#we see this quiet hate and I don't know what to do. nobody has ever known when I've hated myself quietly and I don't know what would've-

[buysomecheese]

FUCKED UP THAT SOMEONE CAN SEE THEIR FRIEND IN A VULNERABLE POSITION AND THEN USE THAT TO THEIR ADVANTAGE!!! FUCKED UP THAT HE WOULDN'T TAKE KINDLY TO HIS OTHER FRIENDS HELPING HIM GET OUT OF THAT SITUATION SO WE CAN'T HELP AS MUCH AS WE'D LIKE TO. FUCKED UP THAT SO MANY GOOD THINGS WILL BE TAINTED FOR HIM NOW. FUCKED UP THAT HE'LL LIKELY BE SO CLOSED OFF TO EVERYTHING NOW BECAUSE OF THEM!!!!!

[kirkwallsquad]

favorite da2 battle lines in no particular order

i'm listening to a compilation by danaduchy on youtube rn so

literally every fenris line bcs everyone else is YELLING and he's just speaking in his regular quiet-ish voice. king what are you saying i can't HEAR YOU

except for when hawke goes down. THEN he's loudly upset.

"hawke's down! time to panic!" (isabela)

"the tame elf is down" (varric - what the fuck omg don't call fenris that)

"your pet elf has fallen" (carver - WHAT THE FUCK OMG DON'T CALL FENRIS THAT)

"that moody mage is down" (aveline)

"ugh, can someone pick up fenris please?" (merrill)

"isabela's on the ground... appropriately" (aveline - HELLO?!?!?!?)

"merrill! oh, blood mages are so dramatic" (isabela)

"aveline has fallen?" (fenris - why is this a question babe)

"they got whatshisname, the mage" (varric - i continue to believe he doesn't know anders' name until act 3)

"the dwarf has dropped a few more feet" (sebastian)

"dear varric, please learn to parry. love, your innards" (varric)

"do you have something for this, because it hurts" (carver)

"even my teeth hurt" (anders)

"i've got so many bruises now they've got names and families" (merrill)

"ugh, i have dirt in my mouth" (sebastian)

"you're going to let me walk around injured?" (carver)

"being close to death is very bad for my morale" (isabela)

sebastian describes his wounds as "oozing" or "seeping" more than once

"i know dalish are meant to be close to the earth, but we don't mean literally" (merrill)

"i'm alright, who needs kidneys anyway" (isabela)

"hawke. varric. i think this is bad." (merrill)

"stop being you and fix me up" (carver - BABY. BABY BROTHER.)

"that really gets the blood flowing" but also "i will fight and pray for forgiveness later" but also "this is much more exciting than the chantry!" (sebastian - what is wrong with you <3)

"my face is not a shield!" (hawke)

"and they say drinking doesn't solve anything" (isabela)

"haawke i can't mooove" (sebastian)

"i'm too far away, what do you want me to do? shout at them?" (isabela)

"i'd have to fly to reach! of course, i've always wanted to learn to fly" (merrill - she's literally the funniest person ever)

"alas, no" (fenris)

"my faith is my armor! my cause is my shield!" (sebastian)

"if we kill them, we get their stuff!" (isabela)

"andraste's knees, it's like herding cats!" (isabela)

"AFRAID YET?!" (anders)

"RUN! WHILE YOU CAN!" (anders - he's so loud i love him)

"another one for me! how many have you gotten, hawke?" (varric)

"ah. a shame that you're going to die, no?" (fenris)

"you. me. and an audience. that's what this is all about!" (carver)

"may the creators have mercy on you! i certainly won't." (merrill)

"destructive forces of nature, coming up!" (anders)

"suck on a fireball!" (anders)

"NEVER TAUNT A MAGE!!!" (anders)

"a thrust, now a parry" (fenris)

"i'm gonna taunt you in elvish now! durgen'len! aravel! vallaslin!" (merrill)

"hello, i'm merrill, and i'll be your distraction." (merrill)

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHY MAGES ARE FEARED!!!" (anders)

"maker please forgive your children" followed immediately by "DID YOU SEE THAT SHOT" (sebastian)

"WANT TO SEE WHAT'S UNDER THESE ROBES?!?!?!" (anders)

"I'M RIGHT HERE! HIT ME!" (isabela)

"maker, the idiocy" (bethany)

"MAKER BLESS YOUR CHILDREN IN THEIR HOUR OF NEEEED" (sebastian)

"my weapon does nothing??" (fenris - he sounds so puzzled help)

"this is SO not working" (anders)

"if the pointy sticks don't work, try the other pointy sticks" (isabela)

"ah, dear. why doesn't anyone ever want to be nice to us?" (merrill)

"is there an end to the people who hate you?" (aveline)

"looks like we've got a few more puppies to kick" (isabela - HELLO?!?)

"take a step, kill, repeat repeat repeat" (carver)

"the hate you inspire is unfortunate" (fenris)

"another twenty steps, another batch of deaths" (anders)

"nobody seems to like you. do you get used to that?" (merrill - ouch. brutal hskfjhgksdjfhg)

"i can't take credit for all of this. hawke helped a little bit" (isabela)

[infiniteglitterfall]

Uggghhh, what is UP with Canada?!

In Vancouver, the Schara Tzedeck synagogue's windows were smashed on April 19th.

In Toronto on April 19, five windows at the Kehillat Shaarei Torah synagogue were smashed with a hammer.

In Toronto on April 26, someone set a sign on fire at Beth Tikvah Synagogue....

....And again on April 28.

In Toronto in May, Jewish community members started escorting a kid to school because he was being bullied by peers who told him, "We're going to do to you what Hamas did to Israel," pushed him, kicked him, threw stones at him, and told him, "we need to kill you." This had been going on for six months. (His family had gone to both the school and police repeatedly at this point and it had only escalated; the kids throwing stones at him on the way to school was new.)

In Toronto on May 17th, Kehillat Shaarei Torah's windows were smashed again.

On May 25th before dawn, two people shot at Bais Chaya Muska, a Jewish girls' school in Toronto.

On May 29th, in the middle of the night, someone shot at the Belz Yeshiva Ketana school in Montreal.

In Vancouver on May 30, someone poured fuel on the doors of the Schara Tzedeck synagogue, then firebombed them.

In an article on June 7, Rabbi Lisa Grushcow of Emanu-El-Beth Sholom synagogue in Montreal said people have yelled “Hitler was right!” and “Jew!” at her congregants as they arrive for Shabbat services and that Jewish kids are being bullied in local schools.

On June 1 in Toronto, a man smashed the window of the Anshei Minsk synagogue with a rock.

On June 3 in Kitchener, someone smashed the front door of Beth Jacob synagogue.

On June 19th in Montreal, three small bullet-like holes were somehow made in the windows of Falafel Yoni. (I don't know, all the articles go out of their way to say they don't know WHAT made the holes.) Falafel Yoni is owned by a Jewish man who was born in Israel, and has appeared on boycott lists despite the owner never having said anything political about Israel.

On the same day, down the street from Falafel Yoni, someone smashed the windows of a nearby gym whose co-owner is Jewish and had also been born in Israel.

On June 30 in Toronto, someone threw stones at the Pride of Israel synagogue, then at Kehillat Shaarei Torah, smashing windows (again) in the latter.

On the weekend of July 27th, a father and son in Toronto were arrested for planning a terrorist attack and murder on behalf of ISIL, which is wild.

On July 29th, someone torched a bus belonging to the Bobov Hassidic school in Toronto.

And smashed the windows of a DIFFERENT Jewish school in Toronto, Leo Baeck Jewish Day School, and set it on fire.

On July 31 in Toronto, guess which synagogue had three signs set on fire? That's right: Kehillat Shaarei Torah.

Plus one sign set afire at Toronto's Temple Sinai Congregation the same night, presumably by the same arsonist, who might even have been the stone-hurler of June 30.

There are probably ones I missed. Just putting this list together took like three hours, though. I kept having to go, "Wait, surely that can't be the same synagogue AGAIN" and "they only mention the closest major intersection, which one was this?!" and "that can't be a different one, how many windows did they smash??" and go look for more sources. Plus a couple of articles were giving conflicting dates for one of the incidents.

And nobody ever gives actual dates, they just say shit like, "Blah blah blah was reported Monday...." so I have to look at the article date and then look at a damn calendar.

I went back as far as April because everything I found was referring to earlier incidents. Back to April. February and March were relatively quiet, at least in the news. Although interestingly, February is when the most hate crimes in Toronto had been reported, at least as of ... oh, I see.

As of March.

On the bright side, I did discover that Kehillat Shaarei Torah consistently has great jokes on its sign.

[hueshy]

pair: hueningkai x f! reader

warnings: drinking, reader is kind of stupid, overthinking, not proofread.. thats all, if i missed one or two lmk

genres: fluff, reader gets cute aggression because of kai, bad angst cause i don't know how to write it

you and the members are doing your daily hangout on fridays, playing videogames and laugh at the one who lost, drink until nobody knows where they are or what they’re talking about.

but today, something feels off

every one is bickering as usual but kai, you couldn’t help but notice at the way he's unusually quiet. hiding his mouth with his sweaterpaws, shy, quiet responses while his cheeks are naturally colored

dear god

you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, biting your lip whenever he speaks and pinching the pillow on your lap when his bangs slightly cover his eyes. ever since you sat on this couch you had the strongest desire to hug him tightly while you squealed on how adorable he is

if you did just that, he wouldn’t be weirded out right? he would receive the hug happily and giggle along with you, you think

soobin has noticed you staring at kai for awhile now, giggling on how mesmerized you look at the sight of kai and also how obvious you are, obvious to everyone but kai himself.

he approaches you and says,

“you’re clear as a crystal you know,” you hear a deep voice next to you, it’s soobin, you stare at him like he has grown two heads “what do you mean?”

he stares at kai who’s sat in the couch playing games with beomgyu then back at you, “do you like him?”

“…what?” he shrugs, “just curious”

you scoff and playfully roll your eyes, slowly mouthing a ‘no’ before going back to the couch to sit next to kai “who’s winning?” asking the two but eyes only looking at him. kai suddenly goes silent, you furrow your eyebrows and open your mouth to voice your worry but beomgyu beats you to it. “what’s wrong huening? why are you so suddenly quiet? you were so talkative just now" red cheeks, eyes staring down at the controller in his hands, everything but you, red ears.. oh? " don’t tell me—“ beomgyu looks at you for a second, “shut up!” “oh it is, isn’t it?” he teases, smirking. “what? what’s wrong? tell me!” you whine, desperate to know what’s up so suddenly.

