#the ending was a bit abrupt

[ladyantiheroine]

Y’all, Monkey Man is really good.

[sleepyslag]

15 Years of Dan and Phil 🧡

Baby, not a day goes by that I'm not into you <3

[kiaraalazulu]

just finished the blue lions route, I love this guy

inspired by this shirt I saw the other day:

[awkness]

No Man is an Island

(Paternal Platonic Yandere oc & Injured Teenage Genderneutral Reader)

You and a small group of people are left stranded on an island, struggling to survive. One member of the group, Henry, has grown a paternal attachment towards you and has taken on the task of caring for you, but are his intentions truly as benevolent as they seem, or is there something much more selfish behind them?

Content warnings: injury, plane crashes, talks car accidents, coma, and child death, and general yandere shenanigans

Authors Note: This is much more chill then what I usually write. Don't be fooled, though, this dude is still messed up lol

You were on a plane alone, flying back to see your parents when the plane begins to experience severe turbulence. The captain tries to reassure everyone that things are under control, but it only gets worse. It feels like you're in the middle of an earthquake. Oxygen masks fall from the ceiling, and you can barely put yours on before blacking out

You wake up to a horrible, throbbing pain in your leg, and a sticky, humid feeling everywhere else

You're near the shoreline of the beach, a canopy of tropical trees shielding you from the sun. Turning your head, you could make out the main wreckage of the plane. There's a crudely made splint on your left leg, which is swollen and covered in bruises. There are no people in sight

Panicking, you start yelling, trying to find someone, anyone to help you understand what's happening

A middle-aged, gruff looking man comes from the wreckage. He introduces himself as Henry and helps you calm down before explaining the situation to you

The plane had crashed on an unihabited island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, an unknown distance away from the mainland. All of the crew were dead, and most of the passengers were as well. The only people who survived were you, Henry, and no more than ten other people, all variously injured

None where as injured as you, though. Henry says that you had most likely broken your left fibula and tibia when the plane crashed. As the bone hadn't broke through your skin, he says that it should heal on its own, but it would take months, most of it spent on bed rest

The first few days were the roughest. You spent your time in a haze of pain and heat from the brutal and humid temperatures from the island. It was hard to make yourself eat, and you often felt like you never had enough to drink, as your group had decided to ration the fresh water and food that was scavenged from the crash

The other survivors didn't interact with you often. It wasn't on purpose, but they were too busy working to make this place temporarily habitable, and they had no time to think of an injured person who couldn't help them. Plus, you weren't much for conversation anyway, given your current state

The only person you did see regularly was Henry. He checked on you often throughout the day, acting much like your self-appointed doctor. He seemed to have a basic understanding of what medical care to provide you, though, so you weren't about to protest

His bedside manner was good as well, knowing when you were in too much pain to make conversation and when you were lucid enough to want company. He was your only source of companionship for those first few days, being the one to bring you your daily rations of airplane pretzels and coconut water and make sure you were eating.

Whether it was the pain subsiding or you simply adjusting to it, you began to pull yourself out of your pain driven stupor and started talking to Henry more, out of the pure loneliness and boredom of your situation

He was very easy to talk to despite his outwardly serious and borderline intimating disposition. As you talked to him more, you found him to be friendly and a bit corny, occasionally cracking a stupid dad joke or pulling light-hearted pranks on you. He seemed fairly competent at reading people, able to sense your loneliness, and often encouraging you to open up whenever he had the chance to talk

You didn't know if it was out of genuine interest or pity for your circumstances, but you found you couldn't refuse his company. Before you knew it, you started oversharing about your life. Within the next two weeks, he knew pretty much every major thing about you, from your family, your hobbies, where you lived, what your future goals and aspirations were, and so on

On the other hand, he seemed more reluctant to open up, often getting quiet or withdrawn when your questions got too personal, with what constituting 'personal' varying. You eventually picked up that something troubling must of happened to him in his past involving his family, so you stopped pushing, letting him bring up his past on his own time

Outside of superficial facts about him, the only thing you knew was that he was a former US Army Special Forces survival expert, which was how he knew how to treat your injury, and how he knew how to survive on the island

When you were feeling well enough, he would teach you some of survival knowledge he had, teaching you different fire starting methods, how to build a lean-to, and how to crack open a coconut to get the milk. He seemed rather anxious about watching you wield his knife, though, so he did that for you when he could

Things take a turn for the better as the group finds decent shelter that isn't the plane wreckage in the form of uninhabited caves in the heart of the island, along with a waterfall spouting drinkable water

Some are reluctant to leave the shoreline, as the group had taken to maintaining a bonfire there to hopefully signal passing planes or boats for help. A compromise was reached where they would move to the caves and would continue to maintain the fire in shifts

The trek towards the caverns was especially hard on you. The rest of the survivors had gone ahead to carry the supplies to the caverns, leaving Henry to guide you through the thick foilage and uneven terrain

Henry had given you a walking stick to aid your journey, but because of your prolonged bedrest, there were often times you had to be carried, making the journey a slow and tedious one. You apologized, but he brushed it aside, saying he didn't mind, as he often had to carry much heavier loads in the army. He then went on to tell you cherry picked stories from his time in the military to distract you until you reached the caves

He had decided that it would be best for you to sleep near him, in case you needed assistance or if there was an emergency. His reasoning seemed sound, and you were inclined to trust him after all this time, so you agreed

With this newfound stability, things finally seemed to slow down, as people weren't constantly threatened with death by starvation, dehydration, or exposure

This was also the time that the other survivors began to talk to you more regularly

It was how you learned that Henry had become the defacto leader of sorts, given he was the most qualified out of the group. People often came to you to see if he was there whenever they needed him, asking you to pass messages along to him when he wasn't there. Which was pretty often, given how he was usually the person to help gather food or scout out new parts of the island

It was after one of these outings that you began to learn more about him

It had been a rainy, stormy day, which made the groups whole mood sour. Henry was out with a small group to gather food, and you were with the rest of the survivors, hanging out in the main cave

It was easy to overhear conversations in the main cave, noise often bouncing about the walls. It's how you and the rest of the people in there were forced to listen to a heated conversation developing between two of your members

Apparently, one of the more toublesome people of your group had been caught stealing from one of the other members of the cave. Their talking turned to arguing, and the arguing became shouting, which became shoving, which was steadily growing more violent by the second

Some had tried to break up the fight while everyone else had managed to move away except you, who could only slowly hobble away

A fellow survivor was trying to usher you away when someone knocked into you, causing you to fall and hit your head on the cavern floor. You lost consciousness

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the pain in your head, throbing like a pulse. The second was that you were back in your bed (if you could call a platform of crushed bamboo and palm leaves a bed), a blanket tucked to your chin. The third were the footsteps of Henry as he came over to kneel beside you, his face creased in thought and worry

He then went to question you on how you were feeling, if you knew who you were, if you remembered what happened, as well as checking your eyes and testing your muscles and general coordination

It was only after he was satisfied you didn't have any severe brain injury that he finally relaxed and explained what happened

After you were knocked unconscious, the fighting had stopped, and you had been taken back to your part of the cave to be taken care of as they waited for Henry and his group to arrive

The conversation then faded into silence, as you were too caught up in your pain to keep talking. You closed your eyes and laid back down

It wasn't until later that night that you finally noticed that Henry was still in the room, watching you, face blank and motionless as if he were in another world. You've never seen him look that way before

You nudge him and he startles, completely caught off guard, apologizing for worrying you

You ask him what's wrong, and instead of brushing your question off like he usually does, he hesitates before going on to speak about the family he used to have, a wife and a child, who he loved dearly. One day, they ended up in a car crash. He lived with minimal injuries, but his wife died, and his child ended up brain dead with no hope of recovery. He had kept the child on life support for months before finally pulling the plug

"When I was waiting for you to wake up, it was like I was back in the hospital, hoping beyond hope that a miracle would happen, and I would see them open their eyes again... Y'know, it's the craziest thing. While I was watching you, I kept thinking about how they would've been your age if they were still here. They would of looked just like you."

You apologize, unable to think of anything else to say. He waves it off and tells you not to mind what he said and to go to bed. He was still sitting and watching you as you fell asleep

About five months after the crash, when the group had started to lose hope of there being a rescue, someone had spotted a plane flying across the night sky

Everyone scrambled to strengthen the bonfire on the shore, yelling at the sky in a desperate attempt to be noticed

With Henry's help, you made your way to the fire as well, propping yourself up with a walking stick to keep your weight off your broken leg, waving your free arm to the sky as you joined in the shouting

But it didn't matter. The plane flew away, disappearing into the dark

Some people cried, others flew into a rage, and the rest didn't say a word. Eventually, people slowly made their way back to the caves, disheartened at their loss

After a few hours, it was just you and Henry left on the shore, the dying embers of the fire next to you as you both stared at the sky. He seemed content

You break the silence and ask him if he thinks there will ever be another opportunity for rescue

"I don't know, but I doubt it. With how long it's been, that plane probably wasn't searching for us. We probably won't see another one anytime soon."

"You don't sound too broken up about it" you say.

"I guess I'm not. If you can overlook the heat, this place ain't half bad. Fresh seafood, clean water, a built-in shelter, and 24/7 access to my own private beach. Shit, I don't even have to pay taxes anymore, either. This is the closest thing to paradise I'll ever find."

"You can't mean that, right? We can't stay here forever."

"Of course we can. We have everything we could need. Plenty of people have lived in worse places."

That's not what I mean, what about my family? I want to go home!

The mention of your family leaves him stunned, like he forgot they existed. He quickly regains his bearings and continues

"I don't mean to make you upset, kid, but I think you're misunderstanding me. I know it hurts now, but there's nothing stopping you from living a happy life here. You've got food, a roof over your head, and someone to take care of you, what more could someone ask for?"

