#this is why I know he's a biter. gnawing on you in his sleep

[teatitty]

Do you know how much grip strength you have to have to be able to hold a kunai in your mouth through a face mask and not have it slip at all. What the fuck is wrong with him [rhetorical question he has so many things wrong with him]

[skelly-words]

more bf!sukuna hcs, but he’s insufferable and stuck in my head. this is part 4…

warning: some NSFW, slight intox, minors DNI

NEVER lets you drive. he’s so misogynistic. “females are bad drivers” ass bitch. "you're gonna wrap us around a tree."

claims to despise when you baby him e.g. forehead kisses, scratching his back to put him to sleep, even fucking cuddling. don’t believe that shit for a second but pretend to and stop until he starts acting grateful.

way too confrontational to be taken out in public. just pretend you don’t know him when he’s pulling a gun on someone who stepped on his shoes.

you’d be broke if you bailed him out of jail every fucking time. at least let him marinate there all night before folding or call his dad to do it instead.

so messy. it's unintentional, but sukuna just leaves a trail of disorder in his wake. throw pillows on the floor, shoes in the walkway, and always leaving the lights on despite complaining about the utility bill.

throw him outside to do yardwork or something. he loves that shit. putting in a couple fruit trees, maybe stepping stones. by the end of the summer you have a tiered garden with slate retaining walls and an automatic irrigation system.

why does he have a green thumb? he's in a secret competition with the neighbors for prettiest lawn. and yet, you manage to kill the little succulent garden he planted for you.

a minimalist (derogatory). sukuna is always trying to throw your trinkets and knickknacks away when you're not paying attention.

he loves getting a little fashion show after you buy new clothes. it's one of the few cute things he'll admit to enjoying. it doesn't matter if the outfit is skimpy or modest, hearts are popping out of his eyes like in a fucking cartoon.

doesn't apologize under any circumstances. the word 'sorry,' isn't in his lexicon. however, he will leave his card on the counter before heading to work and pick up flowers on the way home and make reservations at your favorite restaurant. don't expect to hear a real apology though.

super duper tender-headed. you can't even detangle it without him whining. might cry if you try to do braids, twists, any kinda style. fucking pussy

irritating asf. actually hate him, idk why i’m writing this. i'd probably poison him and collect the life insurance.

UMM nsfw

calling sukuna something corny and dominant in bed (sir/daddy/king/etc.) out of the blue would make him nut. and he isn’t even embarrassed about it at all.

incapable of pulling off a quickie. i think this is more endearing than aggravating. he can't hit it right in just ten minutes. he'll ask for more time. and a little more. then it's been an hour and you're likely running late for something.

thinks you're hottest bent over (i'm not even projecting rn bc my ass is flat). don't worry, he thinks your face is cute, missionary is great too. but if you wore one of those pillow case ass house dresses with no panties he'd go crazy. i hate to air him out like this, but it's true. i gotta link this shit so you know what i'm talking about. makes him feral. maybe i am projecting bc i luv those dresses.

but anyway, he'd fall for the 'bend and snap' so bad (legally blonde reference). these are basically crack, sorry

occasionally forgets that foreplay is a thing and tries to go straight from light frenching to stickin it.

i feel like sukuna’s sunday nights are spent getting really high and kissing on you for hours. he just gets the munchies dude. leaving dewy spots of saliva on all your exposed skin. once he’s tasted that, your clothes is peeled off so he can drool on the rest of you. he doesn’t even realize how much of a tease he is. his mouth suctioned to your inner thigh… maybe i should just write this as its own thingy

p sure i said this already, but he’s a biter. gnaws on you like a mf chew toy. it’s an oral fixation thing, if you don’t like it buy him lots of lollipops and tic tacs.

ok i have to stop before i gross myself out. tyty for reading <3<3<3 have a wonderful day.

masterlist if you wanna read the rest

[obeymeluv]

The Baby Assignment [Beel]

Not gonna lie, I wanted to do Mammon next but I love this big guy, so... The names for his sons (again, from “The Boys as Dads” post) were pulled from Wikipedia after a bit of research. I wanted to see what other names and history were tied to Beelzebub and I found Hesperus and Baal.

Apparently “Baal” was used to refer to Beelzebub in the Hebrew Bible. It was technically a title meaning “Lord” but could be used to reference specific demons. “Hesperus” comes from Testament of Solomon where Beelzebul (not Beelzebub; at some points throughout history these two were separate entities and at other times they were the same figure with different names) talked about his old high-ranking status in heaven and how he was tied to the star Hesperus.

Mammon’s probably going to be next, but I have to do more name hunting.

Beel is secretly excited to be partnered with you. He’s kind of curious about how the kid will look. More human? More demon-like? The two of you stand in the circle and not one but two babies explode in little clouds

Unfortunately, they’re already crying. Whether they’re hungry or the flash of light hurt them, you don’t know. Beel’s already giving this low, comforting purr and shrugging out of his jacket to swoop them up like some little papoose. This quiets them a little.

He can’t help but giggle because they feel like little hams in his arms. Tiny roasted Devilbirds. They look on the bigger side for Devil babies but they’ve got cute round faces and big sparkly eyes already tinging with that orange glow he gets at nighttime. They are carbon copies of Beel and he’s a little sad he doesn’t see the ‘you’ in them.

They wiggle a bit in the temporary papoose but settle when one arm breaches to grab a tiny, pudgy fistful of his shirt. There’s a few moments of ‘open, close, open, close’ where you think the baby is making biscuits against his chest but he finishes up with a firm grab.

Beel ties the papoose around you so he can carry the magic trunk back to the house. You take great care in keeping the light away from them and don’t know quite how to feel yet about that orange tint to their eyes. They observe you with much interest. They’re still cute though.

You’re walking back to the house with Beel and the others when the jacket blob starts to move. You think they’re getting restless (maybe need air?) and peel it open just enough to see what’s going on. They’re trying to tear a hole in your uniform to latch. They want skin-to-skin contact. One of them has their arm down your uniform top.  The other is trying to jam their hand in there, too.

You just hold them close as you walk to the House of Lamentation. You bet by the time you get there, you’ll be missing a few buttons.

Beel sets up the trunk in his and Belphie’s room (Belphie’s seriously considering relocating to the attic for about a week) and helps you sit down. He undoes the papoose to find they’ve ripped a decent chunk out of your school uniform and are trying to hide between the fabric and your body. They’re holding hands, their other one either tucked under them or latching onto you somewhere else. It’s really cute and Beel goes beet red.

If you’re female, this gets Beel extra flustered because--for some reason? Demon brain and baby hormones?--he’s thinking about you breastfeeding two kids and being pregnant with another one.

Is he gonna be one of those guys that wants lots of kids? Probably.

He opens the trunk in search of jumpers or something that will help them keep their heat and is surprised to see insulated bags of squeeze-type baby food. All KINDS of food, actually!

He’ll have to try some for quality assurance. Does it actually have substance?

Those kids get it honest because they’re literally only an hour old and they KNOW what food packages sound like. Your uniform tears a little more because suddenly two little ginger-headed babies are watching his every mood like a hawk, heads thrust out of the little hole they made.

Beel is not a fan of opening tiny baby food portions. His hands are very big and this is a problem. He ends up puncturing the cap with a fang and squeezing some out. It works, so he hands it over.

These kids snatch food like Mammon taking a grim, okay? Watch your fingers.

Suddenly there’s a little fussy fight breaking out in your top because one baby has one and one baby has nothing. Beel can’t get the second one fast enough. He just shakes it outside the hole and hopes the empty-handed one takes it.

You tell Beel to help you out of your uniform since it’s basically ruined. Boy heats up real bad, touching your skin and everything. Big boy has it BAD!

The kids hiss and growl and cry until you set them in his jacket and make a nest. Then they’re back to being content little angels, gumming and sucking on the little pouches

“I hope all this eating means they grow fast,” Beel smiles as he takes the empty pouches and looks in the trunk again. It’s imbued with magic that only lets the ‘parents’ open it so there’s no accidents. He’s looking for other flavors as you hug the jacket nest.

Somehow you end up with a tiny little hand tangled in your hair as they try to pull you into the nest. You just lay in the middle and they lounge on you. They are BIIIIG on contact. Like to touch all the time. Very snuggly.

You’re kind of shocked but Beel is big into photography. He never answers you when you ask why, but he’s very diligent about taking pictures. They’re not always the best quality but boy never misses a moment.

After about three pouches apiece, they’ve moved onto Beel. They like to snuggle around his stomach and you joke about his ‘baby bump’. You take the pictures now. 

By the end of the night your name has a sound. They are grabbing at you and Beel at the dark, giving calls and trying to wake you up. They want to eat again.

This goes on for days 2 and 3. The twins are more active at night since their eyes don’t hurt and yours and Beel’s sleep schedule are officially messed up. Day 2 they are very vocal with their demon vocal chords, so you basically need a translator. Day 3, you’re used to their nightly disappearances and sneak down sometime after them to see Beel digging through the fridge.