“nothing! beomgyu-hyung is just being annoying” kai answers, irritated

you hum, furrowing your eyebrows once again, “is he really? c’mon tell me beomgyu!” as soon as you glare at him he nonchalantly shrugs, the dimple on his cheek appearing as he was smilling too hard

“ugh i was planning to share my chips with you beomgyu but not anymore traitor”

although he looked absolutely endearing when 'shy', you didn't like how quiet he is whenever you're around. he was practically ignoring you, but why? 'does he hate me now? what did i do? why is he barely speaking to me? we we're just fine 4 days ago..'

'is this the thing him and beomgyu didn't want to tell me? then why was beomgyu so chill and smilling about it?' negative thoughts ran through your mind back and forth, your heart starts to hurt.

"are you okay?" a soft, husky voice greets your ear, a whisper of an angel..

your dear friend, how could you forget he was next to you?

"i'm fine, not in the best mood" you hear a weak hum and a small, 'is that so?'

you continue watching the screen infront of you, you totally forgot you and the others were watching a movie but soon all of them fellasleep but you and kai

a finger taps your shoulder

"..would a hug from hueningie cheer you up?" he opens wide his arms while smiling softly, bangs now swept to the side, exposing his forehead, is this heaven?

the smile on his face fades seeing your hesitance, arms not as widespread as before

you feel horrible

you wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him, a sweet scent of vanilla drown your senses “..i’m sorry” he whispers into your ear, warm breath hits your cold skin, “it’s my fault right?” you nod against his shoulder, you gulp before saying “you hate me”

“no, no, you got it wrong! it’s just..” he whines and hides his face in your hair, your tummy fills up with butterflies at the action “i.. i recently figured out something, n-not something negative, well.. depends on how you take it” you feel his shaking fingers play with the ends of your hair

you stay in silence, waiting for him to speak up, you hear a shaky breath above you “i think i like you— no, i’m inlove with you, ..i, the way you make me feel, i didn’t know the exact name for it but now i do, y/n.. if you don’t feel the same way please—”

"you're not lying to me right?" kai's eyes widen "no of course not! i would never—" you take his face in your hands, closing the gap between you and him by bit, "then, would you kiss me?" he finds himself nodding uncontrollably, repeating 'yes' over and over again. "yes, yes.. would.. would you.. let me?" he stutters, you could feel the way his cheeks were burning hot, so cute, why would you say no?

"of course"

he kisses you, tangling his fingers on your hair and bringing you closer to him, he backs up for air then smashes his lips on yours

"you're so— desesperate to kiss me aren't you?" you laugh

"yes.. yes i think ive liked you for so long but i didn't realize until now” sighing he leans closer to you, foreheads kissing. “we.. are a couple now, right?” you hum and shrug after, “obviously, we just kissed”

“..good to know, question.. can we do it again?—“

"eww what the fuck! yn and kai are making out on my couch!" an annoying voice says behind you, you roll your eyes

“beomgyu!”

[lola-bunn1]

Hey! please could you write a Neteyam x reader?

The reader has always been seen as ‘one of the boys’ and Neteyam treats her as a friend. She becomes fed up of Neteyam not noticing her as a woman so she decides to act feminine or flirty. Neteyam notices her change in demeanour and how she attracts attention of another male which causes him to be jealous. This causes an argument which leads to a confession and maybe a little smut.

❥ a/n: i hope this turned out the way you wanted! im not good with smut so it was little ik im sorry !! also grace is alive here bc theres mentions of her school

Neteyam has always been apart of your life, you grew close to him and he grew close to you. Not in the way you think though, you grew close to him in the romantic sense, he grew close to you in the friendly sense.

You've always been with him, when he'd go hang out with the boys, you'd come as well and nobody ever minded. After all, you weren't a girl. You were part of them.

You actually hated it.

You hated that everyone including Neteyam thought of you as one of the boys.

You weren't.

You didn't care if everyone thought that, what really mattered was Neteyam. And it angered you how he didn't think of you as an actual girl.

You were sick of it, and you noticed things about yourself. You always wore something over your tops, you never really did anything to make yourself look better.

So you changed that, you made new tops, tops that really focused on your features, you braided your hair differently, and changed the way you spoke, you began speaking in a soft and feminine voice.

The only reason you really wore a long top was because of the one time you didn't, where Neteyam made fun of you and the fact that you looked like a girl, and you stopped wearing it so he can stop

But this time, you didn't care, you didn't even know why he used it as an insult.

When you first left your home looking the way you did after you changed yourself, you didn't notice the amount of eyes that were set on you.

Neteyam was with his friends, talking and waiting for you before they all went quiet

"Damn" One of them said before you approached them

"Hey guys" You smiled, talking in a soft voice

"Why do you sound like that" Neteyam said

"You look like an actual girl" Another guy said

"Uh, thanks?" You said and they all laughed, Neteyam didn't though since there wasn't anything funny

Were they laughing to please you or something?

"Uh, y/n, wanna walk with me to school?" Al'oktan asked

"Alright" You said, and everyone stared as you walked with him, Neteyam just glared and went quiet

It started becoming like this all the time, boys would talk to you, walk you home, try to impress you. But what bothered Neteyam the most was what you were doing.

Why the sudden change? You were fine the way you were before.

You completely changed, and it annoyed him.

What really snapped him, was when he was with his friends

"Neteyam" Al'oktan said

"What" Neteyam answered

"Do you think anyone asked to court y/n?"

Neteyam froze, was he going to court you?

The other boys answered for Neteyam, and he just made up some excuse and left them.

He went to find you and rolled his eyes when he saw you with another guy

"y/n" He said, and they both turned to him, "we need to talk"

"Um, okay...I'll see you later" You told the guy, he just glared at Neteyam and walked away

It was quiet for some time, he just kept staring at you

"What's going on?" You asked

"What are you doing." He said

"What?" You responded, confused

"Why are you acting like this"

"Like what, exactly?" You nervously chuckled

"Like this, y/n!" He yelled, "The weird change in voice, the revealing outfits, the hair, everything!"

You rolled your eyes at him, "What do you expect, Neteyam. I'm a girl" You said and were about to walk away until he pulled you back

"Don't you think I know that?" he asked

"No actually, you don't. You always see me as one of the guys and it's annoying! I'm not, Neteyam! I'm not some guy friend you can make fun of. I actually have feelings yknow" You yelled

"You know I don't actually make fun of you"

"I don't care. Why are you so mad anyway!" you rolled your eyes again

"Because I don't like it!"

"Don't like what!"

"Everything! I don't like seeing others with what's mine." He yelled and you went quiet, he held your hand, "You are what's mine."

"What are you saying?" You said

He gently held your face, "I'm saying what you're hearing, y/n." He whispered, slowly leaning in and pressing his lips against yours

You slowly pushed him away, "Why now, Neteyam?"

"Because I planned on telling you before, but you suddenly changed and all these boys were after you and I didn't like it." He said

"Why not? I think it's sweet" You teased

"Very funny" He rolled his eyes

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, he melted into the kiss, your hands roamed around his hair, his slid down to your top, gently untying it

"I'll show you what's really funny, y/n" He whispered as his hands roamed down your body

man were you in for a night.

[kooruphobic]

WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE? — armin arlert/reader

𓆩♡𓆪 tags : sub!armin, tease!reader, armin has a crush (on you), and is definitely helplessly in love, kissing, begging (slightly), vaginal sex, jean kirstein is a bitch, armin thinks about voueyrism(?), smut

𓆩♡𓆪 word count : 2.7k

𓆩♡𓆪 summary : armin has been pining after you for years. when the two of you end up alone in his room, he finally works up the courage to ask you to be his valentine. but in the end, he gets a little more than what he asked for.

Armin likes you. Everyone knows—Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, Sasha—it’s a universal fact at this point. Even people who aren't in your close circle know.

He’s liked you for years. Ever since Eren introduced the two of you he fell in love at first sight. Armin wasn’t gifted with the courage to flirt with girls as Eren does, so he’s admired you from afar instead. Everyone notices how he looks at you and how he blushes when you get close to him. One time, when your entire friend group was hanging out, there were no more spots on the couch so you asked if you could sit on his lap as a joke. His entire face went completely red in seconds. He managed to choke out a quiet “yeah,” and for the few weeks following Armin had to face relentless teasing from the entire group. 

Truth be told, you knew what you were doing. You always know what you're doing. Even though he doesn't think you know, it's quite obvious to you that Armin has a crush. Teasing him when you all hang out together is probably one of your favorite pastimes. You enjoy the way he struggles to get out the right words when you compliment him or how his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush rosy-pink when you flirt. 

If you're being honest with yourself, you might also have a little crush on him. Armin is very pretty. You like his blonde hair and how his soft blue eyes compliment them. His smile is super cute, too. He’s always nice to you (probably because he likes you) but he’s always careful with what he says and has never done anything to make you uncomfortable. You would ask to date him, but you find no fun in making the first move. Imagining Armin being flustered as he’s confessing to you is something you picture almost every time you see him.

Today is the 14th of February. It's a day that people either love or hate: Valentine’s Day. Since nobody in the friend group is dating anyone, you decided to spend Valentine's Day with each other. Armin offered for everyone to come over to his place and you did. You all played games (almost losing friendship over an Uno match), ate, drank, and talked about stupid things. It was like any other typical hangout you guys had.

Or so Armin thought. With the way his friends are, he shouldn't have been surprised when they all left to go “pick up” something. Jean was the one who urged you to stay with Armin, insisting he couldn't just be left alone even though Armin kept telling you it was fine.

And now the two of you are in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, talking about nothing in particular. 

“...And I always lose when we play anything card related. You guys are plotting against me or something,” you laugh softly, slightly tilting your head. You ask him a question but your words simply go through one ear and out the other. The only thing Armin can focus on is how pretty you look next to him. He eyes your chest and eventually trails down the rest of your body, practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Armin?”

You wave a hand in front of him, breaking him out of his trance. He realizes he’s been staring at you for a little too long, and he immediately begins coming up with one hundred different excuses for himself.

“I’m sorry, I just spaced out for—”

“What were you thinking about?”

You.

“I-I dunno. Just stuff, I guess.”

Armin’s cheeks are dusted rose-pink and he can feel the blood rush to his face. He’s praying you don't notice his flushed appearance (you do, though). You giggle at his sudden shy demeanor, despite him talking so confidently with you just a few minutes before.

“You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

You will judge. How can he possibly tell you straight-up he was thinking about you? 

“It's nothing, really. Did you ask something earlier?” he questions, trying to change the subject.

You smile. Earlier you asked if he had a valentine. You know the answer already, you just want to see him become a stuttering mess.

“I asked if you have a valentine.”

Armin's eyes widen for a second and he quickly looks around the room, finding something to focus on so he’s not looking at you. 

