#tried not to overdo the metaphors

[randomfoggytiger]

"I Wonder If You Think It's Safe Enough to Indulge Yourself"

(Fictober, Day 7)

*****

Phoebe Green. Fire.

The irony of two such oppositional elements combined in one destructive person-- nurture feeding nature, green-eyed monsters indulged with red hot passions-- had not been lost on Mulder. Perhaps he wasn't red-green colorblind in the strictest sense-- nojo on the rojo, that was a good one-- but his senses had failed him just enough to miss the glaring red flags, the forest for the Green. All that blazed was not a glow. All that grew did not produce.

But in the right hands, all that burned could be rebuilt. All that poisoned could be cured.

It required a discerning eye to find the right partner; and, though decades late with burn scars and thorn marks, Mulder knew now how to differentiate his colors.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

[jellojelli]

May I plz request welt bf headcannons ? Both sfw and nsfw plz

Welt Yang Boyfriend Headcanons

*a/n: 𝓜𝓻. 𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓰😍 my very first honkai love*

As always, 🛑Minors DNI🛑

Sfw

Being in a relationship with Welt is as easy as breathing. You make him feel young again and he wants to spend as long as he can going on adventures and creating everlasting memories with you. He is literally the most accommodating, easy going, and kind man in the entire universe. Just wants to travel the universe with you and hold you tight

Welt also is quite the romantic and easily sweeps you off your feet, literally and metaphorically. This man had PomPom clear the main cabin of the express to give you the most perfect confession of your life. Candle lit dinner, dimmed lights, beautiful starry view of space, even showed up with small bouquet of roses to give to you when you came to the main cabin. The only thing he missed was actually telling you to come meet him and the only reason you ended up coming in is thanks to Himeko giving you a little hint

Please remember though that Welt is a bit of a traditionalist in the sense of respecting personal boundaries both in public and private. It’s not that he won’t wrap his arm around you or hold your hand, but he won’t ever do it without asking first and he certainly won’t be overly affectionate in front of anyone. So if you’re looking for a smoochy while Dan Heng and March are there, you’re out of luck because the man will dodge you or go for a forehead kiss

With Welt being a bit of traditionalist I also think he’s a bit overprotective of you no matter your gender and sees himself as sort of the stereotypical ‘man of the house’ in the relationship. Not to say he’ll emasculate you or be misogynistic, he would literally apologize his entire life if he ever did that, he just takes it upon himself to be your protector and takes on those types of responsibilities. However, this will never make Welt stop you from going on adventures with others or alone. He wants you safe, yes, but he never wants to keep you in cage just to make himself feel more at ease

Dates with Welt are always well thought out and planned with you in mind. Welt is a pretty simple guy, he just likes seeing the sights and going to cool places, so it’s incredibly easy for him to find joy in any place or activity. Shopping? He could spend hours in a tech or mechanic shop looking at gadgets or just looking at you try on clothes or fawn over something you like. Sports? He may be up in age, but that doesn’t mean he’s decrepit and he will dunk on you with only a shred of mercy. And you know he’s always happy to go adventuring or exploring in even some mundane place like an abandoned mall or hospital.

Welt loves, loves, loves just existing with you. He loves being domestic and mundane with you by just doing your own things in the same room or doing something sweet together like cooking or doing the household chores together. He especially loves learning to cook something new that neither of you have ever tried before

Cuddle with this man and he will practically be putty in your hand. He’s literally so tense and getting a moment to just melt into your arms makes him feel 10 years younger. Also, ask him to tell you about something while cuddling and you’ll have his heart beating. He loves to subtly show off to you all the cool things he knows and can do. So please praise him and maybe lightly fangirl when he does cool things, it really brings his confidence up. He also thinks it’s really nice that you listen to him and ask him about more interesting things since most people only ask him to explain something educational and not actually retell any cool adventures he’s had

Welt is definitely the type of man to make you tea when you sound under the weather or you feel too hot/cold. He also might have a bad habit of letting you off the hook when it comes to work or the more boring bits of running and being on the express. He just doesn’t want you to overdo it like he does sometimes. You might also be the only person Welt 100% listens to regarding his well-being. Himeko and PomPom cannot thank you enough for getting this man to finally lay down and rest instead of staying up all night.

Fighting with Welt is incredibly rare and it never ever gets explosive or is done in public. The only thing he ever gets irritated with you over is if you have a lack of self preservation. He absolutely cannot stand seeing you battered and bruised, or worse on the brink of death because of an enemy. He’s great at communicating, even if it sometimes feels awkward, and he will sit you down and tell you exactly how he feels about your lack or care for yourself. Welt loves you, and not just loves you, he is in love with. You own his heart, you are his entire being, and he will be a dead man before he lets something take you from him prematurely. If you also happen to bring up how he sometimes acts and how he likes to play martyr himself, he will work on it with you so you both can stay safer while out in the field

I feel like Welt likes to give massages and he’s pretty decent at it too. He’s definitely better at massaging your back than say your legs or feet, but he will absolutely give you a full body massage if you ask. He won’t even make you pay him back, he just wants you to be comfy and relaxed

Kissing Welt will always make him flustered, doesn’t matter if it’s the first time you guys kiss or the 1 millionth time, his cheeks always get a bit pinker after. This man lives for the domestic type of kisses. He loves when you welcome him back to the express or even just back to the room with a kiss and a sweet smile. Same with the welcome kisses he loves goodbye kisses and will not leave the room or the express until he gets at least one kiss. Do not, and I mean do not, play with his kisses. Welt can be surprisingly childish when you try to play any sort of joke on him like pretending you didn’t hear him say goodbye or dodging his kisses. I mean he will legit do it back to you for as long as you did it to him all while he gives you this teasing smile. He will purposely not say goodbye to you anymore and even just straight up put his hand in your face when you try to kiss him and then chuckle at you when you give him a surprised pikachu face

This has nothing to do with Welt being your bf, but I really can’t help but think of Welt when I hear Constellations by the Oh Hellos and I can’t help but imagine him quietly singing this to himself when he thinks no one is around

Nsfw

This man right here is anything you want him to be. While he does have a slight preference for being the one in control or at the least bottoming from the top, he has no issue letting you take control whenever you want

Welt is a bit hesitant to try anything that’s not standard in what he considers ‘normal’ sex. Things like toys, bondage, or more intense kinks like choking or spanking have never really crossed his mind before. He’s willing to try them out for you though, but he won’t ever be too rough with you when it comes to spanking or choking since he’d rather be sweet and cherish you

Omg Welt is a certified pussy/ass eater and he gives earth shattering blowjobs. He can go all night just giving oral to you. Literally let him go to town on you and you’ll have to shove his head away or actually yank his hair to get him away from you because trying to actually move away is impossible when he’s got an iron grip on your thighs

He doesn’t mind if you laugh or crack a few jokes during sex. Sex is weird and makes weird noises and he’s held back some laugher himself from time to time. So don’t feel bad if you giggle at something silly that happened because chances are he’s laughing about it too. Just as long as you aren’t laughing to be mean he’ll join you in your laughing fit. I like to think at least once Welt’s glasses came off his face and just bonked you in yours in the middle of sex, definitely brought the sexy mood down for a moment when you both couldn’t stop laughing for a solid minute

Once you introduce Welt to some different kinks, I think he really takes to shibari and tying you up in general. It’s just really intimate to have him wrap different colored rope over your body and have him practically worship you while he does it

Speaking of, he loves giving body worship. Literally treats you like a king/queen and calls you as such

Loves when you praise him, again with wanting to impress you, he loves when you moan out how good he’s making you feel and loves it even more if he gets you to a point where you can barely even form a single word

Has definitely a time or two turned one of his massages into sexy time by being handsy with you of course only after he heavily hinted at what he was gonna do in case you wanted to refuse

Welt also really loves having early morning/sleepy sex with you. He especially loves it when you both get to be on a planet since on the express there really isn’t any soft, aesthetic morning light streaming in

He plays music when you guys have sex, like records filled with sappy love songs or soft songs with no lyrics will be quietly playing in the background making it feel like some scene in a movie

[darkpoisonouslove]

How would you describe your writing style and who is your writing influence(s)?

I don't even know what my writing style is anymore and if I stopped to think about it, I'd have an existential crisis so I just write.

I think that if you're looking to improve, you shouldn't think in terms of what your writing style is but in terms of what you need in order to accomplish your goals for the story. Every scene if not every paragraph requires different things in order to function optimally. What I do is think about what I'm trying to accomplish and then decide from there what kinds of tools I need which basically means that your style can (and often should) change with every scene. An action scene would need snappier, shorter sentences and more focus on actions rather than thoughts and emotions in comparison to a quiet, heartfelt moment between the characters. So in that sense a writing style should be versatile enough to accommodate your story's needs rather than hinder you if you're focusing too much on it. It's also completely possible and okay to experiment with different styles for different stories.

That being said, some thoughts on my own style just came to me. It's definitely become less flowery than it used to be and I am relieved because I was using the turns of prose and metaphors to fill in the blanks left by the lacking substance. Now I just focus on saying what I have to say as clearly as possible. If I can insert a clever play on words in it or some cool imagery, that's great but it's not my priority. My thoughts tend to be abstract so I focus more on grounding them in easily perceived images because otherwise they're completely incomprehensible. Metaphors come in great use for that purpose but I'm using them way more sparingly than I used to, only when I really want to emphasize some idea or emotion. Otherwise, I just focus on the physical aspects of a scene and the senses, sometimes character thoughts though I try not to overdo it on that front. I noticed a while ago that I tend to get stuck in a character's head and go on and on about their inner world, which is a problem when the story is supposed to be about the interaction between two (or more) characters or between the character and their surroundings. I've put conscious effort into fixing that and I'd say it's working, at least partially. I'm pretty happy with the changes I've implemented in my writing style and process as a whole but there's always further things to iron out as you evolve as a writer.

I feel confident in saying that I do not have writing influences when it comes to a writing style. I've never tried to copy the way someone's prose looks and feels. I could stop to admire someone's style if it's caught my eye but I wouldn't try to emulate it. For example, I admire Douglas Adams' way of describing things but I could never do that myself and I wouldn't force myself to because it's just not the way in which my brain functions.

When I read a story, I'm mostly looking to borrow a technique from it rather than a style. That is to say, I am looking at the way the plot is structured or how the author builds suspense, which is way more a matter of observing the bigger puzzle pieces, the plot beats if you will, rather than the writing style itself. To be perfectly honest in the last 5+ years I've leaned way more into watching movies and TV shows rather than reading to lead to that result as you can learn about story construction from visual media but not about a writing style. It works for me because that's what I want to focus on.

When it comes to writing style, my philosophy is that I will figure it out myself. I am dreadfully independent when it comes to my creativity and refuse to accept any guidance. If I read any writing tips or examine a story with the idea of learning from it, I fully trust my own judgment and process. I follow the principle of trial and error - I test out everything that I think might work for me and if it doesn't, I immediately discard it. And that's about it!

[slickchickchocolatier]

i believe my bf heelel is into some kinks. i wonder- like curious to know what kinks and positions he has tried so far on the reader,u dont have to describe them if u dont want to,u can even list it out idm!

Oh it’s fine. Lol this blog knows no shame.

So since Se7en is about or over a year old now (maybe more, can’t remember off the top of my head) let’s just say….a shorter list is what hasn’t he done…bc by now, you both covered every single position known to man and have done a lot…ALOT. Heelel has no limits or boundaries, since he is so very obsessed with reader, he has done everything (even against her own wishes) that’s the type of guy he is. It’s not necessarily just bc he’s the devil. It’s bc he is insanely in love with you that he has to (metaphorically speaking) devour every inch of you. I’m talking fucking your tits, anal, and oral (both you and him receiving. I picture him being very fond of the 69 position.)

Like heethan, he is also a masochist. But he kind of overdoes it bc…he’s the devil. He wants to see broken skin, blood, toes curling, and screams. Ofc it’s all in the line of pleasure, like he’s never going to just go and do physical harm to you that would cause great pain and injury for no reason. To everyone else, yes. Do you? No. But pain with pleasure, hell yeah.

I’ve also had a random thought of just how far he would go in his pace and momentum, and the man is relentless. I randomly thought of him fucking reader so hard, that she ended up vomiting due to exhaustion and just being railed so hard. (It was seriously a random thought bc sometimes I think about heelel and heethan from time to time.) but that gives you an idea.

I also had a thought where he stole Asmodeus’s ancient and original scripture of the Kama Sutra, and kept it so he could replicate all the positions with you, and even alternate some of them to better fit his desire. He loves making you feel good, but there are some times…the man is selfish and wants to feel good, even if you’re hurting.

My random thought about the anal piece was when I was answering some asks. I didn’t draft it but it came to my head out of nowhere and the way I saw it go down is, reader being hesitant bc she’s never done it before and wasn’t feeling too comfortable about it, but heelel forced the issue and pretty much restrained her with his own hands and just went for it. He was rough all up until he lined the tip to her rear, he actually got a bit gentle bc he knew it was her first time doing it, so he kind of verbally guides her. “Take a deep breath baby, this is going to sting a little.” Heelel spent lifetimes playing (and murdering) the succubus’s and stray angels, so he’s very experienced. I pictured him clicking his tongue and tapping the tip of his d*ck on your rear cheeks and calmly telling you to take a deep breath, and exhale as he enters. He still had readers wrists pinned behind her lower back with one hand while he used the other to slide in and as he goes in inch by inch, he would say things like “breath, hold. Now exhale.” And once he was all the way in, he’d thrust in and out at a very slow pace, giving you time to stop sobbing and start enjoying. Once he hears your moans coming in, he’ll pick up the pace and go harder and harder. He’ll watch reader go from sobbing victim of non-con to a filthy minx that wants more of him. And he loves to witness that transition. The second time around you guys do it, he ditches the slow and understanding pace and just goes for it, making that first noise coming out of your mouth a sharp yelp.

He’s very dominate, so any position that would render him vulnerable is out the window. He’s always going to be in control. Sven if you’re on top, those hands of his are going to be squeezing your waist and you’re basically being lifted repeatedly and slammed down by his rhythm.

On oral sex….bro…I picture this dude to be extremely brutal! Like making you choke on it, taking it out every once in a while to slap your face with it, sticking it back in your mouth and forcing you to gag on it until your throat bleeds. He’s a raging beast and that’s the whole reason why he made you go through all his brothers to turn you immortal, bc mortal version do you won’t survive.

He has a few favorite positions: reverse cowgirl, standing missionary, you straddled on his lap while he’s on his throne, and doggy.

And yes…he still likes to give it to you in his demon form or partially demon form. A lot of ppl did not like this or felt uncomfortable, but that’s what heelel likes. He’s twisted and very sadistic (the devil y’all) and he likes to make reader uncomfortable sometimes bc he loves seeing you scared and begging, but loves it even more when he sees you transition from being scared to wanting him more. I usually picture him doing you with his horns/antlers protruding out of his head. Since he doesn’t have regular devil horns like the devil is traditional portrayed with, he has a pair of beautiful and magnificent antlers, like an elk. When he’s in his full demon form, he almost looks like a wendigo, and he can adjust his size and be either colossal (like in the battle towards the end of the series) or he can be 7 feet tall (which is usually how big he’ll become when fucking you…get ready to take in 12 inches)

When he is fucking you in his demon form, it is very sinful and demonic, and you’ll feel very ashamed and dirty after it’s all done, but he won’t care. All he can think about is how much you were screaming and begging for him to keep going. Again, it always starts off with you fighting and begging him to not do it, but once he starts hurting your spot and making you leak everytime the tip of his dick punches it, you kind of go dumb (literally fucks uou dumb) and you’re a slob wrong mess.

