in his touch after days of agony and helplessness.

“Junia is a healer. The best Dawn has to offer.” Azriel said, the pride clear in his voice. It made sense that she- Junia had been from Dawn. A Peregryn and an Illyrian, two lesser fae known for their warrior skills and inherent desire for the skies. 

“I am not as skilled as Madja, but it's easier to heal when you know exactly what is wrong, exactly what hurts.” Junia said, rolling her eyes at Azriel’s shameless bragging. 

She let out a deep and rich laugh as she looked at everyone’s faces, all pained by the many questions swirling around in there. Feyre noted that she hadn’t heard such a joyous laugh since Azriel had done the same when Elain had gifted him medicine for all the headaches the Inner Circle gave him. 

Clearly, whatever bond they had between them was deep.

“You better introduce me, put them out of their misery.” She teased Az, who had been too caught up relishing her laugh, after a very long and rough berating it was nice to see her not seconds away from tearing out his wings. 

“R-right. Uh- this is my- well this is-” Azriel stammered.

“Mother above Az, don’t hurt yourself," Cassian amused.

Azriel closed his mouth as he blushed, unsure of how to go about this. 

“My name is Junia. As the brooding bat said, I am his Carranam.” Junia answered, side eyeing Azriel.

Keep it together, Az. It's a little pathetic. 

Azriel responded to her teasing look with a glare. We haven’t had to tell anyone about this in a while. Why don’t you try to explain it to these idiots if you are so clever.

Rhysand noticed the silent conversation going on between them.

“You can converse like Daemati? Is that your ability?” The High Lord asked her.

They both hesitated, realizing they didn’t really know how their so-called “telepathy” worked.

“No- or I don’t believe so at least. When you communicate with someone, you are doing so verbally, even if not aloud, correct? I don’t hear Azriel’s voice in my head, I just feel what he is trying to tell me, if that makes sense.”

“Like a mating bond?” Feyre questioned.

“Also no. It's not our feelings that are conveyed solely, we can gather more specific meaning from it. Yes, Junia would feel I was not excited for this conversation, but she would also know I was offering her one last chance to leave, should she also not want to deal with all of your… strong personalities.” Azriel responded, looking at Junia. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with his family.

She laughed at his desperation which, while very clear to her, she knew the Inner Circle was none the wiser to the just how far Azriel was willing to go to leave this table. She could see him coming up with escape routes in his head as he picked up his wine glass. 

“Oh you poor delicate flower,” She teased. 

Unfortunately, they all still noticed the blush that once again appeared on Az’s face, laughing at their scary brother, head tortured of the Night Court, being compared to a ‘delicate flower’. 

Downing the rest of his glass, Azriel finally explained.

“A carranam bond isn’t like a mating bond. It comes from an old phrase, A Soul Friend. It gives Junia and I the ability to channel each other's powers, even make them stronger when we are together. Like you noticed, we have a different, more intimate way of communicating, far stronger than Daemati and mates can.”

“How the hell has no one else here heard of this bond?” Nesta asked, skeptical. Seems like something a group of people as obsessed with the mating bond would know about.

“It is rare, extremely so. There are also many… vulnerabilities that come with a bond such as this. To find your carranam is hard enough, most will never be born with one. But to accept such a bond is dangerous. And unfortunately there have been instances of others abusing such a gift. Tying their carranam up to reap their abilities, taking so much from them that both end up going insane. It became illegal in many places and eventually was forgotten by our world.” Junia answered.

“How did you find out what you guys had?” Feyre jumped in.

While this was Junia’s story as much as Azriel’s, she hesitated. Because there was another factor to that story, and she didn’t believe she was the one who should talk about it first.

Another glance between the two, a question asked. Azriel answered it by speaking up, “Junia is from Dawn. After my… mother was released- rescued from my father’s abuse, she wasn’t in wonderful shape. Fortunately, Rhys, Cassian, and myself found a place created by High Lord Thesan’s mother that offered aid to those escaping similar situations, Rosehall. That is where Junia worked as head healer. She helped my mother a lot throughout the years.” Such admiration and gratitude in his voice made several people at the table start to tear up.

Everyone was quiet. While Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor knew the story of Azriel’s mother being sent to Rosehall, they hadn’t known about Junia, just about the healer Az’s mother had gotten along with-

“You are the friend of his mother’s he sends gifts to every Solstice?” Mor asked, having been approached by Azriel for help with buying said gifts many times in the past.

“I thought you picked those gifts out yourself? You didn’t tell me Mor did all the work.” Junia turned to Az.

“I do pick them out, you just have peculiar taste. I have needed her help locating shops to buy such things before. That's it.” Az defended.

I certainly do have peculiar taste she silently said to Az who, again, blushed at the double entendre.

He quickly cleared his throat, “A few years after my mother had entered her care, while I was visiting, there was an attack on Rosehall. It was one of the families of a newer resident enacting revenge for escaping abuse. When many were hurt or dying… or dead, the two of us the only ones available to help, this bond had snapped out because of that desperation. It was new but it felt like it had always been there. We both leaned into the feeling and fortunately it didn’t end terribly. Suddenly, my shadows were able to start healing, and were able to talk to Junia, giving her any info on people who needed her help that she couldn’t see.”

Everyone was astonished at such a story. So different but also so similar to the mating bond. 

“Since then we have been each others’ confidants. While we don’t live particularly close, shadow walking gives me the ability to come to him whenever, and vice versa. Plus the connection is always there, even miles upon miles apart.” Junia answered. 

“Why keep it a secret?” Cassian questioned, knowing how much a connection like this would matter to Az, but confused because wouldn’t he want his family to know about him having such a bond?

“I am not exactly without enemies, Cas. I couldn’t have a possibility of someone coming after her because of me.” The sound of raw pain in his voice let his family know that this wasn’t something that was simply a fear. 

Someone had gone after her in revenge.

“Your secret is safe with us. You are safe with us. Should you need anything, just say the word.” Rhysand offered. 

The two carranam looked at each other. “After I spent a while yelling at Azriel for scaring me half to death multiple times in the past few days. We decided that maybe it was best I… step back from Rosehall.” Junia explained, sadness present in her tone as she talked about leaving the place that had been her sole purpose for her entire life. “I have healers on my staff that deserve the promotion, including Azriel’s mother, who has used her experiences to really become a confidant and friend to so many of our residents.” 

Azriel’s throat bobbed at the mention of just how much his mom had healed and helped since she escaped his father. 

Excitement filled the room at the possibility of adding another to their family. But Junia was still painfully aware of just how many questions everyone had.

“Alright, now that all the nitty gritty is out of the way, you can all begin your interrogation,” she teased.

All at once, tens of questions left everyone’s mouth. Not a single one able to be distinguished over the rest.

Azriel’s hand reached down to hold Junia’s, squeezing her while seeming to say I told you we should have escaped while we could.

They both downed their wine glasses while they waited for the Inner Circle to tire themselves out. 

A/N: Originally, this was the end. But I think I created so much backstory and also fell too much in love with Junia not to add more. So please let me know if you'd like more to this series! (And what you’d like to see)

Taglist: @bunnyred-blog1 @that-one-bibliophole @fuckingsimp4azriel @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minaaminaa8 @lilah-asteria @azrielswhore @maksamillion

(If you are featured here but you didn't get tagged, check your privacy settings to make sure you allow for tags!)

[creamflix]

First off, the theme for your Christmas event looks SO CUTE‼️‼️ whenever you like, could I please get inumaki and mistletoe (nice)? If you don’t write for him then sukuna would also be lovely. Happy early holidays!!

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

"what in all hell are you doing now?" SUKUNA’s voice cut through the living room, deep and sharp, as you balanced precariously on your tiptoes, reaching for the corner of the doorway. your hands gripped a small sprig of mistletoe, determination etched on your face.