Of course, he doesn't have a valentine. He wants it to be you, but there's no way he has enough courage to do that. Armin has done the math. There's a ninety-nine-point-nine chance of him getting rejected, so it's kind of silly to confess knowing he’ll get his heart broken.

He’s heard it a million times from his friends every year: “Just do it. The worst she can say is no,” but that's just it. Every time a guy thinks the worst she can possibly say is “no” the outcome is the complete opposite and they get rejected in ways ten times worse. Armin doesn't have any personal experience with that, but he’s certainly seen what other guys have been through.

But then he starts thinking, what if you do say yes to him? What if the point one percent of you not rejecting him actually pulls through? Armin feels a small sense of confidence. It wouldn't hurt to confess…right? He’s liked you for years so why not just tell you and get it over with? He does have the perfect opportunity. Maybe watching Eren flirt with all those girls has given him some second-hand experience.

Armin stops staring at the pencil on his desk and returns his gaze to you. You still have your head tilted to the side, patiently waiting for an answer.

“...Yeah.”

The little confidence he had in himself left and was replaced with immediate regret. Why did he say that? He didn't even say it as a normal person would. His voice came out quiet and shaky. Where was he even going with this?

“Oh, really?” you smile again, a hint of amusement in your voice. “Who is it?”

“Well—”

“Is it someone I know?” you place a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. “Am I friends with them?”

Armin's heartbeat quickens tenfold, and instead of feeling the blood rush straight to his face, it goes straight to his dick. He’s hard and all you’ve done is put one hand on hand on him. 

You give him an innocent look and place a knee between his legs, acting as if you don't know what you're doing. 

“What's wrong, Armin? You're so quiet.”

What's wrong? What's wrong is that your knee is pressing against his hard-on and you're above him, hand still resting on his chest. There's no way you're doing this as a joke. It has to be on purpose, right? You're not just messing with him?

“You…you do know her,” he manages to say, closing his eyes and letting out a sharp breath.

 You lean forward and your lips ghost the shell of his ear. 

“Tell me about her then,” you whisper, “because it seems that you like her a lot.”

Armin swallows and places a shaky hand on top of yours, gazing at you with desire evident in his eyes. 

“She’s really pretty. I’ve liked her for a long time…” he trails off when you run your hand down his abs, but picks up again when you stop. “I haven't actually asked her yet.”

“Hmm. Why? Are you scared?” your voice takes on more of a sultry tone.

“N-no. Not exactly.”

“I think…” you tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “that you should ask her right now.”

Armin looks up at you and stares. There's no way you're just joking. He’s used to your teasing—Armin always thinks it's just to mess with him—but you’ve never taken it this far. You have to like him too, right? Why would you go to these lengths just to mess with him? He realizes just how embarrassed he is and how embarrassing it would be if he really asked you to be his valentine. Armin would feel like he was in the sixth grade again, which is definitely not something he’d like to feel. 

You graze your lips against his, cupping his face with your hand. 

“C’mon, Armin. I know you like me. Just ask.”

He feels his face heat up again. For a second, he thinks he’s dreaming because there’s no possible way this could be real. But it is. It is real. It’s real and you’re telling him to ask you to be his valentine.

“Will you—will you be my valentine?”

He cringes slightly at his words but seeing the way you smile against his lips makes everything worth it.

“Of course I will.”

Armin swallows again as you stare at him for a few moments. He follows your eyes as they move down to his lips. As if asking for permission, you move forward ever so slightly. He thinks about it for a moment, wondering what would happen if the others came back and walked into the room. How would they react if they saw the two of you like this, your knee in between his thighs and faces so close you can feel each other's breath? They most definitely wouldn’t be surprised, but if you took it any further than a one-time thing…

He decides not to think about it any longer and closes his eyes, letting his lips find yours and kissing you. Armin kisses softly at first, but eventually, you start kissing back, and he loses himself. The kiss grows sloppier but it doesn’t matter to him. This is all he’s ever wanted. The number of times he’s fallen asleep fantasizing about your soft lips on his—he can’t even count them on his fingers anymore. Armin wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. 

You taste sweet, a mix of chocolate and alcohol from earlier. It’s intoxicating. Everything about you is intoxicating. The way you smell, the way you feel, the way you touch. He hadn’t noticed you were running your hands down his body until you reached in between his thighs. Your hands lingered there, unmoving. He moans into the kiss, quiet but still loud enough that you hear. 

You kiss him for a few moments longer then break away. Armin is panting, his ears burning and eyes blown with lust. You’ve turned him into a mess with one kiss.

“Please,” is the only word he says, looking down at your hand still between his thighs. 

You tug his shirt, a sign for him to take it off, and he obliges. He throws it to the side carelessly, doing the same with his pants. 

You’ve seen Armin without a shirt before but you’ve never realized how good he looks. He has washboard abs, a slender waist, and a complimenting v-line—you can’t help but stare for a few seconds. You run your hands down his abs, trailing all the way down to his boxers. You hook your fingers around the waistband and pull them down, his hard cock lightly hitting his stomach. There’s already pre-cum leaking from his tip. 

“What do you want me to do, Armin?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his length. 

He looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t care what you do to him, he just wants more of you in any way possible. 

“Anything.”

You grin and pull your shirt off, then your shorts, then your bra. Besides your panties, you’re completely bare. Armin admires how perfect you look in front of him. He’s touched himself to the thought of you naked before, but nothing he imagined in that pretty little head of his amounted to how good you looked in person.

You go in for another kiss and soon enough he’s pushing inside of you, slowly enough to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. You moan into the kiss, rolling your hips onto his. 

“Wait—no condom?” 

“It’s ok. On the pill,” you intertwine your fingers with his and press your lips onto his again. Armin bottoms out into you and groans. You realize just how big Armin actually is. He places his hands around your waist and hugs you closer, holding you tight as if he’s scared he’ll lose you. 

You start moving up and down on his cock and eventually, Armin starts meeting you halfway. The two of you waste no time taking it slow, he’s desperate for you, and—even though you haven’t really shown it—you’re desperate for him. When Armin kissed you your thighs clenched, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

The room that was once filled with you and Armin’s innocent bickering and teasing was now filled with obscene sounds—from how he pistoned up into your wet pussy to his sweet whimpers—it turned on Armin so, so much.

You squeeze around him, enjoying his whimpers and breathy pants. And just as you were both chasing your high, coming close even though it hasn’t been that long, you hear the front door open and the sounds of your friend's laughter follow. Armin stops and looks at his closed bedroom door, a panicked expression on his face. A knock sounds on the door, Connie’s voice coming from the other side.

“Are you two good in there?”

Armin opens his mouth to answer but only a broken sob comes out as you slam your hips back down onto him. You continue, smiling down at him, acting like nothing is wrong. He looks at you with his eyes widened, biting his hand to stop himself from letting out any more sounds.

“Go on, answer him. You don’t want him to think there’s anything wrong, do you?” 

He grabs your waist with his free hand in an attempt to stop you, but he’s so weak from the pleasure that it does absolutely nothing. Tears prick at his eyes, from the embarrassment of being almost caught by one of his friends and how good he feels.

“I bet you secretly want it to happen. For Connie to come in here and see what we’re doing.”

You’re right, he does secretly want it to happen. He wants Connie to open the door and see the expression on his face at the sight of the two of you. He wants him to see the way you go down onto his cock, taking him so well and him enjoying everyone second of it. Armin isn’t even thinking straight anymore, purely driven by lust. He begins to thrust back up into you, tears rolling down his cheeks. Everything feels better than before; you feel impossibly tighter around him and he feels so good. There are no other words to describe it. 

“Hello?”

“We’re fine. Just give us a few moments, we’re talking about somethi—”

Armin stops mid-sentence because feels close, hips stuttering. He feels the way your pussy spasms around him and notices the way your eyes roll back. You’ve already come but he’s not done yet.

“I’m sorry,” is all he manages to choke out as he continues to push into you. He grabs your hips again and thrusts roughly, his rhythm growing messy and inconsistent. You’re overstimulated and you try to say something, but your jaw goes slack as he keeps going. He chases the high he was so close to earlier and finally reaches it, a string of broken sobs and moans coming spilling from his mouth. Armin’s loud and he knows it, but it doesn’t matter to him anymore. He pulls you into one final, messy kiss and closes his eyes, breath heavy. 

There’s a moment of silence and suddenly you hear roars of laughter through the door. 

“I fucking told you! You all owe me fifty dollars,” Jean’s voice echoes through the house, followed by a chorus of groans from the rest of your friends.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, dude.” Connie’s voice is clear at first, becoming quieter and muffled as he moves away from the bedroom door.

You look at Armin and he looks at you. You laugh and he gives you a shy, embarrassed smile.

“Oops.”

𓆩♡𓆪 note : this was supposed to be posted on valentines day. . .obviously. i posted it on ao3 on feb 15, and decided to post here too after awhile.

happy late valentines day!

[rotworld]

30: Ravenous

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

the binding pact between a human and a familiar is powerful and not easily broken. it's best not to make promises lightly, especially when you don't fully understand what you're promising.

->original work. contains implied animal (familiar) abuse, graphic descriptions of violence, hard vore, feral behavior, possessive behavior, manipulation.

.

.

.

The first thing you do every morning is try to get Bailey’s collar off.

It’s an ugly, vicious contraption, a heavy ring of metal clamped tightly around his throat. Inscribed with a spell for sure, because it adjusts to fit him no matter his size but just barely. It’s always slightly too tight, strangling his voice and irritating the skin underneath. You run your fingers along the edge in search of an indent, a hidden switch, a secret symbol—the hint of a release mechanism. No luck so far and nobody online has seen anything like it, either.

You sit in the armchair in his room while Bailey sits between your legs on the floor. He’s tense and alert, ears pricked and eyes fixed on the door. Guard dog posture, you think. He does this all the time but especially when you’re in his room. You’ve tried to make him comfortable but there’s only so much plush dog beds and cutesy toys can do. He hates loud noises and sudden movements. He’s an extremely light sleeper and if you touch him without warning him that you’re about to do it, you could lose a hand. Jagged markings circle his limbs just above the paw, bumpy zigzags of flesh circling the lower part of his legs. 

It’s not some big mystery. They’re exactly the right size in exactly the right spot to be the ghost of shackles and chains, just as painful as the one around his neck. All around them are fresher, still healing lacerations where he’d gnawed and scratched and nearly torn himself apart prying them off.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your thumb over the collar’s faint engravings. “Sorry. I still can’t figure this thing out. I’ll try again later. But, you know, we could try calling a professional—”

Bailey growls. 

“Okay,” you say gently. “No professionals. It was just a suggestion.”