“Apple? See? Apple. Ap-ple.” Beel apparently like smothering them in forehead kisses. He’s passing the food between them and suddenly it’s just three demons cooing over a piece of fruit. They’ve inherited the biting instinct because all three of them bite it at the same time.

He was fixing to wake the house with a happy yeowl about the fangs but had some sense that someone was behind him, so you’re gifted with the sight of three demons still holding onto an apple. “They go’ fanfs,” is what you think you here. Beel technically got the first purr with that one.

When the fangs come out, the food fights start. If you feed them with a spoon or fork it is LITERAL begging for them to let go so you can get more food for them.

Feeding them is a two person job, not because there are two of them, but because one of them needs to attract the biter with a different food so they let go of the utensil. 

They get teary and screechy when they’re not fed fast enough. Hesperus’ first word was “MO’!” (more) as he’s slamming his little fists on the feeding chair and puts a crack in it. Baal takes full advantage of the surprise and latches onto the spoon Beel almost drops. Another struggle ensues.

Between Day 3 and Day 4 they have the muscle strength and build to fully walk themselves. Half of the time they “skitter”. For some reason they don’t like walking upright.

Previously, you could only tell them apart with the brothers’ help (demons can differentiate demons). Now you and Beel have a color-coordinated system to tell the twins apart.

They seem to take after their Uncle Belphie and hide in unusual places. The only way you and Beel find them are by walking around the house and shaking various packages of food. You think this is a joint effort to eat more. 

Baal says ‘thank you first’ and is the gentle teether. He likes to cuddle like that. Hesperus is an avid climber that prefers to latch

Half the time you don’t know if the twins are cuddling and scenting or play fighting. They’re more energetic than you expected.

Ironically, there favorite person is Mammon. He runs fast when Lucifer scares him and they like to chase him. When they want to sleep, they go to Uncle Belphie. He’s just not energetic enough to play with. 

They’ll grab anyone’s leg and sit on them. They like to be carried like this. 

Asmo only managed to get a blurry picture of it, but somehow the twins managed to get Lucifer to drag them around by sitting on his cape. It was very cute.

They’re pretty much Beel’s shadow. They like to follow him and he regularly uses them as extra weights in his routine. Sometimes they run around the yard together. Beel tries to teach them how to play Fangol but they end up trying to gnaw the ball to death and end up wrestling for it. “At least they’re active,” he mumbles as he picks you up to keep you out of harms way

They fall asleep in the grass, fangs still trying to dig into the ball.

Day 5 and 6 they become strong talkers and always insist on going long walks. They want to look at alll the stuff! They’re probably at the age of four or five (maybe six) and Beel deems them behaved enough to see some of his favorite restaurants in the Devildom.

You eat so much you think you’ll be sick. You have three boys who will gladly help you with the rest. They fight over an extra-hard crunchy baguette and don’t seem to have the concept of sharing at this point. They’re fussing and butting heads and Beel notices their horns are breaching.

You bag everything to go and Beel offers to fly you all home since you’re absolutely stuffed. He barely hears it, but a tiny little whine is trying to harmonize with his wings. One of them has grown wings (it was Baal).

That evening is spent with Beel and Belphie gently bumping them with their horns to coax them out.

You’re constantly portioning food and trying to make it fair. Beel is a good mediator. He won’t let his kids starve by any means but if they won’t share after he’s explained (and re-explained) why it’s nice to do so, he just eats the thing so they have nothing to fight over 

They learn that lesson in the dead of night when they sneak down for their own raid and use each other (and the cabinets/drawers) like a jungle gym to get to the good stuff. Whatever they grab, they split. When Beel catches them, some kind of chocolate thing over his face, Baal looks unapologetic and Hesperus just asks if he wants a bite

Beel is not a disciplinarian. You will have to do that. 

Overall the boys are very helpful. They will help bring in groceries and clean up the yard with their uncles. They really love doing the latter because the find all kinds of bugs. They try to give them to Mammon and Lucifer but both of them hate them. A lot.

Belphie notices them and pays them in food to put bugs in Lucifer’s office and bed. No regrets. Satan joins in on this with fancy foods from his foodie connections. They are the unofficial mascots of the Lucifer Sucks Club

Day 7 involves visiting some of Beel’s club activities and the members being absolutely in love with the kids. They get them tiny Fangol jerseys and they run around with the ball. It’s a good day with lots of cute pictures.

They try to hype of the twins and put them on their shoulders but it was here you learned Baal doesn’t like Hesperus getting too far from him and DEFINITELY doesn’t like him being around a bunch of strangers. You don’t know if he thought they were taking him away, but they definitely got dive-bombed by a tiny flying ginger.

Beel has to console him and keep them together for a few hours until he calms down. Simeon overheard the commotion (actually: heard it from Solomon, who was told by Asmo) and offered to make some Celestial Treats to “share the heritage” since Beel is technically an angel.

The twins also love Luke TO DEATH and he is extremely stressed out. They’re cute but very strong and accidentally kind of rough. They chase him too. They want to climb on him; one is enough to knock him off guard and two practically smother him. Send help. 

Simeon is absolutely in love with them and the boys cuddle him and shake him down for sweets as nicely as they can. 

Diavolo may not be as close to Beelzebub as he is Lucifer, but he still wants to see the children. Demon children are a beautiful thing (and he wants an excuse to get out of work)! On Day 8, Barbatos whips up a very fancy meal which the kids are all for. They like playing hide and seek with Diavolo. You and Lucifer both about shit a brick when they take to climbing on chandeliers and up into the crevices of the castle. Hesperus learned to fly that day, and refused to come down for Lucifer.

Day 9, Barbatos and Simeon invite them to a garden-style orchard to pick fruits and vegetables. They boys are covered in dirt and have leaves in their hair but they are very proud of what they picked and can’t wait to make things to eat (they look very cute in overalls). 

Somewhere between Day 8 and 9 both boys have gotten into the habit of shucking off their shirts to let their wings stretch out. When they don’t feel like talking, they sound off with their wings. Beel has adopted this habit and can usually be seen shirtless or in one of those muscle tees with the holes in the side.

On Day 9 the boys decide they want to make a big buffet for the class since Beel took a lot of pictures. They know basic knife skills and have special protective gloves and things like that. Beel bought you all matching aprons. The whole thing goes relatively smoothly; you have a family tray ‘for sampling’, and a bigger portion that will be taken to the class

All bets are off when it comes to making desserts. It’s hard to get the batter into the pan before they’re trying to “lick the bowl clean” (it’s not even empty). You end up with two chocolate-smeared demons that Asmo very reluctantly lets into his bath. You help wash. Beel supervises and is prepared to catch these crafty, sweet gremlins in towels.

Day 10, you make your way to the classroom. The boys want to dig into the buffet (”But your friends are doing it!”) and they almost forget to do the report. They talk for a little bit, pause for a snack. It’s pure bribery. They are finished and rewarded with more food. Beel strings up all his photos at the front of the classroom as the boys sit in your lap and eat.

They make their way to the summoning circle and the teacher has a hard time determining their age. These two are built like brick houses. Are they in the upper percentile for everything or actually older? They’re either very tall eight-year-olds or the age limit goes above 10. Results are inconclusive. 

You get a B that is argued to an A on Satan and Lucifer’s behalf. The teacher tried to argue that they were a little unruly and showed a lack of discipline but duh, they’re kids!

Hesperus growled something out in pure demon and you’re not sure what it was. Judging by Belphie and Satan’s expression, it’s probably something a parent wouldn’t want their kid to say. Who knows where they picked it up from?! 

Baal just looked like he wanted to bite the guy’s nose off, and has taken a protective mantling stance on Beel’s shoulder.

You walk them to the summoning circle and the twins are just as sad as Beel. They want to stay. Baal is crying silently and can only manage to bring his horns out and bump heads. Hesperus makes you promise to cook lots of food ‘for when we come back’ and that he’ll even wash dishes if you promise.

You give them kisses and wipe Baal’s tears away, to which he gently teethes on you. Hesperus just hugs his brother from behind, the two disappearing in thick clouds of smoke.

The class goes on casually as people pick at food and gush about the twins. You stay behind with Beel to pack up the uneaten food. He’s very solemn as he’s taking all the photos off the board, handling them with care. 

“So, uh...why the photos?” you’ve tied up the last bag and have it sitting on the big catering trays Simeon lent you.

“I didn’t want to forget them like I did Lilith...not that I ever really forgot her. Sometimes it’s just...hard to remember her clearly. You know, to remember everything from before. It happens when you’re over five thousand years old.” he’s trying to smile sweetly for you but you can see the pain in it, “I just wanted to keep them with me. I didn’t get that option with her.”

Ooh boy have the floodgates opened for both of you! You hold this big six-something demon boy like he’s one of your babies and he’s never been more grateful. He feels your tears in his hair and you both have a cathartic cry. There’s no where comfortable to snuggle so you opt to heal quietly at the House of Lamentation with some of the leftover food.

It’s a quiet affair, hiding in Beel’s room. You catch him constantly touching your stomach but don’t say anything. His hand is warm and large over your stomach. You’re on the edge of a food coma when you hear him mutter, “Maybe one day.” as he gives it a little pat.                    