“decorating,” you replied simply, grunting as you strained for the spot. “it’s tradition.”

“tradition, my ass,” he muttered, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, watching you with a mix of disdain and reluctant amusement. “this entire holiday reeks of idiocy. hanging weeds in doorways? for what purpose?”

you turned to glare at him. “it’s mistletoe! and you’re supposed to kiss under it. it’s romantic!”

his eyebrow twitched. “romantic. humans truly will find the most asinine excuses to lock lips.”

you huffed, stepping back to assess your failure. the spot was just out of reach, and no amount of stretching was going to help. sukuna sighed loudly, clearly basking in your frustration. 

“perhaps you should consider that your ridiculous traditions weren’t made for those of your stature.”

“well, maybe if someone taller helped,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he smirked, sharp and mocking. “and soil my hands with this nonsense? no, thank you.”

you grumbled, stepping onto a nearby stool in a last-ditch effort. he watched as you wobbled dangerously, mistletoe still clutched in your determined grip. “if you break your neck over this stupidity, i’ll not be held responsible,” he drawled, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he stood straighter, ready to catch you if necessary.

then, without warning, he moved, snatching the mistletoe from your hands with a single swift motion. you blinked, startled, as he held it aloft, dangling it above the two of you. 

“what are you —”

“if you insist on this absurdity,” he muttered, his voice low, “then allow me to do it properly.”

before you could respond, he tugged you closer by the waist, his other hand still holding the mistletoe overhead. his lips crashed onto yours, firm and demanding, leaving no room for protest. the kiss was intense, stealing the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, you forgot all about your mission to decorate.

when he finally pulled back, you noticed the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though he was clearly trying to suppress it. 

“there,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “is that sufficient for your foolish tradition?”

you blinked up at him, breathless. “that was —”

“don’t say anything,” he interrupted, tossing the mistletoe onto the nearby table. “and if you attempt to hang that wretched thing anywhere else, i shall burn it.”

but as he turned to leave, you caught the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his crimson eyes. for all his complaining, you could tell he didn’t hate it as much as he pretended. in fact, you’d even wager he enjoyed indulging you — just a little.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Comes up to the front of the room with pitch notecards in hand, okay, I have an idea that has two very controversial things in it. And idk if people want this, but I keep thinking about it, so here goes nothing.

So, I was thinking, post-breakup, Tommy and Buck bubble each other not talking. Tommy has spiraled inwardly. Buck is using up all the flour in Los Angeles.

It's a problem.

On a call one of them gets on shift, there is a big pileup. A huge pileup.

And in the pileup?

Connor, Kameron, and their son.

The one Buck helped them have with his donor sperm. All of them have significant injuries. Maybe either Connor or Kameron are already dead. They're rushed to the hospital. The only one who survives - the kid.

Buck, who is the biological father of the kid and never technically waved his rights, decides he should take the kid in. He doesn't know if there's anyone there for the kid other than him. There hadn't seemed to be when he was helping Connor and Kameron out. He kind of impulsively rushes into it.

However, there seems to be a wrinkle. Connor and Kameron had a will. Their will states that if they were to die, it designates the child's guardian to be Kameron's older brother. And who would that be?

Tommy Kinard.

And what at first looks like it could possibly become a messy custody battle ends up settling in a co-parenting situation where the kid spends time with both of them.

And as they keep co-parenting, well, maybe something happens to Buck's loft. A pipe bursts, something.

So, Buck decides to stay at Tommy's place as the pipe gets fixed. And maybe, well, Buck never leaves. It's kind of nice to be all under the same roof, after all.

And maybe they start to actually talk about why they broke up. Why Tommy was scared. Why Buck rushed into the idea of potential marriage down the line and moving in without saying I love you first. Talk about all the baking and talk about the bubbling.

They're reluctant at first to try to make up; try to date. Because what if it doesn't work out again? And where would that leave the kid?

While they figure themselves out, another devastating thing hits them. The kid? He is predisposed to cancer, and he gets juvenile leukemia.

And you're probably thinking it's going to be Buck. Buck's going to be the donor again. And he's also going to have to go through what his parents had all those years ago.

But.

He's not a match.

Buck is not a match.

But Tommy is.

And it's this whole vortex of unpacking childhood trauma while coming together for this kid that's just really become part of their lives. And it works out because I can't bring myself to not let it work out, but it's a lot.

And by the end of it, after the kid is in remission, after everything, they admit it. They admit they want this. They want to be together. They want to be a couple. They want to be a family with this kid.

And it's beautiful.

[maxarchive]

Alain Prost's praise for the champion who has become his equal

If he wasn't initially keen to talk, it wasn't because he didn't want to share his place on the list of four-time F1 world champions (with Sebastian Vettel), but because he didn't have the time. Alain Prost really likes Max Verstappen and has never been reluctant to speak highly of the Dutch driver for L'Équipe. The French world champion finally agreed to give us his analysis of his 27-year-old counterpart last Sunday. Thirty minutes of Zoom interview that demonstrate the esteem, even admiration, of the 69-year-old former driver for Verstappen.

Having Verstappen as a neighbor on the prize list. Does that mean anything to you?

Yes, sincerely. I am pleased to be in such good company. Because there are only three of us with four titles, but I remember when Michael joined me and when Lewis came through. I will not forget that Fangio was the first driver to win four crowns (the Argentinian champion was crowned a fifth time). All the same, we're among a handful of names who, without sounding presumptuous (he reflects), are out of the ordinary. We're part of history. To be a four-time world champion is a kind of pride. And Max, looking back on his career, can be proud of it. He hasn't stolen any of his crowns. You can have a bit of luck, like me in 1986, but you have to know how to provoke it and then seize it. Max is not missing anything. I remember that in 2016 during his first victory I was commentating for Canal and I promised him a bright future. He didn't disappoint me. What he's already achieved is really impressive. Verstappen is clearly unique. He is not just anyone, whether it's his personality, his character or his commitment. You can love him or hate him, but he certainly doesn't leave you indifferent. Like many great champions, he's atypical.

This crown, do you think it was the hardest for him to win?

Only he can say. I don't know what his car was really worth. (He reflects.) And then we mustn't forget that highly controversial title in 2021. It's still very difficult to have an objective analysis. Frankly, both of them (Hamilton and Verstappen) deserved the title for the whole season. It was Max who won it in the conditions we all know. It was his first crown, and once again he went out and won it. It's always difficult to win your first crown. In fact, I remember very well what I said that evening in Abu Dhabi: from now on we'll see the real Verstappen. And we've seen him since then (he smiles). He's freed himself. He's erased his little mistakes and his impatience. He's become very, very strong. Coming back to this year, he's had to fight hard and I think he's shown some very fine things. A lot of confidence, a lot of serenity. Even when he complains, but he has always done it, he did it with less annoyance. That's the mark of a more accomplished champion.

You describe an extraordinary champion. Does he have any weaknesses?

At the moment, it's hard to find any. I don't know what he'll do in the future, but even in terms of communication, with all the rumours with Mercedes and the worries with Red Bull, I've found him to be very solid… He's good on all terrains. He's a very tough driver on the track, but you can't see that as a weakness.

So he'll be unbeatable next year?

Well, next year is another debate. It will be a rather special year, the last with the current ground-effect car. We've already seen a tightening of performance between different teams. Max's strength is that, in certain races, he can make the difference all by himself. And that's a big advantage for a team, and of course for the Championship. So I'd still put him as favourite next year, but now the other teams know that Red Bull is beatable.

When Vettel won his fourth crown, you were delighted because you felt he was very close to you in terms of personality. Do you think Verstappen is more on the side of Ayrton Senna?