[girl4music]

“It’s OOC for Willow to be doing this.”

3x18

*Interrogation with Jonathan takes place*

WILLOW: "Fantasy's are fun, aren't they Jonathan?"

JONATHAN: "Uh... I guess."

WILLOW: "We all have fantasies that we’re powerful, more respected. Where people pay attention to us.”

JONATHAN: "Uh... maybe."

WILLOW: "But sometimes the fantasy isn't enough, is it Jonathan? Sometimes we have to make it so people don't ignore us. Make them pay attention. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

JONATHAN: "Erm, you... Want me to pay attention?"

They may be overdoing it a bit with the magic addiction metaphor but it’s not OOC because it’s not about the magic. People need to understand this. It’s never been about the magic. The only reason why it’s magic is because that’s the channel to which to have power and control. It’s what Willow is best at so of course it’s magic that would be the substance to abuse. But the whole point is to have that power and control to make people pay attention to her. To not regard her as worthless. We, of course, know that that isn’t the truth of who she is. People do not view Willow that way anymore. But she still believes that they do deep down. Her mindset is still that of somebody who is just faking their confident persona and people will see right through it to the nerd within. Even as powerful as she is here, she still feels like she’s a fraud, an imposter, and if she doesn’t keep up with this overcompensated dangerous identity she’s taken on, they’ll get tired of her. They’ll leave her behind because she’s nothing more than a wannabe and not a true hero to the cause of the greater good. Not a true witch. Not a true lesbian. Not a true anything except a hapless, loveless, useless loser. That’s why she does all this chaotic, violating, destructive shit with her magic. She believes that if she doesn’t show her immense power as often as she can and to as much extent as possible, she will be exposed for being fake.

It’s got nothing to do with magic. It’s a severe insecurity issue brought on by unchecked emotional complex trauma of bullying and abuse from both her school and home life. Why the writers depict all of this as if it’s only to do with magic addiction is maybe something they shouldn’t have done. I will agree with that. But it’s not out of character. It can’t be because Willow has been power hungry for a long fucking time in the show. We just didn’t want to see it. We didn’t want to think of Willow as going down a destructive path with her magic usage. We didn’t view it as corruption that she was quickly accumulating power. We viewed it as ‘Uber Witch’ heroism. But now in this season it’s revealed to us for what it really is. Villainy. This is something Willow herself doesn’t realize and it’s part of what makes it so real and relatable.

So what if it’s through magic? That’s not the point. And it has never been the point. That’s just an effective tool through which to use and explore the themes of power corruption and addiction with. And maybe I’m giving the writers too much credit here but I feel like it’s purposeful for it to seem mixed signal-y because the majority of people watching this arc are looking at it through the perspective of all the other characters. Not through Willow. But this is what is going on in Willow’s head. This is her paranoia hitting her full force. Maybe she does feel out of character. Maybe she’s doing the most to not feel that way. Maybe it all still is just a fantasy for her and she will never truly achieve what she wants. She will never achieve true love. She will never be a hero equal to Buffy. She’ll always be a loser no matter how hard she tries not to be.

Again, we as the audience see that that is not the truth. But it’s true to her. It’s her reality. Because that’s just how mentally ill she is. And they do not tell you this until it’s way too late. Willow does not confess this until she has to. We never really see just how bad it is for her until now so it does seem like it comes out of left-field and just made up for the sake of the story this season. But mental illness is like that. People on the outside-looking in do not see it because the one going through it keeps it well hidden until something awful happens. Dawn could have died and so Willow is like “Okay. Enough is enough. Time to come clean.” And it’s the most heroic thing she does in the whole show as far as I’m concerned. This is what makes her a hero amidst an arc where she is the villain. That she fesses up and then tries really hard to get back on track again and what happens next is not her fault.

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

Moments of Stupidity 8

Now that I did this post, I wanna put here that I don't think I have a lot of stupid things of this episode because a good chunk of what I thought was dumb was the writers' doing than the characters' doing. What I mean by that is, for example, I find it dumb that Vortex and Bee get to be openly dating when the episode right before it - not in uploading order or whatever - has it be a bad thing for Stolas and Blitzo to do it so openly. Yet that stupidity is more on the writing than anything, it feels like, and I'm just here to call out the characters for doing stupid things that directly affect the plot or at least would have some bearing on it. And of course, Bee and Vortex not even trying to hide the fact that they're a couple doesn't matter in both the episode that revealed it but also the overall show by far. If it ever does matter, then I'll be sure to include it in a post that's about an episode where it actually matters

(And sorry if I offended anyone by saying that anything dumb was of the writers' doing. I just can't agree with the writing or think of it as clever, especially if you were to look at Helluva Boss's overall narrative)

(Oh, and another thing about the writing that doesn't make sense to me, since I'm on this, is that the sin of Gluttony wants Blitzo to be reigned in because he's overdoing shit. TVtropes may have said that Blitzo was more indulging in pride to forget than gluttony but it's probably ridiculous if I really have to go to TVtropes to make more sense of things. Plus, TVtropes probably still doesn't make sense, on what it said about Blitzo indulging in pride. If anything wants to tell me more on that or talk to me about it, then please do)

Queen Bee -

We start off with Loona trying to make small talk with one of the girls there being someone she should recognize is a metaphorical bitch. The other two girls didn't talk so there's no telling with them but at least the poodle is definitely someone who has had encounters with Loona before. Seriously, the 'lunatic Loona' nickname and the picture of Loona puking in her phone? And if I remember right, Loona even asks why she still has that, meaning that Loona is aware that the poodle took that picture before. So why couldn't have Loona tried making small talk with literally anyone else?

Next is Loona again, when she decides to start shit with a fucking sin and doesn't back down. Fuck seriously, she's supposed to be in her early twenties yet she's acting like a reckless teen. Actually, I'd like to think that, even if Loona was an actual teenager, she would still be smart enough to be aware that she's got no chance against a powerful figure like an embodiment of sin and so she shouldn't be treating someone like that like she does with anyone else. And regardless of her actual age, Loona grew up in the fucking pound in Hell where people would do shit to her and she should have always been in a position where she had to survive however she can, at least throughout her childhood. Doesn't that kind of survival situation lasting for as long as it did supposed to teach you to pick your goddamn battles? Unless there's something to that lifestyle that I don't know about, I just don't get why Loona would act like this. To think, Loona only backs down because it made Vortex upset, too

[anxiouslyrunningaway]

About starting lightly

Okay okay, You are thinking oh fuck you, starting lightly, and well yeah, feel free to do so. But also, I've tried. This is not the first time \ I am trying to do something. The thing is, I tend to be very over-motivated and tend to believe I should start with perfect ----everything. Okay, if I do not have the right gear what is even the point? Ad if and when I start I must be stellar okay? No threading lightly, I expect exceptional performance from day one. And yes, I fail. I tend to start abruptly get that dopnaie kick, overdo things, and get so tired and sore all over my body then I just cease completely.

But, this time I ASKED FOR HELP,

I asked my sister if she could give me advice about how to start running and whether I could join her and her partner on their next jog (both runners and quite fit), just to….have the motivation to leave the house. I joined them for a few hundred meters and then I heard her shouting instructions from time to time too fast! slow down! turn around and run back, that was quite a distance for today! They were both very supportive of my curiosity and gave me some more advice about how long, fast, and often to run to be able to sustain the routine and feel good after the run. Yes, you are supposed to feel good after the run (who would have thought? Not me!). Sure I felt a bit exhausted, my legs were tired but not to the point I needed to lay down and die. I did my research this time and concluded that brisk walking for 5 minutes is a good warm up then I would help myself with the scheme of Couch to 5 K - 1 minute of running and 1 minute of walking (here I admit I cheated a bit and I was drawn to overdo it, trying to figure out if I can run for 2 minutes or 3 minutes). This phase-training is ideal to start with it helps your heart and body to get used to performing and to calm down in short intervals and helps to build your stamina. A very important step that is doable and sustainable. Not only doable but is a crucial phase to help oneself build self-confidence in the abilities of one's body. Of course, I would not be able to run 30 minutes consistently. But with 10 minutes of heat up and 10 minutes of wind down plus 10 minutes of interval training divided into walking and running

One thing I always struggle with is perfectionism, I need to prove to myself I can do more than average what is expected of me. Ultimately, very often I ended up overdoing it and not only I did not end up finishing the thing, but I was left with horrible feelings of failure and inability to commit. Starting lightly really does heighten your chance to actually come back for the same amount the next day and the next day. I felt so good after my run! And it is all thanks to the fact that I was not trying to prove to myself I could run this fast and this distance without stopping, I wanted to start. Not to run but to build the base. I kept on reminding myself that walking is not something I should be ashamed of (you will meet people cheering you on when you suddenly switch from running to walking thinking it is the right thing to do - which can be quite frankly very frustrating experience. Even from the fellow runners - please don't. I do know you mean well but do not impose the performance myth onto other runners especially the forever beginners who are just trying to start, to find ways to feel comfortable running and even more importantly, to feel comfortable walking when it feels like we cannot run anymore.) One of the things that was keeping me from running was the idea of the other - all the people who could see me running - the potential witnesses to my failure - having to stop and catch my breath. Just let go of your ideations of the ideal image of a runner. In the metaphorical but also very physical way, however shallow it sounds, no matter how little I seemed to care about those aspects my insecurities started to appear the minute I was considering running - clothing, pace, tempo, sweat all that. I kept repeating to myself that I was trying, just giving myself a break for once and disregarding my inner critic. And it was not easy.

If I am absolutely honest, starting with running in a new/different city was a big help. It was not really about the inability to start back home, but rather feeling a bit more at ease, and definitely a bit better than I did in Prague. I came to Brussels for an internship for two months and coming from a hilly-ish cityscape to the outskirts of the city where the closest bike lane/running lane is 5 minutes of walking distance was a big help. It was not the factor that miraculously helped me transform into somebody with strong willpower, but if I am honest, it was a nice change, a bit of help. So yes, I am not sure how long would it take (and if ever) to start back in the city of my previous residence. But rather about looking for the reasons whether it is possible right now I want to focus on how to start right now. Or maybe later. For me personally, it took a few months of ruminations to finally get up and start. So whatever the final impulse I was acting on this time was a result of thinking about it. The idea of wanting to start grew in me slowly but steadily. I think in the end I really wanted things to work out this time. Especially after all the failures I was dealing with at that time (break up after quite an exhausting long-distance relationship after 1,5 years, career failures, academic failures, and the list could go on, but hey, we are here), I was desperate for a feeling that I can control at least some aspects of my life. I can build up something myself, that would be relatively independent of the circumstances of the outside world. That I possess the willpower to change the course of my life, I can train for a marathon and even if it takes months or years, I can commit to it. I can observe the process, be in the process, and focus on the progress, not being the best but just making it to the finishing line.

So I guess we will see about that?

[thisismysecondrodeo]

“Operation Seduce Ted” - Ted Lasso x AFAB!Reader EXPLICIT Fanfic

Rating: Explicit

Description: You've been dating Ted for a while and things seem like they're going well…so why haven't you slept together?

Enter Operation Seduce Ted.

Tags: AFAB!reader, One-Shot, Smut, Rough Oral Sex, Porn with barely any plot, Ted Lasso's Canonically Huge Dick, Mostly fluff and smut, General sexy things

Read on Tumblr below or on ao3:

AN: Honestly I just wanted to practice my smut and I thought Ted Lasso x AFAB!Reader would be an excellent arena for practice. Did I say practice? Because I mean practice. Always looking to improve! Fic masterlist

//

You knew there was something special about Ted Lasso from the moment you met him. And maybe a little bit before you met him too.

When the two of you first crossed paths, you were at the Crown & Anchor on a terrible date. Your friends had been trying to get you to put yourself out there for quite a while, all of them smitten with partners of their own, so you finally agreed to download a dating app and go out with Chris. Chris, who had seemed rather inquisitive and kind while chatting but showed up in a stained T-shirt and flip-flops and positioned himself in the pub so he could watch the end of the football match on the telly above your head. 

After many mind-numbing, painful minutes of trying to draw and keep his attention you sighed and cast your gaze around the pub, locking eyes with a mustachioed man you recognized from social media. Your eyebrows raised in recognition and he gave you a small smile, but then Chris cheered loudly and abruptly and your expression turned dour as you turned back to your date. Trying to be polite, you asked him what had happened and you were summarily ignored, his silence in response embarrassing you. You rolled your eyes and went to the bar to get yourself another drink. You knew you could just leave, but having to report back to your friends what a failure tonight had been kept you from bailing early. As Mae handed you a full pint, you felt someone lean against the bar next to you. You caught a whiff of cologne, not obtrusive but spicy and clean. You used to work in a makeup store that sold cologne and you tried to identify it but as you turned to see who was wearing it you figured maybe it was only American.

"Not much of a football fan?"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word, 'fanatic.’ I like it okay. Follow it enough to recognize you, Coach Lasso."

"Shoot, so my reputation precedes me… I hate when that happens. There's nothing I like more than a good first impression. But I'll guess I'll give it a shot anyway, I'm Ted." He stuck his hand out and you were struck by how warm he was, literally and metaphorically. He squeezed gently and you were pleased to note that he didn’t overdo it and crush your hand just to prove he could like so many other men might. 

"Y/N."

Mae placed a pint in front of Ted and he took his hand back to bring it to his lips, which gave you a chance to really look at him. He was older than you, but aging gracefully it seemed; the gray hair popping up at his temples and mustache only accentuated his good looks. He was well groomed, though his hair was losing a bit of its hold, one loose tendril just barely scraping his eyebrow. You weren't lying when you said you recognized him—it just wasn't really from football. It was from a very vocal subsection of Richmond fans who found him incredibly attractive. You didn't participate in the lusting online but you'd certainly seen the fan cams and photo edits.

Ted looked at you over the edge of his pint as he sat it on the bartop and you smiled at him. It was automatic, something about being this close to him made you a little giddy, which was not something you often felt. In fact, you were more likely to be annoyed by a random conversation struck up in public than charmed. But everything in you wanted Ted to keep talking to you, to keep his hazel eyes locked on yours.

"Sorry I didn't mean to keep you from your company, just seemed like you might not have been having the best time."

You looked back over at Chris and realized he still didn't know you were gone; apparently some player had just gotten a yellow card. "Well, shit company," you shrugged quickly, downing your drink and catching the way Ted's eyebrows rose as you did, an impressed smirk putting his dimples on full display. "Are you offering me a better time, Ted?"