[jane-the-zombie]

No Control || SOLO

TIMING: Present LOCATION: Jane’s Apartment PARTIES: Jane Wu & Guest  SUMMARY: After a long day, a person from Jane’s past comes to visit her, and doesn’t like what they find. CONTENT: Mass Poisoning TW (brief mention), Food Poisoning TW (brief mention), Gun Violence Mention

Exhaustion clung to Jane as she slumped against her motorbike, pulling into her parking space. First, it the poisoning at Pat's Place, where she spent a better part of the night administering the antidote and taking statements. And then there was Erin Nichols, the black market organ dealer. Jane peeled herself off her bike, shoving the helmet she didn't wear under her arm as she went to crawl up the stairs. She was going to get a few hours of hopefully peaceful sleep before crawling back to the precinct to deal with the Nichols situation. She had lawyered up immediately, and there was no way they were getting anything else tonight.

Kavanagh couldn't have picked another night to get evidence dropped on her doorstep? Of course, that was just a grumpy thought and not actually Regan's fault, but it was closing in at eleven o'clock at night, and she hadn't been home for more than two hours at a time.

"You look like shit."

Jane's head shot up. Her hand automatically flexed to her gun. The only people that hung around this time of day were people buying drugs off Felix, and the last time she ran into one of them, they pulled a knife on her. It wasn't a drug buyer, but as Jane recognized the man leaning against the railing, she sort of wished it was.

"Daniel?" Confusion colored Jane's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a man visit her old partner?"

The question was innocent enough, but the hardness in Daniel Jefferson's tone wasn't easy to miss. He was angry at her. Understandably, Jane reasoned, considering she got him shot in the shoulder. Nervousness crept into her knees, and sweat was starting to build upon the palms of her hands.

"Thought you would have called first. I don't have the guest room set up."

Daniel scowled at her. "I have a motel room."

"Oh?"

They stared at each other until an uncomfortable silence washed over them both. Jane knew him enough to know that he was doing it on purpose, to remind her of what she did. He used to do it whenever she fucked up when she was still a rookie detective. They'd been partners for years; they were supposed to have each other's backs. That meant calling each other out when they were stupid.

Then again, Jane hadn't really been a perfect partner these last few years had she? She hadn't been good for anyone. She did her job the best she could, and then spent her time chasing after her next high. First, it was skydiving, roller-coaster riding, bungee jumping. And then it turned into jaywalking without looking both ways, speeding far too fast, drinking far too much, sleeping with questionable people.

She lived her life the way she wanted to — gambling. Other people weren't included in that anymore. She couldn't even remember the last time she answered a text from her father. He was the only one that still tried anymore. Lucy, her best friend since she was thirteen, had given up sometime last winter, Lizzie and Steve only called whenever she had upset Dad. She certainly didn't talk to her old friends at the station anymore.

Getting her partner shot in a blown stakeout operation on and then not visiting in the hospital even after transferring stations didn't exactly make her the most popular back in Portland. Not that she minded.

Forever was a blink of an eye, none of them would really matter in the coming years, would it? 50? 100? 500?

Daniel folded his arms over his chest and shifted on his feet, pulling her from her thoughts. "I'm here for work. I have a gig. You would know that if you checked your fucking phone. I tried to call you. Your voicemail is full."

Yes, she knew that. She rarely answered her phone unless it was work, let alone listened to voicemails. "A… gig." Usually, she would ask if that some new slang for a case, but she had the sense not to be a smart-ass at the moment.

"I'm not a cop anymore. You would also know that if you had bothered to keep up with me. I retired after the gunshot wound healed up." Jane gaped at him.

Dan was getting old, Jane would joke whenever he would yawn too much. He had a wife and a couple of ankle-biters running around. Well, then again, his ankle-biters probably weren't that small anymore, were they? Jane tried to remember when the last time she had really even thought about Daniel. In her dreams, probably, when she remembered the EMTs carting him away, blood pooling in his shoulder. But she never thought she'd see the day where Detective Daniel Jefferson retired.

Something that felt suspiciously like guilt gnawed at her. Of course, she felt guilty — but Jane never really thought about it because she didn't need too. She was going to live forever. How was one mistake going to impact the rest of her life? The rest of her life was forever. Daniel was going to live until he was 97 - because he was stubborn. Daniel had always been stubborn — with his wife and millions of grandchildren from his ankle biters. Then he was going to die because that's what he got to do at the end of his life. Jane had to start her life anew. She had forever.

Her mouth had dried up, and she was stuck staring at Daniel like he had four heads. She was reminded when she had first been assigned as his partner. A few years older than her, she spent the first couple of her rookie years looking at him wide-eyed as he dragged her to her first homicide as a detective. Threw her straight into the fire — the best way to learn, he'd said.

Daniel decided to keep talking since she hadn't said anything yet. "Private security," he explained. "Not a bad gig, certainly safer than what we were doing before."

"Are you looking for an apology?" Jane cut him off shortly. "Is that why you're here at my doorstep at five in the morning? Jefferson, I took full responsibility for what happened that night. I'm sorry. I screwed up. I'm not pretending like I didn't -"

"I'm not here for you, Jane." Daniel cut her off.

"Really? Then why are you here?"

"Because I got a text early this morning from your brother saying your dad's worried sick. He asked me to check on you."

She stiffened. "I don't need to be checked on like I'm a teenager. I'm busy with work and life — in case you hadn't heard about the mass poisoning or half of the other crap that goes on in this town." The bitterness in her tone returned. This town. This terrible, awful town where nothing good ever happened. Jane wouldn't be here forever, though. She could be wherever she wanted soon enough. What was a year or two or ten or one hundred? "Look, Turner transferred me because I screwed up. I get it. And I'm —"

"No, Captain transferred you because you were out of control!" Daniel argued. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, and let out a low, agitated groan. "Are out of control."

Jane bristled. "Excuse me —"

"No, excuse me. I forgot — Everything here is all about you now, right?" She recoiled like she'd been slapped in the face.

"My business between my dad and me and my family —"

"Wrong answer, Wu. You don't get to talk right now because I'm the one that had to listen to your brother, begging me to come and make sure you're alright because your father is beside himself. You are thirty-five years old, Jane. I've been watching you go off the deep end for three years, even before whatever the fuck that was at the warehouse."

It was like she was being scolded. Jane vaguely expected to get sent to her room without supper. "Daniel, I don't know what —"

"You're going to die alone if you keep this up, Jane." Daniel was disgusted, and Jane's mouth snapped shut. She could see it — how angry he was at her. He was tense, brow furrowed, fists clenched until the skin stretched across his knuckles turned white. He wanted more, but Jane realized Daniel really wasn't here to get into it with her. "Whatever the hell you're doing — the extreme sports, the fucking motorcycle, staying here in White Crest — there's something wrong with this place. We both know that. And avoiding your family's call, your friends, me? You're going to die alone and sad and early, and that's the only thing anyone will ever remember you for, Jane. What the hell are you doing to yourself? This isn't you."

There was a long silence. "And if I like where I am right now?"

"Then you're an idiot, Wu." Daniel shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wincing slightly. She caught it then, how he favored his right side. He was probably still in physical therapy after the bullet wound. Her eyes flickered back to his face. "You're going to fall. And no one will be here to catch you, and the only person you'll have to blame is yourself."

Jane said nothing, and Daniel shook his head, muttering something she couldn't hear under his breath. Just like that, he walked away, and Jane was left wondering how many years it would take to forget the pain in her chest.

[yeniayofnymeria]

Theory "Acting of Jaqen H’ghar"

Something caught my attention during Jaqen and Arya talk. Arya says Jaqen's name as her third name, and his reaction is interesting.  

Arya bit her lip hard to stop from crying. “I want you to save the northmen like I saved you.”

He looked down at her pitilessly. “Three lives were snatched from a god. Three lives must be repaid. The gods are not mocked.” His voice was silk and steel.

“I never mocked.” She thought for a moment. “The name… can I name anyone? And you’ll kill him?”

Jaqen H’ghar inclined his head. “A man has said.”

“Anyone?” she repeated. “A man, a woman, a little baby, or Lord Tywin, or the High Septon, or your father?”

“A man’s sire is long dead, but did he live, and did you know his name, he would die at your command.”

“Swear it,” Arya said. “Swear it by the gods.”

“By all the gods of sea and air, and even him of fire, I swear it.” He placed a hand in the mouth of the weirwood. “By the seven new gods and the old gods beyond count, I swear it.”

He has sworn. “Even if I named the king…”

“Speak the name, and death will come. On the morrow, at the turn of the moon, a year from this day, it will come. A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another and one day a man is there, and a king dies.” He knelt beside her, so they were face-to-face, “A girl whispers if she fears to speak aloud. Whisper it now. Is it Joffrey?”

Arya put her lips to his ear. “It’s Jaqen H’ghar.”

Even in the burning barn, with walls of flame towering all around and him in chains, he had not seemed so distraught as he did now. “A girl… she makes a jest.”

