#you can tell him to do something and he's just doing it because he's rather sure you think he wouldn't x'DD

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There’s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you bring it to your mouth obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[antianakin]

I don't really buy into the popular idea that Anakin somehow would've been saved by being asked to look after Jedi children, that it somehow would've magically taught him how to let go in a way he couldn't have learned in canon.

For one, you say that Anakin wanted someone to love him unconditionally and have their lives revolve around him. That's only partly true. Yes, he wants someone whose life revolves around him, but he specifically wants someone who will DEFINE themselves by their relationship to him. He wants someone who will do whatever he asks when he asks it of them, he wants someone whose first and only real priority is HIM, he wants someone who will give him whatever he wants whenever he wants it. This is why he likes Palpatine so much, it's why he gets upset whenever Padme tries to tell him no. You might notice, too, that this is an INCREDIBLY unhealthy dynamic to have with ANYONE and not something that should be encouraged to have.

The other issue with this is that no Jedi children are going to be taught to have their lives revolve around their creche master. The whole POINT behind the Jedi taking in younger children and toddlers rather than older kids is that it allows them to instill their values and teachings a lot earlier, BEFORE they'd learn to become too connected to one guardian (or one SET of guardians). Jedi children are unlikely to be encouraged to see their crechemaster the same way that other children see their parents. The Jedi tend to raise children COMMUNALLY, so their younglings likely have many different people raising them from the start. They're unlikely to have one person who just becomes a de facto parent for like 10-12 kids until they reach padawan age and then they just pass them off to the next person who becomes a new de facto parent. The Jedi would be taught that the whole Order are their family, that they can rely on ANYONE among the Jedi for aid and guidance and comfort. Anakin would not be handed a small group of kids that are just now "his" for like a decade or something. I don't buy that that's how Jedi would ever work (I DO buy that that could be how Mandos work, though).

So EVEN IF we go with the idea that somehow raising a child will fulfill the part of Anakin that wants someone whose life revolves around him, he won't get that from Jedi children, who are literally being taught not to let their lives revolve around one person from the moment they're given to the Order.

For two, this completely ignores that one of Anakin's biggest motivations is that he wants to be seen as a HERO, he wants fame and glory, he wants to do grand deeds like coming back to Tatooine to free all the slaves. As you might imagine, taking care of children isn't exactly going to seem like it fulfills that desire to someone like Anakin. It just isn't. THIS desire is what keeps Anakin from just LEAVING the Jedi in order to go be with Padme. If he just gets to be Padme's trophy wife, he can't go off to play the hero. He wants the fame and glory that he believes comes with being a Jedi, he wants the adoration that he thinks he can only get as a Jedi. If he didn't care about that, he'd have just left it the moment Padme agreed to be with him (or earlier, honestly). This desire is ALSO why he's peaks during the war, it's why he's so much happier and more comfortable during wartime than any other Jedi is. During the war, the Jedi are reduced to just going out and fighting "the bad guys" and protecting "the good guys." It allows Anakin to really settle into this feeling that he's being the big grand hero he's always believed he was destined for. The other Jedi tend to see this as really really far from what being a Jedi is all ABOUT, but Anakin DOESN'T because this is what he's always wanted being a Jedi to look like. This is why, when Tarkin claims the Jedi are being too soft during battles, it's Ahsoka and Obi-Wan who push back on that idea while Anakin actually agrees with it.

For three, there is NO INDICATION that Anakin never spent time around Jedi younglings ever. In fact, there's the OPPOSITE indication in canon, that Anakin already DOES spend enough time around the younglings for them to recognize him immediately and know him by name. There's thousands of Jedi, it wouldn't have been shocking if that one little youngling in the Council chambers didn't know who Anakin was when he walked in and just recognized that he was wearing Jedi clothing. But he doesn't. He addresses Anakin BY NAME. As I mentioned earlier, the Jedi appear to raise their children communally, so it would make a lot of sense that Anakin likely DID have to spend some time with the younglings every so often. Ahsoka herself is put in charge of a group of younglings going to Ilum to get their first kyber crystal when she's only 15ish years old, despite being a padawan who is assigned to a front lines battalion in the middle of a galactic civil war. You can make a REALLY easy assumption that at bare minimum, Anakin has probably had to take at least one group of younglings to Ilum by himself. But it's much more likely that he's had to do far more than that and interact with them somewhat regularly.

For four, there's actually canonical proof that handing Anakin responsibility of a child would never have saved him. Because Anakin is canonically handed responsibility of a child and it doesn't save him. Granted the child is like 14 years old when he is given responsibility of her, but it still involves having someone who looks up to him, someone whose future depends upon him, and someone he has to learn how to let go of eventually. And look what happens when she decides to walk away from the Order, look how well he reacts to that. Look at what happens to her when Padme's life is threatened and Anakin decides to throw everything away for a chance at power. Being given responsibility of a child didn't help him, it didn't save him, it didn't allow him to learn how to let go of ANYTHING.

For five, this completely ignores that the one thing that truly fucks up Anakin is proximity to Palpatine. If your argument is that Anakin should've spent MORE TIME sitting on Coruscant rather than going out in the galaxy, then this just makes him EVEN MORE vulnerable to Palpatine than he is in canon because now he's even more available. Palpatine can pop over to see him, he can ask Anakin to come talk to him and chances are pretty good that Anakin's around. The ONLY real way to "save" Anakin from going dark is to somehow completely remove Palpatine from the equation. The reason Anakin falls has NOTHING TO DO with whether he gets to take care of kids or not, it has nothing to do with how the Jedi taught him their values, or WHO taught Anakin the Jedi's values. There is nothing the Jedi could've truly changed about their culture or their approach to training Anakin that would've saved him. The assumption that they could've just moves the blame from Palpatine and Anakin to the Jedi themselves instead of recognizing the Jedi as the victims of Palpatine and Anakin's choices.

And finally, you've kind-of missed the entire argument being made in this post about Anakin. The argument isn't "Anakin would've been better off as a different kind of Jedi" but "Anakin SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN A JEDI AT ALL." Now, if we set aside the problem of Palpatine entirely, the best environment for Anakin to grow up in likely would've been one that was more akin to a traditional family structure, preferably a set of parents who didn't already have children so he didn't have to feel like he needed to compete for affection. I DO think that Anakin could've learned a lot from the Jedi if Palpatine's influence were removed, but I also think that what he learned from them would ultimately help him to recognize that he didn't WANT to be a Jedi and that this life didn't truly make him happy. I think the Jedi's way of life was already perfectly set to help him overcome a lot of his traumas from childhood and lead a healthier life, but he was never going to make a good Jedi, no matter what kind of Jedi he tried to be, because the kinds of things Anakin generally wants AREN'T the kinds of things that the Jedi lifestyle allows for.

The whole metaphor with the kudzu and the goats is that Anakin DOES NOT BELONG IN THE JEDI ORDER, and he needs to be REMOVED from that environment in order to be somewhere where he doesn't harm others just by existing. It isn't the ENVIRONMENT'S fault that Anakin doesn't fit into it, and changing the environment itself doesn't change the fact that Anakin is a harmful presence in it. The kudzu also cannot be changed to be something that DOES fit into the environment without harm, it will ALWAYS be harmful, there's nothing to introduce into the environment that magically changes the kudzu into a non-harmful non-native plant. It's always going to be invasive and harmful until it's completely removed.

Anakin Skywalker was an invasive species in the Jedi. He was introduced to the environment by Qui-Gon and the Jedi tried everything they could to co-exist with him but Anakin just didn't want to co-exist, he wanted to take over, he wanted to be the BEST. And when the Jedi couldn't give him what he wanted, he destroyed them to make room for his own selfish desires.

Luke might be a non-native species on Tatooine, but his father was a an invasive species in every environment he inhabited and a parasite in every relationship he was in, so I think Luke's doing just fine quite honestly.

[livelaughlovesubs]

checked the calendar and oop-almost missed ur event lmao

ANYWAY muzzling Blade and forbidding him to speak 👉👈 u can ignore this part im about to say but I NEED TO BREED THIS MAN NINI. ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE !!!

have a great day/night ᵔᴗᵔ

Dom!reader x sub!blade

Warning: a little pet play (again damn), stepping (also, again…), teasing, brat taming (?), bondage, muzzling, dirty talk

Anniversary event

Haha, have a great day as well Ray~ ALSO, yes, blade, breeding, mpreg-

“Do you know why I’m doing this?” You asked, almost sarcastically. The low, dissatisfied grunt of the male in front of you didn’t escape your ears. Did he really think you’d miss that? When he’s sitting on that chair, mere inches away— all tied up —like that? “Tell me, bladie.”

The pet name you whispered was adding salt to his injury, causing him to lash out even more. “How would I know what you are thinking?” He glared at you, not a deathly one, it was rather a challenging gaze. As if he’s questioning your authority, how cheeky of him. “You’ve been rather chatty today.” You smirked down at him, tilting your head to the side, “are you doing it on purpose?”

He shifted a little, as best as his binds allowed him to. All of his limps were tied to the posts of the meek wooden chair, and a rope was also wrapped around his torso, to further bind him to the leaning of the furniture. It was placed right underneath his chest, making them look fuller than usual. It’d be a foolish assumption to think this would be enough to keep him restrained, though it was just a game, he knew you wouldn’t put him in danger. Besides what’s the worst that could happen, him dying?

Normally he wasn’t keen on playing the brat, yet ever since he witnessed you punishing someone else for ‘not knowing when to shut up’, he’s been feeling slightly eager himself to try it out. With his personality, it was rare for anything to stir his curiosity, but you seem to always find a way inside him mind. Besides, you’ve been spending way too much time with other people. So who would have guessed you’d be into this so much.

“Your thoughts are shifting away. Is this too boring a situation for you?” You took a few steps closer to him, raising your foot to step on his thigh, hand placed on his chin to make him look you in the eyes. “If you know, try making it worthwhile.” He sighed, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. “Oho, look at the moody kitty being cocky again.” As if you were offended by his indifference, you turned his face to the side, and slid your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Are you so desperate for my attention? You could also make it easy and ask nicely.” Instead of tugging on his hair like he expected, you stroked him behind his ear, the one with the large earring. Then you moved lower with your fingers and fumbled with the metal of the Accessoire, rubbing his earlobe while you were at it. “What made you think I’d be craving your attention?” He snarled, grinning at you with half-lidded eyes. Since you were looking down at him, his long lashes became even more apparent.

After a while, you let go of him and chuckled, “because the kitty is mewling at me so much.” You walked up to a specific drawer and took something out, and on your way back you noticed his deviant expression, which compiled you to comment, “yet the kitty has been spouting nothing but nonsense.” Once you were standing right front of him again, you leaned down to meet his eyes, “in such a situation, what would you suggest the owner to do?”

Blade blinked a few times, a little dumbfounded at your words. He didn’t take into account that you would ask him to choose his own punishment, even though it was a basic practice. “I wonder.” Soon, he begun to speak, he wasn’t going to give up this quick. “But if you ask me, isn’t the owner at fault for failing to discipline their pet properly?” This time, he was the one to tilt his head back, not giving up the rebellious act just yet. You weren’t irritated enough, he wanted to see you seething with rage.

Alone the thought of what you might make him do afterwards kept him on edge. His old, weary heart was beating so fast, he could feel every pound hammering against his chest. Your gaze wasn’t wavering, instead you were amused. This was not exactly the reaction he was going for, should he consider his plan failed? A shiver ran down his spine when you cupped his face with one hand, your skin was so warm in comparison to him.