You don't reply. Sensing your darkening mood, he offers to help walk you back, and you accept, both of you slowly making your way through the foilage in silence

You fail to notice that the fire was left unattended and how it had slowly died out, leaving the island invisible to any help that could pass by

The next morning, no one bothers to reignite the fire

Afternoon rolls around and Henry leaves, going to fish for your next meal. You pray it isn't sea cucmbers again

Someone comes up to you, asking for some cordage they had lent to Henry. Instead of waiting for him to come back, you decide to search for it yourself

You search his part of the cave and almost give up before spotting a bag hidden in a crevice of the cave. It was so well hidden, you're afraid you might lose sight of it if you turn away. What could he have in there? You're almost certain Henry wouldn't keep rope tucked so far out of sight. But you couldn't help your curiousity. You've been in here countless times, how didn't you notice this? Against your better judgment, you open the bag

You don't find the cordage

Instead, inside the small bag is the bright orange of a flare gun and several unused flare cartridges

[herenya-writes]

To Kneel at Your Feet

So, uh, I tried my hand at a little Dreamling fic when a particular image wouldn't get out of my head.

~1850 words, Rated T (violence, non-graphic injuries, a bit of foul langauge), pre-relationship Dreamling set a few months after Dream escapes the fishbowl but before he's told Hob who he is

When a shadow fell over him, Hob figured he was fucked. Well, even more fucked than he already had been.

The day had started pretty normal. Term was over for the summer, and he had finally finished the last of the marking the night before, so he had let himself laze in the sunny patches of his bed until almost noon when the grumbling of his stomach drove him to the kitchen for food. The rest of the day had been syrupy slow, with a light frisson of anticipation running through. He was meeting his Stranger tomorrow morning for brunch, their first pre-evening meeting and the fifth one they had had since his Stranger had returned. So it was with a spring in his step that he had gone through the rest of the day, chatting with Mrs. Giles up the road about whether he could buy a few cases of her jam to serve at the Inn, taking a stroll around the park, mixing up a batch of scones. When Sasha called in sick, he had gladly picked up their shift bar-tending at the Inn, and even that had been lovely. A faster pace than the rest of his day, sure, but the night had been full of familiar faces and easy laughter.

He had been closing up the Inn and wiping down the last of the tables when the bell above the door rang. He didn’t get out so much as a word before the bullets were flying.

He managed to dodge them for a good while, but even his immortal body got tired of crouching and diving eventually. Plus, there were three of them, all armed, and only one of him. He had a bat and an array of knives behind the bar and an assortment of weapons in his flat above, but he didn’t see how he could get to either of those places unscathed. He’d survive, of course, but that could cause even more problems depending on how smart these thugs were.

His next dodge had been a bit too slow, and as he slid behind the sturdy oak of one of the booths a bullet buried itself in his shoulder. He snarled at the pain and pressed a hand to the wound on instinct. His immortality meant he’d survive no matter how many times these assholes shot him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the bite of metal burrowing into his flesh.

It was as he was leaning against the wood, listening for footsteps and considering his options that a shape blocked the light above him. He swore and held up an arm to guard his face on instinct, but when he looked up it wasn’t one of the thugs he saw.

In the muted light of the Inn, his Stranger stood, clothed as always in his black coat, jeans, and boots, a minuscule frown pulling at his lips.

Without thinking, Hob grabbed the hem of his Stranger’s coat and yanked him down. His Stranger went, and a millisecond later bullets soared through the air where he had been standing.

“Sorry, friend. You chose a dangerous time to stop by,” he gasped. He had grabbed his Stranger with his left arm, and the bullet wound in his shoulder was protesting loudly.

His friend’s face took on a pinched expression, brows furrowing in a way that would have been adorable in another situation.

“You are injured,” he observed, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder. Hob could listen to that voice all day, and despite the circumstances he could feel his heartbeat slowing at just those three words. “You are not healing as you should.”

Hob blinked and looked down. Damn, his Stranger was right. One of the side effects of his immortality was that any injuries he sustained healed rapidly. Serious stuff like disembowelment still took a long (and excruciatingly painful) time to heal, but the process happened much faster for him than a normal human. He had been stabbed in a knife fight once in his second century of living and by the time the other fellow had hit the floor the only evidence of the wound had been the blood on his skin and the tear in his shirt. A bullet hole should have shown evidence of closing by now, but it was still gaping open and bleeding freely.

“At least I won’t have to cut the bullet out later,” he joked, but the tremble in his voice ruined his attempted levity.

“There are very few weapons in this world or another that could harm you so,” his Stranger declared, and something like lightning flashed in his eyes. His expression turned stone cold, and in a fluid movement he rose to his feet and turned toward the gunmen. Hob scrambled up after him, biting back curses, but he stopped short when he realized there weren’t any bullets flying through the air.

In the space of a blink, all the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and gather around his Stranger, and Hob swore he saw recognition begin to dawn on the face of the lead thug as his Stranger stepped forward and extended one pale arm.

“Servants of the Morningstar, by what edict do you walk the Earth and seek the life of one to whom Death has denied her gift?” His Stranger’s voice buzzed with barely-restrained power, and something deep in Hob’s human brain told him to run and hide. He stayed where he was, though, and so did the gunmen, even as they trembled in obvious fear.

“Dead or not, the glory of claiming an immortal’s head for Lucifer’s throne room is undying,” the one in the middle declared. Hob was almost impressed with how even their voice was.

“You have attacked him in his home, unarmed and unaware of your challenge. There is no glory here, hellspawn.” His Stranger spat the word ‘glory’ like it was vinegar on his tongue, and all three creatures (he had thought they were human, but now he could swear an outline of fire flickered around them) recoiled. Still, they didn’t flee.

“He is unclaimed, Dreamlord. Glory or not, he’s ours for the taking!”

The shadows in the room deepened impossibly, and the air pressure dropped fast enough that Hob’s ears popped and every hair stood on end. His Stranger took a menacing step forward, standing directly between him and the gunment now. When he spoke, the power in his voice shook the floorboards and set Hob’s very bones buzzing.

“Is that so? Allow me to correct that oversight.”

His Stranger threw back his coat, and it melted into a midnight black robe. The folds of the fabric were ablaze with swirling galaxies that seemed to spill into the shadows that surrounded him. The power radiating off him now was equal parts strange and familiar, like hearing a song for the first time but immediately knowing the chorus. Any unease Hob had felt settled at once, even as the gunmen began to quiver and keen in dismay. His Stranger spoke over their sounds of distress, his voice firm and unyielding. In that moment, Hob had no doubt that he could make any declaration and reality would bend itself to reflect his will.

“I, Dream of the Endless, Shaper of Forms, Oneiromancer, Prince of Stories, King of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms, declare Hob Gadling to be under my protection. Harm him and know the unfettered wrath of the Dreaming.”

Hob had been a lot of things in the past 600-plus years. He’d tried his hand at just about everything that had held his attention for longer than a week, and he had even been decent at a fair chunk of it. Hell, he’d even been knighted once! Right now, he probably had enough wealth squirreled away in stashes across the world to keep him living comfortably for the next two hundred or so years. At his core, though, he was nothing more than a peasant.

His knee hit the floor before his Stranger even finished speaking, and he barely felt the way the movement shocked his still-bleeding shoulder. All he could do was gaze up at his Stranger, awe, in the oldest sense of the word, flooding him. Dream of the Endless. His Stranger had a name. His Stranger was a king.

He wasn’t sure what happened with the thugs after that. There was a moment when the Inn got so dark all he could see where the pinpoints of light in his Stranger’s eyes and the galaxies swirling in his robe, and the next the light had returned and his Stranger had turned that fathomless gaze on him.

He lowered his eyes. “My king.” His tongue was heaving in his mouth, and his throat was sand paper. There was a spit of crimson blood, his blood, on the hem of his Stranger’s robe.

“You would kneel and call me king? Even after the wrongs I have committed against you? I did not even grant you the courtesy of my name.” Power still rumbled in his Stranger’s voice, but it was leashed now in a way that sent a spark racing up Hob’s spine. God help him, but he had always loved a bit of danger.

He risked a glance up and saw his Stranger’s perfect lips twisted in a frown, his brows drawn together like Hob was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I don’t need anything from you that you aren’t ready to give, my friend. You came back to me, and that was more than I could ever hope for.” Those words strayed a bit too close to another truth—that he would have waited forever just for a glimpse of his Stranger’s face, just to hear a single word from his lips—but Hob wasn’t about to start lying now, not when this magnificent creature, this otherworldly lord, had deemed him worthy of his time and attention despite all odds. His Stranger had returned after over 100 years to sit in a pub and listen to Hob ramble about airplanes and smartphones and humanity reaching the moon. How could anything he had to say possibly have captured the attention of a king with no doubt a million other duties to attend to?

His Stranger regarded him, galaxies swirling in his black eyes to match the ones dancing across his robe. Hob tore his gaze back to the floor for fear of falling in.

“Rise. You owe me no servitude or obeisance, Hob Gadling.”

Hob wanted to disagree, but he kept his mouth shut and did as his lord bid. He bit back a growl of pain as he stood, and in a blink his Stranger was there, long arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him up with unnatural strength. Together, they hobbled up the stairs to his flat, and his Stranger laid him gently on the couch and let Hob grip his hand too tightly as he dug out the bullet lodged in his shoulder, seemingly uncaring of the way the crimson blood stained his pale fingers.

[adrift-in-thyme]

🎉Congrats on the milestone! 🎉 Your fics are always so lovely, I love reading your work! ❤️

As for a fic request, could I ask for something with Four? Could be something with Colors, with the chain or with fairy!Time or just by himself, whatever you feel like. I would like him to have just a small, slow, happy moment.

Awww tysm!! <33

Certainly! This was such fun to write. I hope you enjoy it!

————————————————————

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing, smithy?”

Slowly, Four cranes his neck to look behind him. Normally, in this small form he would feel a thrill of panic at the sound of someone’s approach. But the voice is familiar, and today has been surprisingly devoid of threats upon the heroes’ lives. He is safe to indulge in the comfort of remaining where he is, lying on his back upon the ground. 