Arya thinks he's scared. But he is a FM and FM is never afraid of death. Technically, a FM never dies because they're no one. A FM has no identity, no name, no gender. They are no one and everyone. Faceless Men worship death and wear the faces of dead people. Jaqen is a dead man. You cannot kill a dead man, he is already dead.So how Jaqen scared? Simple. He did not. He is acting. Remember that acting is their thing. We saw it when Arya was training in Braavos. She is with mummers right now.So, what is going on? Let's look deeper.

“You swore. The gods heard you swear.”

“The gods did hear,” There was a knife in his hand suddenly, its blade thin as her little finger. Whether it was meant for her or him, Arya could not say. “A girl will weep. A girl will lose her only friend.”

“You’re not my friend. A friend would help me.” She stepped away from him, balanced on the balls of her feet in case he threw his knife. “I’d never kill a friend.”

Jaqen’s smile came and went. “A girl might… name another name then, if a friend did help?”

“A girl might,” she said. “If a friend did help.”

The knife vanished. “Come.”

“Now?” She had never thought he would act so quickly.

“A man hears the whisper of sand in a glass. A man will not sleep until a girl unsays a certain name. Now, evil child.”

I’m not an evil child, she thought, I am a direwolf, and the ghost in Harrenhal. She put her broomstick back in its hiding place and followed him from the godswood.

Jaqen immediately takes out his knife after the so-called sign of fear. And here the game starts now.

A minute! Jaqen you're a FM, you won't have a friend or you don't have an emotional bond. What friend? 

Arya is fond of her friends. She is always loyal to his friends. Jaqen knows her name as well as he knows it. Jaqen begins to manipulate Arya. He says that Jaqen is her friend and that she will cry for him later. 

What is Arya doing? If Jaqen was her friend, he should have helped her, Arya would never have killed a friend. Jaqen's words worked, so he smiled ...  Suddenly he agreed to help.

He just claimed that she only owed three deaths and that he couldn't do more. Now he does not mind helping her to kill almost the entire castle. Then? Jaqen has a plan! Even Arya is surprised that it is so fast. Even the smartest people cannot plan so fast. Jaqen made the whole plan, because he planned it well in advance. The fastest rescue operation I have ever seen in my life. 

Here Jaqen tries to give the impression of a spontaneous development, but not at all. He waits 2 names until Arya says, then he can't wait any longer for the 3rd name, precisely when the northerners are imprisoned. He knows that Arya who she is, doesn't she guess she might want to save those men? He is first resisting that, but then he gives up and says, "Okay, let's get it done." and saves the men in an hour.

Jaqen who do you think you deceive?

And there is also this "A man hears the whisper of sand in a glass"

Remember that Bolton and his soldiers came to the castle after this rescue operation. I don't think this is an unexpected situation for Jaqen. Because if you pay attention, Glover asks Jaqen after the northerners are rescued.

“This of the soup, that was clever,” the man Glover was saying. “I did not expect that. Was it Lord Hoat’s idea?”

Rorge began to laugh. He laughed so hard that snot flew out the hole where his nose had been. Biter sat on top of one of the dead men, holding a limp hand as he gnawed at the fingers. Bones cracked between his teeth.

“Who are you men?” A crease appeared between Robett Glover’s brows. “You were not with Hoat when he came to Lord Bolton’s encampment. Are you of the Brave Companions?”

So, this was not a rescue operation. This was a trojan horse operation. Northern lords were not really captured, it was just a plan. They had acted. Jaqen also acted(to Arya), he knew everything.So, these guys are going to get rid of it already, and Jaqen knows that very well, then why he get so much acting instead of telling Arya this? What was he trying to do?Here again, my "champions”

" theory comes into play. Jaqen somehow tested Arya, I don't know what this proved for him, but he planned everything and then led Arya to FM. I believe Jaqen has been after Arya from the very beginning. I even think Syrio is Jaqen. Capturing a FM is technically impossible because they can even change their gender in a matter of seconds. So he was deliberately captured. Arya is important to FM and they want to keep her and train her. I am sure that this is about the battle of the ice and fire. You may also want to read here.

https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/eo3ghb/arya_stark_and_braavos_moon_and_water_spoiler/

Thank you for read.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Two - Beatrice and Bertrand make a Grave Error

The Baudelaire children usually didn’t go out on their own. It wasn’t that their parents didn’t trust them, but there had been several instances where they had to drop everything and immediately leave town, and Beatrice and Bertrand were absolutely terrified that one day their children would be too far away for them to pick up, and they’d end up separated, and then somehow the world would explode. But sometimes, if the kids were reasonably cautious, they could take a day to themselves. 

Violet was sitting at the edge of the beach, tying back her hair. “Klaus, at what angle are the prevailing currents?” 

Klaus pulled a book from the basket, reading aloud from the chart inside. Beside them, Sunny gnawed on a rock, gave it a glare, and then tossed it aside, reaching for one that wasn’t sandstone. 

“Of course, we’ll need the right projectile.” Klaus said. 

“That’s where Sunny comes in.” Violet said. “How you doing, sweetie?” 

Sunny smiled and held up the stone, now perfectly flat. “Asill!” she called, meaning something akin to, “Ready!” 

Violet pushed back the picnic basket, and stood, waving the rock in her hand. 

“Excuse me, Violet,” Klaus said, “Why are you using your left hand?” 

“I’m curious to see if I can throw as far with my left as I can with my right.” 

“I thought this was to gather data, though.” 

“My invention may need to differentiate between dominant and non-dominant hands.” 

“I guess that’s true. Mark the rock.” 

“Shit, I almost forgot.” Violet said. She knelt down, opening up the basket, and pulling out some chalk from underneath the canned food. “Here it is.” She drew a large X, and then stood up again and skipped. The three siblings watched as the rock tossed itself across the water and then, after Klaus called out nine skips, Violet handed him her ribbon and dove in. 

Sunny cheered as the siblings were splashed. She loved getting wet and messy, though she knew it was a bad thing, as they only had a few clothes at a time. “Luto!” she cheered, meaning, “Get mud on us next!” 

“Sunny, no.” Klaus sighed, pulling a dry shirt from the basket to wipe his glasses. 

“Ye!” Sunny said, which meant something like, “Sunny, yes!” 

Klaus replaced his glasses and looked back to the water, to see Violet emerging several feet away, her hair pressed against her face. She held up the rock, and called, “How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

Violet sighed and swam closer, eventually making her way back onto the sand, now dripping wet. “I said, ‘how far?’” She repeated, handing Klaus the rock.

“Oh.” Klaus considered, absent-mindedly pocketing the stone, and then told her his best guess. 

“We’ll need exacts, of course,” Violet said, squeezing her hair, and then shaking like a dog. “We’ll need some kind of measuring device.” She took her ribbon from Klaus, tying her hair back again. “I need a measuring device. Portable and waterproof. Sunny-” 

“Gack!” Sunny shouted, pointing ahead. “Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!” 

The children looked up; the beach was, indeed, quite foggy, and up ahead, was some sort of figure moving towards them. 

 Violet immediately tensed up, and grabbed the basket, slamming it shut and flipping the lock. Klaus lifted Sunny, who leaned into his shoulder and squinted her small eyes. 

“It only seems scary because of all the mist.” Klaus said. 

Violet looked very carefully, and then instantly relaxed. She dropped the basket to the ground, and ran forwards.

“Mother! Father!” 

Klaus’s face brightened, and he also ran with his big sister, lifting Sunny higher as she cheered. Out of the mist, Beatrice ran forwards, enveloping her daughter in a tight hug. 

“Do we- Father!” Klaus squealed as Bertrand also hugged him, then decided to go the extra mile and spin him and Sunny around. Sunny laughed and threw up her arms as if they were on a ride, while Klaus just said, “Dad! Come on!” 

“I assume this isn’t urgent, then?” Violet laughed, as Beatrice let her go and looked her over. 

“No. Why are you all wet?” 

“I jumped in the water to get a rock.” 

“Well, okay. So long as your clothes dry-” 

“These will be fine, they’re the right material.” 

“Is it time to go already?” Klaus asked. “We only just stopped looking at fish and tide pools and just started skipping rocks.” 

“Sorry, Klaus.” Bertrand said, putting him and Sunny down and straightening Sunny’s bonnet. “But the post office is closed for the weekend, which means we can get into the attic if we hurry before the custodians lock the doors.” 

“Will Lemon Man send us a telegram?” Violet asked, in a sing-song voice; she’d come up with the half-rhyme when she was eight, to entertain Klaus. 

“We hope so. His last message said he should be speaking soon.” Beatrice said, her face lighting up a little. 

“And,” Bertrand smiled slightly, “When we get there, we have a surprise for you children.” 

“Cake?” Sunny asked, excited. 

“No, afraid not.” Bertrand laughed, and he took Klaus’s hand. “Come on, let’s hurry it up before we have to climb through the window.” 

Beatrice creaked open the backdoor to the post office, peered inside, and then waved and went in. Violet followed cautiously, holding onto Sunny with one arm and Klaus’s hand with the other. Bertrand took up the rear, glancing behind them every now and again just to make sure they hadn’t been followed. 