You watched as a blush crept up Ted's cheeks at the innuendo and you waited to see what he'd say. You didn't think you were reading him incorrectly but it would certainly suck to get rejected twice in one night. At least a shag with the AFC Richmond manager would be a better end to this failed date story when you repeated it to your friends.

Ted cleared his throat and then mirrored your earlier actions, quickly downing the rest of his pint. He caught Mae's eye, waved an index finger over your empty pint and his, and then made an okay gesture, signaling that the drinks were on his tab. You grinned at the gesture. He smiled brightly at you, much less embarrassed now than he had looked when you had not so subtly propositioned him, and tilted his head towards your date who was once again bellowing at the tv screen.

"That shouldn't be hard to manage."

Except the two of you didn't shag. Instead, he led you on a meandering walk of the Richmond green after buying you ice cream and you got to know each other. It felt like a real date, with both of you taking a genuine interest in what the other had studied in school (English and sports medicine), your favorite foods (barbecue), and what you did for fun (reading, both of you). The lampposts were lit by the time you made it back to his place, where he offered you a glass of wine and you shook your head no before leaning over and kissing him briefly. When you pulled away he chased your lips and you smiled into another kiss, moaned when his mouth opened to yours and you realized he tasted like chocolate ice cream. The two of you made out like teenagers in his kitchen, his hips pinning yours to the counter, his arousal evident. When he released you, taking a step back and a deep breath, you whined, surprising yourself with how turned on you were.

"I've, uh, really enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N." Ted was looking down as he spoke, suddenly sheepish.

"Oh God," you groaned. "Are you about to try to let me down easy?"

"No no not at all! I mean you’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you're whip-smart. I am very into you, Y/N."

You looked pointedly at his pants. "I can see that." Ted blanched but made no move to adjust himself, obviously taking it for the compliment you intended it to be.

"I just … I know the one-night stand thing isn't for me. I'd like to really get to know you. Take you out on a date that I asked you on instead a’ just savin’ you from one you didn't want to be on. It’s late though, you're welcome to stay and I'll take the couch"

You sighed, taking both of his hands in yours and tugging him back a little closer. "I get it. And I appreciate it. Unfortunately," you paused and kissed him on the lips, "I am also just very turned on by you right now." You kissed quickly across his jawline, leaning closer to place an open-mouthed kiss behind his ear, pleased when he shuddered and screwed his eyes closed tightly. "So if this isn't happening tonight I should go home. To respect your silly, silly wishes." 

Ted smiled, opening his eyes again. "So I can take you out again soon?“

You walked towards his front door, picking up your coat and bag before giving him one more parting kiss.

"The sooner the better."

//

It had been 2 months since that night at the Crown & Anchor. You saw Ted at least twice a week, more if you could help it, he'd met your friends and you'd met his. For all intents and purposes, you were in a relationship with Ted Lasso.

Which is why you were especially on edge when you rounded up Rebecca and Keeley for a Thursday night happy hour to discuss why the two of you still weren't having sex. 

You sipped a glass of white wine and sighed. “I know blue balls aren't what everyone says, but God I feel like I have them.”

“Oh, babe,” Keeley stretched across the table and gently patted your hand. She was wearing a form fitting baby blue dress, having long ago dropped her work blazer somewhere behind Rebecca’s plush white couch. “It’s not the end of the world! What have you two done together?”

Rebecca was in loungewear, a rare sight for both of you to catch her looking so relaxed, but it suited her. She playfully covered her ears at Keeley’s question. “I don’t know if I want to hear this, I got enough of an earful from Sassy.”

You laughed, respecting Rebecca’s discomfort. “Well to put it simply all the bases are loaded, I'm just looking for a home run.” 

The two blonde women stared at you blankly and you looked at them in confusion, taking another sip of your drink. 

“God, you two really are spending a lot of time together; was that an American sports reference,” Rebecca questioned, rather astonished. 

“See,” you exclaimed, “that just proves my point! I mean we go on the best dates, we laugh, we connect, and then we go back to one of our places, snog like mad, and then either he goes home or he sleeps on the couch.” 

Rebecca sighed, moving from the armchair she had been reclining in to sit next to Keeley who still had a light hold on your hand. “Y/N, I’ve known Ted for years now, and I’ve never seen him so smitten. I think he’s just afraid to be too much too soon. He wants you to set the pace because he’s been burned before.”

This wasn’t a surprise to you, you and Ted had talked about the end of his marriage, his relationship with Henry, the death of his dad. You’d had a number of deep, serious conversations, especially considering it was still early days. 

“He needs to know that you're really in this and that you want him as much as he wants you,” Rebecca finished her thought before finishing her glass of wine, gesturing to ask Keeley if she wanted another, but she declined. 

“God I think I want him more,” you complained, letting your head flop to the back of the couch.

“So it’s settled. Operation Seduce Ted is starting now!”

You never agreed to call it Operation Seduce Ted, but you didn’t put up much of a fit on Friday when Keeley took you shopping for lingerie. It had never really been your thing, but you couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing yourself dolled up in ribbon and lace. Despite the fact that you currently hadn’t had sex, you knew Ted well enough to know that he wouldn't actually care what you were wearing, but he would certainly appreciate the effort. You had forgotten how fun it could be to put a partner first; the arousal that came with wondering what Ted would see and think when you revealed the black lace corset you had picked out, tight and sheer, with the matching garter and thong. If the way Keeley’s jaw dropped when she saw you was any indication, Ted hopefully wouldn’t be able to form thoughts. 

You texted Ted on the way back from the boutique, asking him if he wanted to come over in a few hours. The two of you didn’t have standing plans, but it was nearly a given that you’d see him on Friday nights unless there was a match. You looked up some American recipes, wanting to cater to him, but also keep it simple, not wanting the food to make or break the date. You ended up with store-bought fried chicken (a grease fire would undoubtedly ruin your night), homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, and a side salad. And most importantly, you booked two tickets to Kansas for the end of the season in a few months. You were putting yourself out there, and it felt a bit risky, but he'd made references to things he'd want to show you in Kansas with Henry. The dates of the flights could be moved, you’d paid extra to make sure of it, but it was about the gesture. You hoped it showed him how much you truly cared. 

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on the gravy, you heard Ted’s key in the door. You were thankful you had already changed, putting a simple olive green, knee-length dress on over your lingerie. You listened as he followed a familiar coming home routine; it pleased you that the routine existed and that you could name all of its steps: shoes toed off at the door, backpack on the floor next to them, jacket on the hook on the inside of the closet, keys in the bowl you keep on a table in the walkway. And then he was behind you, his broad shoulders caging you into a warm embrace and…normally a kiss, but you were surprised when there was no bristle of his mustache against your neck in greeting. You set your spoon down and turned in his arms, curious, but instead of meeting your gaze he released you and stepped back. 

You immediately saw on his face that Ted thought something was up with you. He was nervous, his eyes shifting over you just as yours shifted over him, both of you struggling to read each other. You opened your mouth to try to reassure him, but he beat you to the punch. 

“Are you breaking up with me,” he blurted, and you can tell he had been trying not to say exactly that. “I know we haven’t really put a label on things or, uh, crossed the finish line, so to speak. I appreciate you being patient with me. I just think we’ve really got something here and I don’t want to ruin it by…overdoing anything.” 

Ted let out a deep breath when he finished, and you snapped your mouth closed quickly when you realized you were gaping at him. Instead of answering, you took the suddenly dejected man by the hand and led him into the living room, encouraging him to sit before you walked to your desk and picked up an envelope.

“I was saving this for after dinner, but I think you should open it now.” 

He looked at you confused, but didn’t question it, just unsealed the small manila envelope and pulled out the two tickets to Kansas. You watched his eyes get a little misty as he realized what you’d done. 

“I’m in this, Ted. With you. I am on this ride for as long as it will go. I want to see and know every part of you.”

Ted’s expression cleared and settled into a mischievous smirk as he sat the envelope on the coffee table and placed his hands on your waist, tugging you into his lap so you straddled him on the couch. 

“Every part, huh?”

“Well I have to admit tonight I'm a little more interested in one specific part of you.” You punctuated your confession by grinding your hips down over his and he groaned before pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand scratching through the hair at the nape of his neck. He tugged gently at your bottom lip and you gasped, arousal coursing through you. Ted released you from the kiss, but didn’t move far, nudging his nose against yours. 

“We should put the brakes on, you went through all the trouble of making dinner.”

“Oh fuck dinner,” you griped and Ted chuckled at you, a low husky sound that went straight to your core. “I want you so badly, Ted, you have no idea.”

Ted held your gaze with his as he reached between your bodies, slipping a hand under your dress, and stroking his long fingers over the now obvious wet spot in your underwear.

“Fuck darlin’,” Ted’s voice was so low the bass of it made your heart skip. His head fell back against the couch as if overcome with the knowledge of how much you desired him. But his fingers never stopped moving against you, gently, just barely enough to take some of the edge off.

He used the hand that had been holding your hip to push your dress up further, his large, warm palm sliding up your thigh, stopping briefly to toy with your garter and swear under his breath, until finally both hands were under your dress and he was looking at you again, watching your reactions to his every move. You dropped your forehead to his collarbone with a shaky, “fuck,” before dragging your tongue over his pulse point, sucking lightly, and then moving up to press your lips to his ear and ask, “bed?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ted stood so abruptly he nearly threw you from his lap and you giggled, not surprised that sex with Ted could be just as fun and silly as it was sexy. He helped you get your legs under you before he tugged you to the bedroom and playfully tossed you against the pillows, wasting no time in stripping off his top layers. You got barely a second to take in his broad frame, the dark hair curling against his chest, before he was climbing over you and placing kisses every inch of the way from your ankles up. 

You had anticipated that based on the amount of reassurance Ted needed to have sex with you, he might be a bit timid in the bedroom and that was okay. You had mentally prepared yourself to take charge, which was a role you didn’t mind. But apparently, you had opened the floodgates, and now nothing was holding Ted back from showing you his devotion. His hands and mouth were everywhere, gripping your waist, mouthing at your hip, licking at the crease of your thigh, tickling against your collarbone. 

“Jesus Christ, Ted, please never stop touching me,” you begged, not even a little embarrassed when you realized he’d barely started touching you. Ted leaned up and grinned, one hand toying with the hem of your dress, before slowly pushing it up and off of you, as if just now realizing he could. Ted sat back on his heels and just stared at you laid out underneath him, the grin sliding off his face into pure awe. He traced his fingers along the lines of your corset, the waist of your thong, and playfully snapped your garter belt. 

“Gorgeous.” 

You blushed under Ted’s praise and he raised an eyebrow. He could tell that it had done something to you, and you knew he would be filing it away for later. He lowered himself, slower now that he could see all of you and hone in, and his mouth found your nipple through the corset. His warm, wet tongue laving over the slight scratch of the lace had you convinced you might come from that alone. He moved his attention to your other side, and your hand came up to grip lightly at his hair and he froze, your nipple between his lips as he released a guttural moan, his hips jerking against nothing. Now it was your turn to catalog something for later. You pulled him up to your mouth, sliding your tongue against his as you shifted your body, feeling his erection pressed against your hip. You reached for his tented pants, not breaking the kiss, quickly flicking open the button on his khakis and carefully rolling down the zipper so you could reach inside his boxers, and… fuck he was big. You had some idea, but having never seen or felt it firsthand it made your mouth water with anticipation and Ted could tell, considering his tongue was still in it. You broke the kiss, your hand still wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, take it off.”

“Yours or mine,” Ted gestured to your outfit and his undone pants. 

“Everything. All of it. I don’t fucking know, just…” 

Ted laughed a little at your frustration, placing a small kiss on your nose before he stood and removed his pants and boxers while you undid your corset. He leaned over the bed to help you with the thong and garter belt, and while he sat them carefully at the end of the bed, bless him, you surprised him by slipping off the bed onto your knees and taking him into your mouth. There wasn’t much space between your bed and bedroom wall and the surprise of your lips on him knocked him back into the wall hard. You didn’t stop your ministrations, but you did pull back slightly, running your tongue slowly up the underside of him as he swore. You looked up at him from your knees, making sure he hadn’t seriously hurt himself against the wall, but the look he returned your way was pure adoration. 

Ted deserved everything, he was everything and you wanted to tell him that but you also never wanted to lose the weight and warmth of him against your tongue. You tried to communicate it by lifting his hand to place against the back of your head, encouraging him to take control, telling him without words that he had all your trust. He didn’t move at first, so you swirled your tongue against the tip of him and his hips jerked involuntarily. You moaned loudly against him, a desperate, wanton noise as he brushed the back of your throat. That was what finally released him to fuck into your mouth, knowing that you wanted him to—that his pleasure was yours and vice versa. The more his pace increased the more you could feel the wetness spread against the inside of your thighs. The only thing you wanted more than sliding your hand between your legs to push yourself over the edge, was for Ted to slide his hand between your legs and make you cum himself. The thought of it forced you to restrain yourself, and you closed your eyes, focusing instead on hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, giving yourself over to the sensations, to the heavy breathing and whispered praise of Ted above you. 

You opened your eyes again and saw Ted was looking at you, pupils blown. You could imagine what you looked like from his perspective, heavy-lidded and lustful. His grip tightened suddenly and he pulled you off him. You knew your face was a mess, but you grinned at how overcome with desire Ted was as he gazed at you, his chest heaving as he tried to keep himself together. He ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and you opened your mouth for him again, licking against the pad of his thumb. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby. You’re so good for me. Is that what I’ve been missing out on all this time?”

You chuckled and he helped you up and back onto the bed, kissing as much of your skin as he could reach. You waited until he joined you to pull him into a deep kiss, trying to get as much of your bare skin against his and enjoying the way he caressed your side, traced the lines of you like you were something incredibly precious. He pulled back from your lips and pressed kisses down your jaw. 

“Are you going to show me what I’ve been missing, Coach?”

Ted grinned, a glint in his eyes that told you the title definitely had an effect on him. He didn’t answer verbally, just took the suggestion for what it was and crawled down your body, nipping and licking as he went but wasting no time putting his tongue right where you wanted it. He started slow, clearly not assuming anything about what you liked but learning quickly. After the way your body had reacted to blowing him, it didn’t take much to have you arching against his face and crying out his name. He pressed a flat tongue against you, encouraging you to roll your hips and it was enough for the tension that had built inside you to snap and you bit back a scream. Ted gentled his tongue against you, slowly letting you down from your high but as soon as your panting slowed, he slid two fingers smoothly into you as he crawled back up your bed to lay beside you, propped up on his elbow. 

“Fuck, Ted,” you murmured as he stroked his fingers over the spot inside you that made you see stars. He was quickly building you back up, helped along by the praise he cooed directly into your ear. Your eyes closed but you could feel him watching the heat rise in you as he spoke.

“That’s it, love. Let me make you feel good. You’ve been so good to me. You’re so gorgeous, Y/N. You’re all I think about. I want to feel the way you clench down on my fingers as you cum.” You pulsed against him as if on command and you could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed your neck. “Go on, baby, cum for me. Please, baby.” He moved his thumb up to rub against your clit and this time your orgasm was less of a snap and more of a rolling warmth from your core up until your vision whited out and you lost yourself for a moment. 