His hands rest upon his abdomen, his hair splays out like a halo around his head. The earth is soft beneath him, warm from baking all day in the summer’s heat, and the proud blades of grass stand as shields from the afternoon sun. 

“Watching the clouds,” he says. 

Time cocks his head. The light reflects off of his wings in delicate fractals of red and blue. His hair looks the color of spun gold. Twinkling with mirth, his eye matches the joyful sky above. Silhouetted against the vibrancy of a joyful day, the hero looks far less severe than he does when leading and protecting their little group. More like a simple man, rather than the famed Hero of Time. 

Four likes that. He always appreciates the moments when he gets to see his brothers comfortable, free. They bear responsibilities too great for even the broadest shoulders. If he, in his small and quiet way, can allow them to soothe the fractures within for just a moment, he is glad of it. 

And the fact that Time has grown comfortable being around him in his fae form makes him even happier. He knows all too well the burden of being so very different. 

So very vulnerable. 

He has seen the haunted looks he and Rulie get sometimes, the scars they cannot conceal, the way they eye certain travelers they meet upon the road. It is good to see some of that guarded trepidation flee. 

“Watching the clouds, eh?” With a sigh, Time sits down beside him. “What does that entail?”

His tone is teasing, and an easy smile is on his face. Four returns it. 

“It’s something Grandpa and I did when I was young.” He points up at a sizable puff of gallant white speeding across the heavens. “You catch the clouds and make shapes out of them. That one looks like an octorok.”

Time chuckles. “Ah, yes, I’m familiar with the concept. Malon and I did it many years ago when we were children.” He sighs and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. “Of course, now I’m too dull and old for such trivialities.”

Four sends him a flat look. “You may fool the others with those comments about your age, but not me.” 

Time lifts a brow. “No?”

“Nope.” Four shakes his head. “I’ve seen you fight. You’re hardly dull, and you’re certainly not old.”

Time lays back, keeping enough distance between them that his wings don’t drift into Four’s face. With a somber expression, he gazes up at the sky.

“Don’t you dare tell the others that. It’s difficult enough leading them without them realizing I do not, in fact, possess the wisdom of the elderly.”

If he didn’t know him quite so well, Four would think he was being serious, that this matter truly was a dire one prone to wound him. He can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes.

“Alright.” He squints, watching as a cloud that vaguely resembles a chu drifts by, lazier than its fellows and falling behind. “I’ll keep your secret on one condition.”

“I swear that one looks like a Deku scrub,” Time says, pointing, then turns a quizzical eye to him. “What is your condition?”

Four grins. “You tell me how old you actually are. You know, on the inside.”

Time’s expression instantly morphs into a scowl. 

“I reject your condition.”

Four’s grin grows larger, tugging at his cheeks. 

“Why? It’s only an innocent question. Malon refused to tell us, so I thought maybe you would.”

“I see. Malon respected my privacy, leading you all to seek out the dark truth for yourselves.” 

“When you say it like that, it sounds as if you’re hiding something dastardly.” Four giggles as he turns his gaze back to the sky. “Are you truly that ancient?”

Time blows out a sigh. “You wound me, smithy. Here I thought we could sit in restful silence and watch the clouds, only to find that you are as set upon destroying me as the others. I still reject your condition. I will rest easy with the knowledge belonging solely to me. Besides” — there is a definite smile in his voice, brimming with mirth — “your secret-keeping abilities are quite poor.” 

“Hey!” Scowling, Four lightly smacks the older hero on the arm. “They are not!”

Time chuckles and gestures upward. “There’s one that looks like the pigs in Wind’s Hyrule.” 

“You’re not getting out of this that easily.” 

But the cloud does truly resemble a plump little pig, something that suddenly seems very comical to Four. He dissolves into laughter and Time joins him. Time’s jab is soon forgotten in the breathless freedom of open joy. 

And when the laughter subsides, they remain in comfortable silence, laying side-by-side, gazing up at the sky. 

[mammalsofaction]

HUMAN PERRY AU BACKSTORY

I've been having a lot of thoughts lately about Human Perry headcanons as I read a bunch of fic and rewatch phineas and ferb. You know you're hitting the nail on the head when scenes from a fic you might never write dog your every waking step and haunts your dreams so, I thought putting it on paper will help.

A lot of fics like to suggest that Perry's full name is Peregrine, which is understandable, but ever since I've rewatched 2D and found out their first name for him was actually Bartholomew my life was never the same. So Perry's actual name is Bartholomew. But nobody actually calls him that least of all himself.

FAMILY RELATIONS

-I really like winding headcanons that Perry is Ferb's biological mom's BROTHER, which honestly makes so much sense as to why both he and Ferb have green hair. Here are some add-ons that may get depressing;

Ferb's mom was Eve, or Evelyn. Her codename was E, for Echidna...because egg-laying mammals native to Australia. They were both orphans, and attached to the hip. They were each other's partner in crime.

-They were scouted for OWCA one day, bc the agency liked picking up kids with potential as young as possible. So Perry and Eve were trained for the agency since the start (which is why Perry is such a good agent at what seems to be a young age)

MY HEADCANONS FOR OWCA

-Owca is a largely independent authoritarian enterprise with branches all over the world. They aren't the only ones, obviously.

-OWCA also prefers training agents as early as they could. Sometimes that entails scouting talent. Sometimes that means taking in kids of employed agents. Either way, this means OWCA has elementary and high schools that are more akin to militant training camps. It's not cruel. The kids are well cared for and well fed, but OWCA prioritized competency, obedience and discipline.

On every level of OWCA recruitment, training and employment, there is a fedora, and band to mark whichever level you are on the totem pole.

1) Middle school kids are given a bandless fedora.

2) High school kids (soon to be graduates) are given a white band

3) Fresh graduates, training into full employment, are Yellow Bands. Here you start being assigned to full branches, and trained by field work professionals. Think OWCA Files.

4) It's fairly easy to graduate from Yellow Band into a Purple Band. Purple Bands are largely refereed to as Junior Agents, but that's not quite accurate. Purple Bands are the highest reporting authority in any division that ISN'T FIELD WORK. The OWCA Tech, Clerks, RnD and Science Divisions all have Purple Bands to signify they are fully employed, or Superior Officer. Pinky has a Purple Band.

5) It's VERY DIFFICULT to graduate from a Purple Band to a Black Band, not least because there IS NO PREDETERMINED TEST. Black Band agents are Superior Agents, only one level below Division General. There's no telling what could turn you from a Purple to a Black, because the agent has to prove unwavering obedience and faith to the agency in dire circumstances. It's saying "I am willing to do anything for the Greater Good."  Often it entails a death of some sort. OWCA often says Black is the band soaked in blood. Black Band agents have licenses to kill. It's why Black Band Agents are few and precious far in between.

6) After a black band, and you live long enough to retire, you can choose a bunch of things. Most agents choose to become Division Generals or Branch Managers: think Major Monogram. They're basically glorified "Guy in the Chair". Some agents choose to become educators, in which case they are given White Fedoras. White fedoras arent exclusive to black bands though; there are plenty purple band white fedoras. In fact most educators are purple band white fedoras.

-Perry's Black Band Event was Eve's death

-At the time of Eve's death, she had already been married to Lawrence. Ferb was barely a year old, maybe 10 months old?

-Lawrence was told it was a car accident: drunk driver. Truthfully it was a mission gone wrong, involving an underground child trafficking ring, and she stayed behind to give them all the chance to escape. She didn't have the chance to escape when security explosives around the building detonated, and she got caught in the crossfire. Perry had to leave her behind.

-This is why Perry refused to get a partner btw, aka his Lone Wolf tendencies come from.

-In the aftermath, OWCA agents approached the family to give them their condolences, and offer to take Ferb into the fold. For the first time since Eve's death, Perry practically lost it. He didn't hurt anyone, he's much too professional, but he knew Eve didn't want Ferb to get wrapped up in OWCA, and for good fucking reason. Due to their training, neither he nor Eve had much of a childhood, and he refused to subject Ferb to the same kind of life experience.

OWCA was NOT happy. Things were tetchy for a while, at least until Perry was approached by Major Monogram. Francis had a wife, and a son, and he understood where Perry was coming from. He suggested taking a permanent residence in Danville, which was his branch division. It was more stability than Perry ever had working in England, where he and Eve was originally stationed, and it was easy enough to come up with a work-related story to convince Lawrence, who was more than ready enough to leave the house where he and Eve originally lived.

-It was after moving did Lawrence meet and fall in love with Linda.

Edit; I've decided to change Ferb's bio mom's name bc I found something that fits better to me :) She's Eve now

End Backstory.

[littleoddwriter]

Can I request Billy Lenz (1974) x reader fic (established relationship) where, since reader is probably a sorority girl, she asks Billy if he wants to move into her house with her (there’s an attic ofc) since she’ll be forced to move out beacuse she’s in her last year?

Not Without You | Billy Lenz x Female!Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the request, I hope you like what I've done with it! And thank you for waiting patiently for it. I may be slow in fulfilling the requests, but at least they're coming eventually... <3 notes; Female!Reader (can be read as Gender Neutral tho, it's mostly because of the setting being a sorority dorm house, but there are no words or indicators that wouldn't allow for anyone else to read this without problems!); Short Fic; Established Relationship; Kissing with Tongue; Brief Mentions of Murders.

“You know I’m about to graduate, right?” you asked Billy, while you were sitting cross-legged on the attic floor, facing your boyfriend. He was huddled in the corner and the moonlight shone through the window, illuminating him enough for you to make out his shape and half of his face. You could see that your words upset him.

He nodded jerkily, making a soft sound of distress.