He turns around and rests his head on your lap with a huff. You pet him, stroke behind his ears, and he gets as close as he ever does to relaxing. Big amber eyes peer up at you with calm confidence. Certainty that you won’t harm. That you can’t. 

You can see the moment an idea sparks to life in his mind. He brightens, straightening up and nudging his cold snout at your thigh insistently, trying to push you. 

“What? You wanna go for a walk?” you ask. 

He lets out a very quiet, “Arrruff.” He licks your hand and playfully nips at your fingers. He looks up at you with big, pleading eyes. 

You pull your hand away quickly and he whines. Refusal is on the tip of your tongue but you don’t voice it. You don’t feel like you can. He sits up taller, resting his front paws on your thigh. It’s easy to forget that Bailey isn’t really a dog—he’s more reluctant to speak or change form than any familiar you’ve ever met—but that attentive, knowing gaze always snaps you back to reality. This isn’t just some sad, simple creature incapable of understanding the complexities of everything around him.

You promised him something and he’s holding you to it.

“We could go to the park?” you offer, your voice somewhat strained. His tail thumps against your chair in a quickening wag. “Okay. Meet me at the door, I’ll let them know we’re leaving.” 

He doesn’t want to lose sight of you, but he reluctantly lets you up. His wet snout pokes your legs and hip in pursuit of your palm again for one last pet. He likes when you smooth your hand over his head and ears, the way your thumb traces all his little scars and scratches. Like they’re precious. Good things, just because they’re attached to him. He soaks up the attention with his eyes blissfully shut for a moment longer before he begrudgingly lets you go. One last affectionate headbutt and then he trots away. You step into the hall and make sure to shut the door behind you.

In the hall outside, enormous claw marks have been gouged into the floor and walls, monstrous dragging marks that end right at Bailey’s door. A few of your coworkers peer around the corner, relieved as always to see that you’re still alive.

You walk down the hall and into the common area, a comfy, carpeted room with both a human-sized sofa and several smaller seating options: cat trees, floor cushions, a wooden perch for birds. The sofa is occupied by a woman, three cats, a crow, and a lizard on the armrest, enraptured by a nature program playing on TV. The woman has white wispy curls like a sheep’s wool for hair, her pupils thick horizontal bars. She waves when you walk by, smiling shyly. The cats nod. The crow and the lizard are gossiping. 

A lot of sad stories come through the Belfry Plaza Familiar Shelter. Tragedy is inherent to this line of work. The best things you have to deal with are negligence; familiars gifted to children who lose interest, pacts formed from flimsy, careless promises. Those are straightforward situations, usually with happy endings. Mom and Dad are often disappointed—summoners want their children to be summoners, too—but compromises are made, pacts are amicably dissolved, and everyone gets to move on with their life. More harrowing and more frequent are worse things: adults who should know better. Magic that isn’t fair. Familiars who run when they can’t take it anymore, more than willing to risk the eternal pull of an unbroken binding spell as long as they can be safe somewhere else.

“You’re taking Bailey out?” Tanya, your boss, is in the lobby. She’s standing by the front desk when you get there, leaning against it like she’s been waiting for you to show up. There’s a chunk missing from the corner and diagonal indentations carved into the heavy wooden surface. Seeing the damage, however minimized they’ve tried to make it, buffed and polished and sanded down, reminds you of that night. 

The storm. The howling. The scraping, the shriek of stone breaking apart, wood splintering, glass shattering. And the blood, the metallic reek of it thick in your nose. There had been someone lying on the floor but by the time you got there, there were just bits and skeletonized pieces, glistening bones notched with teeth marks. An arm here; a lung there. A chest cavity wrenched apart, a ribcage cracked open around the maw of a growling, slobbering beast gorging itself on tender human insides. 

Tanya had been at the desk that night. She told you the beast had come first, limped inside with wheezing breaths and fur heavy with rainwater. The summoner had come right after, well-dressed but waterlogged and clearly in a hurry. He’d tugged at the creature’s collar and scolded it for running off, insisting that it never does things like this. Tanya knew a red flag when she saw one but never had the chance to act on it. The thing bristled, the tips of its fur fizzling and blurry like smoke. It bit the summoner and it didn’t let go.

Hunched on the floor with a femur crunching between strong, unyielding jaws, maw speckled red all the way up to the eyes—that was the first time you laid eyes on Bailey.

“Going for a walk,” you say. 

“Alright. Don’t stay out too long,” Tanya says carefully. 

“I know,” you say, avoiding her gaze. Do you sound guilty? Do you look like you’re lying? She probably wouldn’t stop you either way. No one else at the shelter can handle Bailey. She looks like she wants to say something but she catches sight of something over your shoulder and quickly looks away. You know what you’ll see before you turn around, head tilting to look up at the looming figure approaching you.

Bailey is large as a dog. Even when he’s condensed down from a hulking beast to a more manageable shepherd size, he easily reaches your waist. As a human, he towers over you. Short, light hair, eternally shaggy, hangs in his face, partially hiding the intensity of his bright yellow eyes. He keeps his conjured clothing simple; black pants, tennis shoes, a plain t-shirt under a soft jacket. The collar becomes a chunky metal choker, the skin around it irritated and scabbed. He tilts his head slightly when he sees you. He doesn’t smile but he looks tranquil. Happy. 

Then his gaze shifts to Tanya and he bares his teeth. The growl rumbling in his throat makes your blood run cold. 

“Bailey, let’s go,” you say quickly, offering your hand. “Bailey, come on. It’s fine. She’s going to stay there, she’s not coming with us.” 

Tanya doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even breathe, until Bailey’s snarl smooths into an irritated frown and his growl fades. He grabs your hand and practically drags you out of the shelter’s front doors. 

Belfry Plaza is a scenic part of town with cobblestone roads and blushing fall trees but it’s also busy. Bailey is on guard but focused, walking quickly and keeping an eye on everything that moves. He relaxes as the crowd thins and the shopping district shrinks behind you, the park within sight. He stops dragging you along and walks beside you, his breath slowing to a more relaxed pace. 

He always looks so surprised by the autumn leaves. He slows to watch when one snaps off the branch and flutters to the sidewalk in front of him. 

“Did I scare you, just now?” he murmurs. He’s always so quiet. The collar presses hard on his windpipe, just short of suffocation, leaving his voice a thin rasp. 

“I think you scared Tanya a lot more than me,” you say.

He frowns. “Don’t like when people stand that close to you. You’re mine.” 

The park makes him happy. Bailey takes a deep breath of the crisp fall air and you watch the tension gradually leak out of him. He has a favorite bench—a spot of the path beneath a large, leafy tree, the canopy halfway between gold and scarlet. “Is this your first time in the human world?” you ask. You don’t talk about his past much. He volunteers very little and you’re not sure you want to know too much.

“Yes,” he says. He doesn’t leave any space between you on the bench. He sits as close as he can, his thigh pressed against yours. “I’d never been before. I hadn’t really planned on going.” Another leaf falls and he catches it, snatching it out of the air and turning it over to examine. “But this is nice. I like this. The cool air and colors. Very different from home.” He would set here for hours if you let him. He’d look up and watch the clouds waft by, the wind rustling in the trees. He sits up straight and at attention whenever he hears footsteps coming from any direction but he settles down again when they pass by. 

“You’ll get to go home again soon,” you say. Hopeful. Maybe a little desperate.

He turns, regarding you with that curious tilt of the head again. “I know,” he says. “I’m glad. But I’m not in such a big hurry anymore.” He drops the leaf and takes your hand instead, holding it in his to examine. “Have you ever had a familiar before?” 

“Me? No.” You watch him carefully, nervous beneath his intense scrutiny. “I’m not a summoner. Never got into magic as a kid and I don’t really have time now.”

“You don’t need to be. You could’ve been given one.” 

You shake your head. “Well, I wasn’t.” He’s looking at you, you realize. Watching you out of the corner of his eye with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What?” 

“I’m just imagining it. It’s cute,” he says. “You, with a familiar. Trying to assert yourself. You’d probably get taken advantage of.” 

You look down at the concrete winding through the dirt path, the bright leaves scattered across the grass. “No. I would make sure the pact is fair,” you say quietly.

Bailey lets out a hoarse bark of laughter. “No pact is fair. Everyone wants something and we’ll trample each other to get it, whatever it is.” He strokes your head, petting you with the same tenderness you show him. “But it’s sweet you think that way. I like that about you. Much more of a rabbit than a wolf. Just another reason why you have to stay close to me.” He drags his fingers down the back of your neck, scratching your nape. Something catches his attention suddenly and turns, sniffing the air. You inhale sharply when the ends of his fingers sharpen into claws. “I’m hungry,” he murmurs.

You sit up quickly, pulling away from his touch. Bailey doesn’t stop you, his expression betraying nothing but faint curiosity when you stand from the bench. “We should get back,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “We can get something on the way, if you want.”

“I’m hungry,” he repeats, a growl edging his words. When you flinch, his expression softens. He lowers his voice until it’s barely above a whisper. “Please? I can smell it. It’s close. And it won’t take long, I’ll be quick. It won’t be like last time.” He grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his face, nuzzling into your palm and kissing your fingers. “You promised me,” he says. Your heart skips a beat when he looks up at you through his lashes. It’s the same look he gave you before, equal parts pleading and firm. “You promised. We have a pact.” 

You swallow hard. Bailey stands slowly from the bench, unfolding to his full height. You want to say no. You want to insist that he can’t keep doing this. That it was wrong, of course, that what happened to him was wrong—but you don’t want to see it again. You feel sick when he makes you watch. 

But you can’t. The pact won’t let you. When you try, your throat constricts and your heart races. You stumble and he has to catch you, a hand firmly squeezing your shoulder in warning. When you say, “Okay,” in a quiet, broken voice, everything is fine again. Bailey smiles and rubs his face against your hand sweetly like an affectionate puppy. He starts to walk again, tugging you along after him. He moves differently now, even as you pass through the park and into a busier, seedier part of town. He’s not rushing and anxious anymore but moving with purpose, his sharp gaze scanning the streets and alleys. Searching. Hunting. 

There have been some concerns at the shelter. No one will say anything too loudly, but your coworkers whisper sometimes. They email you files and informational websites about familiars. They recommend library books of old summoner lore. Bailey is atypical in a lot of ways. It’s not just the aggression and territoriality. The other familiars are afraid of him. Not nervous, not cautious and pitying from a distance, but afraid. Terrified to even be in the same room with him while he hardly spares them a glance. And that collar he’s wearing, that’s not normal either. It’s overkill; like using an incineration spell to light a candle. Something that intensive would leave any normal familiar barely able to stand, much less move and speak and change form.