Ted coaxed you back gently, smoothing his hands over you and placing gentle kisses over your face until you were seeing him clearly again. You could tell from his expression that he would have gladly left it there, that if you were overstimulated he could go take care of himself and just wrap you in his arms to go to sleep. But you certainly didn’t want that. 

“Fuck me, please,” you stated plainly, your voice a little hoarse from how loud you’d been.

“We don’t have to—”

You reached between the two of you, stroking your hand down his length. 

“I am begging you, baby. Please,” your voice was low and sultry and Ted wasted no time complying with the request, but to your surprise he didn’t hover over you. Instead, he pulled you into him by the waist so that he was spooning you from behind and lifted your leg over his hip. You couldn’t physically get any closer and you were more than pleased. He held you tightly to him with one hand on your hip as he slid easily into you, the other hand massaging your breast and toying with your nipple. 

“Yes, love,” you whimpered as he picked up his pace, encouraging him. Ted groaned, his hand tight on your hip as his every thrust sparked something deep within you. He never stopped murmuring in your ear but it was hard for you to focus on the words when he kept hitting the perfect spot inside you. He pulled out quickly and you were about to complain, but you tuned back in long enough to hear him say, “come here, sweetheart.” He had settled on his back and was tugging gently on your hip to get you to follow him. After two orgasms you weren’t sure you had the energy to ride him, but you wanted to try. You swung your leg over him and before you could warn him that you weren’t sure how much you had in you, he had lifted his knees, pressing his feet flat on the bed and driving back into you. 

“Shit,” you exclaimed, and Ted froze, concerned it wasn’t the good kind of expletive, but you smiled down at him. “Fuck, do that again.”

He followed instructions, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in and you dug your nails into his chest as you cried out, leaving little crescent marks in his skin. Ted reached up and placed a hand on your neck to tug you closer, kissing you sweetly before setting a quick pace that forced you to wrap your arms around him and hold on tight. You couldn’t believe you could already feel heat pooling in your belly again, so quickly after your last orgasm, but you let the pleasure build as you could tell Ted was just as close. You sat up slightly again, changing the angle so Ted was hitting even deeper inside you. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, “look at you. You’re so beautiful, baby. You feel so perfect.” You didn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but whimper and nod, as you rocked your hips in time with his thrusts. 

You moved one of Ted’s hands from your hip to your throat, not choking, just adding pressure. His eyes widened and he gave you a devilish smirk, somehow picking up his pace yet again. “That’s my good girl. You ready to cum for me again, Y/N?’

“Yes! Fuck, yes please, Ted.” His hand on your hip slid down to your core and he rubbed gentle circles over your clit that had you begging incomprehensibly. You didn't even know what you were begging for just more until the moment your muscles tightened and spasmed against him and you cried out, "shit, shIT, FUCK, TED."  He cursed loudly, following you into release. You slumped to his chest and the two of you stayed tucked into each other as your breathing synced, the sweat cooling on your bodies. “If that’s what waiting two months gets me, maybe I should be even more patient next time,” you sighed, your body completely sated. 

“Sorry sweetheart, unfortunately, you’re like a can of Pringles.’ 

“What,” you chuckled, questioning the comparison and knowing his answer would be incredibly silly. 

“Once you pop, the fun don’t stop.” You could feel Ted grin as soon as it left his mouth. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe someone so ridiculous had just fucked the shit out of you, but you knew what Ted said about belief. You laughed as you slid out of bed to get cleaned up, pulling on fresh underwear and one of Ted’s abandoned shirts. 

You could hear Ted moving about in the room, but you didn’t expect to walk out to a makeshift picnic. Ted had laid a towel over the bed and brought you each a plate of the dinner you had made. You grinned and joined him against the headboard and he handed a plate over, before taking his first bite.

“I couldn’t let your hard work go to waste, especially when you did this damn good of a job.” 

“Anything for you, my love,” you responded easily and Ted grinned instantly at the affection, sitting his plate down briefly to kiss you.

“Thank you. For showing me that you care.” 

"Always." 

Taglist (if you sent me a word for the WIP game I thought you might appreciate being tagged!): @lassoposting @ccbb2222 @femmel90

[poisonouswritings]

*jump out the bushes* hey ozzy~~

Listen, bro I have a request.

M3 going on a date to the tarven with mc. They are having fun, they get drinks, mc getting a little tipsy nothing crazy, BUT that tarven has a stage and let people to perform on and tonight is a karaoke night (I don't know if karaoke exists in Astraea but that definitely won't stop me >:) )

Anyway!!!

M3 look back to mc who's pretty drunk and jokingly tell them to go up stage and perform and mc is like "fuck off dude not a chance" , so they start to tease and call a chicken

Normally mc would roll their eyes and brush it off but nah not this mc. They are drunk and don't give a shit

So they climb up the stage, steal some poor guy's lute and go " I declare this song for a very special person to me , they are sitting with us right now btw" they point at their Lis " I hope you would appreciate what I'm about to do because you won't hear that from me sober. Love you, dumbass"

And they start singing "can't help falling in love" by Elvis Presley and holy shit their voice is amazing!!!

By the time they finish, everyone is clapping and Lis walk up to them shaking them like WTF?!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING THOSE LUNGS?! And mc is like " Hold on. I'm gonna puke-"

Btw Ozzy thanks for writing my reverse au last legacy hc. You really did amazing and I'm so glad other people liked it. That really made my day.

Ok that's it. Later Ozz. Peace✌️* vanish to atoms*

Oh hey my metaphorical inbox-house has bushes now! Upgrades, people. Upgrades.

GN!Reader, you're drunk, hehehe this is so cute, MC is drunk as a skunk, I give my own lil' song rec but will use the Elvis one for the scenario, though I personally like the Michael Buble version.

M3 Together Because It's More Fun, Colored Bullets Are Romantic With That Character (Felix, Anisa, Sage)

Okay so it's one of the rare times Anisa gets off of work early and doesn't have a shift tomorrow and Felix has torn himself away from his studies, and Sage has decided the night would best be spent at the tavern having fun.

Well. You're having fun. A little much.

Felix gets drunk of a glass of red wine, so he has a hard time judging other people's tolerance. He had meant to encourage you to drink water but he kinda zoned out for a minute there and suddenly you're three drinks deep and it's kinda too late.

Anisa has been on top of it, feeding you snaccs and passing you water and making sure you don't get sloppy. She's happy to let you have your fun - you've been working hard and you deserve it - but she's also gonna make sure you're not putting yourself into danger or something.

Sage is probably the best at making sure you don't overdo it because he obviously has the most experience. Not to say he's gonna harsh your vibes in any way - the Vibes Are Integral To The Night - but he's gonna take good care of you.

Regardless of who you're partnered with, they're all keeping an eye on you. Sage, ever the gentleman, asks you a bunch of sexually revealing questions. Felix, ever the wise man, asks you a bunch of embarrassing revealing questions. Anisa, ever the Single-Brain-Cell-Mom-Friend, tries to stop them but only ends up asking you to elaborate on just about any answer you give. It's all in good fun though, don't worry.

And then they announce they're starting karaoke, and anyone can join!

... Felix wants you to do it. He nudges your shoulder and puts a lilt to his voice as he says that Oh Darling He Just Wants To Appreciate Your Talents And It Would Mean So Very Much To Him If You Did This :)

Anisa looks at you with those big eyes and hair poofed out in excitement and she's like,, three inches from your nose as she says that You Need To Do It. She Needs To Hear An Earth Song and She Needs To See You Doing Something So Adorable. Please. If You're Comfortable.

Sage,, nuzzles into the crook of your neck,, purrs against your throat,,, Hai :3 his tail flicks along your stomach :3 You Know You'd Probably Have A Lot Of Fun Up There :3 and he gives your hips a little squeeze :3 And He Definitely Wants You To Have Fun :3 kisses your cheek :3 So You Should Go Do It!!! :3 yes he's going to be checking you out and having horny thoughts that's just implied

Well, it seems like everyone wants you to do it.

You stumble onto the stage and you have your microphone and you point at Felix and you're like 'THIS IS FOR THE CUTEST GUY WITH THE NICEST ASS HERE, AKA MY BOYFRIEND!' and he's just !! The tips of his ears are turning pink because everyone is looking at him but he's focusing on you but also he wants to sink into the floor a little bit because did you have to introduce him like that? Of course you did. You Are Evil Incarnate. But he loves you anyways.

So like,, you start singing right? If it were me I would sing like,,,, Nicotine by P!ATD but that's me.

But anyways Felix is not expecting you to go off like that. Your voice is far more impressive than he could have imagined, especially the alcohol-enhanced emotion that seeps into the words.

'Wiiiiiiiise meeeeen saaaaaaaay, only foooools ruuuuuuuush iiiiiiiiiin, but I ca-a-a-an't heeeeelp falling in looooooooove wiiiiiiiiiiiiith youuuuuuuuuuuuu'

That's the song stretching the syllables not me

And you're looking at him, grinning and swaying around and seeming so impossibly delighted by the sheer prospect of... being with him.

And the tips of his ears are red and his nose is burning and he can barely speak because the words keep tumbling over and over in his head and hohohohoho he is Not Okay

You take the stage, swaying from side to side a little, and shout that 'THIS IS FOR MY SUPER HOT CAT WIFE!! LOVE YOU BABY' and Anisa is choking on her milk wine Because She Really Didn't Think You Would Do That Oh Gods. And now everyone is looking at her because A Knight Lieutenant Is Letting Her Partner Act So Embarrassing In Public? And Anisa is ignoring them because She Has Standards To Uphold but you sure as hell don't, and she won't let anyone impose on you.

I would recommend Would You Be So Kind by Dodie but that's just me

'Like a riiiiiiveeeeer flooooows, surely toooooo theeeee seaaaaaa, Daaaaarling, soooo it goooooes, some things are meaaaaaaant tooooooo beeeeeee'

And Anisa is just falling in love with you all over again because yes obviously this is an adorable song and the fact that you're beaming at her and flashing her finger hearts and whatever and you're just so sweet and probably a little bit awkward and she gets the awesome honor of being Your Knight

Cat hair poof cat hair poof cat hair poof your (half) cat girlfriend is So Very Very Just Absolutely Captivated By You.

Like I said, Sage is totally checking you out a lot a bit and he's not at all sorry. So when you're up there, leaning on the microphone pole and waiting for the band to start,,,,,,, do you think that Astraea has pole dancers? If they do Sage is zoning out imagining you as a pole dancer. If they don't then man He's About To Have A Fucking Universe-Shattering Idea

I would recommend the Michael Buble version of LOVE but that's just me

'Shaaaaaaall Iiiiiiii staaaaaaaay, would it beeeeee aaaaaa siiiiin, if Iiiiii can't heeeeeelp, faaalling in looooooove wiiiiiith youuuuuu'

And you're looking at Sage?? Like you're drunk and whatever but you're still focusing on him and there's such an earnest burning in your eyes when you say that you've fallen in love with him and his tail goes still and his eyes go all big and his ears are twitching and flattening against his hair and there's a little bit of him that wants to cry (in a good way)

And he's just staring at you because his brain is short circuiting

You stumble back off the stage, giggling and laughing, and practically crash into the table. Luckily Anisa and Sage are able to stabilize you and Holy Shit Everyone Is Losing It

Since when could you sing like that?? Why have you never sung for any of them before?

If your singing sounds like that then what does your moaning sound li- Anisa kicks Sage in the shin so hard he nearly falls out of his chair

You cut everyone off by slamming your hands on the table hard enough to make the mugs rattle and declare that You Gotta Fuckin' Pee But You Cannot Walk and then you stumble and trip over your own feet and faceplant

,,,, your partner loves you so much

Anyways you get carried home because you Cannot Walk

Depending on how badly you Cannot Walk, Felix might have assigned Sage to carry you. But if you can walk a bit, you're leaning on his shoulder and he's still too flustered to talk because Why Did You Mention His Ass but also he is such a fool for you

Anisa! Is! Carrying You! Even if you don't necessarily need her to. She asks you a thousand questions about Earth music and romance songs and poems and stories. She wants to pick something suitable to serenade you with :)

Sage but he's koala-carrying you so your legs are wrapped around his waist and you can nuzzle into the crook of his neck and hes carrying you and bouncin' you a little bit and kissing whatever parts of your face he can reach because Why Are You Such A Sweetheart He Really Really Loves You :'3

[eldragon-x]

do you accept questions about your ocs 👀?

if so, then what's alexander like :D?

Of course!

Alexander was on Belos' side sometime before his reign. He already didn't think highly of her from creation since she held less resemblance to Caleb than most Grimwalkers did but he just rolled with it, not wanting to make another set of Grimwalker ingredients go to waste for nothing.

He claimed to be her father, telling her that her mother and some of their other family members were killed by wild witches after the Titan reached out to Belos, telling him the truth about wild magic and to spread it to his fellow witches. After the death of his wife and barely surviving himself, Belos made sure to keep Alexander safe and dedicated his life to establishing the Coven System in order to prevent more disaster.

Of course the fabricated backstory was a part of Alexander's motivation in her actions, but she also took note of how admired Belos was by others and how he could get away with some shady things, including harming people. This led her to lash out or also be actively cruel towards witches who either questioned Belos' claims about wild magic, wronged her personally, or even just people she didn't like, not rarely to the point of physically harming them. When she was confronted about it, she would then metaphorically hide behind Belos' back, knowing he'd pull out some explanation or excuse, sometimes in relation to her trauma about "loosing her family to wild witches". If the incident was within public attention, Belos would also twist the story to slander the victim as much as he could, claiming they were siding with wild witches and threatening Alexander. He encouraged this behaviour from her, but made sure to tell her not to overdo it and keep certain people out of it as to not raise suspicion and loose supporters to their cause.

As for her relationship with Belos... again, he didn't have hopes for her early on. In her early years, he wasn't holding back on physical abuse when she angered or dissapointed him. But he also kept apologizing afterwards, going on about how he himself is just so upset about what happened to their family ect. Alexander grew up just taking the punishments, always reminding herself that after all, he also has trauma from their family dying, he still really loves her and is all he has left, it's not that different from when she lashes out on other people and so on. As she grew older, Belos also toned down on how quick he was to harm her, noting that she had a lot of potential despite her flaws and trying to further rely on the "good" aspects of their relationship where she believes they both share a trauma from the same event.

Alexander eventually made friends with a demon - might become a character in the future - and Belos was kinda iffy on it but let it slide for the time being, especially since said demon was also one to be ruthless towards opposers of the Coven System he proposed. But as the friends grew closer, the demon learned more about Alexander's relation with Belos and kept noticing bruises and kept bringing up the subject of abuse and so on. Of course Alexander was in deep denial, but she took her friend's words to heart and tried to bring up the subject to Belos a few times, wanting to discuss his treatment of her with him, but he kept brushing it off and shutting it down.

On a bad day, Alexander ranted to the demon about it who offered her a place to stay if she needed to be away from Belos at least for a night. She declined however, saying she'll figure something out. That same evening she tried to confront Belos again, pushing him more than ever, until he eventually budged. He apologized, admitting that he did wrong and that there was something about her mother's death he kept from her, asking Alexander if she wanted to know the full truth since they were going to have this conversation. She agreed and followed him to the head of the titan, where he pushed her down into the pit with the remains of the other Grimwalkers, as her friendship with the demon finally turned her against him. He took care of the demon that same night.