You held him gently, as if he was a frail and vulnerable thing, then you said, “you are right, it would be the owners fault.” A big smirk spread across your face, and you tapped his bottom lips with your thumb. “At least we agree on one thing,” suddenly you stopped mid-sentence, and you hinted at him to open his mouth. Once he did, you revealed what your other hand has been hiding all this time. A muzzle, one for a dog no less.

The male stared at the object in your hand, then asked with a forced smile, “I thought you’ve been raising a cat, not a mutt.” You stuffed the stick inside his mouth and fastened the binds around his head, then replied almost begrudgingly, “desperate times call for desperate measures.” Then you shrugged with your shoulders. “You…! what are you- mffgghnm..!!?” To your surprise, he put up less of a fight than you anticipated.

After you were done, you took a moment to admire your handiwork. How endlessly beautiful he looked, tied up to the chair, with the ropes burning marks into his gorgeously scared body. His long hair falling over his shoulder, creating an almost soft look that didn’t suit his usual vibe. Not to mention how flushed his face has gotten since earlier, how long until he finally sheds tears and begs? Judging by the fierce look he’s giving you, it might still take a while.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t something you haven’t done already. So you readjusted your foot to step on his groin, earning yourself a muffled whine from the man as he recoiled into a ball. “Nghh- hngghhff…♡♥︎♡” good, you could see his facade crumble already. Then you stroked through his hair once again, this time proclaiming, “now, I don’t want to hear anything other than mewls and moans coming out of that mouth. Do you understand, bladie?”

[ivy-elle]

“This is not gonna happen”

Or: How He Defends/ Protect You

Feat. Albedo, Scaramouche

Albedo

The sunset is already about to start while you hurry through the streets of Mondstadt, trying to avoid any of the Knights of Favonius in case you get talked off by them.

You’re supposed to meet up with Albedo in front of the city to watch the sunset at the cliff – or rather, Albedo wanted to paint and had invited you to keep him company. Only, your work has held you up longer than expected and now you fear Albedo has either gone without you or, poor guy has been waiting all alone by the bridge.

“By Barbatos! Are you completely-“ You come to a shrieking halt at the same moment a middle-aged man stumbles a few steps backwards, clutching his chest in shock.

Swallowing back a curse you hastily squat down to reach for the firewood he dropped in his distress. “I’m so sorry, Simon. Are you alright?”

“Am I-?”

When you glance back up, you’re surprised by how red his face has turned. Perhaps ‘alright’ wouldn’t be a suited term indeed.

“Say, are you out of your mind! How dare you startle me that immensely?”

Slowly, you rise back up, the woods now secure in your arms.

“Have you got not manner – You should be ashamed of yourself!”

While Simon keeps insulting you, you are admittedly a bit taken aback by his sudden outburst. Of course, it’s not nice to be startled out of now where but – no need to act so harsh, right?

But when he keeps raising his voice and is now basically screaming straight into your face, you get back on track and steady yourself, because how dare he just treat you like that?

“Sir, there is no need to shout” you interfere his triage of rage, feeling your own anger rising, “I can hear you quite well. Besides, no huge enough damage has been done to justify losing one’s civil tongue.”

Simon's eyes flash in fury at your words. “Civil tongue? Have you lost the last of your senses? You should be begging for forgiveness for me not to report the incident to the Knights of Favonius.”

Before your frustration gets the chance to slip through your lips in a way less than civilised response, you feel the gentle touch hand on your shoulder.

“Excuse me. Is something the matter here?”

It’s only when you turn and see Albedo at your side, do you also notice some bystanders who have stopped at the commotion and are now exchanging curious glances.

Great. This is gonna be the talk of town tomorrow.

But despite the situation, Albedo’s presence has its usual calm effect upon you, and you feel your anger settle. A bit at least.

Even Simon seems to paddle back and settle down in his current outburst.

Albedo’s eyes find yours, searching for answers he probably already concluded himself. “Are you alright?”

You nod slowly. “I’m alright.”

His eyes sweep over you once more, before he turns to Simon. “Sir, has there any harm come to you or any of your goods?”

Simon huffs, crossing his arms defiantly. “As far as I can tell, the woods are fine.” Only then does he seem to realise you’re still holding said woods in your arms and his eyes dart to you, narrowing. 

As if sensing another upcoming dispute, Albedo subtly steps in front of you, before declaring in his own appeasing and soft-spoken manner, “While I understand your discomposure, Sir,” he states and you notice his voice also contains a certain firmness, “it is not right to treat your opponent with such approach. It will fuel only more ire, and the outcome won’t serve any of the parties.”

You keep your eyes on Simon, watching the different emotions swirl through his face. Anger, frustration, confusion, and then something akin to disappointment. He nods slowly, but also a bit taken aback by Albedo’s calm demeanour, not knowing where to disseminate his emotions now.

Simons huffs again, almost unsure how to react, so he grabs the wood out of your arms, while deliberately avoiding looking at you and grumbles. “Alright, well, uh, I might’ve just lost my nerves there.”

 “I apologise for startling you," you respond to which he nods once, still avoiding your gaze. His eyes dart to Albedo before clutching his wood and stomping off.

Albedo, who notices the bystanders starting to whisper to each other, gently takes your wrist and guides you past the gates, to the outskirts of town.

The sun is already setting as you stroll quietly along the bridge. You feel his hand on the small of your back, gently leading you forwards.

After a while Albedo breaks the silence. “I apologize if I overstepped by interfering in the dispute. But I did not appreciate the way Simon talked to you, let alone reacted to the incident.”

“I think you handled it fairly eloquent.” A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you glance at him from the side. “The People of Mondstadt are all prone to temper their anger at your demeanour. You’re quite liked among them.”

Albedo gives a soft, amused huff, meeting your eyes. “My dear, I believe you are merely biased in that matter.”

Scaramouche

“With all due respect, Ma’am, but I’ve already been assigned a different role for this mission.”

Your superior Nomura regards you with a sharp look – not even your averted eyes could alleviate the goosebumps crawling down your skin.

“We’ve established this change of plan to be the best strategy, Agent. Are you refusing your duty?”

“No, Ma’am.” You cross your arms formally behind your back, trying to keep your frustration at bay. It’s not unusual for you to be subjected to whatever hell she offers, but normally she at least knows to inform you in an appropriate timing about something as important as that.

“However, I would require time to assess the new circumstances and gather the needed information.”

Nomura tightens her lips as if she’s annoyed by your presence alone. “That won’t be necessary. We do not have the time, and I believe your skills to be sufficient to assess the situation when it arises. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Again, you keep your voice neutral and expression unbothered while you watch her return to the rest of the divisions, which are waiting by the river.

Archons, why couldn’t Nomura inform you earlier? But alas. At least she has trust in your skills.

You huff quietly to yourself as you head to your new division, however Scaramouche’s sudden presence next to you holds you back. How can this man be so fast all the time?

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Even though Scaramouche outranks your Superior – and following that logic you as well – by a long shot, you feel your posture loosen up almost immediately. A familiar calm settling down your bones.

“I am off to act as a scout at the front. To make certain, the area is clear.”

Scaramouche’s eyebrow arch at that “You’re tasked with reconnaissance?”

“Not quite,” you explain, trying to overplay your irritation, but failing miserably. “I’m to remain there until the rest of the division arrives.”

Almost instantly his expression hardens, knowing the dangers and risks of that position. “Who distributed these roles? And more importantly - why have I not been informed?”

You cross your arms in front of you, suddenly feeling like you have to defend yourself in some sort. “It was a last-minute change. I was also informed just now.”

“Are they truly that incapable of decent strategizing? How utterly predictable.”

He lets out a slow, disdainful sigh before he flicks his gaze over to you. “And just so you get this straight, you will certainly not go.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf?” He scoffs and adjusts his collar, feigning nonchalance. “I will not risk my agent for some stupid reconnaissance task. You will remain at my side at the front, as it was originally planned and where your skills are suited best.”

The tone of his voice makes clear there’s no room for discussion left and yet you take a deliberate step closer to him.

“Scara,” you say, wanting to make sure no misconception remains, “this mission needs scouts to clear the area. I can manage that by myself if needed.”

“We’ll manage without scouts.” Scaramouche lets his gaze linger a moment too long, then his eyes narrow. “Or are you questioning my leadership?”

You huff. “This is ridiculous. My role isn’t that important to risk an entire mission for.”

The hardness in his eyes melts away and then he turns to the side, as if suddenly bored of the conversation.

“It is to me.”

Scaramouche keeps his gaze focused on the forest. His voice devoid of any emotion, merely an irritated frown has settled between his browns. “And now shut it, we’re heading off. I’ll handle your superior.”

[signanothername]

do you think killer might only have an aversion to his jacket after leaving nightmare? in a way I always thought it was his sort of comfort, or grounding, when he was with nm

though now, with color, he simply hates it or finds it unnerving to be around because it’s just a painful reminder.

also love your headcannons and art, they are very sparkly ✨✨✨

Thank youuu <333

To me, Killer always wanted to feel pretty, he just never got to do so under Nightmare, he only had that one jacket, and one pair of shirt/shorts and one pair of shoes, and only washed those whenever they needed the wash

Here’s the kicker tho, Nightmares wouldn’t have cared if Killer wore different clothes each time under him, in fact, Nightmare would’ve preferred it actually, Nightmare is a bit obsessed with his image, and he always makes sure that his space is clean and tidy, that also includes the people living with him under the same roof

If you notice, I never draw Murder with visible dust on him, not because I can’t, but because Nightmare wouldn’t allow Murder to stay with such dirt in his own castle

That goes for everyone, Nightmare tells MTT that he didn’t recruit animals under him constantly, that after each mission, he expects them to clean themselves up and not stain his castle with the dirt, blood, and dust on them

Nightmare can tolerate a stain or two, but he won’t have his subordinates looking absolutely disheveled

Of course, that makes MTT forced to clean themselves up if they don’t wanna get into trouble, and Killer especially, he’d do that even without Nightmare telling them so (as would Horror), Killer simply cares a bit about his looks, he’s not as obsessed with how he looks as Nightmare is, but Killer does prefer to look presentable at least

But that’s where Killer’s abuse comes in, while Nightmare wouldn’t even care if Killer wore something different, Killer never found himself doing so, not because he didn’t want to, but because he saw no point in it, his new clothes are gonna get ruined if he put them on then went on a mission right after when Nightmare ordered it, his new clothes made no difference when all Killer was allowed to do is stay at the castle or go out in an AU when Nightmare wished it (and Nightmare’s the only one who had the power to teleport them from one AU to another)

He saw no point in finding his own joy by wearing something he likes cause that could easily be used against him, a weakness, a vulnerability he would rather not open the door to in his environment

Of course, after he’s saved, Killer didn’t just simply let go of all of these ideas on the get go, in fact, it took him years to understand that he can now wear whatever he wished without any sort of limitations or consequences, not to mention, his undeniable nostalgia to Nightmare as well as his belief that Nightmare would either kill him sooner than later for betraying him, or that he’d end up back under Nightmare again

So Killer was convinced that there’s no point to changing up

And of course, comfort, this outfit is what he’d known for years, he can’t just let go all of a sudden

That of course, eventually changes as Killer is shown love and care, and it starts small, with Killer having one or two outfits besides his og one, and wearing these new outfits on rare occasions, but as time went on, his wardrobe filled up with newer outfits and he wore them more and more and his og clothes less and less, all subconsciously than an actual conscious decision on Killer’s part

And as time goes on further more and Killer learns and adapts and heals, he eventually finds himself in a new outfit every day, his og outfit completely forgotten to time and completely forgotten by Killer

Only to find it again, only this time, he can’t really wear it anymore, and Killer would come to the realization of how much he’s healed <3

I don’t necessarily think Killer would hate his old clothes after he’s saved, but rather, would always have a part of him unable to stop from growing a bit fond in a fucked up way, not that he’d want to actually go back to such times, but a part of him will always look back and think of how far he’d come, and how far back such memories are

[gayofthefae]

This meme pissed me the fuck off and I'm glad we're finally talking about it.