One of them found it, illustrated in an old manuscript. The same inelegant shape and the same arcane runes. It takes twenty summoners to properly charge one with the necessary strength. The binding is forged in blood—the very same blood is needed to sever it.

A man in a long gray coat walks briskly down the sidewalk and Bailey hones in on him like a bloodhound scenting prey. You try to run. To pull away, at least. To open your mouth and scream. All you do is shiver, a soft whimper dying in your throat. “You promised me,” Bailey reminds you. 

The man knows he’s being followed. He’s subtle about it, disguising his cautious glances back, leading you on a winding path into narrower, quieter streets. He’s a summoner, of course. All of Bailey’s targets are. And this one is confident. Some of them try to run but they don’t get far. You know the end is coming when he slips behind a row of old, empty buildings into a disused lot.

Bailey lets out a growl. He’s salivating. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

There have been stories. Bailey wanders the halls at night. Not as a man or a dog but as something else, a shifting thing that is somewhere in between and also neither. Liquid and shadow, he mutters in a tongue the familiars don’t speak, something that hurts the ears of anyone who hears it. 

He’s not a dog. That much is certain. Even familiars have some affinity for the animals they choose, their true forms in their home realm an arcane cousin. Maybe whatever Bailey used to be, it could conceive of the shape chosen for him: four-legged. Long snout, sharp teeth. Loyal. Domesticated. That’s what they tried to make him. It worked at least a little bit. He had you completely fooled.

The summoner thinks he set a trap. The concrete glimmers with glowing sigils, potent magic crackling in the air around him. Anything else would stop to look at it, to understand the risk they’re taking trying to cross the circle. Anything else would hesitate, at least. Bailey lets go of your hand and steps forward without his eager pace faltering. The change comes over him so much less gracefully than it does for familiars. No soft light and gentle metamorphosis. You can hear his bones crack and rearrange. You can see his flesh slide around, fur sprouting in clumps. For just a moment, you do see a dog, but the shapes keep changing, growing, becoming more grotesque and impossible. The beast that first came to the shelter is no longer a dragging, overgrown thing stuffed in a body-cage too small for it but a sleek hunter. With its fur trimmed and its form filled out with muscle, you can see its many, many eyes, all turned forward, all fixed on the summoner whose confidence erodes in a matter of seconds.

There are other things that summoners have tried to bring into the world than familiars. Things that should not be here. The collar constricts but it lacks the bite it once had, loosened by the blood of every summoner Bailey has devoured before. This one doesn’t even have the chance to scream before jaws snap around his neck with the force of a bear trap. 

Blood gushes and spatters across the pavement. The body falls and the beast falls atop it, raking open flesh and snapping bone between its teeth like twigs. The summoner is still alive as he’s butchered, disemboweled, pinned down with vicious claws as the beast throws its head back and tears loose a rope of intestine. It pushes its whole maw into the gaping wounds it leaves behind, whole head red and glistening. The collar hums, soaking up blood like a sponge. It creaks like a rusted hinge and slackens further. 

The beast pauses just once in its feast. It raises its head, its shape quivering. Blood slides down its body smooth like glass—slow, as though through fur—sticks, as though to paper. It turns back towards you, its eyes amber. It frightens you that Bailey is recognizable somehow, that you can so clearly envision his piercing gaze and curiously tilted head. Maybe it’s keeping those pieces as sentimental trophies, the man and the dog. Or maybe the man and the dog are starting to look more like the beast.

That night, when some sad, waterlogged thing dragged in, you really did think it was a dog. A big one. A familiar, suffering. Maybe some of that was true. Everyone else had been too afraid to go near it but you’d crouched in the lobby and spoken softly while Tanya called for help. You told it that everything would be okay now. It was safe. It could trust you. You saw that tight band of metal and promised you would do everything in your power to help it get that collar off if it was the last thing you did. The beast looked back at you and you could’ve sworn you saw it smile. 

A long tongue slithers out of Bailey’s maw, lapping the blood off the concrete. You wonder what happens when the collar comes off—if it really will be the last thing you ever do.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Something horrifying occurred to me today. If my father was a fictional character, people would think of him in a similar way people see Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. Here's why:

He has had So Much Shit happen to him. Like Jesus Christ. Like string of unfortunate deaths kind of shit. Like how is this man still functional kind of shit.

He's also had such an interesting childhood and life he's such a wildcard like my dad randomly telling us how he smuggled some guys over the border when he was like 19 is giving the same vibes as Jonathan Sims saying he knows what a meme is

That's not to say he's a huge badass or anything (he is but for the sake of this comparison) he was terrified out of his mind the whole time and did it cause he was feeling homesick and was like I know how these guys feel so I'm gonna help. Giving trademark Jonathan "gonna do it but gonna do it shaking like a wet dog" Sims

He's a skinny brown guy who's kinda quiet, supremely awkward and makes dorky jokes

I asked him if he would still love me if I were a worm and he deadass said only if you went to worm Cambridge. Tell me that's not a Jonathan Sims thing to say.

He's probably autistic (he won't talk to you unless you mention something specific and then you can't stop him talking about the geopolitical situation of Bangladesh)

He's so emotionally constipated. My dude has never heard of emotions ever. He once gave me the advice that the way to deal with negative emotions about our shitty situation is to just compare it to poor peoples' lives in Bangladesh and thank god we don't have it that bad. I think he's allergic to therapy.

He's always in some sort of pain. God hates him personally.

He's the most anxious man I've ever met in my life. I think he lies awake at night just planning how he's gonna get through the next day. Like all he does is overthink and eat his own curated mixed nuts snack

He indulges in a funny cat video once or twice

He hates dogs (growing up in Bangladesh will do that to you but also he's not good with the barking)

Saying that, has bonded with one crusty white dog, who he immediately picked up although i don't think he meant to do that, so we get a situation of quite a tall man holding a small dog but both of them looking Absolutely Terrified.

He's such a baby fiend. I've never seen someone so hell bent on being a grandfather. We went to a family party with him once and not even 5 minutes in, we found him holding a baby. I'm taking @lonelyslutavatar 's baby fever Jon as canon btw.

He's constantly in business casual. He'll be in bed wearing slacks. It's not cause he's fashionable but in fact only because those are pretty much the same clothes he's owned since 2005 and the only clothes he owns.

Nobody is quite sure what he does for a living. Like sure we know his job title (I had to look it up on LinkedIn) but his day to day activities? A mystery. Who actually knows what being a Head Archivist entails? Not me.

I rest my case. For now.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

through thick and thin

Pairing: Teylan/Gn!Sarentu!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for AFoP. Panic attacks, angst, trauma, mentions of grooming and abuse.