Max has a lot in common with Ayrton, especially at the start of their careers. Today, a little less so. He has his own way of being. He's always followed his own idea, in his own way. That's why, when you get to know him a little, I think he's close to Seb or me. These are things I like about him. On the track, I find him very respectful.

Very respectful?

Yes, in his own way. He's not a cheater. You're going to talk to me about track limits. But it's the way he drives; it's an education. For him, it's the norm. The best proof is that when he's penalized, he accepts it. As always, he goes as far as he can.

Hamilton fought against Alonso or Nico Rosberg, you against Senna. Do you think he lacks high-level opponents to climb even higher in the collective imagination?

Nowadays, it's the rule not to have two drivers of the same level in a team. But Max has had to deal with Ricciardo, Gasly and Perez. After all, they're not just heats! We're talking about Grand Prix winners. You're talking about his popularity. The good thing about Max is that he's free. He doesn't cheat: he's just the way he is, following his thing. Tomorrow, he could tell you that in a month's time he's quitting, and nobody would be surprised! That's him and that's his thing. He certainly cares much less about the image he may have than many other drivers. But I think he'll be remembered as an incredibly talented driver. Very tough, of course, but his four titles are totally deserved and he's right up there at the top.

[revelboo]

I miss my husband Ratchet owo

Wasn’t sure which doc, so went with TFP

The Weakends Pt 8

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Stretching slowly, it’s the feel of something heavy against your back shifting against you that brings you wide awake. Relaxing when you realize you’re sprawled inelegantly on Ratchet’s red and white chassis, his servos draped across your back. He’s still out as you lift your head enough to see his face and you rest your chin on him to watch him, unwilling to wake him. As exhausted as you were, he’d been nearly dead on his peds and he needs this. Always pushing himself, driven to take care of everyone else and neglecting himself.

• There’s a spot of warmth on him, something soft under his servos as he comes back online. Starting to sit up and catching you against him when you start to slide. “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen you recharge,” you say as he grimaces and wonders how long he’s been out. He hadn’t meant to rest so long, used to recharging in short intervals at his desk, sometimes drifting off while working on research. How long has it been since he’s had any significant rest in his actual berth? Usually his mind is too busy, keeping him wound up. But somehow having you there, feeling the beat of your heart kept him still. “You really need to take better care of yourself, doc.”

• You wait for the cranky grumbling, but he just touches a servo to the back of your head in a gentle bump as a rebuke and sits up completely, warm servos pinning you in place. “We need to check on Bumblebee,” he says, but he doesn’t move or shift his grip on you. Like he’s reluctant to start the day. Leaning against his warmth, you listen to the hum of his spark. Feel his servos flex against you before he vents tiredly and slides off his berth.

• “I don’t think I’ve been so mad at someone as I was at you,” you say as his peds hit the ground and he pauses to look down at you. Your little head is leaned against him, avoiding his optics. “Do you know how hard it is to see someone you care about just not give a damn about themself?” There it is, the root of your anger before. The truth. That it wasn’t his grouchy act that set you off, it was because of the way he pushed himself. Working himself to exhaustion again and again, because of course you’d noticed. Even knowing you, being around you, it’s so easy to forget how observant you are. Always looking to him.

• “I’m fine.” Liar. It’s pretty much what you expect from him, though, to play it off. Everyone else so much more important than his own health and happiness. You expect it, because you understand it all too well. It’s the same way you worry over those three kids, anxiety cranking you tight when they leave with the bots and you want to go with them to watch over them, because they’re just kids. And they’re so easy to overlook, a wrong step, a wrong move? You hate that they might be in danger. Wanting to take care of them and Ratchet, all of the bots. Because as dysfunctional as this is, it feels like a family and you want to protect that.

• “Yeah, so am I,” you mutter in a tone that clearly says that you aren’t. At all. He can feel those walls going back up, but admitting the truth? That he’s so tired of this war, of fighting? That he just wants something to break their way. A place to call home once and for all where he doesn’t have to watch friends die right in front of him. He can’t say those things. Not without cracking wide open, because that anxious worry is all that’s keeping him together. That and you.

Previous

[jweekgoji]

hello, you can resquest scenery, TFO Orion Pax, D-16, B-127 and Sentinel wait for their Conjux femme reader to give birth to their Sparkling. (about the others except Sentinel, where they go to the surface and return to Iacon and it would be that they meet their newborn Sparkling)

TFO Chars/Pregnant!Femme!Reader [hcs]

featuring: Orion Pax, D-16, B-127, Sentinel Prime tw: pregnancy, very brief mentions of violence, slighty yandere!Megs by the end, mixture of fluff/angst. word count: ~1940 a/n: I hope I understood your request well. Feel free to correct me if I did something wrong so I can remake it.

Orion Pax.

I feel like Orion (cogless, since it's before they went to the surface) is probably that typical young dad that has no idea how to take care of a child and might as well set on fire the kitchen in attempts to warm the bottle of energon for the sparkling.

But! He is very enthusiastic about it, and he supports you in every way he can; it's just that he lacks any real experience with it. Reading in the archives about sparklings, pregnancy and how to be a good mentor is easy; the hardest thing is to actually deal with it.

There is a big possibility that you are also cogless like him, and I'm not sure Sentinel actually cares about poor pregnant miners to give them at least a one-day off. Your supervisors would constantly remind you to continue working, since there's always a big need for energon.

Orion often picks up fights because of it. Can't those big bullies see that you're sparked? You need rest and good care, not lifting heavy equipment...As usual, he gets scolded by Elita for not doing his job properly, but he makes sure that he helps you with everything. You can rest during your shift, while Orion is happily working for both of you, so you won't be reported to the higher-ups. It's a little hard, but there is nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Following my last statement and the previous headcanons, Orion desperately wants the best future for all Cybertronians. He hates the thought that his sparkling will grow up in the same place as him. No actual home, no equality, only hatred from the others. That's when he sees the opportunity to change the future, he grasps onto it.

It pains Orion to leave you in Iacon. It wasn't really his fault, though. He would have come back to you after the Iacon 5000 race immediately if it wasn't for Darkwing throwing him on sublevel 50, and the next events after that...

Orion gains the maturity he lacked, and with realization of his other past mistakes, he also understands how careless he was before. You're probably scared to death without him; he left you without a word, and now you have to only guess where your conjunx is. How stressed you will be after someone tells you that he's dead.

Just as much as it scares him and makes him angry at himself, it also motivates him for more. No matter what, he will come back to you.

The moment he sees you, he is relieved. The reunion looks awkward, his form towering over your smaller one, but that doesn't bother either of you. When he finally meets the sparkling, his own little spark, all the pain from the last battle is gone.

Orion swears to you that he will never leave you alone after today; with a new spark born in this world, there is a hope. How meaningful it is for his own child to be born the day the Iacon becomes free.

D-16

Just like Orion, D-16 has a little to no idea how to take care of the sparkling. If his best friend will be so happy to be a sire, D-16 has mixed emotions about this.

Don't get me wrong, he is excited about it just like you, but D-16 is the bot who is reluctant when it comes to going against the rules. He is not sure if this is actually the right place and time for the sparkling to be born now. Both of you are cogless, and there is no great future for you. Maybe after countless cycles ago he can get a higher position, a bit better life, but will it be enough to raise someone so young?

Even then, he shows you that he is happy. He doesn't want you to think that he hates the idea just because he's not so sure about your current life.

D-16 is a naturally strong bot, probably one of the strongest when compared to other miners. He gets extra affectionate with his conjunx, holding you close and maybe even carrying you around if you show him the tiniest sign that you're tired. He is really sweet.

As Orion drags him into the race, he begins to slowly lose his cool. His outburst in the cave after finding out about the truth is even stronger. The betrayal, pain, the sick feeling of worry about you and his sparkling. If only Orion didn't drag him into that damn race, he would have been with you, making sure that you're safe, none of that would have happened.