I tell myself it was them coping with the intensity of the scene but the truth is homophobia shows it's roaring prevalence every time representation comes out to play.

Thankfully, I know that memes do not ruin the momentum of an emotional scene for many. For example, I once watched the "YOU'RE ALL I WANT! YOU'RE ALL I HAVE!" actual scene: heart wrenching.

But there is somebody who will laugh when they see this scene for the first time now "from the meme". And they will think they are laughing at a fictional character. But they will be laughing at queer people. I am furious at the people who made that happen.

This is a picture of a boy who has just committed to not being happy because he strongly believes that his decision is ultimately meaningless as he tells himself that as a queer person, he never had a chance at happiness anyways.

I am not religious, I can assume that Will is. I do not believe that I was made by God as a mistake, but I did at a point believe that I was an evolutionary mistake - a mutant failure. I remember that hitting me so deeply when he said he felt like a mistake. The feeling as a queer person that you were made wrong. That you failed at something.

Will Byers just stated that he feels like he is broken. He was made wrong and rather than gay, is a failure at being straight, but there is one thing and one thing only that makes him feel that this isn't true. He says that. And then he gives that thing up.

And the meme is stupid as fuck too. The caption format is "[me when I'm sad]: picture of person crying"

"Me when the vending machine doesn't let my candy out" [picture or borderline suicidal queer person actively hurting himself on purpose as a result of being an abuse victim from a very young age]

"he was crying because he saw his haircut 😂😂"

You will NEVER understand the queer importance of that scene.

:(

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Eyes on the mirror - part 2.

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 3814 Summary: Dinner at Frankie's mom's is a disaster, she doesn't like you at all but her son doesn't fail to show you how much he likes you instead. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears a dress and heels, she has hair but it's not described, no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she understands Spanish (but I didn't write sentences in Spanish because I don't know how to do it and I don't want to do it badly when I'm already writing in a language that is not my native), Frankie's mom is pretty conservative, traditionalist and closed-minded and she's mean towards reader, unprotected p in v (do better irl, please), sex in front of a mirror, oral (m receiving), Frankie is a good man ❤︎ and we love that for him. A/N: It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more. Thanks again @aurorawritestoescape and @arcanefox207 for your precious help and advices ❤️ I made a few changes from the first draft, English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. @joelmillerisapunk just 🥹🥹🥹💖 Part 1 ⎮ Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist

Frankie's mom has the same eyes as her son, brown, big and deep, but there is a sharpness in them that does not belong to Frankie's. 

She has a simple, well-groomed appearance, wearing a white tunic dress that comes down to her knee, her hands are slightly cracked but her manicured nails are painted a pearly pink. 

She is a short, thin woman with the haughty, imperious appearance of someone who doesn’t let anyone step on her toes, a woman ready to bargain, to work hard, to take care of an entire household without anyone's help.

She's a tough lady and you're pretty sure she hates your guts.

 She addresses you rather nicely but you can tell something is wrong.

Her tone of voice sounds mocking and she's constantly whispering things to Frankie in Spanish that you don't hear well but you're pretty sure aren't anything nice.

“So what do you do, dear?” she asks you with a forced smile, sitting at the head of the table as she has arranged you and Frankie facing each other.

“I…um…work in a graphic design studio,” you mutter.

Frankie quickly adds, “She's so good at her job!” 

The way he’s trying to enhance your skills since you arrived moves you, but his mom doesn’t seem impressed.

Mrs Morales is intimidating, staring at you like she’s trying to catch every single flaw you have.

You can't even use your usual sarcasm because she would surely think you were insolent and certainly not right for his son.

“Have you done anything that I might have seen? Any national commercials?” she prods.

“Um, I don't think so, we're a pretty small studio at the moment, we've mostly worked on graphics for local stores and websites for professionals here, you know.” 

“Oh.” She raises her eyebrow. ”I see.”

Trying to compliment her, you say the food is delicious, the best you've ever eaten, and she reserves a cold “thank you”

Then she presses you again, “Can you cook?”

You lower your gaze to your plate and admit, “no, actually, I'm not very good at cooking.” 

“What do you usually eat?” she asks suspiciously. 

"Um...well...I can cook pasta and eggs..." you try to say and she looks at you in shock as if you just said donkeys can fly.

“Mom, please” Frankie tries to calm her down and she hisses at him “she will starve you!”

He hisses in turn “I am not perished! And she’s adorable, she’s smart, kind, funny and beautiful”

You feel Frankie's sorry look comforting you from across the table, he's doing what he can and you are truly grateful, but right now there’s nothing that can make you feel happy to be here.

You don't want to fight with her because you love Frankie and you know he loves his mother, you don't want to lose him because of scowling at her.

You see her giggling and shaking her head and you feel like crying but you don't, you don't want her to add ‘pathetic’ as one of your flaws.

She turns to Frankie and says something like, “How can you be with someone like that?” in Spanish. 

Frankie leans over the table and reprimands her, “Mom, stop it.”

She responds irritated in Spanish, “why? She is no good at cooking, and that job? Tsk, you don't want to marry her, do you?”

Frankie rolls his eyes and hisses, “Mom!”

You understand Spanish just fine but all this whispering is putting a strain on you, you just want her to see how much you care about Frankie and for her to like something about you. 

Even the dress didn't have the effect you had hoped for, she looked down on you even though her son had chosen it.

You brought her flowers and a cake to be nice and she huffed about the flowers because she would have to find a suitable vase to put them in and as for the cake, you bought it, so obviously it’s another proof of your failures in the culinary field.

She waves her hand at Frankie to shush him and turns back to you.

“Do you want anything else, sweetheart?” nodding at the serving dishes in the center of the table with another fake smile. 

Your stomach churns and you respond politely that you are full.

She turns back to Frankie, squinting her eyes, "she won't even eat! how is she going to give me grandchildren?!”

You look at your hands resting on your lap, feeling lousy and tired. 

Frankie must see this clearly because he finally blurts out, “Mom, if you don't stop now, we're leaving! She has done nothing wrong to you to be treated like this”

Mrs. Morales brings a hand to her chest, a shocked grimace is painted on her face. 

 “How dare you address your mother like that! I'm just trying to protect you, she's clearly not good for you!” She no longer even bothers to say it whispering in Spanish so that you wouldn't understand, in fact you think she said it loud and in English precisely so that her disappointment would be clear to you. 

You get up while they are still busy arguing and lock yourself in the bathroom. 

You knew this evening would be a disaster, but you hoped so hard that you were wrong. 

You’re glad Frankie stood up for you but you never wanted him to fight with his mother because of you. 

You hear their angry voices in the distance as they continue to argue and you feel so guilty.

You sit on the floor on the turquoise tiles in Mrs. Morales' bathroom, thinking only about how much you want to get out of here.

After a few minutes you hear a knock on the door. 

 “Honey, open up, it's me” You get up and reluctantly open the door.

“Hey, come here” Frankie says to you as soon as he sees your eyes on to the brink of tears.

He closes the door behind him and takes you in his arms, holding you tightly. 

You hide your face in his chest, letting the soothing warmth of his body envelop you. 

He strokes your back and whispers, “I'm so sorry, you don't deserve any of this.”

“I wanted her to like me so much,” you sob. 

“I know, honey, it's not your fault. She is fixated on things I don't care about. But you don't have to worry, everything will be fine.”

You pull away from him “I don't want you to fight over me”

"She can’t treat you like that, I'm the one who wants to be with you, and I like you the way you are.”

“Yeah, but…it’s still your mum,” you murmur.

“I gave her a little speech, don’t worry, you’ll be fine now,” 

Frankie smiles, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry.”

“What did you say to her? You didn't threaten her not to visit again, did you?” you ask worriedly. His eyes become a little shy, he’s quiet for a moment and then whispers to you, “no, I didn't tell her that.” 

“What then?” his enigmatic expression that doesn't let anything out intrigues and agitates you. 

He looks straight into your eyes and candidly admits, "I told her that I love you." 

You've felt it in the air for some time but now that you've heard it come out of his mouth, plain and simple, you are stunned. 

“Do you mean it?” You ask in a low shaking voice, looking into his big brown eyes for evidence of his sincerity. 

"I've never been so serious, miss," he smiles at you, expectantly. 

And then you feel you can say it, no matter how scary it is for you, “I love you too.” 

It doesn't seem real to you that you have just made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, your neighbor who until a few months ago was bothering you while now you feel you have a total and deep connection with him, no matter how much you poke and bicker at each other, your heart sings every time you are with him and you feel it loud and clear in your chest as it skips a beat every time Frankie looks at you a certain way, smiling with his eyes, with those little wrinkles around them and that dimple on his cheek that you adore. 

You love the way he mumbles in the morning as soon as he wakes up, the way he stretches under the covers and then again as soon as he gets up, his golden skin under the morning light, his playfully mischievous eyes that settle on you while you're still lying down trying to wake up, the way he always leans down to give you a kiss, whispering, “Good morning, princess.”

You also love how he keeps that silly little cap glued to his head at every opportunity.

You like kissing him and feeling his lips tasting like coffee, you like the way he hugs you as if he wants to shield you with his body and protect you from the world, you like the way his eyes become attentive and receptive when they rest on you and the way he listens to you, remaining silent and caressing your hand as if to invite you to tell him anything that is on your mind. 

You love how loyal he is to his friends, how he takes care of people, you love when he tries to make you breakfast even though he leaves a mess in your kitchen as if a barbarian invasion passed through.

And you love him now, standing in his mother's bathroom, hugging you as if only you existed in the world. 

“I love you,” you repeat and he looks at your face as if he wants to study the map of how much you truly care about him on it.

His hands slide down your back to your butt and he pushes you hard against him without breaking eye contact. 

His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, he squeezes your butt tightly and then kisses you. 

You know exactly what he wants and you whisper into his mouth as soon as you break away from the passionate, deep kiss in which he engulfed you, “Not here, come on, take me home.”

He turns to the door and locks it still holding you close. 

“Let it go, baby, it’s okay” he replies and winks at you.

Feeling so desired by him is a real relief after feeling stupid and unfitting all night.

He turns you to the large mirror above the sink, leans to your ear and whispers, “Look at yourself.”

His hands move up your back, reach for the zipper of your dress, and begin to pull it down.

You look at him and he rebukes you, “eyes on the mirror, honey. Watch yourself while I do it.”

He slides off your dress breathing on your skin while you keep your eyes fixed on the mirror. 

You remain in your bra and panties. 