A/n: Another short idea I wrote up while playing AFoP

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter

~~~~~~~~~

He couldn't stop shaking.

The guilt and dread in his gut were too overbearing, clogging his lungs, and making it impossible to breathe. Every inch of his body shakes from adrenaline and fear, the weight of his actions crushing his chest.

Teylan has had panic attacks before, but this was the worst one.

And he wasn't sure if hearing your voice over the radio made it better or worse.

"Teylan? It's me."

Of course, it's you. You, the one who was closest to his age among the Na'vi children at TAP.

You, who stuck by his side whenever Mercer had beaten him.

You, who he had to wrap his little body around at night after losing Aha'ri when you were kids, terrified that he'd wake up and lose you, too.

You, who always brought something back for him from your travels to multiple clans, trying to help him get accustomed to your new way of life.

You, whose voice was full of concern and desperation, as you continued to talk through the radio when you didn't get a verbal response.

"Teylan. Talk to me. Where are you? I can come and bring you back to the Resistance."

He gulped in a small bit of air, realizing he had only been shakily breathing into the radio instead of speaking all his thoughts out loud, "No... Not there."

"Okay," you, ever the calming negotiator, tried to ease him into a sense of security, even without being able to see him, "Where do you want to go?"

"It doesn't matter," Teylan forces out even with tears running down his cheeks, "Nothing matters now."

"Everyone's worried about you, Teylan. I'm worried about you."

He bites back a sob, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest, "They're gonna be angry. You'll hate me, too. I did this."

"You can't blame yourself," you whispered gently through the radio, only strengthening his guilt.

Another sob shatters through him, "But I am to blame. He said nobody would die. He said."

"Who said?"

He couldn't help it, he kept talking, unable to stop spilling out all his sins, "We talked on my radio. He told me we could be together again. Like a family. And so, I told him when the party was happening."

"Wait. Mercer?" You finally realize what Teylan was trying to say, and he winced when he heard the tone of quiet disbelief in your voice, "You told Mercer things about us?"

"He needed to know when to arrive, so he could keep the soldiers away."

It wasn't an excuse. He just needed to reason with himself into believing this was all just some misunderstanding, or better yet, just a bad dream. He wasn't trying to convince you, just himself. He needed to feel convinced that he wasn't about to lose you for his betrayal.

"Let me come get you." 'To take you back to the people you betrayed.'

He wasn't sure if you actually said that or he imagined it. Nevertheless, it burned through his chest like a bullet, eyes widening with the most terrifying realization. He lost you. He lost you... helostyouhelostyouhelostyou--

"No. I don't belong there anymore. I have nobody now."

"Teylan? Teylan!"

He cut off the call.

~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

[tai-janai]

Reunite

Path 12: An End

(Chapter Select)

At the bottom of the stairs is the basement. Smooth stone walls and cobble flooring. A lone, barred window that lets in bright white light.

The Other sits at the other end. It does not wear a metal chain around its neck. Held tightly in its hands is a pristine blade. His form has changed somewhat; he looks softer than you remember, and a cape is wrapped around his shoulders.

It looks at you, and its eyes soften. Its lips turn upward for a sad, relieved smile. It is happy to see you. After everything the Echo said, you still feel like he is a part of You.

The Hero:

Hey...

His voice is weak. He tilts his head and watches you approach, but he does not move.

"Did you hear any of that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, like he hasn't figured out if he did or not. Then he scratches the back of his neck.

The Hero:

Yeah, I... The, uh, sound travels pretty well into here.

You sit on the floor in front of him. He seems a bit flustered.

The Hero:

I-it was... a lot of information. I'm not really sure... how to take it.

"How did you get here?"

The Hero:

Oh. I... got really worried after you got taken away by a pair of hands, so I kind of... followed you. It wasn't that hard, I know your psyche pretty well by now. But before this place was anything, I'd already been split from you. Then, I was put down here for... some time. I don't know, time is really weird here. It felt like forever but I know it wasn't.

He looks down at the blade in his hands.

The Hero:

And this thing was here. It's always supposed to be, right? One of those, uh, rules?

"What about the Others?"

The Hero:

Well, I finally reached the end of the last world, so they're probably all together. Knowing them, they're all probably looking for me. I'm only here, though, after I left that last world, there's no part of me left with them at this point. Not 'til I leave this one, too.

The Hero:

That world... At the end, you had been taken over by something, were you? The thing that wanted those Beings dead... The Princess?

You remember the way your body did not feel like yours. The way your mind conflicted with itself, wanting the Being dead, because it was meant to kill you. You remember that fear of death.

The Hero:

Are you okay?

You look into his eyes. Your eyes. His eyes.

"Do you know what you were supposed to be?"

The Hero:

Ah... The Long Quiet, He called it. If you're asking if I was ever that, I don't really know. Your memories are all I have, and all we know is that we woke up in a cabin.

"Did you know you were supposed to slay the Princess? And by connection, me?"

It laughs a little.

The Hero:

I only barely knew there was a Princess, mate. I had no idea what we were or what we were supposed to do. My only sense of purpose came when we saw that first Being, anxious and trapped. We felt bad for it, even if it was terrifying and hated us.

The Hero:

The... idea of killing you feels weird. You're so... me. But I've been doing it this whole time. It's something I was made for, like some... inevitability. It feels obvious until I take the second to think about it.

Its eyes trace the edge of the blade.

"What comes next?"

He thinks. His face contorts in frustration.

The Hero:

I... I never felt like the one making the choices here. He said I am choice, but I don't know how to make any, myself.

The Hero:

He made it sound like three options. I have qualms about each.

The Hero:

I could slay you, the way I was always supposed to. Death and change would be gone, and all of the other guys will get their happily forever after in the places they are now. Or ... We fix ourselves back up to being... what, everything? A god? And then... things will just... keep going?

"And the third option...?"

The Hero:

I stay here with you, and we don't do anything, forever. The cabin crumbles and it'll be just us. And... I'll never see the others again. Nobody will join back together, but, they'll eventually die. I, uh... don't think the guy upstairs would like that too much, though... Um. I... I don't know if I like that one, either. But it is... an option.

You think about these choices. Everything about them scares you.

"Do you have a preference?"

He looks to the side, flustered, and a hint of a smile he's trying to hide. He gestures vaguely at you.

The Hero:

Well, I'm not gonna lie, I-I liked being, y'know, Us.

With a pause, his gaze turns downward.

The Hero:

But I liked being with Them, too.

The Hero:

And... I hate to say this, but they would not like being anything but what they are now. Like, they love you, they really do, they're unbelievably grateful for everything you've done for them- But I... It wouldn't be... what they wanted.

He shrugs and leans his head to the side.

The Hero:

You could do it anyway, though, I guess. They probably wouldn't be able to do much once we're all in one piece.

He looks into your eyes, and his feathers droop.

The Hero:

After everything, would it still be freedom? Your choice, limiting theirs...?

"Why are you making me decide? I thought that wasn't my role."

The Hero:

I don't know? I didn't make the rules here. I'll go along with whatever you come up with. I mean, I am choice, right? The thing that gives you the options...? Not the one making the decisions.

"You clearly have a preference, and it's the one that means I get slain."

The Hero:

It's not like I want you to die. Just, out of everything so far, I don't want what we've given them to go away.

He sighs. You know be is conflicted. He fidgets with the hilt of the blade. He really is more them than he is you. But, you don't blame him.

"I'm scared. I don't know what being a god would be like."

The Hero:

I don't know, either, but this is it. The big ultimatum.

Decisions. You were never made for decisions.

You can die along with Death, and let the others be happy in what remains of the construct for all of eternity.

You can go against the others' wishes and reunite the way the Echo offered, with Death eradicated.

Or you can stay here alone with the Other, keeping him with you forever, while the worlds and the shattered fragments continue on, dying and reforming.

[marivoid]

(TW: Dehumanization, talk of opening up a mechanical bird to empty out its stomach, fantasy racism? I guess? Martyn fears one character in this story based on appearances- You'll see what I mean.)

Entry 36

Day 229

"I told you! Ohh, look who has an upset tummy because they wanted to drink something other than clean oil?" Martyn kept a steady pace as rubbed the bird's back. "But noo, mister smarty pants wanted to drink WATER."

A defeated caw left the sickly bird trapped in Martyn's arm. Poor Brian had been sick ever since this morning. With Martyn's water bottle being knocked over and tiny claw marks all over the metal... It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Oh I know. I know. Water and oil don't feel nice now does it? We're going to a shop, don't worry. Get a nice mechanic to take a look at you and empty out your stomach. Then I'll get you some clean oil. Sound like a deal?"

Another quiet caw, with a hint of hopefulness. Martyn would take that response if it meant Brian wouldn't try to take off.

Thankfully the shop was just as the hostess had said. Two blocks down, take a right, and look for... The building covered in all sorts of colors. "This... Is the place we're supposed to go to, Birdy."

A very hesitant caw.

"You and me both, bud." Martyn shouldered his way through the door. "Hello?" His eyes glazed the room, taking note of the rather plain interior. A few wooden chairs, checkered tiles, tools laying about everywhere... Yep. Definitely a mechanic's office.

With nobody in sight.

"Are they closed? Oh I hope not." Martyn stepped away from the door with a small grunt. "Sorry for any turbulence on Martyn Air, Brian. We shall provide you snacks as compensation." He said in response to the flurry of caws.

"I didn't know a crow- Helllllo." Martyn's eyes flicked up to a man leaning through the door. Who just so happened to be covered in an insane amount of colors. "Are you a paying customer by chance? Did you have an appointment with Doc?"

"Doc?" The Doctor? Was he here? "No, no, no, my little friend here decided it would be a smart idea to dunk his beak in my water bottle."

Another caw, sounding apologetic.

"Oh don't apologize to me! It's your tummy that you need to say sorry to." Martyn rubbed his head with a quiet sigh. "If you can't already tell, poor Brian here needs his stomach panel cracked open and checked. Think you could help?"

The other shook his head quickly. "Not me, no can do. I work on chems and spray paints. I can see if Doc is free to help? He works with machines more than I do. He could help you a lot more than me."

"As long as he helps Brian."

The multi-colored man eventually left Martyn in the waiting room. "Well. There you go! We're getting you some help, little fella." Martyn sat down in the closest chair with a small huff. "We just gotta wait a little bit. Get the Doc to look over you. Empty out your poor stomach."

A part of Martyn's mind wondered. What... What if this was THE Doctor? Could his arm problem be solved? Could he finally embark on his way home? Was... The G.U.I.D.E even his home anymore? What about Scott? He's alive! But... He hates his guts. His stupid mouth went blabbering and rage took over... Not to forget that bird guy beside him could have been the Canary Flight Master! He had managed to piss off two people in one day! Embarrassing, really.

"Hello?" A far deeper voice lulled Martyn out of his thoughts. And oh. Oh. He wished that his thoughts would consume his mind at that very moment.

The... THING towered over Martyn by an easy two feet, if not more. (And Martyn was a proud 6"0, a height that isn't all that common in the Crashlands.) But it wasn't the towering height that threw Martyn off. No, it was the pale green skin that clung to the man like glue. The way copper clung to the man's every breath, the twitch of his hand as it rested above his shoulder- The horrific glowing red eye that seemed to bore through his soul. The horrifyingly large horns that looked so impossible and yet were possible all at once.

Martyn had seen some weird things. He'd seen a LOT of oddities and impossible things in the Crashlands. But this. This takes the cake. Whatever this FREAK was, it was a danger. And with how still Brian had gotten in his arms, his bird agreed.

"You were requesting an audience with me? A problem with your... Bird?" That voice sent a shiver down his spine and NOT in a good way.

"Y-You are Doc?" Martyn cursed the way his voice stuttered. "Yeah- Yes! Yes, Brian. He... He drank some water this morning a-and..." His grip tightened on Brian subconsciously. That hand was getting so close to his bird. And the THING noticed. And it smiled.

Fucking SMILED.

"Don't be so jumpy! I promise to not harm him." The abomination assured. "As long as he doesn't peck me, we're fine!"

Brian's small caw rung through Martyn's mind. Right. Brian. Do this for Brian. He stared up at... Doc... And let out a sigh. "Okay. Let's....If it will help out Brian."