The frustration boils over with each step he makes. He needs to come back to Iacon, to you, but first, he has to get rid of the one who caused the cycles of pain and humiliation.

 The time D-16 gets his servos on Sentinel, ripping him apart in front of anyone, he thinks it is the only way to solve everything. Only he can fix it, and only he can trust himself with protecting you.

You weren't there to see him deal with Sentinel, thankfully. It is for the best to avoid all the stress it could have caused if you saw him. Your dear conjunx is seething with hatred. Sentinel took many things from him; he wasn't even able to be there with you when your sparkling was born. D-16 Megatron will cherish both of you forever, and he will make sure to raise his little one as strong as him, so they won't live through the same events as D-16 was.

B-127

Oh, this one is a little too sad to speculate. Let's say, both of you are cogless but met each other a long time ago before you two ended up on sublevel 50. The moment you two failed to please the higher-ups and also the moment you find out that you're sparked up. What bad timing!

B-127 seems to be more happy than you are when he realizes that he is going to be a sire. A little too happy. Even though he doesn't fully understand it. You might go like, “You're going to be a sire, Bee” and then he hits you with, “I am sparked up??” which is kind of funny. Is that really your man?

Out of other bots, I can see  being the best sire ever. Of course, he gets a little confused, but who wouldn't be if they dealt with their first child? You try to explain to him everything you know about the topic, and he quickly catches up on it.

B-127 is already thinking about the names. Does Badasstron Junior sound like a good name for sparkling? Or maybe he should practice combining your names together? Anyway, it really helps him not to get insane down here. Having you around is good for Bee's mental health, though you're not so sure how much time passed since you were demoted.

Even then, Bee shows his caring side. He does get serious when the situation really needs it, so he is constantly tied to your hip because he wants you and the sparkling to be safe. The conditions are not great, but he makes the best of it. No matter how bad it gets, he always makes you smile, even though sometimes he has no strength to keep his cheerfulness.

Bee is happy to have more new friends and to partake in the journey of finding the matrix of leadership, but he doesn't want you to get hurt. That's why (with tears in his optics) you two agree that you should stay. But hey, it will probably not take too much time. He will come back with his new friends to Iacon with the matrix; the energon will flow again, so there's no need for you to stay!

Bee doesn't stop yapping about the fact that he is going to be a sire to Elita. This fella just likes to talk and when he sees the opportunity, he doesn't miss it! Poor Elita has to listen to him how hard it is to choose the name for the baby, or how he is going to be the best sire ever once the group comes back. Ohh, did you know that he also really-really loves you? And his sparkling? Elita barely handles him, but even though she never met you, she knows everything about you.

After Bee comes back to Iacon, he almost faints. First he got a cog, then met the high guard, got a job with the government, AND became a sire? When he sees his sparkling, he feels a little sad that he wasn't there with you, but he will compensate it in no time. Every little move your sparkling makes is cheered by,  and Primus have mercy on the poor bots around him. He is probably that dad who will show you the pictures of his kids...

Sentinel Prime

Being a conjunx of Sentinel has its own perks. Lucky you, no work for you! It will be too bad if you get sparked up and cogless, huh?

Sentinel is a busy bot. There is always work waiting for him, especially the oh so important ‘‘searching for matrix of leadership’ thing. Even then, when he is in Iacon, there are lots of paper jobs and meetings  being here and there since everything should be personally controlled by him.

One of the cons while being sparked up and being conjunx of Sentinel is that he doesn't have much time for you. By the end of the day, he always comes back to your quarters, but it's just so lonely without him! You're always surrounded by the guards, the medics, but they can never replace the presence of your loved one.

All the changes in your body don't help at all, the mood swings, the certain energon cravings in the middle of the night, so-so hard to deal with, but he's a Prime, after all, so that shouldn't trouble him that much...

Sentinel might be a little irritated with it. When you wake him up, just to ask for something Primus-knows-what-next, that will probably take hours to search for, but he has no strength to deny you. If his conjunx wants it, he gets it!

I like to think that Sentinel is probably always aware of your and sparkling's health, but in a slightly concerning way. Yes, he can miss one or two meetings at the doctor's with you, but that doesn't mean he is ignorant. Everything is reported straight to him, so if anything, he will drop his work and join you. There is also a looong track of every checkup you had, and he has a timer that counts seconds to when the sparkling is born.

Imagine how annoyed Sentinel is when he gets humiliated by the quintessons and misses the birth of his sparkling? He practically scowls when someone reports him about it and totally has to restrain himself from strangling someone on his way to Iacon, but he manages it somehow.

Sentinel's mood quickly replaced with warmth for you and the sparkling, even though inside his head, he is still annoyed. How could he miss it? When he planned everything to the last second? The one thing that keeps his mind occupied is the little one he has in his servos. He's not going to leave you two again. At least, when he still can.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'birthday cake' - logan howlett x wade wilson

summary: logan buys wade a cake for his birthday and tries to convince himself it doesn't mean anything. (900 words) tags: kinda fluffy, kinda angsty, set a year after the movie, references to losing the x-men, feelings realisation, animal metaphors for logan, cussing, logan x wade. a/n: happy birthday deadpool!

birthdays. running a calloused hand across his stubbled jaw, logan eyes the cakes in the bakery aisle with disgust. when's the last time he celebrated a birthday? not since. . .

well.

not since.

he's not sure why he's here. except he is. yet he won't admit it. can't admit he gives a damn about that stupid red leather-wearing freak. isn't that what he's doing right now, though? a birthday cake, an admission of sorts?

logan grumbles, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. why was this so hard? why couldn't he just pick up a cake and go? or better yet, forget about this whole damn thing and go home?

home.

a word that still feels so foreign in his mind, a long-lost concept that's only recently begun to take root again despite his best efforts to weed it out. that's the thing with wade, he's persistent. fuck, he's extremely fucking persistent to a highly annoying degree. but it's funny how the things we want to deny the most are the things that turn out to be the best for us in the end.

there's a unicorn cake that catches his eye. an imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of logan's lips, a reluctant grin quirking up without permission. he can't help it. "god damn it," he mutters, letting out a soft exhale that could possibly be perceived as a laugh.

it isn't too late. he could back out now, snuff the candles out and toss the cake so hard into the garbage can that it explodes on impact, leaving no evidence behind. that'd probably be the best thing to do. because what the fuck was this?

the unicorn cake sits on the dining room table, a few candles placed carefully (yet still somehow messily) into the pink icing, thoughtfully avoiding the unicorn decorations and rainbows.

logan shuffles nervously on his feet, hands clasped behind his back. he can already hear wade's annoying squealing in his ear, fussing and yelling and talking and just always fucking talking.

he'd made a deliberate effort to ignore all of wade's incessant reminders, 'it's my birthday month peanut, gotta be nice to me', 'i made sure to cancel everything on your very empty calendar for my birthday'. but in reality, logan had it memorised from the moment he learned the date.

a key enters the door, and logan stiffens up, then forces himself to relax in an attempt to look nonchalant. he looks anything but, head tilted down with dark eyes glued to the door - watching, waiting, anticipating.