He brushes against your skin, rising on your arms only with his fingertips, climbing up your shoulders, your collarbone, the point where your shoulders and your neck meet and up to the column of your neck until he reaches your jaw. He tilts your head a bit and holds your chin to make sure you’re going to watch the entire time.

He holds you so that you can lean against him, and with his other hand he reaches down to your stomach, touching the hem of your panties.

You sigh happily as he slides two fingers under the fabric and caresses your folds, slides down the sides to the bottom and pushes upward. 

You moan softly, “Frankie, please” 

“Don’t be impatient, babe” he reprimands.

He curls your panties between his fingers and starts brushing them over your folds, you whine at the sensation as he tilts your head down a little bit to make sure you’re seeing what he’s doing. However you would not be able to watch anything but his movements. Right, left, right, left Frankie's fingers expertly maneuver the fabric over your pussy.

Your inhibitions are long gone, everything is faded and far away. 

There is only you and Frankie.

He suddenly lets go of your panties and massages you over them, soaking the material in your juices. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much for his fingers to get wet too. 

Your breath becomes shallow as his hand slithers under the fabric and he begins circling your clit.

You can already feel your legs going weak so you raise your arm and place your hand behind his neck to keep yourself more stable against him. 

“Yeah, just like that honey. You want me to make you feel real good, huh?” Frankie’s voice vibrates against your neck and you mewl a yes feeling your body mold for him. 

Your eyes are fixed on the mirror.

You see your hot and bothered face, your lips parted, your pleading eyes and your body impossibly tense against him. 

It’s all painted there, the amount of desire and hunger that you have for him, a grimace of lust and need spread out on your features. 

“Fuck me,” you babble.

“Yeah? You want my big cock inside, baby? Want me to fill you to the brim?” Frankie’s smirk is wide on his face, you see his eyes focused on you, and his commanding tone sends shivers down your spine as he doesn’t stop rubbing on your clit. 

“Yes” you breathe “please”

Your legs wobble as you try to stand on your feet while he undresses. 

His shirt falls on his mother’s bathroom tiles, he unbuckles his belt and places it on the countertop, he kicks off his boots, unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, stamping on them to get them off his feet.

Through the mirror you see him standing behind you, wearing only his boxers, the muscles of his chest highlighted by the lights, his soft belly just above his boxers that makes your mouth water, the happy trail that goes to hide inside, his strong thighs and the imperious erection that grows between them.

 It's a perfect picture of everything that makes your head spin.

“On your knees, baby, I want to feel your mouth first,” he orders you. 

You immediately kneel, feeling your heart flutter in your chest, the coolness of the tiles on your shins, and his simmering gaze dominating you from above.

You caress his hips, pulling down his boxers, and taking them off, and his cock finally springs free and almost smacks your face towering before your eyes. 

You take him in your hand, feeling that familiar warmth, the softness of his skin, the pulsing of his veins, as he leaks pre cum within an inch of your lips.

As soon as it slips on your tongue you feel a new slick of arousal dripping on your panties.

You lace your gaze with his, your open mouth curved at the edges in a smirk as you let him in, you love doing this to him. 

You usually take in as much as you can while taking care of the rest with your hand but tonight you want to feel it all the way down, so you relax your throat as much as you can and keep sliding it until you feel the tip touch the bottom. 

You have a slight hint of a gag reflex that you manage to quell right away and you keep him there, nestled inside you, pulsing on your tongue as he looks at you raptly and whispers, “God, you're amazing.”

And then you begin to suck him, slowly, enjoying every moan and every involuntary twitch of his hips, cocooning him with your tongue.

You’re fully immersed in the act, intent on giving him all the lustful pleasure you can, licking his tip like a lollipop, swirling your tongue around and collecting his oozing pre cum.

And then you go down again, spreading it on his shaft, mixing it with your saliva, hollowing your cheeks to suck him as deep as you can.

Frankie is whimpering and you know how much he’s close to the edge.

Your hand caresses his base, then you move it to his balls, with every intention of getting him to finish in your mouth and swallow everything he gives you but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You let him out with a pop, passing the tip over your lips and smacking it against them twice, wetting them with his pleasure.

You give him a mock pout for stopping you but the truth is you can't wait to feel him split you in two. 

He smiles at you, taking your hand and helping you up, you give him a kiss with your mouth still smeared with him. 

He turns you back towards the mirror and gently orders, “bend over the sink”

He slides your panties down your legs, exposing your drenched pussy, bending down to admire it, “So fucking wet…it’s all for me, baby?”

“Just for you, always,” you turn to look at him and see him leaning behind you as he reaches down and licks your folds, a long deep lick that makes you gasp.

“So good, honey, I would never get tired of this perfect pussy.” His voice vibrates on your skin sending a thrill all over your body.  “It’s the only part of you that I like to see weep for me” 

His rough voice charged with ardor and his words send you into a frenzy.

He comes back to stand behind you and looks at you in the mirror, resting his large hands on your hips, “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

You feel his cock rub against your folds, and you throb intensely overwhelmed by your craving, you mewl at him and he finally aligns with your entrance and starts to push in. 

You slowly stretch around him, he groans as he slides into you, every inch of his length parting your walls.

His hands still clasp your hips, holding you steady as he gives you a moment to adjust. 

You're full of him and you wouldn't want to be any other way.

Frankie holds you firmly as he sinks into you, slowly at first and then increasing the pace as your moans grow rougher and closer, his balls slamming against your ass in a feverish rush.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock so hard.”

He pulls you toward him, his fingers reaching for your nipples, tweaking and tugging.

You can't help but look in the mirror now and what you see is the most exciting sight you've ever had before your eyes.

Your body is completely surrendered to him, your skin glistening with tiny droplets of sweat, your hair disheveled, your expression ecstatic, Frankie's hands firmly clinging to your hips as the wet, squelching sounds of his cock pounding incessantly in your cunt fill the room along with your moans and Frankie's groans.

And Frankie is literally a dream, his broad figure towering over you, his mouth roaming your neck, his hands enveloping your tits, squeezing them so right. 

He’s completely lost in you, his eyes half-closed, his tongue darting out from time to time soothing your sweaty skin. 

Now you know that you have never experienced such strong feelings in your life. 

You thought so, but you were wrong. 

It’s not the usual cliché of feeling complete with someone else, you are already a whole. 

It’s the fact of knowing that you can share with him, that you do not have to be afraid to be who you are with him. It is the fact that he knows how to understand the workings of your brain and unravel the skein that tangles it. It is the fact that you can feel that there is nothing you cannot face together. It is the fact of feeling seen, perceived for who you really are and held close for it.

It's knowing that wherever you run, Frankie will pick up the crumbs you leave on the road and bring them back to you.

And you had no idea that it could really be like this.

You always thought, it's only 4 months, don't push it when in the meantime he proceeded to tiptoe into your heart without even being noticed and sat there, waiting for both of you to be ready to say the most terrifying words out loud. 

Not "I need you" but "I'm so damn happy you're here", not "you're mine" but "I love holding your hand as I navigate my life.”

Not by owning, but by letting you do your own thing while you look at each other and think, “this is the person I love and I am proud of them.”

You're just out there being the most fragile human sometimes but you're never afraid to break down next to him.

Frankie comes, dripping onto your walls, his orgasm and whimpers shuddering against your body.

He wraps one of his big, strong arms around your hips and holds you up against him.

And you're safe, really safe, being vulnerable in front of a mirror, watching yourself come apart for him, feeling every inch of your body catching fire while Frankie is the match and the water at the same time. 

He holds you tight until you both recover normal breathing, still nestled inside you. 

He pulls out and embraces you, leaving small kisses on the soft skin near your ear, his large hands caressing your back. 

“I love you so much” he whispers once you make eye contact again.

“I love you too, Morales” you smile, tracing his cheek with your fingertips.

You both get dressed and leave the bathroom. 

You walk down the hallway leading to the living area as you wonder how much his mother heard. You cannot even quantify how long you were locked in the bathroom but it was worth every second. 

You find her in the living room, watching TV with the volume on full blast.

Frankie approaches his mother, without saying anything, rests his hand on hers while she has her eyes fixed on the telenovela you watched with your granny. 

“Do you think Javier will finally be able to confess his feelings to Lola?” you ask quietly. 

She turns, just for a moment, and finally gives you a genuine smile.

For the first time you feel that maybe, after all, despite the way you and her son just desecrated her bathroom, all is not lost. 

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @almostempty , @harriedandharassed , @thundermartini If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thank you so much for reading!

[postcardsfromheapside]

[heavy sigghhhhhhhhh]

Okay, it's 9:30 in the morning, but I don't want to go out in the cold yet so we're addressing THIS instead.

First and foremost, turning Emmrich into the victim (and then whining about the lack of Solas) is what's cringe here. Not only is some of this wrong (Harding only brings up the age issue because Emmrich expresses his own concerns and she then acts as a sounding board for him), but it's getting tiresome to act as if the other companions don't have reasons to voice their opinions (I'm getting particularly tired of people not listening to the exchange with Taash and considering how they might feel). You can apparently consider things from Emmrich's perspective, but you refuse to consider things from everyone else's.

I'll put this under the cut - I hope no one has plans because we're going to be here a while.

A lot of the complaints in the post neatly latch onto individual ones I've run across in the past, so I'm just going to make one big response.

Emmrich is my favorite character in Veilguard, and second only to Varric for the whole series.

But he can be stuffy, snobbish, overly pedantic, he gets into other people's business and loses emotional perspective when the academic focus takes over, is possibly attempting to make a major life change based on barely-addressed trauma, and is prone to bouts of melancholy where he has to be drawn out by his friends and/or lover about whatever is actually bothering him, rather than him communicating his issues. He is not perfect,

That's why it's very interesting in that post to see someone claiming that "no one's bullshit is called out." When the companions "dunk" on Emmrich, it's a two-way street. Sometimes the companion is wrong, sometimes Emmrich is wrong.

Neve and Emmrich resolve their issues peaceably - it's not toothless, it's just that they're both mature adults and neither of them get actively hostile with others if they don't have to. They talk it through over several conversations, and decide the other is fine - good company even! - and move on to sharing Manfred, sharing poetry (you have to read the codex), sharing spell books, joking with each other, they're my favorite to bring out together despite not having interlocking talents.

Davrin and Emmrich start somewhat peacably - Emmrich tries to encourage him that he will find Assan's siblings, and I've gotten dialogue about the books the lighthouse has to offer early on - and then they begin their magic and child-rearing arguments. And Davrin ISN'T IN THE WRONG.

1) while it seems silly to us for Davrin to be a Fade denier, what's more interesting to me is that he points out that in a group of mages arguing about the Fade, there's never a cohesive answer. It's like listening to philosophers or religious experts never coming up with one clear answer about their favorite topics to mentally masturbate over. Davrin likes "science". He's writing a monster manual, ffs. He wants solid answers. One thing I love about Davrin is he's never afraid to call something that's bullshit, bullshit. Weird magical things happening in Arlathan? Bullshit. (and they are) Living in the lighthouse and feeling like it's ooky spooky? Bullshit. (and it kinda is) Questioning the boss about the god stuck in their head feeding them bullshit? 100% should be doing that. You should be listening to Davrin more - he's the voice telling you not to go into the haunted house, y'all, it might save your life.

2) He's also not wrong about Emmrich helicopter parenting Manfred, and almost none of how Davrin handles Assan is any of Emmrich's business, or area of expertise.