“Yeah, so… I was wondering if you’d wanna move into my house with me, then?” you continued, “It also has an attic if you’re more comfortable that way. I don’t expect you to sleep in the same bed with me or anything like that if you don’t want to. But… I’d love to at least continue living in the same building with you…” 

There was a certain sense of caution to your inquiry. Not because you were afraid of him. Never. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. But you were worried that maybe you had read too much into your relationship and his current distress. Maybe he was only with you because you lived in the sorority dorm house, after all; and perhaps he was only upset about you leaving because you steadily provided him with basic needs and more, forcing him to find somebody else. It scared you that by bringing up that you were moving out in a few months, the reality of your relationship’s nature would come crashing down on you. 

Billy suddenly leaned forward and grabbed your hand tightly. That action startled you for a moment, but you instantly relaxed when you looked at his hand grasping onto yours like it was his lifeline. And when your eyes travelled up to his face, you smiled softly. Your anxious thoughts disappeared as soon as you saw how grateful and in awe he looked.

“Is that a yes?” you asked him quietly with a teasing edge to your voice.

He nodded almost frantically in answer. “Yes,” he said shakily, “I wouldn’t have let you leave. Not without me. Not without Billy. Never without Billy!” 

Now it was time for you to startle Billy as you leaned in and pulled him into a tight, loving embrace. He froze for a split second before melting into your arms and returning the hug with force, almost crushing your ribs between his arms. You couldn’t really breathe anymore, but he loosened his grip soon enough for you to not even be forced into saying something. 

As his arms loosened around you, you leaned back a little to look at his face. For a moment, you simply looked at him, admiring his features in the soft moonlight along with the contrast of the harsh shadows due to the otherwise dark attic. To you, he was almost an ethereal being. 

With a soft smile, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Billy’s lips. 

He reciprocated it with a fiery passion that you only knew him to be capable of, and you loved it more than you could put into words. His tongue slipped out and licked your lips as you two kissed, making it a lot messier than it needed to be; but you were used to it by now, and you were never one to complain about being wanted so fiercely.

Eventually, you leaned back, parting from him enough to speak. 

“I’m looking forward to living with you and not having to sneak around just so you won’t be caught,” you whispered against his spit-slick lips with a quiet little giggle in your voice before kissing him again, eliciting a soft grunt from Billy, who grinned in response.

[chthonic-kids]

DEPARTURE by Alan Wake

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise - Chapter 4

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This chapter went places I didn't plan for, so it has a surprising amount of comfort. Anyway, it's called "Molten Core".

Price informs them he called Commander Karim on the way here, asking her to send a team to aid them when Soap and Gaz’s situation became known. Soap was secretly grateful, if not for himself, for Gaz, that they won’t take the helo the rest of the way.

He doesn’t want to imagine how scared that would’ve made Kyle.

The rescue team looked for the pilot as they helped the taskforce, Soap despondently looking away when they find the front half of the helo. Charred black and mangled beyond recognition, there wouldn’t have been anything left resembling a human after going through that.

Add that to the tally of people he has failed to save.

Soap hates to admit it, but the morphine makes healing so much smoother. What once was a constant, sharp pain has been dulled down to a distant beating. Ghost let him lean against him when he became loopy, telling him that’s a side effect.

A few trucks eventually arrive, several ULF fighters wearing plain clothes jumping out. It seems like Commander Karim has sent a medic team along, but as Gaz isn’t physically injured, and Soap won’t benefit from anything more than a few hours of rest, they give Kyle a shock blanket, and sit them in one of the trucks.

Ghost keeps a hand around him as they’re driven to the camp, Soap nearly cracking a tooth with how hard he clenches his jaw. The roads here are not very considerate of his open wounds, that’s for fucking certain.

He doesn’t think the shaking is only from the pain, though. Soap continues to glance at Gaz, his eyes fogged over.

What happened was eerily similar to Kyle’s Reaping. Similar enough that Soap has almost no doubt it was planned, that whoever planted the bomb wanted to take him out the same way he died.

“Whoever”... if it’s not Makarov, it’s one of his fucking allies, they don’t need proof to know that by now. Only a few people knew the 141 was supposed to leave today, especially when it came in at such a late notice.

Soap’s flames glow brighter. Novikov knew.

When he gets his hands on that fuckin’ Doctor…

Another bump jostles him, making his back hit the side of the truck. Soap barely contains a yelp as pain flashes up his spine. Ghost pulls him closer, glaring at the road like it can feel remorse. It makes Soap smile.

If it weren’t for Ghost calling that meeting… this truck would’ve been far emptier.

The ULF base they arrive to is unlike any other base Soap has been in. Nestled between a mountain and a forest, the place itself looks benign; a few shacks that have seen better days and one or two actual structures, surrounded by a wooden fence.

As their truck drives closer, large metal doors embedded in the mountain’s side open, revealing the true base.

Concrete walls stood in stark contrast to natural excavated stone, dimly lit by floodlights and ancient-looking lightbulbs, Soap could see from the makeshift road how the large cavern has been sectioned into different parts, with tunnels shooting off the main area everywhere he looks. He can’t tell soldier from civilian here - most don’t wear uniforms or identifying marks, besides a green cloth wrapped around wrists or heads.

The truck stops near what he assumes is medical, and he takes a moment to thank every Reaper the drive is fucking over. Ghost helps Soap jump out, supporting him as much as he can as they make their way to one of the beds. Not like he’ll be sleeping tonight much, by the time his skin reforms they’ll probably need to be in debrief.

Still, one of the nurses pulls the curtain around the cot, the thin fabric barely blocking any light, not to mention the lack of roof. Doesn’t do much to block the sound of the bustling base, either. He appreciates the thought, though.

He lets go of Ghost to carefully drag himself to a prone position, grunting until he manages to settle. Soap closes his eyes, allowing the pounding in his head, the synchronized beating of his open wounds, to take over his senses.

It makes it so when something cool touches his shoulder, he jumps in surprise, eyes flicking to see Ghost crouched over him.

“LT? What are ye-?” he lets out an involuntary sigh as fingers kneed at his muscles, every part of him feeling both untethered and knotted beyond belief, “fuck…”

“That good, Johnny?” Ghost skirts around his injuries, peeling away the cloth that melted into his skin, “helps?”

Helps? Simon is seriously asking if this gentle touch, so careful and soft, seeping away the cloying heat burns always carry, is helping?

He asks if it helps when wherever his fingers brush, muscles and fascia and skin rush back to heal, begging to be held, cells working overtime just for the chance of prolonging the contact? Burning through what energy he has remaining, healing scars that would take hours in seconds, as if those callused hands have reached inside him, found the wires that lead to his molten core, and for once instead of turning up the heat, mercifully decided to let the pressure building and building out, finally letting him breathe?

He asks if this helps? Soap wants to cry.

He buries in face in the scratchy pillow, hoping to muffle some of the frankly embarrassing noises he’s letting out, disguise the stutter of his breath.

“Aye… I… thank ye.”

“I’ve got you, Johnny.” Simon murmurs, hands not leaving him for a second, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Soap lets go, and the humming of the base, the blinding lights, the ache of his broken body, it all falls away, replaced by pale fingers, turning the valves, depressurizing.

He falls asleep, impossibly, and when nightmares hound him, he can trust in dark brown eyes to be there when he startles awake, trust that they’ll let him drift back. Let him back into a peaceful, dark void.

Soap is only mildly annoyed Ghost let him oversleep. He’s too grateful for the extra hours of healing to be truly mad, either way.

When he gets up, the skin on his back is mostly formed, still scarred to high hell but that’s to be expected. The chair besides the cot is empty, Ghost probably leaving for debrief a while ago.

With the few words he remembers in Arabic, he manages to ask a nurse for a spare shirt and get directions to the meeting rooms. Walking pulls awkwardly on his skin, the stiffness one he’s familiar with, yet forgotten in the past few months.

Been a while since he was sent on bomb disposal, after all.

The ULF fighters aren’t as frantic as they were earlier, and the base seems emptier. He makes his way through, marveling at the sheer amount of revenants he can spot. Just like Las Almas, Urzikstan has an abnormal amount of them, as war zones often do. To think this country has been surviving through almost 30 years of conflict…

This area seems more well-built, and he has to open three doors before he can find his team. Five heads turn to stare at him, the 141 as well as Commander Karim and Alex caught in the middle of debriefing.

“Ah- sorry fer being late, nobody woke me up-” Soap starts, the screeching of dragging chairs cutting him off. He barely manages to brace himself before he gets a careful hug from Gaz, Ghost scanning him for signs of discomfort from the corner of his eye.

Soap returns the favor, tightening his arms around Kyle, “good morning to ye too, Garrick.” he says fondly.

“Bastard” Gaz laughs wetly, pulling back, “how’s your back? Should you even be out of bed yet?”

Ghost meets his eyes. “Had some help with healin’ this time around.” Soap says.

He feels Price pick at his mind, and smiles. “Well, you came just at the right time, Sergeant. Take a sit.”

“Yes sir.” Soap lets Gaz lead him to an empty chair, Ghost sitting down on his left. An ungloved hand takes his, fingers squeezing his comfortingly. He tries to not let the squirming fuzziness in his heart show on his face, as Price begins talking.

“Our target is what used to be a Russian prison, which was captured by Urzik rebellion forces and converted to a makeshift holding facility.” Price points to the map spread on the table.

Commander Karim joins in, “currently, this facility is under Al-Mudahiyn’s control.”

“Al-Mudahiyn?” Soap asks.

“The Sacrificers. Made up of ex-ULF fighters.” Karim and Alex share a look, “we don’t make a habit of attacking them directly, as we both share similar goals in the end, but their methods have forced our hands in the past.”

Alex sighs, “Al-Mudahiyn would rather let whole villages die if it means killing more Russians. They’re powerful, don’t get me wrong, and it definitely helps that the Russians are fuckin’ afraid of stepping into their territories, but…”

“I will not allow my people to be trampled for a chance at revenge.” Karim almost snarls. “Our intel has reason to suspect this facility has been used to transport the revenants kidnapped by Graves. As I’ve said before, we will need to go on a recon mission to understand exactly who and how many soldiers are currently there.”