"Yes. I think it will."

(More to be added, the author is sleep deprived.)

[prettypinktulips]

Do you write for Thomas Hewitt? If yes can I have please Thomas Hewitt with male reader who works at a chainsaw store? Poor Tommy broke his chainsaw (mf is strong as fuck so he probably would) and Hoyt forced him to go alone to buy one, poor boy was so anxious and awkward but he saw a handsome man (male reader) and it's some love at first sight type shit.

The rest is up to you 👬

YES I LOVE TOM TOM ! THANK U SO MUCH FOR REQUEWSTSIGN ( the first fanfic ive written so no hate plz) Thomas swallowed hard as he looked up at the big scintillating sign in front of him. "CHAINSAW HOTSPOT", One of the "O's" were out, the flickering was hurting his eyes a little bit. He looked back forward and brought himself inside as he looked around, it was nothing like he expected. The place was really extensive despite of the small exterior. I wish he wouldn't have made me go by myself, he knows how bad I am with people. Thomas felt himself get rather excited when he started to notice all of the different selections of chainsaws there were. "You looking for something, handsome?" Y/N said with a soft smile and brought his fist to his cheek. Thomas gasped at the voice being spoken to him, he felt his heart skip a bit as he brought his attention towards Y/N. "Those chainsaws might be a little small for you.. you look like a big man." His e/c eyes shifted over to a different aisle as he raised his arm and pointed towards it. Thomas looked around for anyone behind him and then back at Y/N, he brought his hand up as he pointed towards himself. "Well, yes of course you! Who else would I be talking to?" Thomas got embarrassed as well as a bit flattered. Nobody has ever called him handsome, well except his mother.. which well was his mother why wouldn't she.

A quiet "Hm." fell past his lips, seems like it was the only thing that could come out. Thomas nodded and walked into the aisle where Y/N was pointing at, and he was right the chainsaws here were HUGE. Just the way he liked them. "What a strange fellow." Y/N mumbled off to himself and tilted his head back a little to keep his eyes on the brute, he crossed his arms. "Would you like me to help you find one?" Y/N stood up and headed over towards the black-haired male.

"I.." Thomas looked at the (shorter/taller) male in front of him and got flustered. Well now that Y/N was already in front of him there's no telling him to leave now. "Let's see what we got here.." Y/N slowly dropped down onto his knees and picked up one of the boxes, he rested it on his knees as he started to open it. "Here, try this one out for show," Thomas was a little nervous and held the chainsaw close, he stood back a bit and grabbed the wire as he yanked on it. The chainsaw had a little malfunction but that's why Thomas immediately fell in love with it, a smile crept across his lips. Nobody else could see it since he had his mask on.

But Y/N could tell by the way his eyes reacted. "So this one is taking to your liking?" Thomas jolted as if he forgotten the h/c haired man below him. Y/N started to stand up and looked (down/up) at the male. "You know, you're quite quiet. I don't mind it though, makes my job easier." Thomas felt relieved as he nodded to Y/N's previous question. "Alright, let's get you set up then." He followed behind Y/N to the counter and watched as the h/c haired male got behind the register. His eyes devoured the males looks, Thomas didn't know he was doing it.. it wasn't intentional. "See something you like?" Y/N said abruptly and it snapped Thomas back to reality.

"I..I wasn't.. trying to." Thomas looked down at himself felt ashamed, he tried to think of things so he could change the subject. This was so fucking embarrassing to the point it made him spill out a whole sentence. Y/N felt a little bad and gently laid a hand on Thomas' cheek, it immediately calmed him down. He didn't know why but it did. "At least take me out on a date first or precisely tell me your name!" Y/N teased. Thomas tensed up a bit as his face devolved into a bright red. He's never went a date because of his deformities. That's right, Y/N didn't know about them because he's been wearing the mask. He didn't know about the hideous figure underneath the mask. That's probably the only reason he was talking to him this way, because his face was hidden.

"Hm." Thomas brought his hand up to his mask and brought it down a bit, he looked to the side and then (up/down) at the male in front of him, expecting to get yelled at or even tyrannized like in the past. But all he saw was a smiling Y/N. "Your face is still a treasure to me, I wish you would've shown me sooner!" Y/N caressed some of the scars. It was final, Thomas has officially swooned over for Y/N. How could a man be this perfect? He doesn't care if they just met, he's really considering this dating thing after all. "C..Chainsaw.." He mumbled. Y/N had completely forgotten as he hurried to move his hand away.

"Sorry, let me get that for you." Y/N looked to the side at the counter and grabbed the chainsaw, he turned the box over and scanned the barcode. He smiled softly. "You know what, don't even worry about it. I'll pay for it." Thomas had a questioned look on his face. "Why..?" Y/N just giggled and took out his card, he swiped it on the swipey thing (idk what its called) and paid for it. "Our date should be enough to pay me back. Reminds me, you never told me your name, stranger!" Thomas felt himself going back to that awkward phase again. "It's.. Thomas." Y/N nodded and smiled. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." He handed the chainsaw to him. Thomas just stared at the chainsaw, he was beaming with happiness.

~~

(short story)

THE DATE. Thomas was well over nervous. Even nervous seemed like a too simple term to describe what he was feeling. All they were doing was going to the movies which he had to beg Y/N to do since he was already too nervous showing his face at a restaurant. He sat outside playing with the waistband of his jeans. All Y/N said was to wear something casual, but Thomas couldn't do that. Y/N didn't deserve casual. He decided he was going to wear the top of a suit and then jeans. The suit pants made him too uncomfortable, too busy in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed Y/N in front of him.

"Well, don't you look handsome?" Y/N smiled and laid a hand on the tie, he looked (up/down) at the black haired male. "You know you didn't have to go all out for me.. But I appreciate it." Y/N looked down at his watch for the time. Thomas felt his heart pounding out of his chest, it didn't matter if Y/N was wearing just a casual outfit he looked astounding. Even if he was just wearing a trash bag he could still make it look stylish. That's what Thomas thought anyways. They headed inside the theater. "It's really pretty in here.." Y/N looked to the side at the male and then noticed the mask, he frowned slightly. "It must've been really dark outside! I didn't know you were wearing your mask, Thomas.

"I.. just didn't.. want to embarrass you." Thomas hurried to look away, Y/N just giggled. "Embarrass me? What in God's name are you talking about?" Y/N brought them over to a dark corner and laid a hand on the mask, he pulled it off. "See, look at this pretty face of yours." Y/N leaned in a little as he laid his hand on the brute's cheek. "I would never be embarrassed of you, okay? You can't control your deformities, it's not your fault." Thomas was just about to speak when Y/N gave him a soft kiss on the lips. He was dumbfounded. He hesitated a little but eventually kissed the h/c haired guy back. This was the best night ever for him.

[aziraphales-library]

Hiii! First of all I wanted to thank you all for the amazing work that you do. Your suggestions are always on point. Now, for the question, I was wondering if you know any fics that are similar to secondhand smoke. Maybe about Catholic guilt and/or coming out? Thank you :))

Hello! We have a #religious guilt tag you might be interest in. Here are some religious conflict/coming out fics...

Cappucchino Readings - A "Good Omens" Univeristy AU by Jelly_Jenkins (T)

When Aziraphale took the job at the campus library, he didn't think anything of it. Of course he was excited to make some extra money and such, but he never expected to get out so much more.

The Day You Eat of It by K1ngB (E)

It all started as it will end... at a summer camp (with strangely religious undertones). In Aziraphale's mind, the best part of summer was those two weeks spent with the children. Just as eager to absorb new information and experiences as he was to teach the next generation same as he was at this same camp nearly ten years ago. A lot has changed since then, namely the amount of blatant proselytizing but some things always stay the same. In Crowley's mind, he gets to see the apple of his eye for two weeks every year, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most of it. He sustains himself on the discreet glances, the creeping blushes, and the inevitable banter of his favorite camp counselor. He is prepared for the long game and was nailing it if he was being honest... And then he got caught wanking in the showers and it's all downhill from there. or Summer Camp Counselor AU. Crowley is a sappy pining fool and Aziraphale has no idea what's going on.

search terms by Vagabond (M)

Aziraphale expects it to be a quiet night working in the university library when a flashy red haired, foul mouthed, panicking student needs to find credible sources for his paper and can't figure out how to use the search. Little does Aziraphale know that meeting Crowley will lead him on a path to self-discovery, and give him the family he didn't realize he needed. From a prompt on tumblr: College AU - You’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline.

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

And the one you mentioned...

secondhand smoke by PaintedVanilla (T)

you're second hand smoke, second hand smoke i breathe you in, but, honey, i don't know what you're doing to me mon chéri the year is 1990, and anthony crowley is looking for a church in london that might be tolerable. the one he winds up attending isn't exactly such, but he decides to stick around for one reason. said reason happens to own a bookshop that crowley begins to frequent, much to the surprise and delight of anathema device and newton pulsifer, who seem quite convinced that crowley could use something else to focus on besides gardening, their campaigns, and visits to tadfield.

- Mod D

[sleepyone2three]

This has been sitting in in my drafts for forever so I decided to finally finish it up! Thus, may I present:

How the demon bros would react if Lucifer had locked them away instead of Belphie

Can we talk about how lucky Lucifer was that it was Belphie he locked up and not one of his other brothers? Of all the sins, sloth is probably the best suited to being trapped in an attic. He can sleep the entire time and be giving into his vice at the same time. Meanwhile, if it had been any of the other brothers things could've been so much wilder! Just thinking about it has me rolling to be honest, so I decided I had to write this 😂

Mammon

Mammon would go stir crazy so fast. The only reason he hasn't completely lost his mind is the fact that Lucifer didn't bother to take Goldie away when locking him up. He has so many mental lists of the things he'll buy as soon as he's out.

Honestly, Mammon would probably whine a lot the entire time he was there too. He'd be bored out of his mind and unable to spend/get any Grimm. What kind of torture is this???

Lucifer honestly might get so annoyed with it that he'd resort to cursing Mammon so he can't talk. Ah... peace and quiet finally. This probably only leads to Lucifer feeling uneasy though since Mammon being quiet usually means he's thinking up new schemes or causing trouble.

You think Belphie got lucky with how trusting MC is? Mammon is probably one of the worst liars... ever. Mams is doomed, no way MC would be falling for any of his tricks.

This doesn't mean MC still wouldn't help though. They're horrible about sticking their nose in other people's business, even if it is well intentioned. So you know they're still going to get involved in all of this somehow.

I think Mammon would use MC to the point of getting out, but I can't see him planning to kill them. Lucifer already locked him away for being pissy about the exchange program, imagine what he'd do if Mammon killed Diavolo's precious exchange student *shudders*

Even if Mammon did hate humans, he's too soft to stick with that hate after getting to know MC. He'll probably try to rationalize that this one is an exception to the rule, his amazing influence being the reason of course.

The only plus side to all of this is that the witches and debt collectors can't find him.

Levi

Why did Lucifer lock him away in the first place? Dude is already a shut-in so he wasn't actually planning on doing anything. Maybe saying he would sick Lotan on Diavolo before allowing a normi human in their home was taking things too far though...

Honestly, as long as Lucifer at least left him with a gaming console and some anime, he'd probably be fine. Though, he would be very upset about not being able to keep up with the latest releases.

Levi would stress so much over if Mammon had sold his games and merch. The only way to stop him from spiraling with this would be if Lucifer promised to lock Levi's room with an equally powerful barrier.

Also freaks out that nobody will feed Henry 2.0 and his best friend will starve to death. Lucifer isn't totally heartless though, so he promises he will make sure Henry is well cared for until Levi has come to his senses.

Would probably plan to kill MC once out, but after talking about anime/games with them he isn't as sure anymore??? They seem to like the same stuff as him and don't call him gross... no! It must be some sort of ploy to gain his trust! This was just like in an anime he'd watched a while ago, Help! I've Been Locked Away By My Strict Older Brother And Now A Human Is Taking Over The Underworld! Ah, how life immitates art sometimes...

Satan

Oh geez, Satan would be furious if this happened. You think, he hated Lucifer before? Get ready for a whole new level.