Violet remembered a few years ago- she’d had to have been ten or eleven- when they had been followed. Beatrice had quietly asked her if she recognized the man in the black hat behind them at the bookstore, and Violet realized he’d been a few tables away at the café, and Klaus muttered that he’d been at the same grocery store. Beatrice and Bertrand had taken them down several aisles of the shop they were in, zig-zagging best they could, before going out into the road, running wildly down several streets until they found a crowd, pushing through it, and then picking a well-populated spot to sleep- a homeless shelter, where thankfully nobody asked questions, and a nice lady taught Violet and Klaus how to play clapping games. But even then, Violet remembered a dread in the pit of her stomach, one that didn’t go away until they were three towns away, and the black-hat man made no further appearance, and Klaus had already forgotten the incident and almost ran away to chase a cat. 

She hated that dread, and now she had two siblings to help her parents look after, one of whom had no sense of fear. But at least they weren’t completely helpless; Sunny was quite the biter, and though Klaus was a slower learner than her, he could hold his own in a fight at least long enough for backup to arrive. They could run, they could hide. And they were all on the lookout for followers, anyone they recognized too many times- or sometimes even specific people. Every now and again, Mother or Father would see something in the newspaper, and turn it around and point to someone and warn them that person was an enemy- either from VFD or against, it didn’t matter. They were an enemy to their parents, and therefore the children. 

Beatrice directed them away from a room with some noise inside- probably a janitor, making sure everything was clean and locked up- and herded them towards a staircase. There, she signalled them several numbers with her hands- two, fifteen, twenty-seven. The stairs that creaked. Violet went up first, swiftly skipping the steps, while Klaus took a bit longer, watching to make sure Violet skipped the step before doing so himself. Even Sunny fell silent, which was very nice; it had taken them quite some time to convince her that, yes, she had to stop humming or crying or giggling when they needed to be quiet. 

Beatrice finally pushed open the door to the attic, and peered in, lighting a candle that lay beside the door. The small room flickered with the dim light, and Violet’s eyes flickered, too, as she saw the old telegrams stored around them. 

“These still work.” Beatrice nodded as Violet put Sunny down, reaching again for her ribbon. “Take one apart if you want, but leave at least one working, in case Lemony contacts us.” 

“Loco?” Sunny asked, which meant something like, “He knows where we are?” 

“He has a… general idea.” Bertrand explained, as Klaus put the basket by the wall and he closed the door. “We never tell anyone exactly where we are, Sunny.” 

“But more importantly,” Beatrice knelt by the ground, and her children quickly sat around her, forming a circle with a space left for their father, “Our surprise. Are you ready?” 

“Mother, of course we are.” Klaus tried to hide his smile. 

“Enough with the theater kid reveal, just tell us.” Violet said. 

Beatrice made a pouting face. “What? Too dramatic for you?” 

“We’re not babies, Mom.” 

“Dis,” Sunny said, which meant, “That’s offensive.” 

“Shut up, Sunny, you wanna see, too.” 

Bertrand sat inbetween his two youngest children, looking more excited than they were, and said, “Bea, dear, show them what we got.” 

Beatrice smiled so, so brightly, and then she reached into her jacket pocket, and whipped out a deck of cards. 

The Baudelaires immediately lost their minds. 

“Holy shit!” Klaus shouted, forgetting that they should still be quiet and also that he probably shouldn’t swear in front of his parents. 

“Oh my God!” Violet started bouncing up and down, a dazzling glee spread across her face. “Oh my God! You got some? We can have some? For a while?” 

“Pok!” Sunny screamed, which meant something like, “You’ll teach me to play, right? You said you would!” 

Beatrice also bounced slightly, dropping the pack onto the floor in front of Sunny, who immediately grabbed it and bit into the plastic wrap to open it. “Yes! There was some in the convenience store, and since it’s finally warm enough we could ditch one pack of matches, so we have room for these now!” 

“I’ll deal!” Klaus took the cards from Sunny, while she continued to bite into the plastic. “What are we playing first?” 

“Pesca!” Sunny said. “Go fish!” 

“Or,” Beatrice took a card from Klaus, “I could show you some tricks!” 

“Yes! Yes!” Violet cheered. She quickly turned to Sunny and said, “Mother’s card tricks are the best. She can make them disappear!” 

Sunny gave her a look of disbelief. “Jan,” she said, which meant, “Yeah, right.” 

“Well, Sunny,” Beatrice said, showing her the ace of hearts, “If you think so…” Then, with a swish of her hand, the card was gone. 

Violet and Klaus clapped, while Bertrand laughed. Sunny, however, widened her eyes in shock, and then she let out a wail. 

Beatrice’s face fell. “Oh, no, Sunny, look, I can bring it back!” She waved her hand, and the ace of hearts was in her hand again. 

Sunny stopped crying, a look of amazement on her face. “Wow!” she clapped. 

“Now,” Bertrand said, “I was thinking about Patience. Klaus, do you want to show Sunny how to play?” 

Klaus nodded, spreading out the cards. “See, Sunny, here the symbols don’t matter, but the numbers and colors. You know what numbers to look for, right?” 

“Dec!” Sunny said, which meant, “One through Ten!” 

“Good. Then after Ten comes the Jack, the Queen, and the King. Now, can you remember them in descending order?” 

“Toidi.” “Yes, Klaus, I’m not an idiot.” 

Klaus spread out the cards, and they all spread out, calling out cards they thought they could play. This continued for quite some time, to the point where Beatrice had to light a second candle so they could keep playing, and Sunny had to make sure nobody saw her yawn and would make her go to bed. 

“Who taught you how to play cards?” Violet asked, after a while. 

“My foster mother.” Bertrand said. “Beatrice learned from…” 

He trailed off, but Beatrice finished. “From my chaperone.” 

They fell silent. Then, Klaus said, “Well, I bet they didn’t think that part of the game would be trying to keep an infant from eating the- Sunny, stop it!” 

Sunny put down the queen of spades, huffing. That was enough to brighten the mood again, and Beatrice let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. “S-Sunny, please- please, they’re not food.” 

“Doo,” Sunny said, which meant, “Everything’s food if you eat it.” 

“Sunny.” Bertrand laughed. 

“God, you’re going to be a disaster when you get older.” Violet giggled, placing a  card down. 

“Xis,” Sunny huffed, which meant something like, “No, I’m going to be the Queen, so bow to me, peasants.”

“Now, Sunny,” Bertrand chided, “That’s no way to talk to your loyal subjects.” 

“Loyal my ass,” Violet snorted. “We’re throwing her down the garbage chute first chance we get. Too much dead weight.” 

“Bapa!” “I’ll show you who’s dead weight!” 

Sunny launched herself at Violet, barely shaking her balance. Violet, though, flopped on the ground, crying, “Oh no! The Queen has gone mad with power!” 

“The Queen is attacking the Royal Scientist!” Klaus shouted, before picking Sunny up and waving her in the air. “Off with her head!” 

“Viva la Revolución!” Violet cheered from the floor. 

“Now, now,” Beatrice laughed, “Does the Empress have to step in?” 

“No, the Empress can go make out with the Emperor.” Klaus said, as he tossed Sunny into the air and caught her again. 

“Well, if you insist-” Bertrand said. 

“Dad, no! Not in front of the baby!” 

“I’m baby!” Sunny cheered, as Klaus tossed her again. 

But before they could say any more, they heard a telegram machine start up. 

Beatrice immediately leapt to her feet, rushing to the machine that was printing out a small paper for them. Bertrand froze, eyes wide. 

“Lemon Man has sent us a telegram!” Klaus said. 

Violet didn’t join in his laughter, though, instead inspecting her parents’ faces. Whenever she was present for the receiving of a telegram, her parents always had the same look, a mixture that took her several experiences to decipher. First, in their jumble of instant emotions, was an excitement- whether positive or negative depended on how much of a jam they were in, though her parents made sure that they were never in too much danger to begin with. Second was relief, because it meant Snicket knew where they were and could send them news, though it was always in code. Third was a fear, fear that this would be horrible news, or someone else’s message, telling them that Snicket had been captured and someone was coming for them. Last, and hardest to figure out- in fact, Violet only placed it now, as Beatrice returned with the paper, showing it to Bertrand, who took out a pen to help decode- was a longing. She wondered what the longing was for- for the life they’d left behind, or just for their friend. They’d always seemed very fond of Lemony, whenever they discussed him; they must have been incredibly close. 

“He hasn’t used this code in a while.” Beatrice snorted. “Finally remembered it existed.” 

“Yeah, he’s gotta stop using Sebald. Too wordy.” Bertrand said. 

“First of all, that’s just how Lemony is.” Beatrice said. “Second, bold words coming from ‘attempting a botanical hybrid through the tuberous canopy, which should bring safety to fruition despite its dangers to our associates in utero.’” 

“Hell, Bea, you still have that memorized?” 

“I’m an actress, dear, memorization is my job.” 