“Recon will be done today, and if nothing’s out of the ordinary, we will infiltrate tomorrow night.” Price continues.

“Wait,” Gaz pipes up, “if Graves left the revenants in that facility… doesn’t that mean he worked with Al-Mudahiyn?”

“Yes.” Alex answers, “this is why we also suspect they’re working with Shepherd.”

Steamin’ Jesus. What a mess.

“Those fucking dogs can’t help but dirty their hands.” Karim mutters under her breath, a few curses in Arabic he doesn’t recognize lacing into her words.

“What’s the plan, Commander?” Ghost asks, sharp stare burning into the maps.

Soap looks at them as well. The route to the facility is marked by a black line, a winding way going both under and on ground, avoiding enemy encampments marked by red and green. This is going to be hard right from the get-go, he can already tell.

He wonders if his wounds are healed enough by now to not reopen in combat… if he was still with his old team, they would’ve probably sent him already, so he supposes it’s fine-

“You’re going to a medic to get checked after this, Sergeant. If you don’t get cleared, you’re staying here.” Price shoots his thoughts down. Soap frowns with indignation, Price wouldn’t bench him for the whole mission just because his injuries might reopen, right? Besides, he can heal them on field, no need to-

“Soap.” Price sighs outwardly, “stay here for the recon mission, at the very least. The team isn’t in the headspace to see you harm yourself again, and you aren’t, either. Focus on resting for tomorrow, got it?”

Soap looks down, at his and Ghost’s tangled hands, looks to his right at Gaz, whose eyes flit to his back every few minutes. Focuses for just a second on how much his body aches.

His knee-jerk reaction to all those details is to try harder. Heal faster, get back to the field as soon as possible, fix this, because it is his fault, if he only detected that fucking bomb, disarmed it before it could go off-

But… he could give what Price ordered him to do a try.

“Alright, Captain. Not gonna bench me for tomorrow as well, right?”

Price sounds exasperated in his mind, “I’m not sending you to the field broken.”

Farah begins talking about today’s mission, and Soap diverts his attention, leaving Price’s thoughts unanswered.

He hopes to all Reapers the medic clears him for the infiltration. After the explosion, Soap doesn’t think he can let his team out of sight.

Fate isn’t just after Soap and Ghost, anymore. None of them are safe.

The medic did not clear him for duty. In fact, by the look in his eyes Soap would reckon the medic would’ve preferred to ground him for another month. To his surprise, the medic instead sent him to another part of the clinic, explaining to him in a mix of English and Arabic that there’s something that could help him there.

Well, if it gets him back to the field tomorrow, he’d try it.

He was instructed to wait, standing in a line of people trailing far behind a door. Soap passed the time by having a staring contest with the peeling off-white paint slapped on the wall in front of him, and do his best to not think about last night.

So far, the wall is winning, and he managed to shove down any rising memory pretty well, beside the way Gaz’s eyes looked, wide open and horror-struck.

He’s glad Kyle got Price and Ghost, that they’re such a close-knit team. If Gaz was under his last CO…

Soap sighs, temping down the fire bursting from his fingertips. It has gotten large enough that it started garnering attention, and he rather not scare the wounded here.

After what felt like hours (it was probably just 30 minutes, but God were they boring), Soap enters the room to find a cot and a chair, in which a boy no older than 16 sat. He assumed the kid was the patient before him at first, but the boy motioned for him to lay down.

He understands more from the tone than the words themselves that the boy is asking him something, “sorry, my Arabic is a wee bit rusty. You know English?”

The boy blinks, “uh, a little. Do you feel pain somewhere?”

Curious, Soap sits on the cot, “got exploded yesterday, my back’s a bit of a mess.” the boy only gets more confused, so he adds, “Ah can heal from those, just- I was told you can help?”

A light flickers on in the boy’s dark eyes, and he instructs Soap to take off his shirt and lie down.

After getting situated on his stomach, the boy places his hands on his scarred skin. Soap is surprised the sight didn’t make him flinch.

He’s even more surprised when he feels his muscles twitch, skin tingling as it follows the boy’s hands.

“Yer… you’re a revenant?”

The boy nods, his focus on his powers, orchestrating his cells to go into overdrive and heal. Must have been Reaped by Flesh, there are a few in the SAS. Most of the time, they can only heal themselves…

“How old are you?” he finds himself asking out loud.

“Fifteen.”

Far too fucking young to be in this position. Too young to already be used to seeing injuries like his, to be desensitized to the cruelty of this world, to be acquainted with death.

He wonders where are his parents, his family, and he doesn’t dare to ask because he fears the answer is one he already knows.

“What’s your name?” Soap asks instead.

The boy’s gaze dart to his before returning to his task, “Amir. You?”

“John, but most people call me Soap.”

That makes Amir’s brows furrow, before he gives him a half smile, “like… cleaning soap?”

“Yep. Cool name, no?” he boasts sarcastically.

Amir laughs, “yeah. Very cool.” he answers, matching his sarcasm.

They fall silent, Amir passing fingers over his spine, the sensation making Soap grunt. “Move your shoulders” the boy tells him, and he gives the joint a careful rotation.

Amir seems pleased, “any more pain?”

“... No.” Soap lifts himself up, moving his torso and marveling at how the muscles barely hurt. There’s definitely some tension left in his skin and flesh, but it doesn’t feel like it will rip open at any sudden movement. “Thank ye.”

Amir smiles, “you are welcome.” he switches to Arabic, calling the next person over, and Soap takes it as his sign to leave.

To combat his new problem with boredom, Soap decided to explore the base. By now, he’s managed to find their mess mostly because of the wonderful smell wafting from it, their armory, and showers.

Eventually he reached a quieter part of the base, deeper into the mountain. Reading the signs beside each door, he gathers this is the barracks. Soap attempts to read another nameplate when he hears someone walking towards him.

“I believe you are supposed to be on bed rest, Sergeant.” Commander Karim calls out.

Soap huffs. Price told the fucking Commander to keep an eye on him. He’d be annoyed at the lack of trust if he didn’t know he would’ve done the same in his place. “I was sent to Amir, he fixed me up.”

Karim nods, “you should consider yourself lucky, then. Amir is usually quite busy.”

Soap feels the same pity he felt before rise again, “ye don’t have teh answer if it’s confidential or anythin’, but… how did he get here? How did he…”

How did he die so young?

The Commander stares at him for a moment, before turning around, “after me, Sergeant.”

Karim leads Soap outside, through a smaller tunnel opposite of the entrance. The sun blinds him after so long underground, and he takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air.

When his eyes adjust, a city comes into view, tucked around a river. Even from here, he can see remnants of airstrikes dotting the fields in its outskirts.

“This was my city.” Karim points to a neighborhood, farthest from the river, “my house was there.”

Commander Karim doesn’t look at him when she says, “the Russians attacked when I was seven. A missile hit the building me and my mother were in, and we died.”

She allows the statement to hang in the air, allow the horror to seep into Soap. “... Ye were Reaped at seven…”

“I’m not an anomaly in that, Sergeant. Many of the revenants in the ULF died before reaching maturity. Many of them, the last living member of their family. Amir is no different, I am no different.”

No words feel like enough, regardless he says, “Ah’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.”

Karim sighs, “it’s not worth much, these days, but I appreciate it.” she makes eye contact with him again, “I am sorry for what happened to you and Sergeant Garrick last night. I was told your injuries were severe.”

She ignores the surprise on his face, “Captain Price informed me of your Reapers’ warning, that there is a traitor amidst your people. I want to assure you, the ULF is on your side. Betrayal isn’t foreign to either of us, but it has a way to gnaw at trust. It is important, I believe, to be able to trust your allies.”

Soap is reminded of Graves, a tingling in the back of his neck, and nightmares of a useless body, helpless and numb. Remembers that Karim and Alex were kidnapped by the revenant they thought was one of their own.

“I trust ye, Commander, and Ah’m sure the same goes for the rest of the team.” Soap assures, fully believing in his words.

Somehow, he feels that the Commander could tell. She gives him a small smile, and looks back at her hometown. Skin refracting sunlight, she seems at ease, in a way Soap hasn’t seen in Las Almas. Her care for her country, her people, is different than he experienced himself. He wonders what it feels to give yourself so wholly for such thing.

Soap supposes he knows a similar, except his home is with a small taskforce, made of men he would give his life for with no hesitation.

Commander Karim gave him some work to do, utilizing his knowledge of explosives to tinker with their existing supply and optimize it for field use. He’s elbows-deep in a pile of C4 when a voice begins echoing in his mind.

“Farah informed me of your shape, kid. Debrief in ten, don’t be late.”

Soap practically jumps out of his chair, running out of the armory and almost colliding with the poor soldiers in the hall.

A mix of excitement and nerves fills his lungs. Time to get back to the field.

[spilledmilkfkdies]

Hi, me again! I was just wondering, following the ‘what if the wizards were actually surrendering’ ask, if the wizards really did give up fairy hunting, what do you think they’d do? (Sorry if I’m sending you too many asks, I just really like your takes.) Thank you!

Hiii sorry it took me a sec to get to this one!! I'll put a link to that ask right here for anyone who's wondering, since it's been a bit. Never worry about sending too many asks either, like I said a while back; I'll get to them eventually! If it takes some time before you hear back from me, sincerely <3 My bad <3 Was a little occupied with another fandom this time and actively participating in both got to me djsksdk

Moving on though!

In my mind they've really already been living normally, like between locking away the fairies and Roxy's magic making itself known I mean- Of course the logistics of it are a bit um. All over the place. Considering they're immortal, sort of. Do they have legal documents? Real or fake? Did they have any mortal friends and how would that work? And JOBS?? The way none of these are obstacles for Duman btw, that's why they killed him, they didn't want him to roam and do whatever anymore. Real and Canon.