[mysterious-crimson-lotus]

Note #Lost-Count

Just a thing from my fanfiction A Trail of Notes. Well, it’s related. Consider it my fanfiction for my fanfiction. The next chapters to my fics are gonna come out soon, just have had stuff going on that I needed to deal with. But hey, take this, and while you’re at it, have a look at this other mini writing that I did recently. 

This is a small thing. Just had some spare time and decided to abuse metaphors. 

A hypothetical note from adult Naruto, if adult Naruto enjoyed overdoing literary devices. And had a vocabulary that included words aside from “dattebayo,” “ramen,” “Hokage,” and “Sasuke.”

Dear Guardian Angel, 

People desperately kissing the Earth after leaving a ship is a common thought. I see it in the stories I read to the children, in the play Boruto said he didn’t want to act in, and saw it in the missions that I used to take back when I was on the field. It usually happens when one has been at sea, unsure of their survival, or else when they hate the water. The act is symbolic of our desire for stability, for peace and calm. The sea is dangerous; the constant motion of the waves pulling and pushing, the winds and the uncertain weather all amount to instability, chaos and uncertainty. The ground is firm, unmoving. It is stable, and, in its reliability, comforting. The steadiness births security, and spawns the potential to build foundations to greater and brighter things. It is not only in the dangers of the waters that spawns adventure and excitement; a strong foundation can give endless possibilities. The turbulent seas may be more enticing, more alluring, but in the end, a plant with no roots is destined to wilt and fade. When connected to the Earth, the plant can flourish. Reach new heights. Grow. A strong foundation gives the strength and confidence to begin one's journey, to explore and grow, for adventure without direction and a strong base is nothing but self destruction.

So of course we would embrace the earth when we see it. We love it.

Do you know that? Do you know that's what you mean? How steadying your comfort is? How you root me to the spot with your gaze? How the sight of you in the distance in the midst of a destructive and voracious storm gives me hope? How, in my moments of weakness, you have been the lighthouse shining a beacon of light through the vein of darkness and uncertainty?

Do you know that you are the shore, firm, unyielding, strong? You can be shaken, be struck by disaster after disaster, face constant adversity, but you remain resolute? Uncompromising?

So do you understand that when I see you, I, like a sailor lost at sea, see you as my salvation? As the one constant that is always there?

The way you always scrunch your face when I tap your nose. The way you lace your fingers through mine when I sneakily place them on the back of your hand. The way you pout up at me when you want me to kiss you more, or tickle me when I least expect it. When you sigh when I kiss your neck. They're features more beautiful than the most magnificent lakes or forests.

I've always been obsessed with material possessions. Friends and people were never really something I could count on. The only constant was always me, and ramen. So I tried to tether myself. My foundation was shaky, so I've attempted to anchor myself with them. If only I had more people, I would say. Now, I realise that you cannot, should not rely on others to anchor you in place. I need to be my own person. Find stability in myself. Yet you have been so wonderful at helping me build my anchor. You have shown me comfort and love that has shaken my flimsy concepts of stability. We may all have to find our foundations ourselves, but you have always let me lean on you when my base was shaky.

So, I want to kiss you. Hug you. Hold you. Have you hold me. I want to brush your hair away from your face and trace your beauty with my fingertips. I want to feel your breath and body heat on me as we embrace. Want to walk with you, talk with you, until I physically can't, then keep going. Run my thumb down your face and see the way you smile when you're happy.

If I could preserve that smile and that happiness, that would be enough. More than enough. That smile, that look that shines through the shadows like the sparkling of the Northern Star, guiding the lost.

Or, perhaps, I can lose myself in it's light. Lost, wrapped in your security and comfort. Lost in your smile.

Lost at sea. 

But it’s okay now. I know what land is now. 

I have my anchor. 

With love, 

Naruto

PS: Where is all my cup ramen? Boruto keeps saying that Hima ate it all while “training to beat your Queen of Gluttony record.” That can’t be true, right?

[vaguely-concerned]

Do you think TF ever gets headaches (not talking about Graves) from teleporting around? In Burning tides is described as building pressure, so maybe if he does it too much or too quickly it backfires and gives him a migraine?

ooh good question! it is kind of interesting that Burning Tides also tells us you can actually feel the building pressure around him in enough of a radius that Graves has often found himself inside it.

I will say that from the way I conceptualize the way his magic works in my head, I think he's mostly immune to the physical drains/effects himself; what it starts to eat away at and change is more something that happens deeper down on, like... a soul sort of level lol. this is really hard to explain because I've never written it out consciously before, but for me it's kind of thematically important to underline that he ~*has all the cards*~ in the situations where he uses them, and that other people may be affected by the consequences of his actions with them but he's kind of the untouchable point in the middle of the seesaw -- none of it truly touches him. which essentially is a metaphorical extension of his trauma responses, right? he wants to be out of reach and unaffected by the world, predicting it ahead of time and able to be Out Of There with a single thought at any point, and that's exactly what the cards give him.

...but then there's a cost to pay for holding that sort of control over the world and yourself. he invests a small part of himself in it every time. so if he tried to overdo it in a short span of time, each time he'd need to dig somewhere deeper inside himself to find that place to build the wave/pressure of the magic from again, until he starts to feel himself wear... thin somewhere in there, and the people around him might suffer more actively for it. (well I did say metaphorical extension for his whole deal right lol.) like it does 'fill back up' if he lets it rest for a while, but it can also gouge in something like a wound if he keeps digging and doesn't back down and it'd take longer to heal.

TL;DR: I think if he started really overdoing it Graves might start to get migraines, and TF would just feel himself fade and drift away from himself and the world in a very scary and scarily imperceptible, gradual way, and most of the time he avoids it on a very instinctual, survival brain sort of level because just a little magic often goes a long way without starting to risk that. (and the times when he doesn't shy away from it are basically when he's doing some bad coping mechanisms, especially when he's on his own)

(Graves probably does provide him with plenty of normal run-of-the-mill headaches too tho you are very right fsdhklhfal)

[angstyaches]

Please Please Please could you maybe do the next part of that Felix "drinking blood and getting a tummy ache" fic??? I'm just craving tears and fluff and tummy rubs and just 🥺🥺🥺and you are also so talented omg

Aagghh, I promised this so long ago, anon, I’m so sorry! I was reluctant because I thought I had to write emeto into it and Felix would be so ashamed and guilty and I couldn’t bring myself to do it (Fee’s already got quite an angsty storyline coming up), but your request was perfect.

CW: accidental stuffing/overdoing, drinking blood, mention of a dead animal, guilt and worry (but it turns out okay), nausea, stomach ache, mention of emeto (no actual emeto)

Continued from this fic.

__

“Fee? How are you doing, boo?”

The haze of something between sleepiness and drunkenness was thick as Felix looked up at his talking pillow, Elliott, from the taller boy’s lap. He took a moment to let his hammering heart calm down from the fear of whatever he’d been dreaming about, and admired the wide curves of Elliott’s jawline from below, and the soft smile it was offering.

Remembering the events of the afternoon made something like an anchor sink in Felix’s gut, a metaphor that here was quite appropriate. He wasn’t exactly sure how much a typical anchor weighed, but the weight in his belly must have been at least somewhat comparable.

Then, in a flurry of panic, Felix realised that they were both in the back of Ryan’s car without seatbelts.

He pulled himself forward, feeling Elliott’s hand rest on his back to help ease him up, but the movement was still way too strenuous for his full, aching stomach. Felix whimpered, feeling as though something with giant feet had just tried to use his belly as a trampoline.

“Fee.” Elliott rested his hands on Felix’s shoulders. “Boo, take it easy.”

“Seatbelts.” Felix’s voice was thick and heavy. “We have to put on – put on seatbelts.”

“We’re sitting in the driveway,” Elliott half-laughed. “We’ve been home for about an hour, but I didn’t want to wake you in case you felt sick.”

Felix felt a flash of gratitude amidst the pain radiating from his gut, and turned his body slowly in the seat so that he could face his boyfriend.

“Thank you, darling.”

Elliott gave a tight smile and nodded, as though agreeing that he should be thanked. “My legs are very numb.”

“Sorry. Ugh…” Felix mumbled, easing his back into the seat and running his hands carefully over the swell his belly had made beneath his green, loose-knit jumper. He heard Elliott getting out of the other side of the car, but closed his eyes quickly after.

His senses were tingling with acute awareness, probably heightened by whatever chemicals were produced in a vampire’s body during a hunt. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, to noticing the rhythm of his own heartbeat, the whistling rush of air in his throat and lungs, the volume of liquid in his stomach rocking back and forth like it had its own tidal pull.

He also remembered it all way too vividly, with too much colour and saturation; he remembered getting caught up in thirst and lust and the need to try to impress Elliott by being on the same level as him. He remembered feeling the creature’s meat between his teeth as he sucked the blood from its veins, though it was still pulsing so quickly that it probably would have filled his mouth quickly even if he hadn’t sucked. It had been so fresh, so freshly-delivered from the condition of being alive.

Felix winced as tears sprung to his eyes, partially from the ache in his belly and partially from the memory. It was like all of the nausea and regret of waking up with a hangover.

He opened his eyes again as Elliott slowly opened the car door.

“Come on, Fee,” Elliott coaxed as he offered Felix his arms. His voice was soft, like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog.

Felix took the help with a little pout, leaning his weight against Elliott’s chest when he could. He whimpered when he felt strong arms close around his back, careful not to pin him to tightly.

“Oh, my gosh,” Felix groaned. “Elli, I drank too much. I drank so much –”

“Sssshhh, no, no, no, you’re fine,” Elliott whispered.

“No, I’m not, I – I’m weak, Elli.” The sob that shook Felix’s frame was dry and gentle, like all of his muscles were conscious of the swell of pain in his gut, and knew that sudden, harsh movements would make everything so much worse. “I can’t do a single thing I set my mind to.”

“What are you going on about, boo?”

“I’m just so weak...”

“Come on, crazy, we’re getting you inside.” Elliott’s sigh made his chest rise and fall in front of Felix’s face. “You can take another nap if you want, and I’m sure Ryan has something you can take if it hurts too much. How does that sound?”

Felix ran a hand over his sore belly, shuddering at the oppressive warmth radiating out from it. His stomach was churning in an optimistic attempt to be productive; it hadn’t accepted the fact that it was futile just yet, even if Felix had.

A wet belch rumbled up, tying a knot in his oesophagus somewhere along the way. Felix promptly pressed his fingers a little harder against his stomach to coax up one more burst of air, this one sounding hollow as it made its way up.

“There you go,” Elliott chuckled, rubbing a hand across Felix’s back before attempting to direct him towards the front door. “Does that feel better?”

“No? I hate this so much,” Felix whimpered, lips trembling miserably as he allowed himself to be led. He still held onto his belly, as though afraid of what it would do if it was left to its own devices.

“I know you do,” Elliott assured him. “You’re doing really well, though. Let’s just get you inside.”

He held Felix up as best he could until they made it inside the front door. Felix sensed his boyfriend hesitating in the hallway by the foot of the stairs, as though considering whether their bed would be a better option.

Felix peered up at Elliott from behind drooping eyelids.

“The front room is fine, darling,” he groaned. “I can’t walk upstairs right now. No chance.”

Elliott scanned Felix’s eyes very carefully while holding him in place. “How about a bathroom?”

The trembling in Felix’s lips still hadn’t subsided, and was even creeping into his jaw and making his teeth rattle a bit. There was no doubt that he would probably empty his stomach of every last drop if he was given a toilet to lean over, and his tummy even gave a pleading whine at the thought.

“N-no, I – I don’t want to be sick.”

Elliott’s eyes stopped searching Felix’s, and began to cross over his pale face instead. “You mightn’t have much of a say in that, Fee.”

“I’ll be fine, darling, I promise.” Felix gulped, his throat bobbing ominously. “I just want to lie down. It hurts so much.”

The sofa in the front room was a dark shade of beige. Everything in this room was styled to look a little earthier than the rest of the house. The absence of pure white walls was an instinct relief, but it was nothing compared to sinking down into the cushions and curling up.

“Oh – ow,” Felix whined, unfurling his legs to stop the pinching cramp that gripped his belly. He rolled halfway onto his back so that his stomach wasn’t being pressed into the sofa either.

“That’s it; I’m going to get Ryan,” Elliott decided.

“N-no, darling, don’t.” Felix took hold of Elliott’s hand, drawing it to his chest before holding it gently against his belly. “Please, I just need you to be here with me.”

“What if something’s wrong –?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Felix let out a shaky laugh between gasps of discomfort. He could feel how pale he face must have been, along with a ripple of cold sweat that broke out across his forehead and shoulders. “You know me, Elli. I just like to complain.”

Looking unconvinced, Elliott turned his hand over so that his palm rested against Felix’s stomach, just as the unsettled thing let out a growl. Felix felt the grumble begin in the swollen point beneath his ribs before it bubbled down and tapered out somewhere just above his belly button.

“Look like you’re not the only one complaining,” Elliott pointed out, smoothing his hand over Felix’s belly with the slightest amount of pressure.

Felix hummed under his breath, all too aware of the sensation of digestion once again trying to take place inside his stomach walls. He could feel a shift in his throat, a quickening of his heartbeat. A shaky hand went to his mouth, hovering uneasily, but there wasn’t even any air trying to escape.

He shivered without warning.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm – yeah,” Felix mumbled thickly. His throat bobbed with another nauseous gulp. “I’m getting there.”

Elliott’s frown deepened as he kneaded his hand softly over Felix’s abdomen. He paused to redirect his hand whenever a gurgle was emitted from an unexpected area, doing his best to seek out the most uncomfortable points without pushing too hard on anything.

“I know you’re hung up on this,” he said after hearing a growl that travelled halfway up Felix’s chest, “but there’s really nothing to be ashamed about, if you feel sick –”

“’M okay.”

“Okay.” Elliott’s lips were pulled into a thin, resigned smile. “How the hell can you say you’re weak, hmm? You drank almost as much as I did, and you’ve got a much smaller – you know.” He patted Felix’s belly very gently. “Capacity.”

A shaky sigh left Felix’s lips. “My capacity is still very achy.”

“I’m not doubting that at all. Just try to relax. I’ve got you. Okay?”

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

He didn’t know if it was the relief of finally being home, or the gentle press of Elliott’s hand, but the gurgling in Felix’s tummy eventually didn’t feel (or sound) quite so angry anymore. In its calmed state, it swirled and bubbled with the motion of Elliott’s hand, continuing to do so even when Felix’s drifted into a light, if somewhat twitchy, sleep. He smiled semi-consciously at the sensation of Elliott’s lips pressing gently against his cheek.