“Get a room!” Klaus said, rolling his eyes and bouncing Sunny on his lap, where she had started to eat her bonnet. 

“You need any help with that, Mother?” Violet asked, peering over at her parents circling letters and scribbling them at the paper’s edge. 

“Thank you, Vi, but I think we’ve got it.” Beatrice said. She got to the last sentence, and said, “Alright, let’s see what our silence knot has for us today.” 

Her and Bertrand’s eyes widened, however, as they read the message, and Violet could see a flash of fear. Shit. That wasn’t good news.

“Mother? What does it say?” Klaus asked, his face falling. Slowly, Violet started to pick up the playing cards. 

Beatrice scanned the note, as if hoping that it would say something different. Then, quietly, she read. 

HURRY. YOU ARE IN DANGER. I CAN KEEP YOU SAFE BUT YOU MUST RETURN TO THE CITY. MAY BE ABLE TO CLEAR YOUR NAMES. BRING ALL ASSOCIATES. O IS NEARBY. -YSK

Violet knew “YSK” was Lemony’s way of signing off- Your Silence Knot, some kind of inside joke they shared- and she knew that O was one of the people they were running from- what was his name again? Omar? But it didn’t matter what she knew; the message chilled her. 

“The city?” Klaus’s voice grew quiet. “You said that’s where we were running from.” 

“We shouldn’t be there.” Violet said. 

Beatrice shut her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Bertrand was the first one to respond. “Children, we trust Lemony more than anyone else on this planet- except you, of course. If he says…” he trailed off. “God, this is risky.” 

“He wouldn’t ask us to do it if it wasn’t important.” Beatrice whimpered- the children had never known their mother to whimper. 

“Are we sure it’s him?” 

“Nobody else would sign off with YSK, or know our location.” 

“How can Olaf be nearby?” Olaf, that was it!

“Which one is Olaf again?” Klaus asked. 

Bertrand drew in a sharp breath. Beatrice shook slightly, and said, “He’s… he’s the one we wronged.” 

Violet and Klaus went pale, while Sunny just looked up in confusion. “Whazzit?” she asked, but nobody responded. 

“Are you… gonna tell us what happened?” Klaus prodded, and Violet elbowed him. 

“We… we can discuss that when we’re safe.” Beatrice said. “We’ll have to move quickly. If we catch a train tonight, we should be there by morning.” 

“Do you have money?” 

“I have enough. We can put Sunny in the basket if someone wears an extra jacket, so we don’t have to pay for her ticket.” 

“Sure.” Sunny nodded, excited to do some sneaking. 

“Should we really bring the children?” Beatrice asked, glancing towards them. 

“Lemony said to bring all associates. Who else could he mean? He must have some kind of plan, right?” 

“Maybe he wants us to invite the designated safe people.” 

“It would take a while for all your safehouse peeps to show up.” Violet mentioned. Their parents had them all memorize the addresses of places to go if they got separated, but she doubted Lemony would know which houses they were- or, indeed, if the people living there knew they were a safehouse. 

Beatrice glanced back down at the telegram, running her hand over the message. Then, quietly, she said, “Do you think he could really clear our names?” 

Bertrand met her gaze, and they were clearly asking the same question- do we want him to? 

“So,” Violet interrupted, knowing her parents were thinking terrible things and not wanting that to continue for much longer, “Does this mean we get to meet our mysterious Lemony man?” 

Beatrice and Bertrand each took a deep breath, and then Bertrand said, “Yes.” 

Klaus smiled brightly, and he picked up Sunny. “What are we waiting for, then?” 

Beatrice grabbed her husband’s hand, and as the children ran to get all their bags and make sure they had everything, she whispered, “We’re seeing him again.” 

“We’re seeing him again.” Bertrand repeated, his voice just as full of hope as hers.

[popatochisssp]

random headcanons for rus? :3c i love him

Sure, I think I can rustle up a few tidbits for Rus (Swapfell Papyrus)! :3

When left to his own devices, he is……….terrible at keeping track of time. Like, genuinely awful, going to bed whenever he feels like it, drinking coffee in the middle of the witching hours, just willy-nilly all over the place.

And why would he bother to stick to a rigid schedule? He doesn’t have a job where he has to leave the house and most things he might conceivably need are open late or can be ordered online, so… pfft?

You can probably imagine the downsides to this, though– when he’s in one of these periods of ??????? he disorients himself a lot, losing track of what day it is or if the time on the clock is AM or PM and as much as he likes being able to sleep and laze around freely, he’s not really fond of the ‘dazed and confused, i am lost’ feeling for periods longer than a week…

Thankfully, he almost never has to deal with that because of his exception– if he’s got somebody else around to set a schedule by, somebody ‘responsible’ or ‘normal,’ he can more or less arrange himself to their comings and goings and keep on top of things that way. Whether that person is his brother or a roommate or a s/o doesn’t particularly matter, but it’s a damn good example of why he probably shouldn’t live alone! XD

On a less adorable note… Rus is an artist, and I’ve talked about that before, but not really what he likes to do with it!

He got his start with basic pencil sketching– branched out to other things since as his skill level and access to supplies grew, but that’s his favorite medium and the one he comes back to the most. He likes still-life and nature stuff with the occasional cartoony doodle, but for the most part he just absently puts down what he sees, sometimes accurately, sometimes abstractly… it all depends on his mood at the time.

But… he does have a special notebook, filled with portraits. They’re all very detailed and very somber in tone, never done in color, always graphite or ink alone. Unlike a lot of his other pieces, which he eagerly shows around to friends for validation, he keeps the notebook hidden and he’d probably be upset if you ever found it and asked about it. Unless you really pressed him, all he’d say about it was that it was…private.

You probably shouldn’t press him. It really does seem private and you can… make some guesses about who those people are. Or were.

But you know me, I can’t end anything on a note like that, so one more cute headcanon about Rus, specifically with his s/o!

He’s a biter and he bites all the time. Never hard, though, not enough to break the skin or even leave a mark… actually, you probably can’t even call it biting, it’s more like…nibbling.

So, really, he’s a nibbler!

Your lips, your neck, your shoulder, pretty much anything you might bring near his mouth is fair game for a little gentle gnawing. 

Even he’s not really sure why he does it so much, but it’s a habit he probably won’t kick anytime soon so you should get used to it fast– or at least be prepared to elbow him off every time he starts to thoughtlessly chew on you! ;3

[beepbeeprichiellc]

#11 for reddie !

#11. We are not just friends and you fucking know it…. So this turned out mildly NSFW and a little too long. I couldn’t help myself, I’m trash.

Richie watched the man’s hand settle on the small of Eddie’s

back, lingering just above the belt. They leaned when they spoke, lightly

talking to each other as if no one else was there. It wasn’t anyone else’s

fault that the trashmouth had needed up here, drinking from across the room and

sneering in disgust. This was all by his hand but even with that realization in

mind there was still a sweltering anger that build in his chest. Every touch,

every whisper, every laugh threw him down further and further into the pits of

his own hell. He could feel himself falling but there was no way to catch

himself.

“His name is Mark.” A soft, tender voice informed him,

leaning against his arm. “He works at the same floor as Eddie, he’s a doctor.”

“Whoopee fucking doo.” Richie snorted, taking another drink

of his beer. “What makes him so fucking special?”

“Nothing.” Beverly replied, pulling down her dress and

looking past her friend. “Except Eddie likes him.”

Richie grunted in response, watching the small man’s face

light up from his current conversation. Eddie’s eyes lingered on his dates

face, practically beaming with excitement and forcing the trashmouths stomach

to the floor.

“Look I know you’re pissed that he brought someone else to

Bill and Stan’s anniversary party,” Beverly whispered, changing her stance, “But

you have no right to act so biter.”

“Oh yea?” Richie scoffed, “He’s getting laid while I spend

the night downing drinks that seems fucking fair.”

“None of this is Eddie’s fault. You wanted it this way.” She

hissed, her tone nipping at his skin. “This is your choice, so you have to just

deal with it Rich.”

“Whatever.” He sneered, shoving himself from his chair. “I

need a smoke.”

He took his time outside, savoring every second of peace

that the nicotine provided him.  It was

quiet outside of the venue, the winter month just beginning as it chased away

fall. This was what Eddie would have called an “in-between month” when Christmas

brimmed as Thanksgiving settled. Richie knew it was the little hypochondriac’s favorite

time of the year, the magical string before everything turned white, making

this night even harder on him.

The doors opened, startling the trashmouth. He turned,

taking notice of Mark who held his own smokes. The man other man smiled, “Do

you mind if I join you?” He asked kindly, gesturing to the space beside Richie.

“It’s a free country.” Richie muttered in response. Mark

nodded, lighting up his smoke and taking in a long drag. It didn’t take long

for his interest to peak, the question falling out before he could even catch

it. “So you’re Eddie’s date huh?”

“Yup.” Mark replied, smirking. “I’ve been asking him out for

months now. He only just agreed, saying that his other relationship ended and

he wanted to give us a shot.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie muttered, ignoring the pull in his chest.

“Yeah.” He replied, shrugging. “That guys loss, my gain.”