"holy fuck balls that traffic is ridiculous!" wade whines, closing the door and rolling his neck as though he'd been worked to the bone, "i swear, it's like none of those careless fuckers know it's my birthday - can you believe that? i was thinking about getting a tattoo, the date on my forehead, y'know, so that when anyone asks they-"

wade stops, finally looking into the open room, eyes landing on the flicker of the candles. then to logan, eyes softening. "you. . . got me a cake?" wade whispers in the softest tone logan's ever heard from him, voice thick with emotion. it hits him unexpectedly.

logan puffs his chest out, "don't make a big deal outta it, bub." he says firmly, eyes straying from wade's gaze. feels like his eyes are boring into him, he doesn't like it. doesn't like the way wade looks at him, really looks at him. that kinda look is dangerous, could make a man believe he deserves to be forgiven for all he did or didn't do. could make a man believe that he's allowed happiness, however strange or unusual that source of happiness may be.

when logan's eyes trail back to meet wade's, he's already in front of him, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against his broad chest. logan huffs, making a sound of disapproval initially, yet makes no effort to move or push him away. instead, he settles, allowing it.

he knows wade must hear his heartbeat, the fact that it's fluttering in his chest. but wade only squeezes his arms around him tighter in response.

for once, the merc with a mouth is silent, basking in this moment the other has allowed. he's almost in disbelief. to some, and hell, maybe even logan himself, it looked like. . . well, just a cake.

but it symbolised so much more than that.

if wade has had his hand outstretched all this time, approaching the skittish animal threatening to lash out in learned survival instincts - then this is the gentle nudge from the animal's snout into his palm. a curious, tentative step forward. a willingness to let someone in, let someone help.

and god, wade won't mess this up, won't disappoint, despite the fact that it's all he thought he was good for, for a long ass time. if logan's taught him anything, it's that life is so much more than what you boil yourself down to. it's what others see in you, too.

wade's eyes pop open when he feels logan's firm hands hesitantly rest upon his back, giving a gentle pat. he bites his tongue, a mirage of sex jokes slinging through his filth-riddled mind. perhaps in a way, that was his own defense mechanism, push him away with just enough jokes to keep him guessing.

but not today.

because today logan bought him a cake. the same day that logan realised that he's hopelessly, ridiculously, disgustingly, annoyingly. . . in love.

[girlsoutlate]

there is a light that never goes out

simon returns home from deployment and is safe with his girl, but fireworks in late november send him back for a brief moment. the hope of you never leaves but neither does the memories of war

light angst, flashbacks, potential PTSD, mention of battle, everything gets resolved, partially inaccurate portrayal of flashbacks?

simon could not be any more content than he was at this moment. his breathing was slow, watching the rise and fall of your head on his chest instead of whatever you were chuckling about on TV. you two weren't under the covers, since you insisted simon runs hot even as december approached. a dim glow was cast around the room from a pretty lamp you bought, while the growing cold was shut out by thick velvet curtains. two china plates rested on the bedside table with a few crumbs of whatever sweet treat simon picked out for you to share after the dinner you made.

thats one specific thing he missed while on his deployment: your cooking. MRE's tasted like school dinners at best or dog food at worst. eating became a necessity, a chore while he was gone. it physically pained him to think about your delectable cooking, even more so you eating it at a table set for one. when he walked through the front door three days ago and smelt simmering spices wafting through the air, he knew he was home.

he knew he was home with his pretty girl. a soft, patient thing; not being thrown off by the ghost persona that was reluctant to melt away this time. he hated it, never wanting you to see that part of his life. but you helped, nails dancing across his skin or soft lips lingering a second longer. you reminded him he was really here, with his love. until he wasn't.

the glowing bliss of your bedroom was shattered by a whizz and a bang from outside. it was too close- too close to you. his love, his darling- you were going to get hurt. the thick smoke of bombs clouded his vision. hot sand burned his throat. fiery sun beat down on his back, scalding his nerves. yet he was clammy all over. cries of death and injury rang around his head. a shrill scream of terror that sounded too much like you shot through his head. eyes stinging with tears and sweat he clawed his way towards that scream. another resounding bang clattered against his skull. pure fear curdled the blood in his veins, consuming his entire being. it was too close, he needed to save you.

it was only a split-second but it felt like a lifetime to simon. he sprang himself on to you, thick arms tightly cradling your head into his chest, bodies pressed together to the point of you struggling to breath. his eyes screwed shut, heart pounding with panic while you lay there in bewilderment and fear at the sudden movement.

in that moment simon died for you, and you both knew he would a thousand times over. he would do anything for his girl, even if it meant being apart forever.

quickly you understood what was happening. you knew simon had an especially difficult deployment as communication dwindled over the month, yet you never expected something like this. he kept what happened while he was gone to himself, and how he felt about it even more so. wrapping your arms around his tense torso you slowly ran your hand up and down his back. "simon, we are here and we are both safe. you have nothing to worry about i promise. we're here in our house that we bought together. its just some idiots letting off fireworks way past bonfire night." you felt him falter at this and decided to continue.

"we ate dinner that you helped me cook a while ago, do you remember? you kept eating the sauce and had to remake it about three times" you let out a small chuckle, hoping your casualness and recollection of your day together would get through to him. "on your way back from the shops earlier you picked up a sweet treat for us to share. i was so happy i almost ate it all, do you remember what it was?" simon slowly lowered his body on to yours, hazy head resting on your chest.

"brownies" he mumbled. you grazed your fingers through his loose curls as you two set in to a steady silence. the idiots had moved on to another far away street. all you could hear were the trees rustling in the wind, the drone of a lonesome car and the hum of the forgotten program on the tv. a few minutes passed like this until simon suddenly got out of the bed. "i'm sorry" he softly said, voice clipped from choked back emotion "you shouldnt ave to deal wiv tha', wiv me".

"oh simon" you raised slowly of the bed and carefully hugged him. simons thick arms with a litter of new bandages, scratches and bruises encircled you gently and rested his head on top of yours. you said, muffled by his chest "i'll deal with anything because i love you simon. nothing will stop me being there for you whether you like it or not, so please don't apologise".

a small smile grew on simons face while a sigh escaped his lips "you were neva' good at listenin were ya?". you let out a soft giggle and shook your head.

"i love ya too, doll" he replied.

thanks for reading!! likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)))

out of practice writing and i havent written something like this before so i hope at least someone enjoys it loll.

[magicaldestinyharmony]

In Life and In Death

male!knight x female!count's daughter!reader part 3

CW: mentions of death, whipping, drugs, human trafficking, gambling, human hunting and murder.

WC: around 2k words

A/N: I have finally finished potion number 3 in this series!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Your eyes flutter open. Once you glimpse the sight of your all-too-familiar ceiling, you deadpan. What do I have to do to stop this? You sigh and cover your eyes from the onslaught of the sunlight. 

You're so sick and tired of it at this point. Waking up, working and spending so much effort to survive, only to fail and end up dead in the end.

You groan and turn on your side once you remember the date. You're starting to hate this number. No matter what you do, you pick up the calendar to see it there, in its black, bold glory.

Aida should be coming in anytime soon. You sigh when you hear the well-timed knock on your door.

“My lady?” Aida opens the door carefully, scared of waking you up. “Are you up? It's time for breakfast.”

A puff of air escapes you again. “I'm up, Aida.” you invite the maid inside your room.

“Oh, good. Let's get you ready for breakfast.”

“Do I have to, Aida? Can't I just have it in bed?” you plead.

Aida’s brows furrow in confusion, “ Well, I guess you could miss. However, may I ask, is there a particular reason?”

“I'm just tired,” of life, of death. Of everything really.

Aida nods in understanding and leaves to fetch your breakfast.

Aida pins the last decoration in your hair and steps back, “Ta-da! What do you think, my lady?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror, uninterested. You've been through this so many times that the glamour of dressing up has lost its allure.

You hesitantly walk down the stairs, reluctant to see your father. If you didn't already hate him, you downright loathe him now.

Everything plays exactly as you recall. Yet when your eyes meet Lucca's, you're hit with an idea.

Why didn't you think of this before? Instead of taking care of Lucca now and letting him die later. Why not make him indebted to you? Thwart your father's plans so Lucca can keep his life and you can keep yours.