We need to stop getting upset at Harding for talking Emmrich through his worries about an age difference (this is something I think Bioware handled badly in that not everyone headcanons their Rook at a younger age, but also, Emmrich clearly has an issue with aging due to his thanatophobia). He shows signs of distress, and she talks him through it and offers advice. For some reason, a large part of the fandom has decided to take his issues out on HER, which is *wild* but not unexpected given the deeply internalized misogyny I've seen displayed. Not only that, but Sylvia herself has come out on Harding's side, because she wrote Emmrich that way.

Getting irritated at Taash is honestly wrong on so many levels at this point. I don't diagnose other people or characters, so I won't get into the ND aspect (it's fine if you relate to it, I'm not stopping you), but I will say this: Taash comes from a completely different culture than Emmrich, which finds using dead bodies so "callously" to be abhorrent, and their particularly sensitive sense of smell makes anything having to do with death even more disgusting to them (have you ever smelled a corpse, or dead animals? My migraines enhance my sense of smell, and make normal things smell awful sometimes) and finally, they are IN THEIR EARLY 20'S AND FULLY ACT LIKE IT. That means not everything they do is going to be as mature as the rest of the party, who are in their early to mid 30's, (and Emmrich was listed as 50-52). You can outright tell Emmrich to cut the shit, and he reels himself back with zero disapproval because he realizes ALL of this in a single second. *He's* the grown-ass man and professor here and shouldn't be escalating their argument. He values Taash, and changes his entire behavior toward them IMMEDIATELY, because *he was in the wrong*. And Taash responds to it, in a positive manner. You do not need to protect Emmrich from Taash.

Even Lucanis refuses to talk to Emmrich about Spite in some dialogue, because he feels more like a academic project than a person.

No companion is explicitly "called out" because sometimes these characters are calling *Emmrich* out. You're just refusing to see that he might be acting badly in his very quiet, stuffy way.

**put a pin in the Davrin/Lucanis bit**

Now.

After seeing a series of screenshots ending with this:

I got a little fixated with finding out which route unlocked this dialogue. It turns out you, as Rook, can romance Emmrich while expressing distaste for death, necromancy, and the undead the entire time - effectively dissing his profession and life's work, to paraphrase the post I linked - and Emmrich doesn't actually disapprove. Any time you can express disaste without missing a flirt option, if you do that, he takes it in stride. And then you can flirt as normal. He is *used* to people feeling this way. I think all Nevarrans are. I rather suspect he doesn't give a shit what the companions think about his job, at his age - he's written books, he's given lectures, he's a senior Watcher. Their opinions don't matter. He's at the top of his game, he has nothing to prove to them. Rook hired him, not them. And Rook? If you romance him, and take this route, his answer to you is: "There's no shame in a little attraction to the forbidden, my darling."

This man is a fucking menace. He doesn't need defending - you need defense against his rizz.

Now, Solas.

Yes, Solas taunts him for being a lich. Solas also taunts Davrin for being Dalish and what he must have heard about Solas from his people. Solas also tries to flatter Emmrich if he remains human. Solas tries to butter up Lace by apologizing to her. It's almost as if Solas is the "god" of deceit and trickery and presents as many different faces as their are people or even aspects of those people. He will present whatever face he thinks he needs to in order to get under their skin, or throw them off their game. Solas doesn't care about Emmrich becoming a lich. He doesn't actually care about any of the companions. He cares about tearing down the Veil. What choices you've made do not matter to him on a personal level except inasfar as he can use you. That's who he is. I hate it for you if you haven't realized and accepted this by now.

There are a lot of people who think Solas and Emmrich "nerd out" in their dialogue, and I just don't see it. I've held back from this descriptor in this lengthy response, but Emmrich constantly displays a very "British" politeness - and he does it when Solas attempts to flatter him in the end game. Emmrich doesn't express a *personal* wish to have a conversation with Solas. He says there are things the Watchers wish to have answered. It's professional for him. Solas kidnapped Rook, someone who, romanced or not, Emmrich spent weeks making a damn good facsimile of the lyrium dagger in order to save. Emmrich isn't going to outright tell Solas to go fuck himself, because he's too well-mannered, and he's got an affinity about spirits. But he's not inviting him over for tea and crumpets.

I don't understand where the idea that Emmrich holds off from flirting back because of the age gap comes from. "I must be sure to live up to expectation" - do you...do you not see that as him flirting back? TBH I think this guy flirts first and then kicks himself because "that's the boss" (and probably gets told about what's happened with Varric) and only REALLY gets serious when he thinks "No, there actually is something here" when Rook has flirted a few more times after that, plus helped him in his personal quest. Age gap be damned. A lot of us did not play Rooks with an age gap, or that much of one - mine was my age, well within Earth "norms" these days.

Okay, back to the Davrin and Lucanis bit.

Saying that Lucanis is "okay because he's an assassin that only kills bad people" is missing the point. Lucanis fully admits that he has only killed people who are guilty by his own yardstick. I'm sure all the companions could agree there are some standards (children) but even in D'Meta's crossing you're faced with a moral choice where not everyone agrees what to do (free the mayor or don't) and it's very clear that not everyone has the same standards about what makes a "killer". So why should you assume that Lucanis is a guilt-free assassin? We know that he frees slaves, we know that he earned a reputation killing Venatori mages. But he demures from Emmrich's excited statements that he "empathizes" with all his victims. There's absolutely no way he was able to vet all his kills, and who decides who "deserves" to be killed? You're meant to contrast this with Davrin's warm empathy for the criminals who join the wardens and become "something better" - the kinds of people who start bad and change into something good, who get a second chance to help and contribute to Thedas society in a meaningful way. But the Wardens have their own dark history, they're often corrupt. Lucanis and Davrin are two *good people* propping up their own suspect organizations, both of which are doing the best they can in imperfect situations. It's like watching a gang member and a cop slowly understand each other.

Please for the love of Andraste. Go read widely and expose yourself to other things and other people. It will help you gain perspective. This is a GOOD game, and not thinking critically about the conversations and choices, or trying to see things from each character's perspective, is what's holding people back from enjoying the richness and replayability it has to offer.

[yuurei20]

Hello YuuRei! Slight spoilers for Book 7 JP content below, if you don’t mind me asking! I saw Trey’s new Book 7 SSR get translated as both “Queen’s Court Chef” and “Queen’s Chef Coat.” I tried to look into it myself and learned that “coat” and “court” are the same (form what I understand, at least), so I was wondering if you knew which translation to go for, or is both technically correct? With Heartslabyul, honestly court works, too. Thank you so much and Happy Near Year! I hope you are doing well! ☺️

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! ♣️

You are correct! ^^ コート is both "court" and "coat"!

For a long answer:

Yana has done this before, with the Bloom/Broom series that is technically both the word "bloom" and the word "broom"!

We were never shown a romaji name for this series--it only appeared in katakana, where it is both words simultaneously--so if you were to ask "well yes but which one actually was it?," the only answer is: both!

This is one of those things that the Japanese language can do but English cannot, so EN was forced to choose one or another, and they went with "birthday bloom"!

And it happened again during White Rabbit Fes, when Epel says he has heard of someone called "ogama Duke" and Deuce begins to panic because "ogama" means cauldron.

But it also means "scythe" and Epel, who heard his information over the phone and never saw the word written down in kanji, assumes that it is the "scythe" ogama rather than the "cauldron" ogama.

More here!

For a super long answer:

The Japanese language has a lot of different words pronounced the exact same way and differentiated only by kanji: god (神), hair (髪) and paper (紙) for example, are all the same sound (kami).

This means there is a lot of potential for puns! And Yana has always been very big on wordplay, to the point that a pun was the entire basis for her kuroshitsuji manga:

There is a short comic at the end of the very first volume that shows a phone call between herself and her editor where she is telling him how she wants to create a manga about an amazing butler.

The Japanese language 「あくまで」 is used to emphasize that something is being limited or focused on something in particular, like 「あくまで執事ですから、私が決めることではありません」 (as I am only a butler it is not my place to decide).

It is also pronounced identically to 「悪魔で」, which means, "as a demon."

So in Yana's original manga series every time the demon character says "I am a demon butler" all the other characters are hearing it as "I am, ultimately, just a butler."

Since the characters can't see the kanji in his word bubble, he is technically saying both things simultaneously.

And similar wordplay is hidden throughout a large amount of Twst!

Rollo, for example, ends many sentences with a common way to end a question that is pronounced the same way as a word for "bell."

The very first line of Glorious Masquerade is that exact pun:

Kane no oto ga kikoeru kane

There is also Idia's "pretend I'm a bug and ignore me" (both "bug" and "ignore" are the same sound, "mushi"), Riddle's "Rose trees, tear his body apart!" (both "rose" and "apart" are the same sound, "bara") and more!

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Jeongin*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Smut Below

-💜

•Protective.

•Very protective over you.

•I don’t think he’s a very confrontational person.

•However someone so much as looks at his baby the wrong way and suddenly he’s ready to go to jail.

•Likes to do the whole sharing location thing.

•Not in a controlling way, more so he knows if something happens he can help.

•Or especially when he knows you’re home he can send you stuff.

•Loves surprising you with little stuff like sending you lunch.

•Although he’s not a big touchy person I feel like with you he’s the complete opposite.

•You’re one of the only people that he craves touch from.

•Sitting on the couch? He wants you in his lap.

•Out on a date? He’s got his arm snug around you.

•Loves to match with you too.

•Has a whole arsenal of matching PJs, and Shirts.

•He also absolutely loves picking outfits out for you. Putting you in all sorts of cute things.

•Anytime you’re giving him attitude he’ll put his pretty hands under your chin.

•Making you hold eye contact telling you “Bring back my sweet baby”

•If you continue he’ll withhold cuddles from you.

•Or on the rare occasion that you’re being extra bad he’ll pull you away bringing those pretty finger back to your face.

•He’ll apply a little more pressure and give you his scolding voice telling you that you need to behave.

•Doesn’t like to do spankings as a punishment.

•He’s one that rather talk it out.

•He’s definitely the kind to push his fingers into your mouth to shut you up too.

•He’ll leave you little gifts too, he loves spoiling you so much.

•He definitely is the type to get you a necklace with a J as a way to say who you belong too.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He’s a menace.

•Likes to toy with you a lot.

•Overstimulation, Orgasm denial or his favorite temperature play.

•Ties you down put an ice cube in his mouth and running it over your body.

•Enjoys the little whines that come from your mouth because it’s cold.

•He’s even tried a glass dildo he stuck in the freezer to see how you’d react.

•Daddy jeongin has this certain look he gives you.

•It’s a wild feral look that you know you’re in for it.

•Although he doesn’t like spanking as a punishment he’ll definitely use a sexual one.

•Like keeping you tied down having a vibe on low and just leaving you.

•Things he says a lot are

•“Maybe you’ll learn some manners hmm?”

•”See what happens when that pretty mouth turns bratty”

•“Daddy wants to play with what’s his”

•Aftercare is always filled with soothing breaths.

•He’ll bring you one of your most comfy PJs dressing you.

•He’ll reassure you a lot and ask if you’re alright.