The comment stung, tearing the skin above the trashmouths

chest. “He’s a pretty cool little dude. I bet meeting all of the people is

kinda a hassle though, right?”

“Na.” Mark hummed, “I meet new people all the time. I don’t

mind, if their Eddie’s friend then their mine.” Richie fought back an impolite response,

instead inhaling his deathly smoke. “You’re uh, Richie right?” He asked,

raising an eyebrow towards the tense friend.

“That’s me.”

“Eddie’s talk about you before. Used to talk about you a lot

actually.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I was afraid to meet you, the way he

talked about you made you seem so…” His words trailed off into the night, his

lingering confession gnawing at the trashmouth.

“So what?” Richie practically begged, motioning him to continue.

Mark shook his head, killing his death stick on in the

ashcan. “I don’t know, so great I guess. He practically worshiped the ground

you walked on.”

The door opened, reviling a small man with big doe eyes. “There

you are, they are about to dance. Wanna watch?” Eddie looked over to his old

friend, his face scrunching form an emotion that was unrecognizable. “Uh-hey

Rich.”

“Hey yourself.”

He nodded, looking back to Mark before grinning and

gesturing towards the music. “Duty calls.” The date joked, walking past Richie

and through the threshold. Eddie glanced over to the trashmouth, his eyes

glossed over and distant.

Before the door could fully close, Richie found himself

calling out. “Eddie, can I actually talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

Eddie looked up to Mark who only nodded, whispering kindly. “Go

ahead. I’ll wait inside.” Gently he placed a kiss atop of his date’s forehead, disappearing

behind the door.

“Make it fast.” Eddie hissed, allowing the door to slam

shut. “I’m kind of busy.”

Richie forced the lump in his throat down before throwing

his cigarette down and stopping it with his boot. “Why did you bring him here?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mark, why in the hell would you bring him to an event like

this? Are you just trying to piss me off or something?” The words came out hash

and sharp, cutting through the already tense air.

“Oh yeah, I forgot that everything is all about you.” Eddie

sneered, shaking his head. “Did it ever occur to you that I brought him because

I like him? That I wanted to go on a date with him?”

“Bull fucking shit.”

“You are unbelievable!” The small man jeered, clenching his

fists. “My love life is none of your business Richie. No matter what you think.”

Richie snorted, rolling his eyes and spitting onto the

ground. “Oh yeah? What would he think if I told him that just last week we

fucked? Do you think then he would be so keen on dating you?”

“How dare you.” Eddie hissed, shoving the taller man’s chest

in anger. “How fucking dare you treat me like this! After all you put me through,

after all you said. I’m just doing what you told me to do asshole!”

“Last time I checked, I didn’t tell you to parade your

perfect date around our friends. I didn’t tell you to shove him in my face!” He

yelled back, planting his feet firmly into the ground. “You’re practically all

over him! God, why don’t you just take him out back and screw him already!”

“Maybe I will!” Eddie retorted loudly. “Maybe I will let him

fuck me Richie because you know what? We are just friends. Just like you told

me, nothing more nothing less. Friends don’t get to dictate my life, or who I

sleep with! So shove it right up your ass.”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Richie boomed,

“I only said that shit because I was fucking scared of commitment. For god’s

sake, this isn’t want I wanted!”

“So just because you won’t commit to me means that I have to

wait around till you do?” Eddie replied, his tone harsher than before. “I can’t

be happy with you or with anyone else because poor Richie Tozier can’t make up

his fucking mind on what he actually wants! Well newsflash, you don’t control

me! You missed out so deal with the consequences!”

Richie didn't respond, instead his body spoke for him, pull at the

smaller man’s body desperately. Eddie jerked away, stepping out of his grasp. “Don’t

fucking touch me!” He bit, tears welding up in his eyes.

Again the trashmouth didn’t reply verbally, repeating his

action again, only this time his lover reacted differently, allowing himself to

crash into Richie’s chest. Their lips met and soon they were devouring each

other. Richie moaned, pressing Eddie against the brick wall and grinding his

hips into him as if his need was too much to bare. Every time they were like

this it was like wildfire, rough and uncontrollable. They burned together,

feeding off each other’s want and desire and dismissing everting that was sure

to follow

“M-my date.” Eddie breathed, forcing Richie to pull away.

Richie growled, moving his lips to the tender flesh of Eddie’s

neck. “My truck. It’ll be quick.” Before he had time to respond, Richie was

pulling the fragile man through the parking lot and pushing him into the cab of

his car.  

As he fumbled with Eddie’s pants he could feel his own conscious

plead with him, begging him to slow down but he knew that was not possible. His

hands went to grip Eddie’s length, savoring the light gasp that followed.

Slowly he leaned down and kissed his lovers neck, ignoring the hot tears on his

own face. “I’m sorry Eddie.” Richie panted before pushing himself fully into

him. The man under him moaned, his fingers biting at the trashmouths shoulders.

“I really do love you.”

“I know Riche.” He whispered, as their pace quickened. “I

know.”

[vizhi0n]

Sawney - Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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Warnings: these next two chapters r gory and dark af

Desa didn’t sleep.

Go. 

She had her bag packed, stuffed beneath her bed. She and Jack shared a bed, and the entire time, while he was fast asleep, she remained awake. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling fan above her, and she was trying her best to remain still.

She did. Only when Jack stirred, waking in the morning, did she move. And only when someone pounded on her door, did she get up and leave the room.

It was Amy. 

“We have a problem.”

This was the first time a majority of the Estate residents had seen Negan. Men, women and children were gathered around in the courtyard, once decorated with beautiful plants and ferns. Now the ferns were dead and it was barren, save for a few spots of soil used to grow fruits and vegetables. 

Negan was standing, hands cuffed, shirtless and shoeless. He was hunched over, his once proud stature had disappeared. He looked smaller, marks of abuse evident on his bare skin. 

Next to him lay Mason’s battered corpse. Desa could see the streaks of blood against the cobblestone from where he’d been dragged. 

The community stood in a semi circle, dead silent as Mother and Father approached. Father’s jaw was set, eyes narrowed. Mother just seemed…tranquil. Emotionless. 

“What’s going on?” Jack murmured, tugging on Desa sleeve. She reached out and steadied her brother, not replying as he cowered behind her. 

Father spoke and, much to Desa’s surprise, his voice was even and steady. 

“Most of you haven’t met Desa’s catch, yet,” Father called. Desa ducked her head and almost forty pairs of eyes swiveled to look at her. “She struck big. This man is the leader of a community called the Sanctuary. They outnumber us by a hundred. They could kill us if they wanted to, but we won’t give them the opportunity. I won’t give them the opportunity. A good Father protects his children.”

Nods. Desa was aware that Mother was watching her, but she didn’t look. 

“As the enemy, this man doesn’t share that sentiment. He murdered Mason. A good worker. A former parent,” Father feinted distress, wiping away a nonexistent tear. “Now, such behavior will not be tolerated. Something has to be done. I have to discipline this man.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Some didn’t say anything at all. Desa could barely hold it together. 

I killed him. I killed him. 

It should be me.

Jack’s hand on her arm calmed her. 

I’m doing this for him. I’ve done things worse than this before.

“He will be placed in the cellar, with the others.”

Approval. Father, grinning, slapped Negan’s bare shoulder and whispered something in the man’s ear. Negan stiffened, visibly disturbed. Amy and another patrol guard gripped him by the hair, yanking him back towards sewers while Mother walked off languidly, most likely to gather her equipment.

He’s not going into that cellar.

Don’t let him.

“Des? What’s wrong?” Jack said. Before Desa could take off, he stopped her. Even firmer than last time, he demanded, “Why do you look sick? What happened — you caught that guy, right? Why did he kill—”

“Jack, I don’t know, okay? Go back to the room and stay there.”

“What?”

Lowering her voice, Desa crouched down, placing her hands on Jack’s shoulders. Leaning in close, she murmured, “There’s a bag underneath the bed. If I’m not back by tomorrow, I want you to grab that bag and slip through that hole in the gate. You know, the one a dog dug out? We never filled it back in. You’re small enough to get through there.”

“You’re scaring me. This isn’t funny—”

“It’s not a joke.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

Desa sighed. He was more stubborn than her — he’d always had been. 

“You’re a little shit you know that?”

Jack beamed, bursting out laughing. Desa did the same, tugging him into a hug and saying, “I mean it. I need you to trust me, kid. Okay?”

“Fine. I’ll run if anything happens.”

“Good. And you know what we talked about — if you see a biter, climb a tree. Don’t be loud. Don’t try and fight — run. You didn’t play striker in soccer for nothing, remember, speed-demon?” 

“Right. I got it, I got it.”

Desa prayed that he did. She watched him go, a sad grin on her face. As the crow dispersed, she checked her knife — she had it tucked away in her belt. That was all she really needed. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mother heading towards the sewer entrance. She had a bag in hand. 

Desa stopped Amy as the older women began walking past, saying, “I’m going out scavenging.”

“Not going with your catch?”