With this new drive fueling you, you approach him, “Hello. Are you alright?”

Lucca watches you in silence. You reach out to him, “Are you alr-”

Lucca smacks your hand away. The sound echoes throughout the entrance hall and you cringe in pain.

The noise turns the count's attention towards you. He smirks at the scene in front of him. You pale under his scrutiny and cold gaze. 

“Well, well, well, I see that you dared to injure a Balcom, boy.” The man takes sick pleasure in watching both children cower before him.

“For injuring my precious daughter's hand, you will receive 15 whips.” a creepy grin creeps onto your father's face.

Little tremors shake your body. Lucca did nothing wrong. He doesn't deserve this. “W-wait! It-it wasn't his fault!”

“I see,” your father nods in consideration. “You have a compassionate heart, daughter of mine.”

Your father pats you, “But,” his voice turns cold, “Compassion gets you nowhere in life. Do you still want to stop his punishment?”

Your father's pats turn into an iron grip on your head. He tilts his head, prompting your response, “N-no. Wh-when wronged, we sh-should give back tenfold what we received. I-its's the Balcom way, right?” the automated response rolls off your tongue while you shake in fear.

Your father smiles, “Good job.” he gives you one final pat and turns to a maid, “Take him to the dungeons and make sure to give him his punishment.”

With that, your father departs, leaving deadly silence in his wake.

◇◇◇

Who knew that standing in front of an office could be so nerve-wracking? After taking another deep breath, you hesitantly knock on your father's office.

The door cracks open to reveal your father’s loyal aide, “My lady? What do you need?”

“Can I see father?” you mutter out.

“Let me ask the count,” the aide turns around, leaving you in front of the door.

He returns shortly and ushers you in. “So, what do you want?” your father asks without looking up.

Gathering your courage, you say, “I want that boy.”

Only then does your father look up, “That boy?”

“Yes. The boy you brought in this morning.”

Your father scratches his chin in thought, “And what will you give me in return?”

You gulp. You expected him to say that. Your father is known for not giving without taking. “I'll give you information about House Devoy. Pivotal information.”

“Oho, and is this information credible?”

You nod. “Very well. When will I receive this information?”

“I will have it ready in two days,” you confirm.

“Alright,” your father's gaze turns into a glare. “But if your information turns out to be wrong, you won't escape punishment.”

“Understood.” you bow and leave.

Once the door to your room closes behind you, you collapse in relief. Let's hope that the information you remember from your past lives is enough to save your neck.

You bring double the amount of bandages and ointment on your nightly trip to the dungeons. With the extra abuse Lucca went through today, courtesy of yours truly, you certainly needed more.

After bribing the guard and gaining access to Lucca's cell, you get to work on treating his wounds.

As soon as Lucca feels the cold, stinging sensation of the ointment, he opens his eyes. You make eye contact. He glares at you. You shake your head, ignoring him and continue working.

Once Lucca's last wound has been patched up, you leave the bread you got him and stand up to leave.

You feel his gaze on you the whole time, trying to size you up. “Why do you care?” you barely hear him whisper.

“You got hurt because of me. Of course, I care.” you firmly say.

Lucca scoffs but makes no further comments. You shrug, used to his apathy. This time you were able to leave without any incidents.

◇◇◇

The next morning, you hand a list of everything you remember about Count Devoy to your father. You pray that the information is good enough to keep you and Lucca alive.

You were informed by your father's aide that processing and proving the intel you gave will take some time. Three days to be precise. But you weren't allowed to have Lucca till after. Bastard. You were sure your father took pleasure in tormenting his kids.

Whatever. It was nothing new. It was well-known that your father was a repulsive man. At least to people with a strong sense of justice.

Your father sickened you. He doesn't hesitate to dabble in the illegal. Unlicensed auction houses, drug selling and human trafficking are just some of the things that your father does.

The problem is that he enjoys doing these things. His hobbies are no less disgusting. He enjoys gambling, the company of many women and hunting.

Not your typical animal hunting. He hunts slaves. Buys them then releases them into a forest on the territory to be hunted.

Yet, somehow, his reputation is still intact. Your father spends lots of money to keep his activities under the rug. In fact, he's so well regarded that if someone speaks up, they'll be immediately ignored and silenced. Voluntarily or forcefully.

You shake your head in loathing. Dwelling further on this will only cause a bad mood.

Instead, you opt to go for a walk in the hope that the wind blowing through your hair will calm your turbulent thoughts.

At dinner, you were surprised to find yourself seated to the right of your father. You can practically feel the hatred rolling off your half-siblings.

According to noble etiquette, during a meal, the household's head sits at the head of the table. Dubbed as the seat of honour.

The next most important person is seated to the right of the seat of honour. Then the third most important to their left, then the fourth on the right and so on.

In a highly competitive family like yours, getting the seat on the right of the head’s seat essentially means the favour of the count. Not a position you necessarily want.

The meal proceeds in suffocating silence. The only sounds are the clinking of plates and spoons echoing in the room.

At the end of the meal, your father makes a comment that you wish he never uttered, “I'm very pleased with you.”

As soon as he leaves, your half-siblings look at you with obvious murderous intent. Bastard. You were convinced that your father thrives on the discord between his children.

As the fifth daughter, your chance at succession is practically non-existent. Sitting at the right of the seat of honour and getting a compliment from the head suggests that you're participating in the fight for succession.

So all in all, your father raised the risk of your death. Not a good thing.

◇◇◇

You were incredibly relieved when your father finally handed Lucca over to you. You hope that avoiding your father from now on will reduce the attention on yourself.

While Aida and the family doctor gave Lucca a checkup, you gave orders to other maids to set up the room beside yours for him.

You make sure the room is immaculate. The last thing you need is Lucca feeling compelled to kill you over an improper room. With instructions in place, you meet up with Aida in front of the infirmary. 

“How is he?” you ask, once you reach her.

“The doctor said he's severely malnourished and suffering from multitudes of wounds.” Your maid dutifully replies.

You grimace, “Is it serious?”

“Some of them are,” Aida says, sullen.

You frown, “Let me see him.”

Aida nods and opens the door to let you in.

You blink your eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the window across the room. Shielding your eyes, you notice that the whole room is made from walnut. The desk and chair to your right are cluttered with paper and books. The left side of the room houses a table and a modest library. The table has what you assume to be a mix of herbal plants and medicine concoctions on it. A small table and seats are tucked at the back of the room. Overall, it has a warm vibe to it.

You turn to the bed sitting in the corner beside the window. Lucca sits on it, white sheets tucked around him, staring out the open window, the white sheer curtains fluttering around him. The wind flows through the window, taking his silver strands for a ride. He looks dwarfed in the bedding, his arms look scrawny and pale against the white of the sheet. His body is littered with bandages. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. While nothing justifies him killing you over and over again, you realize that he was just a kid. Is a kid. He lost his family overnight, endured abuse from the Count and fought demons as the Divine Warrior. It was no wonder how the kid ended up the way he did.

“Are you done staring?” Lucca speaks without turning around.

You answer his question with a question, “How are you feeling?”

Lucca shrugs and you sigh, exasperated at his non-answer.

Pulling up a stool beside the bed, you stare at his small frame again. A child should never have to undergo such hardship.

Another breeze streams through the open glass panes, ruffling your hair and blocking your vision for a moment. Moving your strands away, you notice that Lucca has finally faced you. You grin, loving the feeling of the air in your hair and the fact that he’s finally looking at you.

It feels somehow freeing to feel the flutter of the wind caressing you. You hold Lucca’s gaze, smiling, hoping that he shares (or at least) feels your joy.

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to face the lush green visible through the window. Lucca doesn’t turn away, keeping his eyes on you. The silence feels liberating. Now, at this moment, you aren’t a murderer and his victim. You are just two children enjoying the wind. So you don’t say anything, content to watch the birds drift from branch to branch while Lucca watches you.