[rappaccini]

In your Allison meta about assimilation you mentioned that in the show there was (accidentally) parallels between powers and queerness and being ordinary and heteronormative. Could you expand more on it, please?

oooh i have wanted to YELL about this for a long time

so like... off the bat, talking queercoding and the siblings... it's accidental, but based on what we have to work with, every single hargreeves is queer:

luther

luther's devotion to allison rings a lot of bells for demi/asexuality. being indifferent about sex with anyone but allison (to such an extent that the only time he fucks, he's absolutely out of it on drugs and seems uncomfortable with it after the fact), being totally uninterested in starting a relationship with anyone but her?

luther totally losing out on his adolescence because of being stuck in a house with an abusive parental figure who won't let him express himself sexually (see: how reginald shuts his date with allison down), and then overdoing it as an adult to compensate for the time he lost

his body dysphoria

luther is literally unable to pass as a 'normal' man [read: as a cis man] because of a traumatic surgery his abusive guardian inflicted on him without his consent, trying to 'fix him,' and only succeeding in making him feel profoundly isolated from everyone and convinced no one will ever love him because of his body

(and then getting fetishized by that rave girl for said body)

what i'm getting at is, luther is a prime candidate for a narrative about being intersex.

(him being trans is also a valid reading, though i don't go there because the optics of the man with the post-op mutilated gorilla body being trans are just... too bad for me to be comfortable with. just my opinion though)

diego

the very homoerotic charge to his rivalry with luther (do you want to fight him, diego, or do you want to fuck him?)

add that to diego's narrative skeleton: he claims to be totally over the abuse and the only one who's broken free of reginald, yet he's a wannabe cop who is the only one of them still crimefighting. he's lying to himself about a lot and he does it by performing toxic masculinity.

notice how in season one, diego makes a big show of How Totally Into His Ex He Is Did We Mention We Fucked in public, while in private being the most physically and emotionally intimate with klaus?

and notice how he doesn't deal with that toxic masculinity at all, and his gf in season 2 has klaus's mannerisms and humor? who straight-up tells him 'you want someone to peg you [fuck your ass] and you're in denial.'

basically, diego feels prime for metaphor about how toxic masculinity goes hand in hand with performing heterosexuality and repressing queerness (if anyone in this group of characters is straight-up gay, it's him)

allison

allison's story is about assimilation versus liberation, which is a dichotomy queer people find themselves on constantly

specifically, allison's ability to pass as an ordinary woman, and her having done so at least twice for her own survival, seen through a queer lens, means her plotline discusses the complications of being a queer/bisexual woman who can pass for straight, who tries to assimilate into greater heteronormative culture, thinking it will make her safe and happy, only for it to lead to pain for her the second her sexuality becomes known to her straight partners

using her rumor in sexual situations, as she's canonically done with patrick (whether she coerced sex directly from him or not, tricking him into a romantic relationship means they're gonna fuck) and as raymond accuses her of doing, could be read as allegory for the 'predatory/manipulative bisexual' stereotype-- how the mere presence of bisexuality leads to accusations of cheating or manipulation, and how sometimes we do use our sexuality in less-than-pale ways-- especially in order to pass as straight.

allison's relationship with luther, someone who cannot pass as 'ordinary' [read: as straight], is literally illegal in texas in 1963, and there are a lot of intersections between how interracial and queer couples are treated.

klaus

i mean he's textually queer, and has a gender nonconforming presentation (and in the comics, where these things originated, he literally has a scene where he stares luther in the face and goes 'why does the way i dress make you think i'm gay' when luther questions why klaus had an affair with a woman)

but aside from that, his power speaks to fluidity as a whole. seeing beyond a veil, being a conduit between two worlds, even possession is in both show and comic explicitly linked to sex

it makes sense that the man who can't differentiate between living and dead half the time doesn't care at all about the trappings of gender

essentially his story speaks to gender/sexuality fluidity, how presentation affects how people let you move through the world and who they assume you are, and exploring how malleable the categories we sort ourselves into really are

five

his discomfort with his too-young body as a dysphoria reading

five having to 'go through puberty twice' to get the body he wants, and his being swayed to join the commission with the promise of a brand new body that matches how he looks on the inside + the struggle of being taken seriously when you don't quite pass as what you are

but does gender even exist when the world ends? what's it like to grow up in a world with no one to tell you what to conform to, and then return to one that sticks you in a gendered uniform and tells you what you look like determines how you'll be perceived?

his power. like with klaus, simply ignoring barriers and boundaries. leaping through them at ease and at will. (and having his abusive father try to control the way he does so)

... and potentially, his regrettable time leap can be read as a detransition metaphor: he thought this would be what makes everything click, but it wasn't. he still hasn't found where he needs to be.

ben

off the top of my head, how asian masculinity and queerness can tie in with feeling invisible or overlooked in favor of dave other men who are considered more conventionally masculine

his relationship with his tentacles (a... 'portal' in his body that makes him viscerally uncomfortable and potentially tore him apart, said portal in action making others horrified of him) as an allegory for dysphoria

... and ben sticking around by klaus's side for years, refusing to move on to stay close with him. that shit's gay as hell.

vanya

vanya's repression of her powers can easily be read as a repression of her sexuality-- especially with her being isolated from the other [queer] kids, and put on a medication that gets rid of her libido

and vanya's emergence of her powers is linked inextricably to the emergence of her sexuality-- the person who awakens them is her love interest, and the first time the audience knows vanya's powers are out and here to stay is when vanya fucks leonard at the end of 1x05, when the sound of her orgasm literally cracks the window.

yes, i'm counting her awakening her sexuality through her feelings for a man, because queer people who aren't gay exist and matter too, not that this fandom understands that.

it's allegory for awakening repressed queerness-- not uwu lesbianness. i mean queer as in rough, ugly, undesirable, unconventional and defying labels. a sexuality that makes people (straight and gay) feel frightened because they can't pin it down. and when they get frightened they either try to shove it in a box, medicate it away, or destroy it.

(i mean in the comics, the girl literally destroys the world totally naked. the sexuality is confrontational, in your face, and unpalatable. it's not for you, it's for her.)

and in the comics, vanya's a punk with an androgynous haircut. there's some genderfuckery going on with her. especially when you consider her chosen name is gender-neutral. (it's masculine in russia... but who says vanya has to be russian? it's feminine in other places, including brazil, where the artist who created her is from.)

as it relates to the show, aside from all of that and in a more general sense,

the concept of the 43(ish, in the show) themselves. children who are unwanted and abnormal/strange. with strange, being a literal synonym for 'queer' and the knowledge that these children are abandoned or surrendered for their strangeness... yeah. the 43 themselves are queer.

pseudo-incest is queer. it's how queer people used to game the system to get familial benefits before gay marriage was even a remote possibility.

and recall how tua in the comics is set in the 80s, when that would've been happening.

the show as a whole functions as a found family narrative. the 'wrong,' strange, unwanted kids who've had to put up with a disproportionate amount of trauma, who the rest of the world won't understand, coming together to make their own family on their own terms.

the only 'ordinary' child, vanya, is the only one left out. aka the presumed-straight kid who was left out of the queer friend group.

in a certain sense, vanya publishing her book and airing all the family's dirty laundry can be read as her outing them (especially allison, given how carefully she'd reshaped her image to avoid discussion of her rumor)

the fact that ben stuck around by klaus's side for years when he clearly didn't need to, and is clearly jealous when klaus starts trying to conjure dave, and when he makes a giant poly sex cult that he favors over him.

allison's assimilation being tied (twice) to marrying cishet men and conforming to their societies' conventional family structures, and it going up in flames when her [queer pals] family show up in her life again, revealing to raymond that she's [queer] from the future.

sissy marrying carl to align with compulsory heterosexuality, the exact same way allison married raymond to get an in with the south dallas community.

the vanya/sissy sexual affair having a parallel in allison and luther getting real emotionally intimate over that exact same span of time.

the way allison and sissy both leave their husbands-who-they-married-because-societal-cues for their [queer] lovers by leaving them notes

the way allison and sissy both glam up hard for their husbands in makeup, dresses and heels, but don pants and subtle/no makeup when they are dressing for themselves

vanya having amnesia that makes her unaware of her powers [read: re-closets her]... which reawaken as she develops a sexual relationship with sissy, who has a literal coming out plot that vanya facilitates, which leads to vanya's arrest, torture and the revival of her memories [her rediscovering her queerness]

the show refers to possession in sexual terms. klaus describes it as such. in that sense, klaus bottoms and ben is a literal possessive boyfriend.

ben refusing to go into the light specifically to stay with klaus because he loves him that much (and asks vanya, the only other textually queer character, to tell klaus that)

the way allmond is pure patriarchal heteronormativity: a husband and wife, who stays at home, wears heels even in the house, takes his name, supports his work (and only socializes with his friends), lets him take credit for her work (the sit-in was her labor, but he's somehow the leader of it) and they live in domestic bliss..... until allison encounters a [queer] old flame, falls hard and in the span of a single week leaves her husband for that old flame and her old queer friend group.

the way vissy is the most palatable, straight-friendly vision of a f/f relationship: a femme blonde housewife in pink having her sexuality awakened by a brunette tomboy/androgynous woman in blue who takes the initiative in the relationship (literally color coded), having nonkinky sex occasionally and raising a sweet child on a farm safely out of sight, and even being ready to drop all and move to Gay California (again, out of sight of the greater community). what is this, diet bly manor? .... it's assimilationist-gay, the kind of queerness that straight people approve of because it matches up with how they live. because it's as heteronormative as queer can get. and it implodes because vanya's powers [queerness] aren't made for that kind of life. because this isn't her world, and she can't be truly happy here.

the way that all the non-43/43 relationships crash and burn, because raymond and sissy can't handle allison and vanya's way of living and powers [queerness and queer lifestyle], and diego/lila survives because 'she's one of us 43ers' [read: she's queer too]

literally allison and vanya leave their monogamous lovers to go off and live dangerously with a queer commune.

it's everywhere. basically the vibe is that the 43 are all queer people and the umbrella academy are one big queer polycule.

it's accidental because if tuatv had intended for the show to be an extended queerness metaphor,

raymond, the guy who immediately accuses allison of tricking him into loving her with her rumor [bisexuality] wouldn't be framed as such a wholesome, perfect good dude who is Always Right.

they probably wouldn't have spent s2 joining in on the 'haha look at luther's gross disgusting fucked-up body' parade

they definitely wouldn't have several scenes where carl refers to vanya's queerness as 'a disease that is catching' right as vanya literally spreads her powers to harlan by putting her mouth on his... and essentially proves him and that rhetoric right.

they definitely wouldn't have written the crux of s2's vissy plot as sissy literally responding to vanya 'coming out' as a superhuman-- after vanya helped sissy herself come out and accept herself-- by saying 'you corrupted my child. this is too much for me, i'm leaving you. but hey, if you get your powers [queerness] under wraps and start behaving like the vanya i fell in love with [the closeted vanya], then you can come back to me.'

they probably wouldn't have derailed vanya's character to cash in on page's sexuality.

the way they wrote klaus (especially in s2) and vanya in s2 tells you they definitely didn't mean it that way. if that's how they handle their textually queer characters (either you're a punchline or sappy awards bait), no way can they actually write subtext that's a complex, subtle allegory about queerness.

it was definitely accidental, but i'm taking it.

[darkhymns-fic]

Grief and Love Shapes Us

When Kratos stays at Dirk's home, unable to follow the others to battle Mithos, he fully realizes the wisdom of the dwarf with the gentle hands of a craftsman - and Dirk is reminded how freeing it is to open one's heart.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Dirk/Kratos Aurion, Lloyd Irving Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: I was part of the Tales of Rarepairs event, arranged by @talesofexchanges! This was written for @theguineapig3! Thanks so much for this fun event. :D

--

“Already noticed the flowers wilting, haven’t ya?”

Ever since the man named Kratos visited his home, Dirk had already had his suspicions. The mercenary didn’t flinch, instead simply turning towards the dwarf who walked towards him and the gravestone. The white lilies on its well-tended grounds had already lost a few petals to the poor weather.

“Pardon me,” Kratos said, stepping back to allow the dwarf some room. “I did not mean to trespass onto your property like this.”

“Ah, maybe next time you’ll succeed in being a bit stealthier then.” Dirk gave a great grin as he said so, and the look of confusion that passed over Kratos’ face was so stark that it nearly made him laugh as well. But in just that particular shade of the moonlight, and the way it bounced off the man’s hair, Dirk could see those familiar features. Such details had grown under his eye for over a decade.

He replaced the flowers over the stone, feeling Kratos’ eyes track his every motion, a great weight felt within the silence paused between them.

“You knew the boy’s mother?” Kratos asked him, and in that tone, perhaps he hadn’t realized just how much he had revealed just then.

“For a short time – enough to give me her name and Lloyd’s.” Dirk stood back up, the dying flowers held in his thick hands, cradled carefully, for they still had their own uses in the garden. “All these years, I had a small worry if I had carved it correctly. Sometimes human names still go past me.”

A small thread through the night, seeking and gentle. Dirk only dared a brief glance towards Kratos before the human turned away, his steps as fleeting and light as a deer who had come upon something too close, much too close.

“It is,” Dirk heard. He let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

.

.

.

--

Perhaps from a certain standpoint, he could admit when one was being reckless. Lloyd had given him that depth of knowledge more than anyone else.

Kratos winced as he tried to move his leg, and from this other certain standpoint, he could see that it was a mistake. “Urgh…”

“What did I say about moving?” he heard echo from the hallway. Dirk opened the door to the room as he held a platter in his arms, with what looked to be a wooden bowl along with a mug of hot tea on its surface. “More likely to keep that leg splintered if you go rushing off.”

“I was doing no such thing,” Kratos argued, and wondered why he had to come off sounding like such a petulant child. “I was merely trying to get comfortable.” Another shift as the bed underneath him creaked. “I don’t think this bed suits my stature.”

“Aye, and it barely suits Lloyd either. Boy kept outgrowing how fast my hands could even build!”

Kratos leaned back, hitting his head smack dab in the center of the headboard where one potted plant was still placed. “I see…”

Though it was not only the bed, but everything else in this home that had been built by such steady hands, he realized.

This place was simply a wooden structure on the outskirts of Iselia, entrenched within a clearing in the woods, but it was only now that Kratos had ever truly gotten a view of what such a home was like. Where the sunlight pierced through the open balcony doors, where the leaves rustled during the night, like whispers in sleep.

It was oddly nice, to just sit here, in a simple place, and worry only about just how the sun would hit his eyes as he rested. That is, when he didn’t keep knocking over the plants that were next to him…

Luckily, his host paid no mind to such accidents, instead taking the wooden chair placed next to a work desk and bringing it closer to the bed. “This is no potluck surprise, but the broth should get rid of any chills you might be having.”

The scent of chicken and spices permeated the air, and somehow, it instantly made him more relaxed. Perhaps it was combination of the room he was in, along with the assortments of potted greenery. Dirk had insisted the man stay in this room, though he was worried as to how Lloyd would feel about such a thing.

“You know Lloyd would insist you rest up here too,” Dirk had told him once, right out of the blue. Kratos had not voiced such thoughts, yet the dwarf’s words gave him a relief he dared not even confirm. And perhaps, after giving Lloyd his sword, maybe his son would not mind him using the only bed in the home that was even close to holding his frame.