“No. If he’s going into the cellar, he’s no longer my business,” Desa sighed. “Besides. You know how much I prefer scavenging. I’m just glad he’s out of my way.”

Amy smiled, lightly patting Desa shoulder. Smoothly, she said, “I’ll let Father know.”

“Thank you.”

She was let through, pushing past the gate and waltzing from the Estate. Engulfed by the woods, she took a hard right and doubled back towards the Estate, flipping on the hood of her dark sweatshirt. She was hyperaware of the knife in her belt — she felt it move each time she walked, bumping against her thigh. The more she walked the stiffer her legs became, her movements almost robotic in nature. She was telling herself not to think. She had to just…do it.

Get it done.

Desa saw him from a distance — the guard stationed by the entrance to the sewer. She recognized him — Dylan. She could spot that bright red hair for miles. He stuck out like a sore thumb, leaning against the wall, assault rifle slung over his shoulder and a cigarette clutched between his lips. 

Desa adjusted her hook, making sure her knife was concealed before walking forward and into view. Dylan jumped, nearly dropping his cigarette before he realized who it was.

“Jesus, Des. Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have shot you!”

“Eh. I would have gotten over it,” Desa shrugged, approaching the sewer grate. She peered inside, scowling. 

“Your catch is in there. Are you happy that he’s going into the cellar?”

“No.”

Desa palmed the knife before gripping it, heaving it upwards and driving it through Dylan’s throat. He gasped, liquid bubbling past his lips as he squawked like a bird, arms flailing. Desa pulled the knife free and watched him fall, clutching his life-sapping wound. After several moments of thrashing, he fell still, the leaves around him soaked with crimson. 

Desa then proceeded to strip Dylan of his shirt, grimacing at the bloodstains. It would have to do — she wasn’t going to find another clean shirt anywhere around here. She balled it up and stuffed it into her pocket, before retrieving the assault rifle. 

Okay. Breathe steady…breathe…

She closed her eyes, counting down, finding the trigger and positioning the rifle towards the woods. She fired six short bursts, feeling the butt kick against her shoulder. 

She waited. 

And then they came. Shuffling through the trees. Desa tossed the gun atop Dylan’s body, sliding open the sewer gate and letting it flop against the grass. The group of biters had grown to over a dozen, all drawn by the sound of gunfire. She watched as one fell onto Dylan’s twitching body. The corpse let out a shriek, and Desa winced — he hadn’t died, after all. 

Like it matters now.

She entered the sewer, aware of the grunts and moans and splashing feet behind her. She kept to the shadows, staying a good deal ahead. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw that the crowd of biters had grown. 

Good so far. Good so far.

Letting out a breath, she darted to the side, sucking in her stomach and squeezing herself into a human-sized niche. The biters shifted their attention to the iron door — it opened, and Desa caught a brief glimpse of Negan inside, tied to a chair while Mother fawned over him, equipment in hand. 

The two men immediately began shouting, guns raised. Desa stood still, masked by the shadows and the walking corpses. The men began firing and Desa squeezed her eyes shut, hand gripping her knife. 

She saw Mother, escorted by two other men, make a run for it farther down the sewer, towards the main entrance. The biters that tried to follow were shot, and Desa took advantage of the distraction to duck and weave her way through the thinning crowd of undead. 

They saw her at the last minute. Desa drove the knife, hard, into the gut of the first man. The other spun and was promptly taken down, shrieking, gun unloading into the ceiling. 

Shit shit shit —

A gun went off dangerously close to Desa’s head, and she screamed. She pulled the knife free, feeling a grimy hand brush against her shoulder, and darted beneath the larger man’s spread legs, into the storage room. 

He toppled forward, and immediately the biters began feasting on his flesh. Desa kicked the iron door shut, falling to the floor. 

Silence. Nails scraped against the door, and Desa took a moment to lay on her back, catching her breath. 

“You look like shit.”

“I look like shit because I’m here to save you. It takes work,” Desa panted. She heard Negan strain against his bonds, and she crawled, stopping on her knees next to the arm of the chair. 

“Did you just one-man army that shit?” Negan gnawed on his lower lip, chest heaving with exhilaration as Desa cut past his bindings. The moment she sliced through the last bit of rope, she leaped back, ready just in case he attacked. 

Negan shakily stood, rubbing his raw wrists. There was no admiring his lean physique anymore — his torso was marred with fresh wounds, body and face gaunt from the lack of food and sleep. 

Desa pulled Dylan’s shirt from her pocket, tossing it at Negan. He caught it, staring before shooting her a gracious look. He tugged it over his head, sticking close as Desa gently eased open the iron door. 

Bodies upon bodies lay in the sewer, the surviving biters shuffling around. She gestured for Negan to follow, opening the door fully. 

“Let’s go. We have a wide path.”

They went, Negan uttering curses as he was forced to trudge through an inch of whatever the hell had accumulated in the sewer. They burst into the forest, Desa brandishing her knife and thrusting it through the skull of an approaching biter. For what seemed like an eternity they sprinted, Desa having to constantly stop and pull a wheezing, injured Negan forward. 

They burst onto the main road, and Negan collapsed to his knees. Desa searched wildly but saw no biters. Just a leaf covered asphalt trail, trees on each side. 

Negan coughed, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. Desa sheathed her knife and sunk to her knees next to him, reaching out to place a hand against the back of his damp neck. 

When Negan lifted his head, he was squinting. Desa hadn’t realized it, but he’d only seen the sun once since his capture. His eyes were straining as they adjusted to the light. 

They took a moment, before meeting each others gazes. Desa spoke first, wiping blood from her brow, both human and biter. 

“You’re free. Go.”

“Come with me.”

Desa tilted her head. She unsheathed her knife, pressing the hilt into Negan’s open palm. She pointed, saying, “About half a mile down the road, there’s an old fire station. There are working cars inside — you just have to push open the garage. They’re fueled up and ready to go. Take one, and go home.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind. Come with me. Don’t go back to that fucking place—”

“My brother is there. I told you—”

“We’ll come back and get your brother. I’ll have Simon and my men raid the place and fucking kill…I’ll fucking kill all of them,” Negan ran fingers through his hair. “I’ll kill every single one of those bastards. I’ll torch the fucking place. Burn that shit to the ground—”

“Negan. Stop,” Desa reached for him, but he pulled away. “Just stop. You don’t owe me anything. This was my choice. I promised myself that I wouldn’t leave Jack behind. If I don’t come back, the first person Father will go to is him.” 

Negan said nothing. He took a long pause before ducking his head, trying to hide his anger. Then he stood, wobbling on his feet. When he steadied himself, his lips were pressed into a thin line. 

“If I wasn’t so fucked up right now, I’d fucking carry you back. But I fucking can’t. Listen, I know shit got off to a rough start between us. You tried. I could fucking see it and maybe that why I’m not strangling you right now. You fucking tried when no one else would. You’re still fucking human.”

Desa tried not to smile, glancing to the side to hide it. She said, “I…can you make it there? To the cars? The longer I’m out here the more believable it will be. I’m supposed to be scavenging. I’ll walk with you—”

“Terrifying to sweet in a split fucking second. I like that.”

They began to walk, Negan hobbling along, coughing every once and a while. The first question Negan asked didn’t surprise Desa.

“Where’s Lucille?” 

“I have her. I…I didn’t have time to grab her for you. I had to get there before they changed you.”

“I’m done with sharp fucking things being pointed at my fucking eye. For the rest of eternity,” Negan rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. Just…I will see you again. Next time, make sure she’s with you.”

“Why do you care so much about that bat, anyway?”

“We don’t have time for a sob story. I like you, but we’re not on that fucking level,” Negan replied. “Not yet.”

Desa saw the fire station from afar, pointing. Negan immediately perked up, increasing his pace from a wobble to a very enthusiastic, energetic hobble. Desa couldn’t help but smile once more, able to put the sounds of gunfire and what had transpired in the sewer to the side. 

They stopped, and Desa took it upon herself to lift open the garage. Starting back at them were two vehicles — old sedans from before the world went to shit, scratched, dented, dirty, but functional. Desa began rummaging through the storage cabinet, finding the keys and handing them to Negan.

“Well, this is the end of our journey.”

“I fucking guess. I’m not sad about leaving that fucking hellhole. I’m still confused as hell as to why you’re with those fuckers,” Negan raised his eyebrows. “But in all seriousness…fucking thank you.”

“Don’t come back here. Don’t bring you men. Don’t send anyone to scout,” Desa said seriously. “Pretend I don’t even exist. It’ll be better for you. Better for everyone—”

“Forgetting you is going to be particularly fucking hard.”

There was no real method to Negan’s next move, Desa could tell. His lips were soft against hers, despite their dryness. His bare hand came up to hold her face, calloused palms sliding across her skin, feather-light. The gesture felt so natural, so right, that for a moment Desa thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

Then it ended. Desa was thrown back into reality. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?”

“Not without my brother.”

“Well, you know where I fucking live,” Negan chuckled. “If you do show up at my fucking doorstep, you’ll be invited in. You’re not a fucking stranger. Not anymore.”