Where does Lucifer get off, thinking he can get away with this!? Locking him away like this program isn't utterly delusional from the start anyway! If Satan didn't know better, he'd say that the elder brother had planned this from the beginning of even developing the exchange program. But that would require Lucifer to pull his head out of his own ass, so it's definitely not the case.

I mean... he'd have plenty of reading time at least? He's fuming to the point of having destroyed the entire room already, but he'll still be able to read plenty afterwards.

Lucifer tries to nudge Satan in a more positive direction of thinking, dropping off books that try to exemplify the beauty and potential of humanity. For the first time in his life, Satan refuses to even consider reading multiple books. Would possibly even consider destroying them in front of Lucifer, but I'm not sure he could actually go through with it.

Would 100% plan on and go through with killing MC once out. They'd have to really make an impression and connect with him if there's any chance to have things go otherwise. Even then, it's unlikely to stop this outcome. Consequences be damned, he will have the satisfaction of seeing how delicious Lucifer's expression will be upon seeing Diavolo's little pet project go up in flames.

Would take not getting to see his kitty friends pretty hard. He misses them and sometimes worries there isn't anyone else feeding/giving attention to them with him gone. If MC really wants to get in good with Satan, offering to check in on the feline population of the Devildom might be a solid starting point.

Satan does have to admit though, MC is an interesting human if nothing else. Unafraid to go against Lucifer's orders? Likes reading as much as him? Snuck a cat in to see him??? M-maybe they aren't the worst...

Asmo

I'm pretty sure his online following would form a search party if this happened. Radio silence from Asmo's accounts is unheard of and Lucifer better have an official statement about Asmo being in the exchange program if he doesn't want hordes of lesser demons showing up outside of the House of Lamentation.

Asmo's never really had to "rough it" and living without all his beauty products within reach is going to make him even angrier at Lucifer. This only gets worse the longer he's kept there, every flaking skin cell fueling his rage.

Gets a single zit and somehow finds a way to blame it on a human being in the house. Dramatic sniffles and crying commences as he's trying to sway Lucifer with his theory, though the elder seems less than convinced.

Would probably consider agreeing to the program once he's been without his products long enough, but is also called out on lying by Lucifer.

Baby boy would just be all smug and waiting for Solomon to try summoning him, thinking there'd be no stopping him from leaving at that point. Too bad Lucifer took this into consideration. Solomon is now mildly concerned and very curious what the heck this exchange program actually entails of the participants that could null the effects of a pact. Asmo's just whining about how cruel and unreasonable Lucifer is to do such a thing. And would you look at that? Lucifer's headache just got worse.

MC won't have to do much to begin swaying Asmo if we're being honest. This is especially so if he's feeling like he's become less attractive due to not being able to keep up his hourly daily self care routines and regimens for so long. Just sitting down and treating him like he's worthwhile even when he's "an abomination," will go a long way. Sneaking him some decadent lotion or products he mentioned offhandedly will seal the deal though.

They cared enough to actually listen when he looks like this? Even though they're not affected by his powers?? Maybe he was a little quick to shun the idea of the program... at the very least, they could make an adorable new plaything! Just thinking about all the makeovers and sleepovers had him feeling a little excited!

Beel

He ate his way out.

I don't know what else to say, even Lucifer isn't powerful enough to stop such an appetite. Besides that, no demon in their right mind at RAD would be down with their star Fangol leaving for an exchange program!

But in all seriousness, Beel is a simple demon with simple pleasures. MC just needs to bring him some food and show him that they aren't a monster who's out to hurt his family. Man just doesn't want to lose anymore family and was a lil hangry is all. Lucifer's the one who overreacted to the whole display.

On the plus side, the House of Lamentations food budget actually managed to build up a decent reserve while Beel was locked away. So you can be sure there's going to be the most amazing and decadent feast anyone has ever seen once he's out.

Belphi

Just glad it's not him I suppose 😂

Though he may actually be low-key jealous that it's not him. Just thinking of how much he could sleep without being woken up has him rethinking his stance on the exchange program.

But MC is so sweet and makes a good cuddle buddy/pillow for his naps, so he can't be too upset.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Please don't make any sudden moves (you don't know the half of the abuse)

Or the AU in which WWX isn't as touchy as in canon

Warnings: implications of mental and physical abuse

Hopefully posting it properly this time because Tumblr got me fucked up the first time

But Lan Wangji has been spending enough time with Wei Ying, around him, to see the momentary flinch he's trying so hard to suppress, the flash of panic in his eyes every time someone else tries to initiate any kind of physical contact with him.

Wei Ying flinches.

Lan Wangji has keen eyes, and he notices things that others may not. And it's his keen eyes that see it - because otherwise, it's nearly impossible to pick up on if you don't know where to look.

Wei Ying flinches like somebody for whom touch has only been painful.

Lan Wangji knows, because he has seen it before.

Some of his cousins, react like that too, after they've been disciplined one too many times.

Even brother reacts like that sometimes. He's never told Wangji why, but it's not hard to guess. Especially as some of the elders do recount the unruly days of the First Jade out loud over tea every now and then, and applaud themselves for having disciplined him.

Lan Wangji knows what that means. He's been good - outstandingly, exceptionally good all his life so he could avoid it.

But Wei Ying isn't a Lan. The Jiang sect isn't like them. Jiang Wanyin doesn't flinch.

Why does Wei Ying?

They're in the library again.

Wei Ying is writing down the rules - or whatever it is that he's doing - and Lan Wangji finds himself studying the other carefully. There are no visible signs on his body, no marks or brands or anything. Even when they shared the cold springs, Lan Wangji didn't see anything out of place.

(Not that he looked that carefully over Wei Ying's naked glistening skin... but! Bruises and scars attract attention... but there were none.)

Wei Ying acts like his usual, unbothered self, humming as he writes, not a shadow of anything negative on his face.

It doesn't make sense.

He hands Lan Wangji some silly drawing an hour later, and when, irritated with the incessant noise of Wei Ying asking him all sorts of things, he angrily reaches over the table, towards Wei Ying, to throw the paper away - he sees it again.

The barely suppressed flinch, the wide eyes, the fear.

It makes Lan Wangji's stomach churn.

"Wei Ying..."

He doesn't reply, not knowing whether to open his mouth or keep quiet, eyes darting quickly between the paper and Lan Wangji.

He speaks as if he's weighing the words a hundred times before they come out, and he's watching Lan Wangji's reactions with a very poorly concealed panic.

“S-sorry...um... I didn’t think you’d actually get so angry with me... I was just trying to tease you a bit like I always do... I’ll just... go over there and finish my work now...”

Lan Wangji is left with even more questions now - and with the terrible realization that Wei Ying is... Wei Ying is scared of him.

Scared of him too.

"I wasn't- actually angry." He finally finds it in himself to speak a few agonizing minutes later. "Don't - you have no reason to be afraid of me." An attempt at a comforting smile. "I'll never hurt you."

Wei Ying stares at him, his eyes stormy and unreadable, before they slowly fill with tears that Wei Ying can't blink away.

"Sorry, I- I don't know why I..." he's quick to wipe the little droplets off his cheeks, despite the many that follow. "I... nobody ever noticed..."

"I am here, Wei Ying. If you wish to talk-"

Lan Wangji finds himself pulled into a hug over the little writing table, feels Wei Ying's tears fall against the side of his neck.

"I know you hate touching but... can we stay like this for a little while?"

"It is not comfortable."

And so, Lan Wangji easily pulls Wei Ying into his lap and refuses to think anything traitorous of the position they're in now.

Wei Ying burrows in his chest, wonders if he's dreaming or if something is possessing Lan Wangji right now - but decides to bask into it nevertheless.

"I've never been afraid of you, Lan Zhan. I'll never be."

---

There is war, bloodshed, Wei Ying disappears for three months and returns more dead than alive.

This time, he doesn't allow Lan Wangji to comfort him.

Wei Ying flinches again.

[moonspirit]

Hello, Moon(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

I hope your Saturday is going as fine as possible, and I hope you'll rest on your day off tomorrow.

I was thinking about the Ambassador family fluff, and I'm curious what you think about their first let's say, diplomatic failure? How will they work through it together, not only as colleagues, but, first of all, family? How they will go through something like this, when it's not only the matter of their careers, but most importantly the world, since their words and actions directly affect the word-building and well-being? So... Fluff with a pitch of angst, but anyway, if you have time, I would be really glad to read your thoughts on this ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

Hellooooo anna chan!!! Please forgive me because I've taken quite a while to answer this, I'm very sorry T_T

You know that the post-canon Ambassador life is one of my most favourite things ever, so thinking about this particular question of yours made me so happy with all the feels T////T Part of the reason the Ambassadors are so interesting to me is because they're a bunch of kids thrown together from different worlds and pasts who must all now stick together as a "family" of sorts for the foreseeable future.

Now. I don't think it's going to be easy. I'm far from being an expert but politics is a dog-eat-dog world where nobody cares about playing fair. We can say that's only to be expected, and in a world as vulnerable and volatile as I imagine the post-rumbled setting will be, probably the biggest challenge would be the fact that the Ambassadors are, in all respects, children.

See, they may have saved 20% of humanity but for people who still seek personal interests and gains, these six are still "Eldian" and "kids".

Any effort that goes toward rebuilding the world and shifting the existing order of prejudice, misunderstanding and fear will be an uphill battle for Armin & Co. Not only do they have to convince people who won't appreciate change, much less being told what to do, but they also have to work their way around accusations, slander, mockery and harrassment.

Oh no, it won't be easy at all T_T And failure is quite inevitable, I feel.

This is where I like to imagine that by this point in time, the six have gone through situations that have brought them much closer together. The three paradisian boys, the three warriors, Pieck being the only outsider, Armin suffering from guilt and pressure, Reiner being suicidal, Jean and Connie missing home, Annie struggling to cope with a different kind of life... we can imagine a plethora of possibilities as to the conversations they end up having (and postponing still), the arguments, the evening drinks, the card games, the play fights, the real fights, the nightmares, the PTSD, the hallucinations, the comforting, the quiet nights, the noisy nights, the picnics, the new experiences... I really love to believe they go through ALL of these and much more to grow into a tight knit family that has each other's backs at all times.

So when failure comes, it's hard, and no doubt it hits Armin the hardest because he's the face of the Ambassadors and shoulders the most weight and responsibility (and lies). In this failure they have to suffer through ridicule and mockery and even straight up physical danger. But for every one of their weaknesses, there is a strength in another that balances it out - and vice versa. This one single aspect is what makes them so wonderful together - they work like a well-oiled machine when it really comes down to it. Armin works hard and pulls of the hardest parts of their job with precision, but he hates the security around him and even tries to avoid it, something the others scold him for. Annie is surrounded with people who love her and she eventually grows to depend on them more; her skills come useful in strategizing too. Pieck's good at sniffing out intention and navigating difficult political terrain but she often feels like the odd one out in the group, something that soon disappears when she finds warmth in Annie, Jean and Connie. Reiner is good at protecting them even though sometimes he doesn't want to wake up, but they give him purpose and happiness and maybe that's all that matters. Connie doesn't talk much about his family and how much he misses Sunny and Martin, but there's Pieck to brighten his day and sometimes he likes to sleep on her shoulder. Jean gets to enjoy life now the way he wants to and he's good on the politics front with his charisma and charm, but sometimes he still cries to Armin that he wishes he didn't blow up that dynamite.

Everyone contributes to the table. Everyone loves each other.

And when one falls, there's five to pull them back up again.

T_____T Ahhhhh I had such a nice time writing all this out, anna, I'm not sure if this is exactly how or what you wanted to know but T^T I hope it made you feel things. Thank you so much for asking me T^T