•Soft I love yous as he’s kissing over little marks he’s left.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83

[glossykissies]

hi princess! this is my first time sending an ask so i apologize if i mess up but ive been reading all your scott fics and ive been thinking about how scott and kitty would interact. i feel like after a bit of banter he’d get fed up and put her in her place, thank you for feeding us!!

without realising, scott can be rather nonchalant — and that often causes you to act out, skulking around poking and prodding at him until he gives you something, not satisfied until he does.

you’d waited for him all day to get back from work, and once he was back — instead of dropping everything to spend time lounging around with you like you’d hoped, he’s opening up his laptop with that permanent frown of his, not even close to giving you the attention that you need.

you really did try to be patient at first, knowing there was a chance you’d be rewarded for being such a good girl — but it was hard, you were feeling extra needy and emotional, and the whole thing was making you feel neglected.

after an hour, the attitude starts to seep in, continually disturbing him from his work to annoy him, pressing at him with your clawed manicure and whining, kicking your feet into his leg before he’d swat your foot away distractedly, continuing to type.

“god, if you love work so much why don’t you just date your laptop instead of me.” you huff, storming off to the kitchen of scott’s apartment aimlessly where you’d sulk for another ten minutes before finally hearing his slow unbothered footsteps.

you keep your back to him, hoping to feel him wrap his arms around you or even just stroke your lower back as he passes like he does when he’s in a good mood, but instead you hear him busy himself with opening the cupboards to retrieve the ingredients for his coffee. you quietly huff out your nose, pout deepening as you pretend to have great interest in the marbling on the counter top.

“tantrums wont get very far with me, just saying.” scott speaks, and your eyes fill with irritated tears. you just wanted his attention.

“not having a tantrum.” you grit your teeth, refusing to look at him and you just know he shakes his head with an amused smile.

“alright. so that wasn’t you that just cussed me out and stormed off. got it.” he sarks, and you spin around.

“y— you’re being an asshole. did you come in here just to — just —”

“i’m making coffee.” he shrugs, interrupting you and his nonchalance causes you to lose your temper, striding over and lightly hitting his arm. it was pathetic, and you weren’t quite sure why you did it. he pours his drink, unwounded.

“ouch.”

“i hate you.” you clench your fists by your sides. scott’s jaw ticks, losing his patience now as he places his mug down and grapples you by the arm, turning your body so your back was to his chest, wrapping a thick arm over your neck and applying a light pressure.

“you hate me?” he asks firmly and you suck in a shaky breath, body instantly calming at the feeling of his warmth all whilst beginning to release your pent up emotion, a tear streaking the makeup beneath your eye.

“no.” your answer is fast and breathy and you feel him nod.

“say what you really mean.” he commands blankly, voice holding authority with such little effort.

“f—feel neglected.” you whisper, sharp nails lightly scratching at his forearm. he holds the headlock a little longer, letting you feel his chest moving up and down with his slow breathing against your back for a moment — maybe he knew you needed the contact despite his strictness.

“i am doing my work.” he lowers his tone and you whine, so he tightens his grip which tells you to shut up and listen. “you are going to go to the bedroom, and calm down. i don’t want to hear anymore fussing. alright?” you nod, and it’s enough for him to let go and pat you on the ass to scurry off.

you take a few steps before you turn to him, and his cold heart thaws at the sight of you — all upset, snotty, mouth turned down because you’re crying now. “how long?” you wail, and it’s so desperate, scott feels guilty for being so strict. he sighs out his nose, mouth in a straight line and he steps up to you to cup your jaw, making you let out a pathetic little hiccup-sob.

“look at me.” his deep voice rumbles and you force your sticky eyes upwards to him, where he brushes a firm thumb over your cheek. “i’m not gonna be long. go to the room, take some breaths. like i taught you.” he’s sincere, eyes boring into yours and you find yourself nodding, feeling a little more comforted by his demand being directed toward your wellbeing. “you’re okay. go.” he nods to the bedroom and you slide off, with only the urge to be his good girl for the rest of the day.

[twobitsblade]

Hi! Can you write a story about Dally teasing / messing with a shy female reader who is super jumpy and gets blushy easily? I can picture him jumping out at her to scare her or tease her with tickling knowing it makes her blush. Idk just some suggestions :) thanks!

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ every man gets his wish

written by @ twobitsblade

[ author’s note: i hope this is what you wanted, anonymous!! i’m new to writing long-form stories, if you can’t tell. feel free to request more stuff, such as long stories, headcanons, blurbs, or anything you want, really, in my inbox. ]

dallas “dally” winston was many things: handsome, a gangster, somewhat of a jerk, but most importantly, he was yours. and today was just another small day that solidified that—your 1st-year anniversary! you and dallas’s relationship had been smooth overall, except for the occasional argument. you were walking to the local diner to meet him there, although you knew he’d probably take his sweet time because, according to him, “oh for god’s sake, woman, i’ve got stuff to do.”

you were on your way when all of a sudden, you heard a loud, ear-piercing shriek, causing you to jump backward and drop all your school materials onto the sopping wet concrete. when you turned to face the sound, you immediately tasted something sugary in your mouth. you turned to see a grinning dallas winston. you giggled as you ran toward him, beginning to playfully pound your fists against his chest.

“aw, dally, you scared me!” you said, your breathing still slightly uneven.

“i know, sugar. i saw that,” he grinned, wrapping his forearms around your neck and pulling you to his chest. it felt more like an affectionate chokehold rather than a hug, but what could you do? you weren’t taking it too seriously because, why should you? you knew that if any supplies were seriously damaged, he’d just steal more for you.

you both walked into the diner and sat down in a booth the color of cherries. soon, the waitress, an older woman in her mid-thirties, approached, and you began to order the usual: two vanilla milkshakes, two burgers, and one large fry, which dallas would scarf down and you’d peck at. as you were ordering, his hands suddenly reached your waist, causing you to let out a sharp sound that was a mix of a giggle and a yelp. everyone in the restaurant turned to look at you. amidst the embarrassment and your face turning a pale pink,

you felt dallas’s head rest on your shoulder, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your heart still going a mile a minute from the way people were staring at you a moment ago. finishing your order, you waited for the waitress to leave before resting your head on the table.

“oh, god, you’re something else, winston.”

[racoon3lizabeth]

“Pads,” James begins, taking a deep breath. “You have to stop saying things without thinking.”

Sirius eyes flickers from his cup of tea and up to watch James completely serious expression. “What?” Raising a slight perfect black eyebrow. “I do!”

The other boy’s lips turn into an unimpressed thin line. A few other students sitting around them at the Gryffindor table can sense that another Potter and Black argument is about to begin. “Only seconds ago you called my dad a dilf!” James scolds, slamming his fist down at the oak table.

Sirius eyes narrow, why is he the bad guy for telling the truth? “Well he is!” He argues, lifting his hands up in the air.

The dark brown curly haired boy’s gaze turns colder, his nostrils flaring. “I don’t want to hear it! Just listen to me!” Desperately begging for his best friend to understand that he does not want to know anything about Sirius opinions on his parents. Truthfully all of his friends seem to have opinions and thoughts about his two parents that he’d rather not hear. Naturally he wants to throw up just thinking about it. “At least warn me or something.” he adds, mumbling as his frustration grows.

Sirius does know that he has a tendency to say things without completely thinking about the consequences. So he can work with that. “Alright,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

James, ever so proud of himself, smiles widely and leans back in his chair. Taking a sip of his orange juice, happy that he had saved the day from more crude comments.

But his happy expression gets ruined quickly, too quickly.

Sirius eyes settles on Remus tall form, walking into the Great Hall, looking more handsome than normal. “Okey I’m warning you,” Sirius begins, eyes not leaving the werewolf. “Sometimes I just want to grab Remus and take him to our dorm and just let him fu-“

The loud scrape of James chair cuts Sirius off, looking up at the man with widened eyes. “THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS!” he yells, gesturing widely with his arms. Their conversation getting the attention of more and more students, whispers and comments spreading throughout the now pretty quiet room. People eagerly listening in. “No comments about ANYONE! Not my parents or my best friend.”

Remus, completely oblivious to what he had stumbled upon, stops in his tracks. “What did you say?” He asks Sirius curiously.

“That I wanted to let you-“

“No! Nuh uh, I am getting out of here.” James interrupts once again. If he hadn’t been so angry he would’ve noticed the blush on Remus face and the love sick smile.

I wrote this super quickly because I was bored, so it’s not the best. But it’s just a small fun little idea I had. Hope you like iiiiit!

[kkyiu]

get the girl !

bsf!sohee x f!reader

synopsis : wherein sohee keeps fumbling his chances of confessing to you. until the unexpected happened.

genre : high school au , childhood friends to lovers , mutual pining , oblivious idiots in love

warnings : swearing , fluff , angst ? ( if you squint ) , miscommunication

wc . . 1.7k

sohee knew his feelings for you were legit when he felt as if time had stopped walking into his scattered room seeing you sleeping on his desk.

he lowered his backpack slowly, taking in the sight of you. the way you positioned yourself, with only the left side of your face shown, arms tucked beneath it, the way strands of your hair flew gently from his open window, how your mouth was slightly agape, and the way your textbooks and papers were scattered everywhere on his desk.

there were zero coherent thoughts in his mind but all he can sum up is that he wanted you more as a friend.

“he’s staring at you.”

“huh?” you stop trying to open the bag of chips in your hands and look up at your friend. ningning nodded in the direction behind you, prompting you to turn and catch sohee’s gaze directly on you.

from across the big field, he was sitting on the stoned bleachers, beside him was his friend. you smiled and raised a hand, waving at him.

you whipped your head back around and instantly groaned, “wipe that smirk off your face.” you read ningning’s expression to which she laughed.

“everyone knows he likes you except you,” she convinced, “—so stop being in denial.”

you shake your head, “if it’s true, why hasn’t he said anything? i mean, if he wanted to he would right?”

ningning looked at you apologetically and huffed, “i’m telling you, he will soon.” you nodded, though her words aren’t as believable as you hope.

you’ve liked sohee for as long as you can remember and oh boy. the mixed signals he gives drives you absolutely crazy because the amount of times he bought you food, stayed up phoning you, and rejected every girl who showed interest. hell he even held your hand.

… yet, he also vigorously denies every rumour about how you’re his girlfriend, and he never once said that maybe—just maybe something could happen between you two. it’s as if dating you was the end of the world for him.

therefore, hearing people claiming that he reciprocated those feelings never appealed to you because they don’t see how confusing he can be.

“remind me how long has it been now?” anton eyed his best friend who’s clearly in his own world, his attention on your back who’s mindlessly chatting with your friend.

“huh?” sohee naively said, still not returning eye contact, “since you’ve liked y/n, dumbass.” the mention of your name made him turn his head immediately. his antics made anton laugh, “oh, you’re so pathetically in love.”

“man shut up,” sohee let out a faint chuckle before nudging the younger boy, “since 8th grade.” he answered the previous question, his tone slightly down. 

“4 years?” anton basically yelled out, earning a quick shh! from sohee, “and you’ve never made the effort to confess?” 

“is this your way of pissing me off?”

“my bad. i’m just tired of seeing my best friend being lovesick and not doing anything about it.”

sohee looked at him, letting the words sink in. “look,” anton began after acknowledging his silence, “it’s senior year, what do you have to lose anyway?”

“hm, maybe years' worth of friendship?” his answer was immediate and laced with sarcasm. anton threw his head back in frustration, “would you rather bottle it up and see her with another guy, or confess how you feel and have the chance of her liking you back?”

sohee hated that anton’s point was valid. it will be just as bad seeing you with some guy (who probably doesn’t deserve you) while his feelings for you still lingers. he never thought about how it’s a 50/50 chance you’ll reciprocate his feelings, but that thought alone gave him the motivation to confess.