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 3)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (Part 1) (Part 2)

            The rest of the morning was spent scrubbing and drying out your old robes at the riverside. After a quick lunch break, Shihou showed you around the forest, perched on your shoulder the entire time. He pointed out trees ripe with every fruit imaginable, picked more of the purple-flowered jewelweed for your medicine, and gathered soft leaves to use for makeshift bedding.

            It was wild and beautiful and nothing like you expected. Even with the ominous reputation of Fruit and Flower Mountain at the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel at peace in such a paradise.

            “If I’ve been invited to the palace, why do I have to wait?” you asked Shihou that evening. While the sun had set, he helped you gather wood and light a small fire near the cave. His knowledge was unexpected but you were no longer surprised by the not-so-ordinary monkey.

            “Staying near the river makes it easier to wash until the poison ivy is gone,” Shihou explained, leaning against you to enjoy your gentle pets through his soft fur. “Plus, the King wanted some time to prepare a proper room for you. You’re an honored guest and he takes his role as royal host very seriously.”

            You were surprised to hear such a courteous reason. “Is it really that big a deal?”

            “He wants to make a good impression.” Shihou glanced up at you, his gilded eyes catching the light of the fire in a reddish glow. “You said you heard stories about Sun Wukong. Is that why you’re so scared of him?”

            “Well…I mean…” I pondered your response carefully. “The elders told us tales about him, mostly out of caution.”

            Shihou tilted his head curiously. “What did they say?”

            “The usual story,” you shrugged. “The Monkey King was a powerful demon that defied heaven and was imprisoned for it. He was sent on a journey to atone and returned to his kingdom once it was through. His spell on the mountain keeps it warm and bountiful year-round.” You glanced at the surrounding forest, green and vibrant even in the dead of winter. “But Monkey King hates humans and kills any that cross his path so the mountain is forbidden.”

            “He doesn’t hate humans,” Shihou argued with a frown. “He just knows how dangerous they can be. The King only wants to protect the mountain and his people.” A quiet melancholy fell over the monkey as he studied the fire. “The last time humans were welcome on the mountain, hunters killed our kind and stole from us. After that, the King banned all humans from his kingdom and forbade any demons from entering the village.”

            The pain and loss in his voice pulled at your heart and filled your eyes with tears. You couldn’t help but scoop him into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be,” he said, patting your arm in return. “You’re not to blame.” Even after you released him from your sudden embrace, he remained seated in your lap, reluctant to move away.

            “So, I’m still allowed to stay?” you teased, taping Shihou’s nose to lighten his mood. “Even though I’m human?”

            Shihou pouted but grabbed your hand, placing it back on his head for more pets. “You’re an exception. The King sympathizes with your exile and you’ve already shown more kindness than most humans. As long as Sun Wukong allows it, you are welcome on Fruit and Flower Mountain.”

            You only nodded, continuing to brush your fingers through Shihou’s fur. “You speak very highly of your King.”

            “Of course!” Shihou perked up, pride sparkling in his eyes. “He’s the Great Sage Equal to Heaven! He’s strong, handsome, clever, and he’s defeated every demon that ever challenged him.”

            “Sounds humble, too,” you muttered, earning a glare from Shihou. “I mean, he sounds formidable. What other stories do you know about him?”

            He tapped his chin in thought. “There’s a lot of them. Like how he became king by jumping through a waterfall and finding a palace on the other side. Or how he stole his weapon from one of the dragon kings. And then there’s all the adventures he had while on his journey.”

             Shihou launched into different tales of the Monkey King. He was a gifted storyteller, capturing your attention with vivid descriptions and excited gestures. From monks and dragon horses, to pig husbands and river demons, to kingdoms of women and mountains of flame. Every detail painted the journey for you, like he’d seen it with his own eyes.

            As enthralling has his performance was, the night grew late and your eyes grew heavy. You found yourself nodding off more and more, lulled by his soothing voice and your newfound security on the mountain. When you startled awake for the third time, you found Shihou watching you, a cheeky smirk on his face.  

            “I’m sorry,” you yawned, rubbing your bleary eyes.

            Shihou chuckled. “No reason to be sorry. It’s late and there are plenty of stories for another day. You should get some rest.”

            “What about you?”

            “I won’t be far, don’t worry,” he said with a reassuring smile. You nodded, shuffling half asleep to your makeshift bed. “Sleep well.”

            “You too–,” but when you turned back, he had vanished. Only the dying fire remained, crackling as its dim light flickered around the empty clearing. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could still sense his presence lingering in the darkness. With a last searching glance over the shadowy trees, you turned back to the cave.

            It was still gloomy and bleak but the leaves were soft and made the floor more comfortable. As you drifted off to sleep, the fire slowly burned itself to smoldering embers. The only light left was the glowing pair of golden eyes keeping watch into the night.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

We resume back at the farm, where post coital insult slinger Forest has a fit of remorse and atones by mopping the puddles on the floor that so bothered Giovanna.

Giovanna (likely anticipating the messes of many kinds to come in this household) receives a massage from Sage, while Tiago continues to be a happy person on a strange mission upstairs, much to Lilac’s bewilderment.

The Watcher had reluctant chef Lee prepare some salad for dinner, though she’s wondering with hindsight if even that may be a risky endeavour.

Awww - Giovanna is setting the table! And while Lee has managed not to start a fire (with fruit salad), he has sadly left the counter a bit of a mess.

Really, Lee? Baarry White is far too young for that kind of language.

After a long and rather stressful day, he evidently has enough of not behaving badly and insults Forest. But what's this? Do I hear a chair scraping behind him? Is LOYAL traited Lilac on the move?

You don't understand just how I’ve been waiting for this, ladies and gentlefolks.

Lee is embarrassed, and Forest has clearly never done anything wrong in his life ever.

Sage and Mister are wondering if it's too late to get out of this save file. Sorry, your contract is legally binding.

On a rush of confidence from calling out bad behaviour, Lilac does the rounds: flirting first with Sage, then Forest and Lee (she's a professional).

And the instant Lilac's back is turned, Forest attacks. Not him going after Lee's fashion sense... 😱

It's not all bad news for Lee, as he does get a much-needed aromatherapy massage from our leading lady (who actually has a reasonably high level of Wellness, since being a LAZY Sim she refuses to run anywhere, and that teleportation mechanic is handy). But it's Sage who gets to step into Lilac's office - her bedroom.

And I think that is where we will leave everyone else for this totally mundane, absolutely uneventful day...

@riverofjazzsims @ravingsockmonkey @fl0pera

@igglemouse @panicsimss @simsfvr

[lifegrowsfromashes]

Grian can taste Death.

The metallic, cast-iron taste of Death, lingering in the back of his throat. The schizophrenic visions of Death, in the corners of his eyes, flickering like static.

Death follows Grian, like the last thing that’ll stay with him. His friends can get sick of him, his enemies can disappear, but Death, Death remains. And Death is out for him.

He can’t let his friends help; can’t let them get in the way. This fight is between him and the End, only. So, no, he won’t let Scar save him. And no, he won’t let Scar run off, like he’s trying to right now.

They’ve been keeping their distance from each other over the past few days, but Grian can tell when Scar’s planning something. He’s been unpacking less and less, when they settle down to sleep. His agreements to Grian’s plans have been more and more reluctant.

So, yeah, okay, Grian’s been hard on Scar recently. But Scar doesn’t get it. 

Ever since that incident, with the creeper, he’s kept his guard up. He can’t let him go down to red. And, okay, maybe shouting at him and calling him useless isn’t the bast way to do that. But- If Grian doesn’t save him, doesn’t tell him what to do, he knows that Scar will die. 