He brushed such things aside. Dirk was still holding the food, as patient as the ancient trees in the backyard.

“Thank you,” Kratos finally said. Sitting up was at least slightly less awkward then laying down, though he thought he felt his back creak from the effort. The dwarf placed the platter over his legs, not disturbing even a fraction of the hot liquids in their respective containers. Once again, the scent seemed to instantly relax him.

Kratos reached for the bowl of soup – but Dirk got to it before he could.

Confusion was plain on his features until he saw the dwarf dip a polished wooden spoon into the broth, then bring it near his face. “Careful, blow on it first.”

Oh, he was not this bedbound though…

“I promise you, I can feed myself quite well,” he argued, trying to sit up straight and ignore the fact that his legs nearly shifted the tray a few inches too far to the right. “It is only my leg that is injured, not my arms.”

Dirk chuckled. “Ah, can’t even spoil an old dwarf, can ye?” But the dwarf conceded, placing the spoon back into the brothy depths. “Just brought old memories of when Lloyd would be sick as well.”

Kratos could not completely curb the mixture of both jealousy and embarrassment in his mind, and cleared his throat well before he spoke again. “I am not so grievously ill, mind you. Simply a tenacious injury…”

“Brought on by my son,” Dirk finished. “It’s not surprising. That boy will never know when to give up. He once insisted on doing all of my woodcutting when I was finishing up a job for a client.” The dwarf shook his head, but laughed at the memory that only he could see. “Even I was surprised he was able to do all of it! Though he was foolish to not wear his work gloves during that time.”

Kratos listened aptly to such a story, questions rising in his head all the sudden. How old was Lloyd then? Had he stopped asking about his parents? Had he learned to call Dirk his father so readily?

But he didn’t, simply nodding. “Then it was a very good ideal you’ve taught him.” Though still, his leg was quite stiff, and the sword that had cut such a wound on him had been done so expertly. Had it been Lloyd’s skill? Or the power of his special Exsphere? Even now, Kratos still wondered… and then such thoughts fell away once Dirk cleared his throat.

“I taught him another ideal that I think you should be learning yourself.” He gestured at the tray still over Kratos’ legs. “Eat up and be well-rested.”

Ah, to be chided by another adult was quite embarrassing. But few times had Kratos felt so caught off-guard, and all by a dwarf’s well-meaning words and a smile that could only barely be seen through a thick beard.

“I will. I just-” But even the simple act of reaching for the spoon seemed to be a monumental task. The stiffness from his leg seemed to travel up his side, to grasp at his shoulders and make his fingers twitch. He groaned, exerting all he could to keep his body in place and not knock over the tray to the ground.

It made such little sense to him. He had only been injured at the calf. Why was his whole body betraying him like this? Another shift, and the mug upturned, spilling tea all over the tray. “Damn…”

But Dirk was quick, belied by his stature. A towel was already in hand as he went to pat away the liquid before it could trickle onto the bed. The mug was already in his right hand as he took it away. “There, no harm done. Even if the tea had spilled further, ya wouldn’t have been burned. No use brewing a cup that ya can’t even drink.”

Kratos said nothing at first, shame keeping him bound before it was enough. “Forgive me. It seems I’m more injured than I thought.”

“Luckily one of us is the better thinker here then,” Dirk chided, but with another smile thrown his way. “This is what happens when you try to go it alone, you know.”

The words flew over Kratos’ head so swiftly, that he could feel their metaphorical flightpath just through his hair. “I don’t follow…”

“Let me put it another way then.” Dirk placed the now clean mug on the work desk. There were the leavings of a tools over its surface; a box full of jewelry parts, a discarded chain, and half-cut gems, as if their crafter had been in a rush to leave, forgetful in putting them away properly. “Why do you think Lloyd was able to defeat you?”

Whether Dirk was asking him such a thing to humor the dwarf, or if there were any true wisdom here, Kratos couldn’t decipher. That, and he was still feeling rather exhausted. “Because… he has grown strong.”

Dirk shrugged. “Aye, you’re not wrong. But it’s not only that.” The dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “Come now! Isn’t it something you’ve taught Lloyd yourself?”

How lost Kratos was. Or maybe it was the way the dwarf was positioned, his broad arms crossed over his chest, sitting up straight and looking as thick as a mountain where not even the most furious Desian could throw him down. Perhaps, he was distracted by that gentle air of dignity then anything else.

“The lad would complain about that to me when he would come home.” Dirk then uncrossed one arm to clap the man’s shoulder with a rough pat. “Don’t overdo it.”

Of course Lloyd would vent about such a comment. Kratos sighed. “I only said such things so that he would be more careful…”

“And since when does such comments not apply to yerself?” Dirk shook his head, but with a familiar motion, with a wisdom that Kratos had eluded for thousands of years. “You have been going through so much alone. It is too much for just one man to bear. But Lloyd is smart enough to know that you need more than just yourself to get through life.”

Being rendered speechless was a bit of an understatement, yet Kratos couldn’t deny the truth ringing through Dirk’s voice. “I had no choice,” he excused.

“As I said before, Kratos, your determination is admirable.” The dwarf sighed, placing his hands on his knees. “But, that is why I have said ever since you’ve arrived, you must rest, and you must rest well.”

It was difficult to argue against. It wasn’t only the injury keeping him bound, he knew though he tried to deny, but of bone-wearying fatigue that had been weeks in the making. Of long days and nights searching for the materials to craft an ancient ring, of careful wording in his throat to avoid the suspicion of Mithos, of Lloyd, of everyone else. He had traveled to both worlds more than he had ever done in the last four millennia.

He was tired. So very tired.

Perhaps if Kratos hadn’t shed all his tears on that night over a decade ago, he would have done so now. But he felt Dirk’s gentle gaze, felt no judgement in them, despite everything that had occurred. He stared at the breakfast tray and at the soup that was no doubt growing cold. “It is a beautiful place you have here.”

He could hear the dwarf’s smile in his tone. “I put much pride into my work. When Lloyd finally settles to make that boat of his, I said I would help him with it.”

So he knew of that dream as well? Of course he would, for he was Lloyd’s true father. Even as he felt envy at that, he felt relief as well. “I will look forward to when it is complete then.”

“Ah, enough about that. Now will ya be finally eating or what?”

“Well, of course,” Kratos said, but how could he exactly? His hands still shook a bit.

He already predicted the answer before Dirk reached for the spoon once again, taking it in rock-steady hands.

The dwarf’s grin could be seen through his beard. “I promise ya, I have many years of experience.”

“I don’t doubt that…” Kratos said with defeat. “Don’t I still need to blow on it?”

“Of course. Unless you’re asking me to do it.”

Something about the image flustered Kratos just a tad. “No, no, I can…at least handle this.” Must I really be treated like a child?

But once Kratos finally conceded, it hadn’t truly been the worst. Despite still being a head shorter than him, Dirk held the spoon at perfect level each time it was brought to his mouth. The soup was only slightly less hot, warming him enough to make him feel sleepy. Or was it all of his years, catching up to him finally, after living for much, much too long?

Maybe Dirk had advice for such a thing, being long-lived himself. But it would be much too silly to ask.

“Good, ya even finished the whole thing!” Dirk spoke with pride as he placed the spoon in the empty bowl. “Now I can see where Lloyd gets it from.”

“I normally don’t eat so quickly…” Though that was all that Kratos would argue about, also a bit surprised at how famished he had been.

Then, something unexpected. He felt Dirk’s hand brush through his hair, firm but gentle. The slight pull relieved the tension in his skull, and the warmth he felt from such fingers made him lose his train of thought for an impactful moment.

He caught the rare flash of surprise on the dwarf’s face before the hand left him. “Ah, sorry about that,” he apologized with a soft chuckle, the kind that reminded Kratos of the distant boom of thunder from a short summer storm. “Old habits. Always gave Lloyd a pat on the head for finishing his meal.”

That would explain his appetite, but Kratos kept that to himself, not out of any worries. More so because he was still trying to process the feel of Dirk’s callused palm over his skin. “Think nothing of it. Thank you.” He cleared his throat, watching as the dwarf took the tray and mug, and left the room, keeping the door half-open in case the man needed to call out to him as he worked.

And yet…how could one man tell another that a touch from him made him feel oddly comforted? Kratos fell asleep with such a question held inside his heart.

--

Dirk had always felt more at ease with his hands, aged as they were. From forging broadswords to carving out the ancient runic structures on metal, he had kept them steady. So, of course, holding a spoon to feed another was simple to him.

Yet Kratos’ eyes had been very distracting.

Ah, but he was being foolish, and it was always said that dwarves such as he, of those who favored wood over iron (despite how well he handled both) were of the gentler sort. Or perhaps he needed to be, to care for a human child he had found hidden within the protective curl of an injured creature. One’s nature can always shift, always grow.

After washing the bowl and mug, Dirk went on to continue with his chores. The logs out in back still needed cutting, and Noishe’s stable also needed a bit of cleaning, with more fresh hay to give the poor whining dog a bit of comfort since Lloyd’s absence. After traveling as much as the he could with Lloyd, Noishe had finally reached a point where it would have been too dangerous for him to continue going.

That was what was Dirk’s home was filled with – two old men and a dog, who could only give Lloyd their best as he went forward on his journey. Yet still, was it not important to keep a home steady for when their son would return?

At that thought, Dirk paused in mid-action – a trowel in hand as he had been moving the soil from the garden that was at the front of his home. “Our son, huh,” he said, and true, Kratos was his father, and Dirk considered him a father to Lloyd in his own right. But hadn’t what he thought just now sounded as if they were married? Now, that was just silly.

It was almost too perfect when he heard the creak from the stairs inside the house, and the soft call that followed. “Dirk? Are you…?”

“Outside doing some gardening!” he boomed back, knowing that was more than enough for the man to hear. Though, he seemed to recall a story from Lloyd on how angels could hear much too well… Hopefully, he hadn’t just blown out the other’s eardrums just now.

Through the half-open door, Kratos appeared, walking with a slight limp, dressed in his shirt and trousers, his cape long discarded once he had stayed here. He gazed down at the dwarf doing just what he had said he was doing, so why the surprise on his face?

“Still not resting your leg, I see,” Dirk intoned with a smile. He was kneeling beside the garden bed, already abandoning the trowel to start using his gloved hands once the soil was loose enough. “You can’t rush yourself.”

He thought a caught a flush on Kratos’ cheeks, and the sight only made him smile more warmly, happy to have witnessed what he was sure was a rare sight. “My Exsphere heals my body more quickly than most. I am fine to walk for a little.”

“Got tired of being cramped on that bed?”

“…It is quite small for me.”

Dirk couldn’t resist a chuckle leaving him, but it felt good to have it bubble within his chest. The lilies in front of him stood out starkly against the dark soil, but some were entwined with the weeds that had snuck in and took root. Though it was more difficult than he expected, Dirk moved his focus from Kratos to the flowers that needed his care.

“There’s a small trail out in the back if you would like to get some fresh air. Monsters don’t come by at this part of the forest if you’re worried about such a thing.”

“I gathered it was more than safe here,” Kratos said, his gaze shifting to the trees and their outreaching boughs that just brushed against the rooftop. “Noishe wouldn’t be sleeping soundly otherwise.”

Another chuckle that was a bit harder than the last. “Ha! So you do have a sense of humor about you.”

The flush from Kratos was another reward on its own. “I didn’t really mean that as a joke…”

Dirk tried to refrain from teasing the man, but it proved to be too tempting. He still continued his work on the garden, dirt staining his elbow as he shifted plenty to get at a particularly stubborn weed – when he felt Kratos’ presence right next to him. This was followed by the man's knees creaking slightly from the strain.

"What have I said about pushing yourself?"

There was a pout – one that echoed such familiarity that Dirk already had another reprimand on his tongue. “I assure you I am feeling better. Besides, I am allowed to be curious.”

“Never weeded a garden before then?” Dirk chuckled. Gloved hands shoveled the dirt to get at the invasive little plants, their roots holding firm into the ground. “Even angels such as yourself must look at the earth every once in a while.”

“Well… my particular angelic role as kept me preoccupied.” A clearing of the throat as he looked at what Dirk was performing, fascinated by something as simple as gardening. “And even when I wasn’t one, I never found the window for such an opportunity.”

“A window? All ye need to do is look at the ground and start planting.” Dirk shook his head. Sometimes, humans still baffled him exceedingly. “No need to overcomplicate things.”

Kratos didn’t answer him. Instead, the man kept looking at the plants, eyes rapt on the lilies, petals hanging from the stem like arms reaching out.

“I would, like to help, if I may.” Kratos cleared his throat, looking as shy as if he were a child, caught in a secret he wasn’t sure if he should share. “These are for her, aren’t they?”

Dirk weighed on it, though it was not the answer he was pondering. He had already decided Kratos would help the moment the man had come outside, sensing his unspoken request. But with a nod, he then reached to grab a pair of gloves from his pockets and handed it to him.

“First, you must use the tools necessary. Calluses from sword work and from gardening are quite different.”

Kratos only hesitated a moment before he took them, and Dirk couldn’t help a strange sense of pride then. It was familiar again, this feeling of helping another. Lloyd had also been eager to try his hand at his work before boredom would strike him. Hopefully, Kratos would stay more invested.

“These dandelions are particularly nasty little things. Ya can only uproot them with your hands, and ya need to do so carefully. Already they’re trying to take up the other flowers’ space.”

“I see…” Kratos answered, as he tried to mimic what Dirk was doing but with halting motions. He grasped at one dandelion, the seeds already blowing and getting caught in his hair without him noticing. “It should be simple to-” He pulled, stopped, and creased his brows.

Dirk grinned. “Weeds stronger than an angel?”

“I am just… not at my full strength.” Another shift, but the roots stayed attached to the dirt. It was with a particular twist that Kratos finally got the dandelion out, more of the seeds floating away on the breeze. He half stumbled on his knees, but Dirk quickly reached out, grasping the man by the shoulders to keep him steady.

A pause, more than a few seconds of breathing, and then the dwarf reached out to brush the dandelion seeds out of Kratos’ hair, its auburn shade always echoing that familiarity.

“…Horticulture has never been one of my talents,” Kratos admitted, looking everywhere he could.

Dirk could only smile, feeling comforted at the shyness of it all. “Ya can be decent with some practice.”

Kratos did keep trying, rooting up the rest of the dandelions along with Dirk, and then following along as the dwarf took up a few pots to place some full-bloomed lilies within. He gave them to Kratos, no words exchanged, and gestured the swordsman to follow him to where the grave was. Noishe was already there, curled up around it, enjoying the heat of the sun beating over his fur.

Healing can take so much time, Dirk thought, watching Kratos place the flowers on the ground, watched the motions done so more easily, a calmness that had not been there before. But we all go at our own pace, don’t we?

--

.

.

.

It was at the age of ten that Lloyd had been the most mischievous he’d ever been, much to Dirk’s surprise.

By then, calling the dwarf his father was done so without any pause or hesitance, even when those in Iselia questioned so. It was with that same surety that he called Noishe his dog, the great creature three times larger than any dog that lived within the village, with fur as verdant as the hills they lived in.