“can we change the topic?”

“remember, it’s your choice man”

“quit it.”

sohee sighed and turned his head back to you.

sohee had finally made the decision to confess to you. only with a ridiculous amount of convincing from anton and daily affirmations to boost his will (anton recommended this tactic).

the weekend rolled up fast and sohee had arranged plans to have lunch with you. his idea is: first, eat. second, maybe joke around for a little bit, then get serious and confess! he’s got this. right?

wrong. the day was a complete bust because stupidly enough, his nerves took over. just seeing you sitting prettily in front of him, waiting eagerly for what he’s about to spit out, which in his mind, what comes next could potentially ruin the special bond you guys shared. it all made him feel pressured so by the end, he couldn’t physically bring himself to confess his undying feelings for you.

“what is it sohee?”

“i really like…”

“…the burger we’re having.”

sohee grimaced at the scene replaying for the nth time in his mind. thinking about it was seriously causing him sleep deprivation that night.

even after he mentally beat himself thousands of times for biting back his tongue, he was still driven to confess his feelings. he forced himself to sleep in the hopes of succeeding at school the next day.

“you’ve gotta be shitting me.” was muffled under sohee’s breath as he carefully peered through your classroom window.

you were seen sitting legs crossed on your chair, chatting with some boy. sohee’s eyebrows furrowed after noticing you threw your head back, releasing fits of laughter. his gaze switched to the boy, seeing him plaster on a smug grin. the sight was horrific.

in his hand was your favourite drink he intentionally bought to give you, though it’s clear his plan got interrupted by this idiotic guy in front of you.

he gripped the small plastic bottle out of annoyance while raising his other hand to loosen up his already dishevelled tie, hoping to lessen the stuffy atmosphere he feels inside.

the boy leaned closer to you and whispered into your ear. watching the scene unfold evoked something in him. remembering anton’s words he decided to seize the moment. he heads to the door and slides it open. he called your name, causing heads to turn, “could you come out for a second?”

your face was overtaken by confusion, turning to your classmate and muttering something along the lines of i’ll be back before jogging to sohee.

“hey, you good?”

sohee gulped. all of his confidence had been suddenly washed away simply by your presence.

“yeah, i uh…” spit it out sohee! spit it out!

“..i got you your strawberry milk.” well shit. he dragged you all the way out of your class, only to chicken out and swerve his words.

you looked down to his hand, a smile appearing on your face promptly, “aw, thanks dork.”

sohee returned the smile and you started walking, him following suit.

“i’m gonna miss this.” you jerked your head up to the taller boy, “miss what?” you took a sip of the drink before gesturing at the space of the school to the space between you two, “just.. everything.” you sighed, “worrying about tests, walking carelessly in the halls with you, stopping by the snack bar, wearing these stupid uniforms.”

“damn y/n, why so melancholic?” sohee teased, momentarily wincing a second later when you punched his shoulder, “well it is our last year of high school so it just feels very bittersweet.” your voice lowering towards the end of the sentence.

“i get what you mean,” sohee pushed his hands in his pant pockets, “but,” he stopped in his tracks waiting for you to turn around, “life goes on.”

you gave him a nod following a smile and gently waved your hand signalling to keep walking.

the sounds of your slides clicking on the marble floor and faint chatter from students accompanied you and sohee as you two kept walking, exchanging nothing but peaceful silence. although he’d steal glances at you from time to time.

“oh right, i’ll be coming over by the way. your mom wanted me to study with you.” you notified the boy, “what? that means more studying after my private lessons?” his whining voice caused you to chuckle, “unfortunately. sorry about that man.”

“and stop pouting, you’re not cute.” you added.

it was 8:30pm. struggling to keep himself awake, sohee flung his bedroom door open, just wanting nothing but sleep.

until he saw you. there you were again, sleeping peacefully on his desk in the same exact position. he silently let out a bitter chuckle when he noticed the textbooks and notebooks flooding his desk. it was like seeing you for the first time again, reminding him how you’re such a great addition to his life.

he made his way to the vacant chair beside you, his footsteps as quiet as possible and sat down.

sohee adjusted himself to the same position as you. he was quick to smile seeing how your cheeks puffed up from the way you were lying down. in a hesitant manner, he reached out a hand to brush away the strand of hair covering your face, grazing your skin along the way.

“i like you so much idiot.”

it felt so relieving to say it to your face even if you couldn’t hear it. or at least that’s what he thought.

a pang of regret settled in after he watched your eyes slowly flutter open. you stared at him with a blank expression. is this the moment when he’s about to get told off? he was never scared of rejection until now.

“about time.”

now he was really confused. about time? he wasted no time whipping his head back up and you did the same.

“you weren’t sleeping..” he blurted, coming off like he’s talking to himself but you nodded for an answer, “idiot, i really like you as well.”

hearing that sentence made sohee unable to tame his smile. he beamed at you with his rosy cheeks on display.

“fuck, i would’ve done this a long time ago if i knew you felt the same way.” he confessed but your face dropped, “i was being obvious! you were the one giving mixed signals!” you rebutted. “that’s what you thought?” you nodded to his question.

“i’m sorry then.” feeling bold, he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “forgive me, yeah?” he breathed. instinctively, you slapped his head (harder than you intended.. oops)

“ouch!” he screamed.

“don’t be so vain now.” you turned your face away from sohee’s, “you’re blushing.” he pestered, causing you to shake your head potently, “am not.”

“you’re adorable.”

“shut up.”

notes : i love this man tew much... anywaysss i wrote this while on vacation when i had nothing to do loool sorry if it seems rushed !! :(

[solspina]

An Angelic Ambassador

sanguinius ⋆˙⟡

( for @yagodnyizefir ♡ )

a gift for this community's beloved zefir, who gifted me one of the most gorgeous pieces I've ever received. it felt absolutely impossible to not give something in return! your art is amazing, and so are you! I am begging you to never leave this community, you absolute gem.

one of the greatest imperial ambassadors of their era is assigned to sanguinius for a difficult negotiation with a non-compliant planet. eager to please the golden primarch and not embarrass themselves, the ambassador shoves down a rather concerning physical affliction, and must suffer the lack of consequences that follows shortly after.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: probably horribly proofread, mentions of blood and illness, fainting, mentions of anxiety and lots of comfort.

To say that she felt fine would be a total and complete lie - unless “fine” could be considered incomprehensible dizziness and nausea - but one that she had managed to uphold through the entirety of the day.

It was almost over. One more meeting and she could return to her small, foul smelling dormitory room upon the red tear. Not that she complained, of course, the primarch had already apologized profusely for the lack of a better sleeping arrangement. She was renowned as one of the imperium’s most influential diplomats, assigned temporarily to the blood angels in hopes that she could help them negotiate an alliance with a stubborn planet that refused to associate itself with “a pack of bloodthirsty animals.” Complaints about the place the primarch had arraigned for her rest were not part of her contract, especially considering others had proposed the floor as an alternative to the mildewed chairs they had offered.

And so, she strode through the halls of the non-compliant planet’s palace. The clicking of her rather uncomfortable heels making a loud enough noise against the elaborate marble floors accompanied by the much harsher clunk of metal that followed her, the primarch in his ceremonial armor with a rather concerned expression across his face.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You seem troubled.” he inquired, placing a hand upon her shoulder as to stop her from walking forward. “Our meeting does not begin for another hour; we can sit down for a moment if you need.”

“I appreciate your concern, my lord, but I am fine.”

That was a lie. He could tell and so could absolutely any prying ears that happened to hear that small excerpt of their conversation. Bags had formed under her eyes, and she shivered despite the angel himself feeling that the air temperature was rather warm.

She felt exhausted, in truth, and fully aware that she had fallen ill. She must have contracted something on one of her recent negotiation trips before accepting her contract with Sanguinius, and now she seemed a liar or a fool in front of the great angel.

Getting through this dreaded meeting was all she could do. It was all that he had asked of her. Such a minuscule task, and one that she began to feel she could not complete. Just make it through, she had to. How embarrassing would it be for the great angel to bring an ambassador, just to have her not show because she felt a little sick? How embarrassing would it be for her to be unable to engage in simple negotiations after one of the supposedly kindest and most benevolent primarchs had heard so highly of her? She could not humiliate him or create a bad impression on her first official conference at his side.

When the two of them made their entrance into the massive conference hall, conversation began amongst planetary leaders almost immediately. Many gawked at the great angel, and others whispered as their eyes bore into the back of his sweet little ambassador’s skull. Though not the cause, for it was impossible, their stares seemed to amplify the pounding in her head. The lights were far too bright for her sensitive eyes, and the whispers that fell from their lips seemed to travel into the very core of her brain.

Sanguinius simply smiled his absolutely stunning saccharine smile as he walked alongside her to his seat at the head of the table, opposite from what seemed to be the planet’s figurehead. He paid no attention to the girl at his side anymore, eyes instead fixated on those he would be watching her negotiate with, and part of her felt relieved he wasn’t looking to see her lightly limp or stumble behind him.

She pulled out the angel’s chair for him, and her face contorted into a brief and unnoticeable wince at the grating noise of its legs against the floor before she stood a distance next to him with her hands held politely over her stomach. Chairs were not reserved for the diplomats and ambassadors attending this meeting, and she stood alone at the side of the brightest one whilst a seated crowd of dark and brooding men looked at her expectantly.

“If you would be so kind, serf. Bring me the documentation of your master’s conditions.” The man at the opposite end of the table said as he narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue over his lips. She grabbed the documents and held them close to her body with trembling hands and freezing fingertips as she made her way across the table, suddenly much more aware of how revealing her outfit was on her upper half.

Anxiety had not paired well with exhaustion, as nausea now accompanied the cold sweat that clung to her skin and the paranoia she felt as an endless row of hungry men stared and salivated over her small and shaking body.

“She is one of the imperium’s greatest ambassadors, to call this one a serf of mine is to insult her.” A golden voice rung out from several yards behind her, one that was very obviously filled with a false and diplomatic smile. “She has earned her reputation.”

The main figurehead’s now irritated eyes were peeled off of her and onto the angel after his series of praises had struck his ears.

Normally, in any other case, she would give a smile with pride-filled eyes at a primarch’s praise, but on this particular day it was all she could do to inhale and exhale through her slightly parted lips as she attempted to ignore the swiftly blackening edges of her vision.

“You’re sure she has, lord Sanguinius?” One of the planetary leaders spoke, a slight laugh in his voice. “She looks like she’s going to collapse.”

As if he had willed it, she lost feeling in her hands and feet. She stumbled over her own legs and walked completely blind, her vision completely consumed by darkness and floating glares of light. She wasn’t completely sure when she had lost her footing, as her memory was swallowed entirely by the sharp pain of her head hitting the floor, and the sound of paper flying across the room.

-

The pounding in her head hadn’t stopped for hours, and that had become apparent when she opened her eyes again. Instead of in the floor of a gloomy non-compliant world's palace, she lay sprawled out in the center of an obnoxiously large bed made up near entirely of expensive but thin, scarlet-colored sheets and a mattress that could only have been made by the finest of imperial craftsmen. Warmth had surrounded her, trapping itself under the bedcovers and enveloping her in one of the priciest hugs she’d ever experienced.