Now in a post-alt ending-S4 timeline, the one where they did surrender, do we assume that they just can't use their magic, or that they don't have it anymore? Because that'd probably change the way they live afterwards pretty drastically. Aside from the fact some of them heavily depend on magic more than the others (Ogron and Duman get help smh), HORRENDOUS case scenario, they might all be mortal. For the sake of my own mental health though, I'm just gonna say they do still have magic and are in fact not mortal, just give them a fairy parole officer, some magic blocking thing, keep them around and use them for "good" stuff after a rehabilitation period or something. That's what I'd prefer anyway.

What would they be doing during said rehabilitation period? Started out as a bit of a shared joke, but tbh Anagan model career WHEN. He'd struggle with the lack of useable magic the least too, so he'd probably thrive during the whole thing more than the others, and as he should. Besides Anagan I don't have a whole lot ngl- I mean, I'd like to think Duman had lots of jobs back in the day, not sure if I mentioned that before, but I might make a separate post if I didn't, just because I have thoughts but other stuff to talk about rn sjsjksk

Ogron and Gantlos don't have a lot either MY BAD, but I do think Ogron might be more likely to have friends, maybe surprisingly. Meanwhile Gantlos has a bigger chance of being able to hold down a stable job. What job? Great question! I'm not sure yet. If that changes I'll be sharing with the class!

Moving on once again!! What could the "good" stuff I mentioned above be exactly? Education.

Correct me if I'm wrong. But are there no. Wizard or witch school on Earth?? I know they ended up opening a fairy school later on, but those aren't the only magic users suddenly learning of the dormant magic in their roots. Let's take the comic character Gregory for example. He learns he's a wizard, he tries to enroll into a wizard school(?) off planet. Nothing inherently wrong with going to a school off planet- The Winx did it too, lots of magic users do it, what is wrong though, is being turned down and having no alternatives. And even worse?? They tell him it's because. There's a darkness in him?? Or something?? I could excuse it slightly more if it was a case of "Oh your magic is dark aligned and this is a light magic school" because wizard canonically are known to be both, right? But aside from the fact that, again, there are no alternatives for him, as far as he knows, telling a newly awakened magic user that he's basically too evil to teach is CRAZY I'm sorry??

Here's where I cutely insert the Wizards of the Black Circle. Have them become the place to go when your magic energy alignment is dark (because it doesn't inherently have to mean evil and they're worthy of education in this essay I) on Earth, or even just. Any magic user who isn't a fairy. Just give them another Terrestrial option, options are always good. I think that'd be really neat.

You might sit here and go "The evil wizards are gonna teach the next generation of wizards? Could history not repeat itself??" Well. Yeah. But are the Terrestrial fairies not teaching their next generation now too? The same fairies who canonically turned on humanity at some point? These are all 'what if' scenarios, I'd just like to think that with proper communication this time around, things will be different and both fairy and wizard get to work towards that together. I'm normal and have slept a reasonable amount.

[spaceless-vacuum]

What about a reader that has sub zero's abilities

If you don't know mortal combat, sub zero basically can control ice and freeze any type of water including the water in living things which he can freeze them and he can freeze the water in the air making the room look like someone had a blizzard, he can also make ice into weapons. You know he's near when it starts to feel chili. So a reader that can do that basically, would that make reader seem less fragile to them, would that delusion that reader needs their help and they can only protect reader, would they allow reader to fight with them now because the ability to control ice would help or would they try to seal it.

This is sub zero here

I drew your hands in a familiar motion. Calling on the water in the air to freeze. On my command ice grew into a slender needle half a foot long. I shot it forth with devastating speed. The icicle embedded itself deep into the monster's muscle and it roared in pain. A drop of blood fell down the hide of the beast and it turned to face me.

These monsters were everywhere. I had no clue what they were but they looked almost like bulldogs. All short and lean with muscle. Their blue tinted skin was strange and alien. I took a step away. Its breath stunk of rotten meat. The monsters ambushed us. Hyrule had been facing this one and was knocked onto his rear when the thing ran the fellow over. 

“Smart thinking!” Someone from the sounds of chaos shouted but I couldn't pick out anything else. I couldn't turn away from the monster in front of me. I wouldn't think about the fighting behind you. My allies were lost in the roar of chaos and I had no clue who the nearest one was besides Hyrule. For all I knew there was a monster charging at my back.

I summoned another icicle aiming right between the monster's beady little eyes. The icicle hit its throat. The creature backpedalled, reaching for its bleeding neck, and dropped its spear. Hyrule’s sword went through the creature's spine with a sickening crunch. He pulled his sword out and the monster dropped. A second later it turned to dust. Nothing remained except for the weapon.

I turned around. There were still a few left fighting in the clearing below. Time was taking care of one with some help from Wind, Warrior and Sky were dancing around another, and Legend had one fire while he was finishing it up with his sword. Hyrule ran up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Did it get you?” I turned to look at Hyrule. I reassured him I was fine. The first time we were ambushed I had been caught by a spear in my shoulder. It wasn't serious but everyone in the group was beside themselves for letting it happen. Hyruel was the first to run over and used his magic to heal me. He was amazing with his gift. Weaving together bones and healing tissue like it was second nature.

We had been travelling together for a few days. I had been trapped in this world for over a week. All I knew was that nothing made sense. Everything was different from what I was used to. Not everything was dangerous but you had to be careful here. It was hard to focus with all the stories the group had been telling. Might, magic, treasure, and a rich history. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't bump into them on the road that day.

We were just in the middle of a conversation about a dungeon Legend had been when the ambush hit. My magic let me handle myself in a fight. Hitting targets and making shields was easy for me, but the others were different. The deck was stacked against me. My travelling companions were well hardened adventurers and I got tired after an hour of walking. I wasn't even sure what it was we had fought.

“That should be the last of ‘em.” Warrior called out loud so everyone could hear. No one called out afterwards to warn us of others. No more sounds of swords and shields. It was all over so quickly.

“That’s the third time today. We’ve got to be close to whatever they are guarding.” Time wiped blood off of his blade, the droplets as dark as night. 

Everything here was different. You had to be quick on your feet. Everyone here relied on their instincts. I was good, but the group was better. After travelling for days I was more than thankful for their help. Their camp felt like the safest place I could be. Aside from these boys there wasn't anyone else on my mind who I'd rather be travelling with.

I had tried to do little things around camp to make taking me in easier. Cleaning the dishes, helping Wild cook, and in general trying my best to not get in the way. I didn't know much about their quest or their reputation. Time had stressed they were hunting a monster and had to do anything they could to get rid of it.  He had given me the impression they were all skilled enough to do it, and to give anxiety to anyone who went against them in a fight.

Today was different. It felt like everything in this world was set to target us. We were close to something. Why else try so hard to slow us down? Taking a break wasn't an option. We had to press on. If we were quick we might be able to figure out what all the fuss was about. I wanted to see The Shadow they all talked so much about.

“You're good in a fight.” Hyrule said. He was checking himself over for anything that got knocked loose in the fight.

“Thank you! I feel like I'm getting better.” His compliment made me blush. Hyrule was the only champion here who was naturally gifted with magic. We had that in common. Made it easy to talk with him since we both had some form of elemental connection. His lighting and my ice made for a good pair.

“Should we take a rest?” I heard Four talking on the other side of the clearing. “We could send someone back to fetch you if anything happens.” I looked over. He was standing by Time and Sky while Warrior was trading flame rods with Legend. 

“No. I don't want anyone to fall behind. What if they send someone to catch us and attack the smaller part?” Time looked over to me and Hyrule. They were talking about us. Leaving me and anyone else behind so they rest could rush ahead while we stayed behind. I hated it when Time treated me like I was clueless.

His way of acting always caught me off guard. Yesterday while I was telling a story about my world he kept stopping me to ask me questions.  He was asking me to talk more about myself and my life form before I fell through to Hyrule. Like if I was married, what I ate back home, and what I thought of my life there. He acted like I couldn't tell what he was asking for.

Then there were times like today. Where he was going over my head to stare at the man behind me. Time was trying to ask Hyrule what my condition was. Was I injured? Could I go on? He wouldn't take my word for how I was handling things- no. He wanted the perspective from one of the team members. I hated it, but I understood why. 

Didn't mean I enjoyed his treatment, just that I understood why. He didn't want the newbie to try and appear tougher than they were. I couldn't be allowed to push myself too far just to stick with the rest of the group. Legend first brought up this concern to me. He had repeated it a few times after. For some reason they all were convinced I didn't know my own limits. As if I were some fragile glass slipper in their mind but not my own.

“The moblin jumped out and attacked us both but it didn't land a hit. We're fine.” Hyrule assured everyone we, but mostly I, was ok.

“Looked like you took quite a fall. Glad y/n could help you out.” Warrior, bless his heart, had been helping train me. He was vocal about how I could fight only if I proved myself. I didn't know what that meant but said ok. During our first sparring match I froze his foot to stone; and left him there. It counted as a win. He couldn't do anything and I was free to move away or attack.

“I’m fine. Neither of us are injured and I can still walk.” I looked over to Hyrule and he agreed. He went down but the spear never touched him. I took control of the situation and the beast went to attack me but was slain before it could. It could have been worse.

“We’ll continue together. If something happens a few of us will stay to rest.” Time’s order was final. We began marching again.

“Splitting up the group isn't a good idea, you said that yourself. I'm not injured and you might need the help.” I knew my comment would be heard but not listened to. Time could be so pig headed sometimes. He had his own view of honour and how to keep others safe. You disregarded his ideas and he knew this. Didn’t change what he did or what he saw in me. He meant to keep me safe even if I found it counterintuitive to the point of harm. Sometimes it grew on me but other times it was so infuriating to deal with. I wasn't incapable of defending myself.

“We can’t rest if we're too worried about you.” Sky said. He could see how tense Time was. He took the brunt of your suggestions. The rest of the group would tell you the same thing but you listened to Time more. He was the leader and he controlled the group when they got too far ahead of themselves. He would put his foot down for you in place of the others so you would listen to the group's suggestions.