But this was also when Lloyd had been more daring, sometimes sneaking the sacred Chosen away from her church lessons to play sword fights in the woods just outside of Iselia’s gates, or when he’d readily tell Dirk he had done all of his homework and then rush down the pathway towards Genis’ home to ask for help with such things. A time of evading chores, of staying up late to work at a project that took stock from the gems in Dirk’s workshop, or simply to seek out discoveries – for Lloyd, despite his energy, also got bored so very quickly.

That tendency to seek and disobey Dirk had seen in plain sight when he caught Lloyd in the dwarf’s room. It was a simple room, with just a bed, work boots placed to the side, and a cabinet off to the side with dwarven letters inscribed over its surface. Lloyd was holding precious papers in his hands, reading through them thoroughly as if suddenly he enjoyed the written word for the first time – all while the cabinet he had just lockpicked stood half open.

“Lloyd!” Dirk shouted, and all the papers went flying out of Lloyd’s hands, like a flock of birds heading towards the sunset.

“I-I didn’t do anything!” Lloyd swiveled around on his feet, half-leaning from a stumble he quickly saved himself from. “I was just… Um…”

The letters stayed uncrumpled at least. Dirk sighed, crossing his arms as he watched the boy fidget underneath his gaze, the scrape from an earlier tumble through the brush still plain on his face. The light from the gas lamp placed on the wall hook cast flickering shadows all around the room – his room. Not that Lloyd wasn’t allowed to be in it, but snooping around the corners was another matter entirely.

There were words that hovered on the dwarf’s tongue, ones that echoed for when Lloyd wouldn’t finish the vegetables off his plate, or when he didn’t wake up in time to get to school. But his eyes kept straying to the papers with their curved handwriting, the dates on them calling to his heart with a plethora of memories that felt as warm as the sunshine on his back when he cut the wood for the fireplace.

Dirk then bent down to pick up the papers, thumb lingering on a word he had brushed over by chance before reaching to another. Lloyd stood in silence, and that silence might as well have been as loud as the boy’s shouts when he’d practice his sword skills.

Then a small creak of the floorboards. Lloyd was on his knees, reaching for one paper that had slyly flew underneath the dwarf’s bed. “H-Here. Uh… sorry…”

Dirk gratefully took the letter from Lloyd, looking over the signature on the bottom with a fondness. He knew he should be disciplining Lloyd right now, but it was hard to do away with the smile.

“I’ve not seen these in several decades,” Dirk mused aloud, shaking his head. He slid the letter along with the rest. “It’s a wonder the parchment hasn’t turned to dust yet.”

He could tell that poor Lloyd was confused. Hands on his knees, he looked to the letters with the same curious gleam in his eyes as when he did so just moments before, reading the words underneath the flickering glow of the lights. At least from this, he now knew all those lessons on dwarven languages hadn’t been for nothing.

Dirk had to ask. “So, how much do you even understand?”

Lloyd started, eyes as wide as the gems he’d just started working with. “I didn’t read much! I swear!”

A few moments passed, Dirk as patient as stone. Lloyd fidgeted again, doing his best to not let his mouth betray him. “Okay, I read like five pages… This Deagen guy doesn’t write like the textbooks that we read in class.”

Ah, how long had it been since Dirk heard his name aloud?

“He was always a very spirited writer,” Dirk confessed. He chuckled, shuffling the letters once more. “Had a talent for the pen over the pickaxe, but it was one of the things I’ve loved him for.”

After reading through so much, even Lloyd must have gathered what the letters truly meant, and why they had been locked away in a soft leatherbound skin, to keep the sun’s rays from fading away the ink.

“So I was right! He was your husband, wasn’t he?” Lloyd grinned wide, as if he had just solved one of life’s greatest mysteries. “I thought so!”

“Very confident in that statement now, are we?”

“But it’s true!” Lloyd wouldn’t back down, eyes brighter than the fire in the forge. “It’s why you sometimes wear that ring when you’re working. How come I’ve never met my other dad?”

Oh, Lloyd was already dreaming and wondering, and Dirk almost felt cruel to bring such dreams back to humdrum reality. Yet to think he had noticed the ring, an old comfort for the dwarf that was hard to let go of. “Well, you are half-right, lad.” He nodded, getting to his feet while clasping the letters in both hands. “He was meant to be my husband – but he was only my betrothed.”

He could see the surprise on Lloyd’s face, but some things must be done first. Going to the cabinet, he placed the letters in their leather skin, tied up the string around it, then placed it back inside, along with old trinkets, old photographs, old friends that could not be brought back. There was a soft click of the cabinet lock mechanism working as he shut it away.

“Sickness took Deagen before we could make our vows.” The dwarf rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers – yet the smile remained on his face all the same. “But even in his final days, he would still write to me such poetry.”

“Oh…” He heard Lloyd’s soft intake. Once facing him, the boy looked flustered then, scratching the front of his scalp in nervousness. “Sorry, I didn’t know… The ring made me think that…”

A soft pat on his head by the dwarf’s great hand. “I should have answered your questions sooner, Lloyd. Sometimes, I still grieve, and the grief stays for too long.” He shook his head. “Despite it being over a century or more…”

“Whoa…and you still kept what he wrote to you?” Lloyd’s own reluctance was quickly being blown away, finding the opening to dive in and learn all that he could. “Did you write him back? I didn’t see any letters from you!”

“Aye, well that’s because he had them. That is the point of a letter, after all.”

“So you did write to him! About what?!”

Dirk made a show of thinking on the question, all while Lloyd looked up to his dwarf dad (that he was close to outgrowing), his feet shuffling on the floorboards in his excitement.

“I’ll tell ya… If ya do the gardening chores for the next three weeks.”

“What?! But that’s so much!” Lloyd pouted. “No way!”

“And no more lockpicking. Or are ye going down the path of thievery?”

“But that’s not fair! I didn’t lie-” Lloyd stopped, remembering what had just happened a few minutes ago. “Okay, never mind…”

All young children are curious at heart, and Lloyd’s heart was filled with it – and it was only right for a parent to nurture his child’s curiosity.

“You’ll really tell me then?” Lloyd asked, as if binding Dirk to a sacred promise.

The dwarf would treat it as such. “Of course. Gives this old man an excuse to talk for hours.”

.

.

.

--

When Lloyd was home, suddenly the previous quietude of the home felt more energetic. No longer was it just the sounds of Dirk’s hammer clanging away over the anvil, of Noishe’s soft whining on his lap when he visited Kratos in the room, or of the rhythm of bird chirping from the branches overhead. Lloyd stomped over the stairs as he rushed to pack his belongings, as he greeted Dirk each time he passed him by the forge, as he moved with renewed motivation for another journey out into the world.

Kratos, meanwhile, sat at the dining table, content to watch his son already make his decisions. As he would need to do so himself. His leg had healed up, in part by his Exsphere, but also by Dirk’s care.

Yet he wondered if it was more due to the latter…

“Krato- Uh, I mean, dad.” Lloyd ran up to him, still stumbling over the word that was both familiar yet not. But the effort was appreciated. “Here, I meant to give you this, since you have to go… It’s a wooden charm! Presea helped me out with the design a little, and since you’re giving me your pendant, I figured… well, you know.”

The gift was unexpected, but Kratos held out his hand to accept it – a polished piece of wood, set in the shape of a seed, with curves and sigils carved into its surface. A long piece of twine looped through a makeshift hole at the top of the charm, creating an intricately made necklace. Lloyd scratched his cheek, looking slightly nervous but eager all the same.

“You can adjust it to fit around your neck or wrist if you wanted! But, you don’t have to wear it at all, I mean.”

Kratos smiled. Even as his first instinct of denying he was not worthy of such a gift resurfaced (old habits), he instead tried to learn acceptance of himself. “Lloyd, thank you. It is more than enough for me.”

The pride on Lloyd’s face was nearly so infectious, a grin that sported a brightness matching the sun. “Hehe. I can help you put it on!”

Well, perhaps Kratos could go about acceptance a bit more slowly then. “Ah, I can do it myself-”

“Ay, now that’s nonsense.” The thick-accented voice of Dirk reverberated throughout the household, followed by his stomping footsteps. Even so the dwarf was at his side in barely a moment’s notice. “Allow me to help then. Can examine my son’s handiwork in the meantime.”

Kratos’ embarrassment must have been so plain on his face. He cleared his throat, but Dirk had already taken the wooden charm necklace, unfurling the string. “Really, I can do this myself…”

But he was helpless to Dirk’s smile, to his gentle hands as he shifted aside Kratos’ hair, sliding the necklace over him. He felt the other’s fingertips brush over him, even the frizzle of his beard that took up nearly half the dwarf’s face, yet it didn’t dim the other’s smile in the slightest.

Now why was Kratos so nervous over something this simple? He couldn’t understand it…

“Been improving, lad. Maybe Presea can be your new tutor.” Dirk tied the knot just at the base of Kratos’ neck.

“Told you I was getting better! I always made sure to practice while I was away.” Lloyd discussed with Dirk so easily, despite Kratos’ blush that must have been growing more obvious by the second.

Once Dirk stepped back, he let out a breath that had been held so long in his chest – and then inhaled again once the dwarf wrapped a friendly arm around him.

“You do make your fathers proud, Lloyd,” Dirk complimented, before looking down at Kratos. Seated at the table as he was, he was now, for the first time, at a lower height than Dirk. “Looks very fine on you, too.”

“I-” Kratos stuttered, cleared his throat again, feeling the cool surface of the wood against his collarbone, but remembering the warmth of the hands on him. “That is… It is only because of Lloyd that…”

“Learn to accept a compliment, why don’t ya?” A grin that could warm the ice on a chilly winter day. “A handsome man like you should be used to it.”

“That’s… not necessary…” But the arm around his shoulder felt so welcoming that he stayed in it, with no thought to leaving it just yet.

It took him a moment to remember that Lloyd was but a few feet away from them. He gazed back at his son, who was looking at the two very curiously.

“Huh, did I miss something…?”

Oh, I’m being a fool, Kratos thought with a bit of shame. But the arm only held him more firmly, so steady.

“Just a bit of fatherly bonding, is all,” Dirk told his son, with a confidence that Kratos wondered if he ever had in his entire life.

Lloyd blinked, angled his head just slightly – and then realization hit. “Ohh!” His grin was practically identical to Dirk’s. “I see! That’s great for both of you!”

With a cough, Kratos placed a hand over his forehead, unused to such vigor from so many at once. It is not even true, yet he accepts it so easily, Kratos thought, even as he felt a sense of relief. Or, was it true? He wasn’t even sure now.

“Does that mean you’ll send him letters too then?” Lloyd asked suddenly, eager just as before.

Kratos raised his head, once more left in the dark. “I’m sorry. Letters?”

Dirk’s grin stayed on, but with an air of fondness. The arm around him seemed to feel even gentler. “Aye, a bit of a story there. If ya want to hear, I could tell it.”

“Let me tell it! Let me!”

“Lloyd, don’t you have some packing to do still?”

“Aw, but I can tell it good, I swear!”

Kratos sighed, feeling a little weary, both for the situation and for what he would need to do once he made his own journey. But a smile finally graced his lips, hearing both Lloyd and Dirk chat away, still being held so close.

Maybe it was okay to be this happy, at least for a while.

[topaziraphale]

I am never one to shame people for their preferences but I just find it so incredibly boring that "sexy dominant demon" made its way into this fandom. I don't know, I just feel like reducing Crowley to the very thing that he tries so hard to embody is not it. His struggle with vulnerability and wanting to be taken care of but cannot let people in is a big part of his character, and I love when fanfics or art delves into that. This is just my take, though.

I agree. I try not to yuck other people's yums, mostly because fandom and headcanons are just for fun and, at the end of the day, nothing will change what's already there in the text. Headcanons are there for fun, and honestly, it really is fun to do. That's why we're all here, after all! Who am I to tell someone what to think?

But while I won’t demand anyone think the way I do (i mean, who does that?), that doesn't really stop me from personally getting bored and even annoyed when a fic makes Crowley only ever the mean-dark-sexy-evil demon he dresses himself up to be. Or when he's way too extremely-ultra-soft-and-sensitive and can't do anything without Aziraphale and needs his love in order to function. I, myself, don’t see the fun in these, for more reasons other than “That’s not how he would act, wtf?” 

This, uh, ended up getting really wordy because I have no self control and I never had buddies to rant about this meta to, so this is my outlet. The rest of it is under a cut. I’m apologizing in advance. You definitely weren’t expecting this much of a response, I reckon. 

TL;DR - I don’t like reductive headcanons for Crowley because they undermine the entire point for his character existing in the first place and it therefore makes him boring.

Before I get into it, I can't bring up the purpose of Crowley as a character without also including Aziraphale. Crowley, as he stands right now, would arguably be equally as pointless without Aziraphale there with him. And the same goes vice-versa. They complete each other - they were originally one character that got split into two, after all.

The story of Good Omens is commentating on the nature of human morality. Morality, as we know, can be gray, and messy, and confusing. Sometimes it really depends on how you look at it. What one person will see as evil, another will see as righteous. That’s just how humans are. And the entire concept of Morality cannot exist without being prefaced with the binary that is Good and Evil. That’s where Aziraphale and Crowley come in. They’re basically a giant metaphor for all that.

At the end of the day, they’re just a fun, interesting way to visualize the nature of human morality. They’re here to help build one of the main themes in the story. Their existence as an angel and a demon symbolize the Good and Evil binary, but it is their choices and actions that alienate them from the other angels and demons and thus make them more complex as characters, that truly completes the entire metaphor for morality.

This is probably why they’re not humans. The message with them wouldn’t be as unique if they were. Making them an angel and demon reinforces the symbolism and removes the gray bias that making them human would cause. 

That’s why they’re interesting enough to exist in this story as main characters despite doing virtually almost nothing to really impact the chain of events.

My point is, Aziraphale and Crowley cannot represent morality in this special way if they’re characterized to be just like any other demon or angel.  

If they’re characterized that way, then they aren’t serving the purpose they were created for. And if they can’t do that, then what’s the point of having them? It’s not like they have many actions that directly impact a major aspect of the storyline - and the ones they do have could probably be worked around. At that point, they’re just here for the aesthetic. That doesn’t make them interesting enough to be main characters.

That’s why I tend to not like those types of headcanons that simply reduce both Aziraphale and Crowley into exactly what they’re expected to be. Crowley can’t be as interesting as he is if he can’t be the symbol he was created to be. He can’t be that symbol that if he isn’t An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards. He is interesting BECAUSE you expect him to be a suave, sexy, silver-tongued handsome devil that is truly evil - but in reality, he’s actually a really nice person, has a soft spot for humanity, and is kinda dorky at times. 

Headcanons that make him a stereotypical mean sexy demon, or the ones that overdo his softness and vulnerability disturb the balance that he’s got going on. He’s practically someone else at that point. Crowley in canon part of a really interesting set up and dynamic - to change that dynamic by changing his personality into something that ultimately works against the key components that make it work in the first place simply makes him more boring of a character. That’s why I have a really tough time getting into those particular fanon interpretations of him over the ones that are closer to canon.