The moment she’d gained enough strength to open her eyes completely, she assessed the blood angel's regalia scattered across the walls of the rather opulent room she had been moved to. Ruby blood drops had been meticulously placed upon nearly every surface of the room, and wings of the finest gold had been intricately inscribed into their sides. More crimson silks than the ones on the bed hung from the ceiling and cascaded down into the walls like waterfalls of blood that soaked the room in a suffocating sense of grandeur, all of this barely visible through the evidently dimmed lights and several scentless candles that surrounded the room and flickered their lights in anticipation of her realization.

Her suspicion turned into shock, and her shock turned into fear. She had not been taken back to her pungent smelling and recycled dormitory, she had been taken directly to the primarch’s quarters and laid in the center of his bed. The shadows of several elaborate blood angels relics danced upon the walls and her heart pounded in her chest like a series of bolter shots. She was a great ambassador and an incredible negotiator, sure, but even she had never seen anything compared to the magnificence of a primarch's resting area, and she had especially not been invited within one.

She had become so enamored in her fear that she didn’t notice the very object of her fear enter the room.

Sanguinius took incredibly quick notice of her state of panic, and made haste as closed the distance between himself and the trembling ambassador under his sheets. His presence had shifted from grand in the halls of a heretical palace to overwhelming in an area specifically designed for his comfort.

“I’m sorry m-my lord... I didn’t mean to disappoint you…” she began to weep as Sanguinius settled down onto the mattress next to her. Her voice trembled when she spoke, her head bowed as she refused to make eye contact with the angel lest he see the tears streaming down her cheeks or her knuckles whitening as she gripped his bedsheets in an attempt to contain the full-on sobs that threatened to spill from her lips and into a stream of incoherent apologies.

Sanguinius had sat now unarmored and clean from whatever he had done to those poor non-compliants she had failed to negotiate with. His hair was no longer tied into the intricate halo of braids that once circled his head, instead it fell around his face in soft waves, betraying any noble or fearsome gaze he may have held against her.

“Do not cry," the angel murmured just barely above a whisper as his warm and steady hand reached to cup her cheek, his thumb perfectly positioned to wipe away any stray tears that threatened to stain his silken sheets. "Why did you tell me that you were okay when you were not? Our meeting could have been postponed." He continued, using his free hand to brush a strand of her hair from her face and tuck it gently behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, my lord... sorry," She repeated as if another apology were going to save her from the nonexistent wrath of the golden primarch in front of her. "I just wanted to make you proud... you've been... so kind."

Sanguinius' expression softened even more than it already had been as he stroked her cheek with his thumb before finally removing his palm from her face and crawling under the blankets next to her. He pulled her into his side with one of his arms, wrapping both an arm and a wing around her shoulder in hopes of providing comfort to the crying ambassador, still trembling even underneath his warmth.

"What of my contract? I have failed you."

“We will cross that bridge when we arrive to it, your contract has been extended for the time being” Sanguinius replied with the slightest of smiles.

“Extended? But…” She stammered. To say she was confused would be a horrible understatement. She had failed, possibly ruined the future of an entire imperial planet while under the watchful eye of one of the most highly revered of the primarchs, and he had chosen to extend her contract?

“You fell ill under my care. I wish to see to it that you are well and that you do not choose to let one minor setback define you.”

Her mind and heart both raced so fast they seemed to be in sync as she struggled to comprehend such undeserved kindness. She had expected to be reprimanded, perhaps even punished for not only failing to negotiate but lying to a primarch alongside it, regardless of whether or not she believed her lie was for the greater imperial well-being.

The great angel gently laughed at her state of confusion. His simple kindness, save for the fact plenty of bloodshed had occurred at his hands today, had completely paralyzed the poor ambassador. She did not need to know what happened immediately after her head hit the floor, or why the primarch had been so eager to get her out of the room and into a safer place to rest.

She did not need to know that she was simply a buffer so that no bloodshed had to occur before her rather innocent eyes. Alas, Sanguinius had prepared for a much more gory outcome in case things went wrong, so it had not been much of an issue when they did. Peace was fragile, especially on such a planet. Protecting it was his second priority; he reminded himself in that moment. The ambassador was his first.

As he lay down and turn away from her, it took only a few moments of being lost in his own thoughts to feel her wedge her head in the exposed area of his back between his wings. She pressed her chest to his back, pulling her legs as close to his body as possible for a baseline. The bend of her knees sat at his mid thighs, as she was too small for her legs to mold into the shape of his.

"Thank you," She whispered, her breath warm against his back as her sniffles began to die out. "For everything."

The primarch extended one of his wings out behind him and allowed it to drape over her like a weighted blanket. She nestled closer to him as his soft feathers enveloped her, so much so that he could feel the tiniest of heartbeats hammering against his back, and he swore she would melt into his skin if she could crawl any closer.

"Always." He whispered so quietly her baseline ears could not hear. He closed his eyes, all too aware of the warmth against him, and just slightly thankful she hadn't questioned exactly how long her contract had been extended.

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

Wade VS Meds.

“So I haven’t been taking my meds.” Was how Wade started that morning's conversation around the kitchen table. 

“Oh for fucks sakes.” Al started, dropping her spoon in her cereal. 

“What the hell are you thinking?” Logan continued, using his own spoon to point at Wade.  “I’m thinking,” Wade said, taking a mouthful of soggy sugary goodness and continued to talk. “That I want to fucking feel something that isn’t a gray nothingness. I want to feel emotions and not be nothing.”

“What you are going to feel is fucking fear.” Logan hissed sitting back in his seat, before turning to Al. “Do you fucking hear this? He wants to feel something, news fucking flash Wade, you are going to be fucking terrified.”

“It’s better than feeling nothing.” He countered. 

“No it isn't.” Al spoke up. “And you know it. You’ll be a damn mess wanting death if you don’t take those meds. You need them for a reason, so take the damn pills.”

“Too fucking bad. You can’t see them, so you can’t make me.” Wade crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out at the blind woman. 

“But I can.” Logan got up, not bothering to push in his chair as he left the table to make his way into the living room. He rifled through some garbage that was on the end table that Wade kept most of his things. A random knife, dirty coffee mug, stray bullets, a voltron action figure, little baggies that he knew had baby powder and not cocaine- Wade was being ripped off again, he could smell it- and half a dozen of other random shit. 

“You’re not going to find them.” Logan looked up from his search to glare at the other, there was a slight growl in his voice as he snapped at the other.  “Where the fuck are they?” Wade shrugged. 

“You’ll make me take them, so I’m not telling.” 

“I’m going to make you take them because I care about you, asshole, even though you don’t care about yourself.”

“I do fucking care and that’s why I’m not going to take the fucking pills.” Logan came around the couch then to stand in front of the other. He held up his hands as if he was going to touch Wade but then thought better of it. 

“Wade, you need these drugs. I understand they make you feel like shit, and that fucking sucks, but please. Take the damn pills and we’ll go to the clinic today to see about getting you on different ones.” Wade shook his head no, taking a step back. 

“And wait six weeks for the new ones to kick in just to feel fucking nothing again. I’d rather see legs sticking out of the walls, and weird interdimensional void cat things, and hear the British man talk about crumpets and tea than feel this nothingness.”

“I get it, feeling numb sucks-”

“It’s not numbness Logan.” Wade said loudly, stopping the other. He swallowed once before trying to talk again. “It’s nothingness. I can’t feel joy. I can’t feel anger. I can’t feel sadness. I feel nothing. The pills make me feel nothing. I need to feel something, anything, any-fucking-thing. I need to feel so I can feel human.”

“Bub…” Logan reached out for the other man, this time wrapping his hands around Wade’s arm, pulling him in for a tight hug. “You are going to feel afraid. Without these meds you are going to be so fucking scared that you won’t come out from under the covers. You are going to see the goriest shit, and fear your own damn mind. I don’t want to see you that afraid again.” 

Wade laid his head on the man’s shoulder and sighed. He wrapped his own arms around Logan, giving him a light squeeze, trying to find comfort in the other’s hold. Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Not anger or sadness or joy or pain or anything. Nothing. That’s all he could feel. Nothing.  “I’d rather be afraid than feel nothing Lo.” He could feel the full body sigh the other let out as he was pulled into an even tighter hug.

“We are still going to the fucking clinic.You are still going to talk to a damn doctor. And we are still getting you on new meds, got it.” 

“Can we wait? A few days. Please let me feel again, then I’ll go back on my meds. I promise. I need to feel something.” He couldn’t help the slight break in his voice as he spoke. He lent harder into Logan, hoping the other could feel how much his soul needed this. He needed to be off his meds for a little while, a small amount, nothing too big. Just until he could feel again. 

“Go get dressed. We are going right now.” Logan sounded tired which was like a shot in the heart to Wade. He held onto Logan tighter, pressing his face into the man’s shoulder. “I don’t want to.” A hand came up to cup the back of his neck, giving it a squeeze before letting go over and over again, as if massaging the area.

“Wade. We have to go.”

“Can I take a nap first? Let me sleep, see if I wake up feeling worse, and if I do I’ll take my meds.”

“Wade.” The hand gripping his neck slid down his back, up and down his back slowly. He wanted to cry, to scream, to feel fucking anything. Still nothing. All he felt was nothing. There was a moment where they stood there, Logan trying to comfort the other but not knowing how, and Wade being done. Done with the day, done with the moment, done. Just done. 

“Let me sleep.” He said softly, if it was anyone else they may have not heard the words but Logan did. He always did. He kept rubbing Wade’s back.

“Do you think this could be a hallucination?” Logan asked, pulling back slightly to look at Wade.

“Huh?” 

“This ‘nothing’ feeling. Is this maybe a delusion or a hallucination or some shit? Are you sure it’s a side effect of the drugs?” Wade shrugged. 

“Maybe. I didn’t think of that.” He sighed, holding onto Logan tighter. 

“Take your meds, give it another day. If you are still feeling like shit in the morning, we’ll go to the clinic and get you fixed up with something new.” Wade felt his eyes fill with tears. He wasn’t sure why he was going to cry, he didn’t need to cry. He felt nothing, so why would he cry? He chewed on the inside of his cheek and took a deep breath. 

“If I take my meds can I sleep?”

“Yeah Bub, you can sleep.” A hand cupped his cheek. “I’ll stay with you and you can get some sleep.” With that Wade let go of the other and made his way to Logan’s side table. It was just as messy with his cowl, a few beer bottles, a pack of cigars, his gloves and other random shit strewn around. Wade picked up one of the gloves and reached inside.  Out came a Pez dispenser. A Captain America Pez dispenser. Wade lifted the head and grabbed two of the pills that were stored in there. Grabbing a bottle that had a splash of beer left, he took the pills and drank. With that, Wade flopped onto the couch, face first. He let out a scream.

Logan wanted to say something about mixing alcohol with meds, but in that moment he didn’t give a fuck. Wade was taking his meds and that’s all that matters. 

“I’m fine.” The Merc said after his screaming stopped. 

“You aren’t fucking fine, but you will be. Sit up.” Wade did and Logan sat down. He patted his lap afterwards and Wade landed face first into his lap with legs thrown over the other end of the couch. Logan rubbed up and down Wade’s back as Wade tried to get some sleep.

-- It's 1 am. I want to write something better but I'm too tired. I'll do more little ficlets about Mentally Unwell Wade. Once I get ideas- If you have an idea or a scenario please let me know!