And he cannot let Scar die. Not again.

So cannot let Scar run off, like Grian knows he’s trying to.

He tries to confront him, when they’re settling down to sleep, in the dirt house. 

Hiding behind his wings, Grian shares across at Scar. The wide, jagged lines of burns raise the skin over his face, distorting his eyes. He’s staring up at the stars. 

“Are you going to leave?” The words startle Scar out of his stupor, and he looks across to where Grian’s laying on top of his sheets.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you, these past few days. Since that creeper. You’ve been unpacking less and less.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to leave.”

“Well, what- what about the way I acted? The way I was, with you. After. Didn’t you think- you’d be better off alone?’

“No.”

Grian tenses. He watches Scar’s eyebrows knit together.

“Is this your way of trying to apologise? Because it’s not working.”

“I just-“

“I’m not leaving, Grian. What do you want me to say?”

“Well-“

“That you’ve been acting like a dick? That you haven’t been taking my feelings into account? That your brashness hasn’t just jeopardised me, but both of us? I know this is stressful and I know it’s scary, but we have to work together on this. There’s nobody else we can turn to. So no, I’m not going to leave you. And you’ve got to stop thinking like that.”

Scar’s breathing heavily, now. His voice is raised. They both turn towards the door, and watch for something to happen. And then he sees it. 

The shriek. The death call. 

The darkness.

[proffbon]

Btw, before the release I imagined the Crows plot being something like

Lucanis fakes his own death to escape being the First Talon. Caterina very reluctantly names Illario First Talon but even though he's happy about the position, he's in deep grief about Lucanis and he feels that Caterina's apathy towards him now turned into straight up hatred, and he believes that other Talons share in that hatred. So Illario is busy trying to be a good First Talon to show everyone he really deserves to be one.

Meanwhile Lucanis joins the Veilguard, but they desperately need the help of the Crows (for some reason) and Lucanis is their ticket in. But he is reluctant to do so because it 1) blows his cover regarding the whole death thing and he might be even hunted down for defecting and 2) jeopardizes Illario's standing as First Talon.

And the ending is something like both Lucanis and Illario standing up to Caterina and the rest of the Crows, defending each other's respective positions and wishes (for Illario to be First Talon and for Lucanis to be free of the expectations, maybe he leaves the Crows, maybe he becomes Illario's right hand, maybe it's a player related choice idk) backed up by the Veilguard and also Teia and Viago probably.

Not sure what happens in the middle there but I'm not a writer lmao.

[beemochi-art]

I would love to see more about how Breakdown was in your AU, if you're up to it! He seems really fun.

Yeah… he was fun. Knockout and Breakdown joined the decepticons, the only reason breakdown did was because he was following Knockout.

Breakdown really doesn’t take the decepticon movement seriously or his superiors not even the autobots. He doesn’t care, he so nonchalant about most things except his relationship with knockout. His is really charming and has a cool charismatic personality, he very intriguing to many, because of that he didn’t get messed with by other cons very often. He was genuine and was the rare case of a con that didn’t lie.

Knockout told him he needed to take things more seriously. Stop trying to race or chat with Autobots, stop waiting till the last minute to do things on missions, don’t go off on your own to race, stop being so trusting of other cons, don’t call the high command bro …. Don’t call Megatron, bro.

Those the many things Knockout has told him… did he ever listen? No. This led to him being shot at, blown up, hit and then ending up in med bay.

When Breakdown gets hurt so do his feelings, he’s a pretty sensitive guy like that. He’ll get really quiet and depressed, Knockout can’t ever get too mad at him cause he’s hates to see him all sad. But when he back to working order, he doesn’t learn a thing!

It wasn’t until he had a run in with Optimus prime did he really get it. Breakdown lost his eye in the encounter and had many other injuries that had him in medbay for awhile. Lucky Knockout was their to take care of him. He got a prosthetic optic and the rest of his injuries healed very well, Knockout put all his energy in making sure his conjunx got better.

When he healed and back to working order his mental state took a nose dive. He stayed depressed for a while but he refused to tell knockout how he was feeling. It was a pride thing. Even when he stated to feel more like himself something broke in him. He was more reluctant to go on missions and got more paranoid. He finally learned his lesson and Knockout couldn’t be more concerned. He do anything to make Bd to feel comfortable and confident again. But that really didn’t stop him from doing dumb stuff not all the way at least.

One day he was on a mission, the rest of the group came back without Breakdown. Knockout was incredibly busy and didn’t notice Bd was gone till later. Breakdown had died in the field, at least that’s what everyone casually told Knockout. Cons have a bad habit of leaving their dead to decay where they died. Breakdown was no exception.

He was there and he he was just gone…

[violetwanderer]

Red Lips

Peter Parker x Female Reader

Summary: Reader shows off some items she bought on a shopping spree to her boyfriend, Peter, including a red lipstick that he really enjoys.

Warnings: Kissing

Word Count: 617 Words

Author's Note: This was meant to be a short fic but ended up looking better as headcanons

Masterlist

Do not copy or translate my works

After a long day of shopping, you come home to your shared apartment with Peter, unlocking the door and carrying your bags to the bedroom, walking past your boyfriend in the kitchen as you do.

“Hi, baby,” you call to him, hurrying to put down all your bags. You throw them down on the bed when you get to it.

Peter enters the room with a smile on his face, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey, babe,” he greets you softly. “How was shopping?”

“Really fun! I got some new clothes and makeup. Want to see some of the stuff?”

“Sure, baby,” Peter smiles wider, pushing off the doorframe and sitting on the bed beside the bags.

You start pulling out items of clothing and holding them up to your body, showing off how they would look on you.

He genuinely seems interested each time, and compliments every item of clothing, telling you how cute and pretty they would look on you.

Once you're done showing off the clothes, you move on to the bags that hold the makeup you bought.

You know you don't have time to try all of it on, so you just quickly flash some eye shadow palettes and blushes.

What catches your eye the most, however, is a bright red lipstick you purchased. You picked it up because you wanted to treat yourself, and because the colour reminded you of Peter's suit, though it isn't the exact same shade.

You have a strong feeling that Peter will like it, so you decide that you want to model it for him.

“I'll be back in a second!” You tell your boyfriend as you run into the bathroom quickly to put on the lipstick, checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure it looks perfect.

You go back into the bedroom and smirk coyly as Peter looks at you in awe.

“Do you like it?” You ask him, and he nods, but his expression doesn't change.

You straddle his lap and kiss his cheek, and when you pull away you notice that your lipstick has left its mark on his skin, causing you to giggle.

“What?” Peter asks with a sweet smile, and so you pull his hand up to your lips to show him what you're laughing at.

He examines the mark and his cheeks grow red at the sight, but his smile grows bigger.

“I like this lipstick,” Peter chuckles, still blushing.

You kiss all over his face then, leaving pretty red marks on his soft skin. His lips soon grow to match the colour of yours.

“Baby, I've gotta go,” Peter tells you between kisses, though he seems reluctant. “I've gotta go out on patrol, and I'll have to wash all this off first.”

“No you don't. Your mask will cover it all,” you point out, pulling away and laughing at the sight of his face. He's covered in lipstick marks shaped like kisses.

“You're right!” He grins. You pull away to let him get up and change into his suit.

Once he has changed, he slips his mask on, and there's no longer any evidence that you've covered him in your lipstick.

That is until you get the devilish idea to kiss his mask as well, pressing your lips against his through the fabric, leaving behind one last lipstick mark.

“That's just for luck,” you tell him with a wink.

“You can't see it on the mask though, right?” He asks you.

“Not at all,” you lie with an innocent smile.

As he climbs out the window, you can't help but giggle at the fact that anyone who gets up close to him tonight will see the lipstick on him.