“I don't think we'll be stopping. It's past midday. If one group stops and we have to circle back it will be sundown. No use in shooting ourselves in the foot if we can catch the shadow while the suns still up.” Time doubled down. He didn't say we wouldn't be stopping, just that if we did it would have to be for the rest of the night. Depending on how the rest of the day went, such as more ambushes, we might have to stay back and set up camp.

“We’ll have to stop at some point for dinner and rest.” Legend spoke. I was up front with Time. I turned around to look at Legend and the rest behind us. Wind was eating something that looked like a plant and Wild was fiddling with his sheikah slate.

“Darling here just doesn't want to slow us down.” Twilight said. He was up front with Warrior. I slowed down to where Sky was in the middle of the group. Wind, Wild, Four, Legend, and Hyrule were in the rear. 

The main fighting force was behind us. Most of the ambushes had taken place when we were almost all the way past them. They'd jump out of the forest and try to trap us from all sides. The strongest fighters would stay up front to push forward while the rest made sure no one closed in on anyone's backs. My spot was in the middle. Where anyone from any side could jump in and protect me. 

Everyone here had told me in one way or another that they only wanted what was best for me. We hadn't been together for long enough for me to agree with them. They hardly knew me, how could they tell me what was best for my life? That and how touchy they could be put me on edge from time to time. I figured Hylians were naturally close people. I was treated as a close friend even though we didn't know each other for long.

I had no plan on leaving. No other group felt quite as safe and I had grown fond of them. Several of the party members had made it clear they felt the same way. Not to mention I had promised Wind there would be no plans of running away in the middle of the night. If I had to leave I would do so with warning.

I doubted I would feel like leaving anytime soon. The future was unclear but I was invested in these boys. Both their lives and in the mystery around the shadow. I couldn’t leave them on their own. I knew they felt the same way about me. We have been trading stories a lot lately. I would say something about my life and they would say something of their own. Talking with them like that made me feel at home.

I couldn't leave without saying goodbye and giving my thanks first. I didn't even have the time to properly thank them for everything they've done for me. I knew they all would object to any gifts I spent money on- especially Time. He prided himself on buying everything I needed when we were in town. So that meant I had to do so in private. Time by myself was hard to come by. I couldn't manage to slip away even if I tried. If I wanted to get them any presents I would have to do so carefully.

[clowningcrows]

lol i pregamed a tiny bit for agatha but now after finishing im just taking shots for coping reasons

[stellewriites]

just need to edit asf chapter 3 and then i might be able to post tomorrow night!!

[tonguetiedraven]

cliche I know, but handholding bonrin?

Thanks for the ask!! I went somewhere a bit different with it, but I hope you enjoy! This takes place during the festival arc.

(｡^^｡)⸝♡♡⸜(｡••｡)

The problem was that Ryuuji didn’t even know her name.

Well, there were probably several problems, but that was the first and biggest one for him.

He didn’t know her name, and he had never confessed it to anyone, not even Konekomaru, that he had never actually felt the desire to go on a date. To go to a dance to be close instead of just spending time with his friends, or to hold someone’s hand for any reason other than not getting separated, or to lean in (down, because everyone was shorter than him) and give someone a kiss.

That one was probably the strangest. He could see an appeal in some kinds of dancing as it being a fun form of exercise or close to hugging, but the feelings that went with it just weren’t really there for him. All the other things people went nuts over really didn’t apply to him and were mostly a mystery. Even finding out from Shima that people meant hot a bit literally had baffled him. Why should attraction make you feel warm?

It wasn’t the first time he’d been pursued despite never giving any sort of sign that it was welcome or would be reciprocated in any way. He’d had people ask him out from almost the beginning and he’d had people bring him Valentines since he was in grade school.

He had seen people get angry or embarrassed, but he had never seen someone cry.

She did so almost immediately. He gave his normal, “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in a date right now,” spill, and she’d stepped back, gripped the small package of candies she’d brought him (the kind he never ate because they always seemed to give him a migraine) and before he could really realize what was happening, she was sobbing. Ryuuji immediately jolted in shock and reached out to help and try to stop it, with no idea how to do so.

He had never made someone cry from this. He didn’t know what to do to make it better. Saying yes wasn’t an option because that would make it worse when he didn’t return any of her advances and didn’t keep this up.

“I—” he stuttered, entirely out of his depths and feeling like his heart was breaking with guilt, “it’s—I’m gay!”

He wasn’t. (At least not that he knew. He was nothing as far as he could tell.) It was just better than the crying, and he almost never lied, but maybe this one wouldn’t hurt.

The girl looked up from her hand, still crying more than not, and sniffed dramatically. “You are?”

“Yes,” Ryuuji lied again. “It’s not something I share.” It wasn’t something that was likely true. Ryuuji, whatever he was, seemed to be alone.

“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized, sniffing, and that irritated something in Ryuuji. He wasn’t gay, but it was rude to apologize for the way someone else felt. “I didn’t know.”

The anger dissolved as quickly as it had come, and that brief and poor choice of words was probably the reason he didn’t see a dark-haired boy ducking back around the corner with a shocked expression and a slight blush before he was covering his face with his hands and trying to get his excited and hopeful tail to still.

——♡(´･ω･)(･ω･`)♡——

Ryuuji was sitting under an old oak while he tried to finish his third essay for Demon Pharmaceuticals (Yukio had to be upset about something with the amount of work he was giving out) and was thinking he needed to get some food because he was starving.

“Hey!”

Rin’s cheery voice had him looking up, squinting a bit as his strained eyes refocused, and nodding in acknowledgement.

“Hey, Okumura.”

Rin gave a small wiggle Ryuuji recognized as meaning his tail was trying to wag where wit was hidden under his shirt, and sat down.  Ryuuji raised an eyebrow as a small smile started to lift his lips.

“You need help with homework?” Ryuuji asked, thinking Rin wasn’t likely to have started on this essay yet, but might be working on the previous one.

Rin shook his head and set a bottle of tea and a yakisoba bun on the table before sliding it towards Ryuuji.

“You skipped lunch,” he explained. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

Ryuuji grinned properly and reached for it. “Thanks! I was late getting out and knew there wasn’t a shot of getting there in time to get anything affordable.”

It was still warm. Or Rin had warmed it up for him. (That was more likely now that Ryuuji was thinking about it.) The warmth always made the flavors come through more vibrantly and he’d gone through half of it without even noticing. He blushed a bit when he did notice and made himself slow down and look up.

Rin was beaming and it was hard not to smile back at him. He had a great smile and Ryuuji hadn’t really gotten to see him today. It wasn’t a day they had a shared Cram Class.

“I um, wanted to ask you something?” Rin said after a moment. “I… would you like to go to the concert together?”

Ryuuji stilled in utter shock. Of all the conversations they’d have, he would never have expected that one.

“What?”

Rin swallowed, and Ryuuji realized Rin was blushing, quite a lot, and that his hair had the slightest glitter of flames in it.

“I want to go to the concert with you.” He said, like it wasn’t shocking and he hadn’t been asking most every girl and gotten super excited about the possibility of going out with Shiemi. (And got excited about trying on a regular basis.)

“Me? Since when?”

Rin blushed all the more. “Since the hairclip? I just didn’t think… I didn’t know you were gay.”

Ryuuji blinked and realized that of course people gossiped. That was probably everywhere. He was going to have to figure out how to turn guys down too now. Great.

“I don’t… I’m not. I didn’t know what to do and she was crying and I just said the first thing I could think of.”

Rin flushed all the more and seemed to wilt. “Oh. Shit. Sorry. Just, uh, forget I said—”

“I’m not straight either. I don’t…”

He didn’t think he was anything. He’d never really looked into it. He’d fit in fine when he was younger and then it seemed like everyone was doing something he hadn’t been told about and that entire world had left him behind and confused.

Rin looked up again, seeming curious now. “You’re ace?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned, curious. “Did you actually want to go out with me? Or did you just want a date?”

He’d never actually thought about going out with a guy. He’d have fun hanging with Rin. More fun than going with a stranger. At least as long as Rin didn’t expect a lot more than what they usually did. (Not only did Ryuuji seem to be missing most of what his friends got, he also had no idea what dates even really entailed. Everyone seemed to only be trying to get as far as they could and that wasn’t appealing.)

Rin looked a bit insulted. “Yeah I want to go out with you. Not just a date. I like you Suguro. You’re cool and funny and smart and determined. You’re fun to be around and I like competing with you. Of course I wanna go out with you.”

Something warm and strange seemed to spread in Ryuuji’s chest. He liked the specificity of that. That it was him Rin was seeing and not just another person to ask out. He liked Rin, and he found Rin fun to hang out with and compete with and Rin drove him crazy in so many ways, but he knew he could trust Rin, and he knew Rin trusted him, and Rin would call him out when he was being an ass and listen when Ryuuji said he was, and Rin was earnest and loyal, and Ryuuji was starting to think he’d just found a strange new idea.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You can just, uh, forget I asked? Forget any of this happened?”

Ryuuji shook his head. “No.”

Rin scowled. “Why not?”

Ryuuji pulled the tea closer and broke the seal with a strangely loud noise as Rin watched him. “I’m going to keep getting asked,” he decided with a frown as he twisted the lid off the rest of the way. “It’s gonna keep happening and I’m tired of it and I don’t want to make anymore people cry. So…”

He took a sip, wondering if this was actually a stupid idea, but he’d rather do this with the promise of actually having fun than keep saying no or crumble under the pressure of some stranger crying and making him feel like a monster.

“I’d go with you, if you’re serious. I can’t… I don’t know what I am, or if I can like you, but it’d be fun.” He looked at Rin over the top of the tea – the brand he drank the most and the type that was supposed to help with migraines and one you could only get at a specific vending machine at this level of the Academy, but one Rin had brought him because he’d noticed that. “If that’s okay with you, then let’s do it.”

Rin narrowed his eyes like he was trying to sniff out a trap, which was rude and made Ryuuji scowl a little, but he held his tongue.

“On a date?”

“I don’t know anything about them. But sure. Just know I—”

“You’re not all feely,” Rin interrupted and flapped his hand like that wasn’t what he was concerned with. “That’s fine. I can try and woo my princess,” he gave Ryuuji a big and toothy grin that made Ryuuji’s entire face feel hot.

“I’m not a princess!”

Rin grinned all the wider. “Don’t get your skirt twisted, princess. I’m gonna be all romantical and no hard feelings if it doesn’t work, okay?”

Ryuuji grumbled but nodded. “Deal.”

Rin stuck his hand out as he stood up, holding it out to Ryuuji like he wanted him to shake it and seal the deal, so Ryuuji did, and found himself entirely confused when Rin took his hand and shifted to sit next to Ryuuji, not giving his hand back. Just holding it in his own warm hand, sitting close enough that Ryuuji could feel the heat of him and peering down at Ryuuji’s Demon Pharmaceuticals homework.

“Shit,” he asked like it wasn’t weird to snag someone’s hand. (Wasn’t it?) “Did we have homework?”

Ryuuji laughed and shoved the book towards Rin. “Yeah, another essay.”

“Another?! We had one?!”

(Ryuuji’s hand was still being held, and he’d never realized how Rin’s hand was calloused. Probably from all the sword drills.)

“We had three.”

“Three?!” Rin looked down at the book horrified. (His hand was smaller than Ryuuji’s. Their fingers fit strangely well together despite that.) “Yukio’s gonna kill me.”

“I’ll help ya out, moron. “

Rin’s smile went all toothy again, enough that his eyes went a bit squinty too, and Ryuuji decided he could use his left hand to finish his own essay. Rin could keep his right one for now.

“Thanks!”

Ryuuji passed Rin a few sheets of paper and a pen and pointed to the first assignment where he’d written the notes for it.

“You take notes for homework?” Rin asked, and snorted. “You’re a nerd, princess.”

“You’re not in a place to judge, ya monkey.”

(His face felt a bit warm, and there was something spreading through his chest he wasn’t quite sure about, but he wasn’t scared and he wasn’t uncomfortable, and it was something he felt might be okay to explore with Rin.

Just without the princess.)

“No,” Ryuuji intercepted, tapping Rin’s hand with his pen. “That’s the wrong word. Check the spelling.”

Rin did and Ryuuji saw his tongue poke out a little in concentration and felt Rin’s leg start to jiggle a little next to his that reminded him of dozens of study sessions like this. Something comfortable and familiar, but the slightest bit different as Rin started to brush his thumb over Ryuuji’s in a steady rhythm that wasn’t distracting, even though it seemed like it should be.

He didn’t know what he was or if he could feel anything like what Rin wanted, but he thought he might be starting to see the appeal in holding someone’s hand.

[blamemma]

27 👀

inspired by a conversation with @blacklaces, nsfw, 1.4k, max/daniel, feminisation (daniel in lingerie) 😳

Max keeps his hands clasped, across his lap, beige shorts against stark white thighs as he waits. Avoids looking down at the weighted Tag Heuer on his wrist to determine exactly how much time he's been waiting. He shuffles downwards a little against the headboard of the bed, getting comfortable.

They've only just landed. Their own little private Italian island for two weeks. A reprieve over the summer just for them. But instead of feeling relaxed, instead of running his fingers delicately over Daniel's shoulders as he lathers sun cream onto him, Max feels irritable, angsty. Daniel had hustled the staff away from their villa quickly, pushed Max onto the bed with a chaste kiss and then vanished into the bathroom, a muffled "Stay here," spoken into Max's lips. Max had barely any time to protest, pull Daniel in closer, before he heard the click of the bathroom lock.

If he listens closely, pushes the sound of the waves crashing against the shore out of his ears, or the distant calls of bird cry, he can hear the pads of Daniel's feet moving across the bathroom. He can hear him grumbling at something, a short swear word thrown in, Daniel's voice agitated through the dark wood door. Max thinks he can hear Daniel say, "Alright, you got this DR." but that is something he's ever heard his Daniel say, Daniel's self-confidence always enough for him to push through whatever doubt he's having.

He distinctively hears the latch of the bathroom lock come undone and then Daniel's voice, loud but jittery through the wood say, "Close your eyes baby."

"Okay," Max responds, screwing his eyes shut, and he waits more.

This time, he feels the dip in the four-poster bed as Daniel climbs up onto the bottom of it. Max hears the rustle of the sheets, the way the fabric moves under him as Daniel gets settled, and his heart aches a little, desperate to reach out and touch Daniel as he hears him let out a shaky breath.

"Okay Maxy, open them up."

The blinding afternoon light shining in through the balcony doors forces Max to blink rapidly, adjusting to the sun lit room, but he's desperate to stop, because the glimpse of Daniel he's already had his him salivating, keening for even a second more.

At the bottom of the bed, Daniel kneels, feet tucked delicately behind him, hands outstretched on his palms, upper body covered by the sheerest baby-blue teddy, soft-pink lace trim all across the edges. It covers the barest inch of thigh, just about touches the tip of Daniel's ship tattoo. Max can just make out through the sheer fabric a similarly coloured pair of underwear underneath, Daniel's dick clearly visible, the veins shining starkly through the baby blue.

The mesh material accentuates all of Daniel's features; his Adonis belt shines through, the cut of the chest area accentuating his shoulders and neck. Max wants to keep him like this forever, his pretty little boy, all dressed up, waiting for him.

"Daniel," Max lets out breathless, moving forward towards him.

"A present. For You." Daniel responds. "Ten wins baby, eight in a row."

Max crawls forward, a look of worship on his face, and gently caresses Daniel's face in his hands, before bringing him closer.

He brushes his lips delicately against Daniel's, the softest of touches, a similar touch against his cheek, and then moves his lips to his ear, whispering, "You look beautiful."

He leans back once more, drinks Daniel in, watches as goosebumps litter his skin at the praise, tries and tries and tries to commit the sight to memory, because they both know, as soon as Max gets his hands on Daniel, the delicate lingerie won't survive.

He kisses Daniel's neck, kisses over the pearl necklace adorning his neck, covering it in spit, lathes over the crease of his armpit. Taking the silk fabric into his mouth, he kisses over Daniel's nipples, getting drunk on the high, keening noises Daniel lets out.

"Max," Daniel begs, and Max moves away.

"You are my present," Max reminds him. "I can do what I want with you."

Daniel shuffles where he's sat, Max's domineering tone reminding him of his place, before he straightens up again, presenting himself to Max once more.

"Where is your camera Daniel?" Max asks, his fingertips delicately caressing along the length of Daniel's thigh, soft hair tickling him, teasing.

"In my bag." Daniel gestures with a jerk of his head towards the black and blue Gucci he'd discarded on the back of a chair when they'd entered the room.

Max kisses him again, cradles Daniel's face in his hands, runs his tongue across the crease of Daniel's lips, running his thumbs lovingly across his cheeks before leaving the bed.

It's perched neatly at the top, shrouded by a thick jumper Daniel hadn't needed once they'd touched down in the scorching Italian sun. Max fumbles out of his t-shirt, forces his shorts of his body, and heads back towards Daniel, camera grasped in his hands.

He presses the front of his body to Daniel's back, feels him take a sharp intake of break at the intrusion. Max runs his free hand over the front of Daniel's body, runs his finger over one of the straps, pulls at it and lets it snap back onto Daniel's skin, rucks up the rest of expensive fabric in his hand, feeling the expanse of Daniel's chest underneath him.

"Did you order this just for me?" He whispers into Daniel ears. "Did you try it on back at home, make sure it fit you properly, made you look all pretty of course?"

"Yes," Daniel replies. "Yes to all of them. Tried it on when you and Brad were out on a run."

Max feels dizzy at the thought, of Daniel in their apartment, opening the small package he would've been sent, trying the little teddy on whilst Brad was forcing him around the coast of Monaco. Max could have been there, with him. Max could have come home. Brad could have seen.

"The suspenders wouldn't fit round my thighs." Daniel confesses after a beat of silence from Max, a meekness to his voice Max wants to make disappear instantly.

"They look beautiful and strong without them." Max remarks, towering over Daniel and grasping them both in his hands. He kisses the crown of Daniel's head before moving back onto the bed, sitting directly opposite Daniel again.

His dick is achingly hard between his thighs, Daniel's barely touched him, barely done anything, but the sheer sight of him before Max has him yearning. He strokes it quickly, taking the edge off, keeps his gaze locked on Daniel whilst he does it, lets his eyes slowly drop down to where Daniel's own dick is, leaking pre-come and staining his panties.

"This okay?" Max asks as he turns the camera on, just as adept at using it as Daniel is now, a shared possession between them like most things are.

"Always," Daniel responds, a bright smile directed at Max.

"Good," Max responds, before he starts eagerly taking pictures, every angle of Daniel needed so that they can both look back on them later, lay next to each other after a long qualifying session and jerk each other off over them.

"Lay down for me?" Max requests, patting the pillows placed just behind him. Daniel moves instantly, brushing past Max and flopping his body down onto the mattress.

The teddy billows up with Daniel's movement, and then settles around him all misshapen, rising up on his pelvis, so that the mesh underwear is fully on show now, the tip of Daniel's hard dick pushing through the top of the waistband.

Max leans over, kisses the tip of it softly, before sucking the tangy taste of Daniel and pre-come filling his mouth, drawing back just as quickly.

"Max, please," Daniel begs again, more drawn out and high this time. "Anything--please."

“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.” 

He takes more pictures, Daniel's long curls framing his face perfectly, his face turned against the pillows as he squirms, the long shape of him picture perfect.

"Pretty boys like you deserve a reward I think," Max teases, and he shuffles downwards, ripping Daniel's underwear apart with his hands, diving forward quickly and taking the whole of Daniel in his mouth. Daniel's hips jerk upwards suddenly, a loud moan erupting from his throat also, and as Max gives in to the pleasure of it all, he's enormously grateful that they're alone on this island.